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Murdering more
Nate reacts differently to for each weapon he uses. Look at the wrinkles around Nate’s eyes as he struggles with the heft of this absolutely massive gatling gun. He’s not messing around. No one who fires a gatling gun is ever messing around.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I’ve killed about 600 men at this point, so what’s 200 more? I assume they’re bad guys. They probably feel the same about me though. Wait. Wait… Am I the bad guy?
Traumatised for life
Another natural reaction. This is completely what I would do had I grabbed onto a rope dragging behind a truck with my bare hands and smashed into some bamboo scaffolding. At least he’s dressed comfortably. Drake’s customary cotton long-sleeve, scuffed leather holster, and faded chinos look extra lush on PS4.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!... This is like the worst time to get an itch. Oh well. Waaaaaaaaaah!
Regretful
Even trapped in an upside down car on fire, the charismatic younger Drake brother retains traces of charm in his panicked demeanor. Like 80% panic, 20% charm. Most of us would be 100% panic and an extra 10% of ‘why God why’, but then that’s real life, and real life hurts more. Also: that maths doesn’t work. Keep moving.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
How do I find myself in these situations? One minute I’m exploring a lovely Madagascan market with my best pal Sully, and the next I’m trapped in a burning car. All because I wanted some treasure. Next time I’m buying a nice bag of boiled sweets and eating them on the beach.
Fairly stressed
Ever the versatile adventurer, Nate can fire his weapon in all sorts of scenarios, like running, jumping, falling, and best of all, swinging on a rope above a 40ft drop. Auto aim at this time seems to be slightly more intense, which means during the swing you see here, I managed to no-scope a guy in the face. Also check out that snow in his hair.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
How am I so good at this? I never practice. For some reason I just have an inherent ability to perfectly latch my grappling rope onto wooden beams first time, swing on them, and fire my weapon simultaneously. I don’t even stretch beforehand.
Fighty
Details extend to an almost micro level: the dirt particles collecting in Nate’s forehead crevices, the follicles of white in his chin stubble, the fading gash on his lower lip. And on a macro level, these am good graphics.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
It’s good to accept no responsibility for my actions. I guess that’s why I adventure around the world to unexplored regions. There’s no law out here, no one to tell me how hard to punch a man in the face. I think I’ve just had a breakthrough.
Delirious
Perhaps the best screenshot to convey Nate’s fatigue. He’s been treasure-hunting for a decade and he’s tired, with a lopsided nose that’s weathered a dozen punches and eyes drooping under heavy lids.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
I definitely should have brought a high factor suntan lotion along with me. And some sunglasses. And maybe some plasters. The back of my neck is stinging. And why didn’t I bring a toothbrush? I feel so gross right now.
Repaying
When I learned that shining a torch at peoples’ faces made them wince, that’s all I did for an hour. Just going up to Sam and giving him the old interrogation lighting from different angles and distances. He squints out of whatever eye the light rests at, and recoils while looking all “Dude, really?”. And the answer to that is yes, I really must.
Drake’s inner thoughts:
This’ll get him back for abandoning me for all those years. Three full adventures (four if you include a fairly forgettable one with worse visuals) that he missed out on. Yeah, this’ll do it. You like that? Yeah, you enjoy that blinding light bro.
