Playing sleeping dogs, I have to wonder: How come nobody else thought to do a more cop-focused crime game in an open world, rather than have you simply running from the cops all the time?

I’m loving the duality of being an undercover agent. Somtimes I’m out with the Water Street Gang hijacking minibusses and doing the Rival Turf thing, other times I’m tapping cameras to spy on drug exchanges, flagging suppliers and doing covert police surveilance with my phone. Taking incriminating pictures, gathering evidence, then radioing for the Chinese police and watching over CCTV as they swarm like flies in a huge drug bust on those guys from The Wire. FIVE OH MAN FIVE OH.

Sleeping Dogs is easily on the way to being my favorite open worlder since Red Dead. Some samples of what I did last night:

Trained with my childhood martial arts master down at the local kung-fu dojo. He expressed some reservations about my current life choices and tried hard to get me back on the YMCA path with a little discipline. Also, he taught me to kick someone’s kneecap sideways which is as brutal to see in action as it sounds. Located a couple of the missing Tang dynasty jade figurines that were stolen from the dojo a few years ago.

Went on 2 dates with girls in and around Hong Kong. They were nice pleasant dates, no gangstaz and hoes to be seen. Wei was a total gentleman. We took some photos for a blog from various spots around Victoria park and walked around for a bit arm-in-arm talking about university. Later on we went and sang some hits of the 80s at a karaoke club. Leveling up my social link allows health lanterns to appear on the minimap.

Later on I went back to the karaoke club and put someone’s head through a urinal by way of making a point about how much Winston Chen wants to be the club owner’s best friend. Protection money collected.

Stole some knockoff watches in a heist that went down in the most hilarious fiasco way. Oh Jackie, if I know anything about narrative law you’re so fucked.

Discovered an underground fight club, got my ass kicked seven ways from Sunday by hard dudes. Wei, spitting blood, covered with scratches, kicking a rock petulantly as he left. “FUCK!” Chinese thugs laughing their asses off at my failure.

Cracked a few lockboxes, hacked some CCTV cameras. The feeds now show up in my hideout, I can spy on drug deals in grainy VHS-style surveilance glory.