The entire game is playable co-op, and there are no restrictions (as far as we can tell) on what you can do within the city in co-op mode. Drop-in, drop-out co-op where you can join a friend's game (with your own character), play some missions, and then drop out back to your own game, keeping any cash or unlocked items, in which the respective missions will also be marked as complete. When we chatted about the single-player game earlier in the month, we did touch upon one of the most important aspects of the multiplayer - co-op. On the strength of what we've seen, that's a pretty good bet. Or perhaps you'll just be having so much fun that you won't be bothered by the whole thing. Perhaps once you're on Xbox Live or PSN with the game, you'll be able to pretend that all of the other players are actually proper gangsters (or, in the case of the huge number of Scottish 12-year-olds on Xbox Live, who all sound like Wee Jimmy Krankie, just mute them). Even more so when there are 12 of you shooting it. With each passing kill it becomes more and more inevitable that someone is going to drop an N-bomb, only to look around with extreme embarrassment and try to explain that it's fine, really, because Fiddy Cent does it all the time and anyway loads of his friends are. Yet, as the action grows more intense, I can sense the imminent outburst of whiteboy gangsta speech growing nearer and nearer. It's gangland mayhem on-screen, but a glance to my left or right confirms that my gangster allies and rivals are a group of pasty-white European journalists.
This odd hang-up of mine renders the process of playing Saints Row 2 multiplayer a vaguely discomfiting experience. Your dad's not a pimp, he's an investment banker (granted, after last week, the path from the latter career to the former may just have shortened significantly). The only time you've ever been anywhere near a "project", it was the one you did about butterflies in Primary Six. Shut up - you're not from the ghetto, you're from Surrey.
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South London, where I live, is full of such blithering idiots, oblivious to the cringing of all around them every time they open their mouths. I don't care what part of Britain (or Europe) you come from, you still sound like a blithering idiot when you try to talk like a rapper. Any attempt to describe watching television as "chillin'" or imply that I might be about to get "all up in this bitch" sounds so ridiculous it makes me want to strangle myself. I'm from Ireland and while the place I grew up definitely had its nasty undercurrents, it was definitely more "farm" than "phat". It's a geographical, ethnic, cultural impossibility. I can't pull off any form of "gangsta" talk.
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