I think I've been brutally owned by Ubisoft

Before I explain how Ubisoft truly and utterly owned me, some context. I grew up in Western Montana, so when Ubisoft announced that my home was to be the setting of the next Far Cry game, I wrote them an open letter requesting that my dad be put into the game as a character. It wasn't a serious request, just a fun way to pay homage to a person I admire while sending some constructive criticism towards the way early media of Far Cry 5 depicted Montanans. 

I don't think that's how you spell oyster. 

Fast forward to earlier this week where I played the latest build of Far Cry 5 and got to explore an entire section of the map. During a series of side missions focused on harvesting bull testicles, I got sent to Davenport Farm. If we actually did manage to get my dad in the game, this was probably it, but I had to check out the rest of the property to be sure. What I found was a terrible, terrible burn. 

James Davenport

James is stuck in an endless loop, playing the Dark Souls games on repeat until Elden Ring and Silksong set him free. He's a truffle pig for indie horror and weird FPS games too, seeking out games that actively hurt to play. Otherwise he's wandering Austin, identifying mushrooms and doodling grackles.