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Grand Theft Organ: Emergency Ambulance Simulator

Crazy Taxi was half of a decent game. The driving about at silly speeds in order to pick up a fare and ferry him to his destination had the potential to be extraordinary good fun. What youngster doesn't dream of being a taxi driver? A crazy taxi driver no less? But despite flirting with perfection and even caressing her cheek, Crazy Taxi had a serious flaw. The people waiting for your services weren't bleeding, vomiting, broken wretches, shivering and wracked with agony. Thankfully, Emergency Ambulance Simulator has arrived to correct that severe oversight.

It's hard for me to express my excitement. Imagine being a "premier paramedic", following the highs and lows of career that (presumably) begins in the dingy backalleys of a small town on a Saturday night, where time is spent removing glass from the gullets of drunkards and mopping up their beery leavings. After that, perhaps it'll be a road accident or two. I might have to call in my allies with their fire engines and cutting equipment to remove a weeping man from his crumpled Vauxhall Astra, or resuscitate the slumped form of a bus driver at the wheel of a school bus now filled with severely traumatised children.

What could be more fun?

As I progress through the ranks, hopefully being granted larger and larger hats to denote my status, I expect I'll be called to a posh dinner party where the guests have all become more than a little peaky after learning that the truffle mousse that sits aside their veal cuts is actually watered down Nutella. Applying a cold compress and carting the lot of them off to hospital rooms bigger than a normal man's house will provide satisfaction the likes of which only an Ambulance Pilot First Class ever truly feels.

And unlike a grubby cabbie, I'll have status. People will get the heck out of my way as I rattle through the suburbs, siren blaring, not because they're afraid of my Medicine Van, but because they know I'm the most important thing on the road. A hero. A saviour. And if I do clobber anyone with HMS Health and Safety, I'll just scoop them up, throw them in the back and drop them off at the nearest emergency ward. They might even give me a tip.

Is it too much to hope for a virulent outbreak of flesh-eating bacteria that contaminates the business district, closing down entire city blocks. I won't shy away though. It's my job to drive through those streets, every turn a right angle, noting the realistic way in which only one or two pedestrians can ever be seen at one time, the crowds having locked themselves away in a self-imposed quarantine. Bravely, I'll take my thermometer into the thick of the action, forcing myself to look past the pustules and cankers to the fragile heart beneath it all. Then I'll pull some electric paddles out of the Good Ship Eupepsia and electrocute that heart so hard it doesn't dare to ever stop beating again.

My career could reach its pinnacle during an attempt to assassinate the President. Some revolutionary swine has gone and thrown a boiling hot Cup-A-Soup in his Presidential face, leaving him raw and stinking of onions, a crouton stuck in the corner of his eye. By this point, my hat is bigger than my torso and has four flashing lights stuck on top of it. Naturally, it warbles loudly whenever I'm in motion.

Once he's saved, following liberal application of a dishcloth and an unbranded salve, the President thanks me in a dramatic and - I'm not going to lie - tear-jerking cutscene. A sober and reflective Gary Oldman is on voice duty for the Pres. I, Peter Paramedic, sound and look a lot like a more handsome Cary Grant.

"You've earned this, Peter." He's only handing me his Presidential seal. I'm the leader of the free world and some of the not-so-free world as well. And he's right. I have bloody well earned it.

Whew. Let's take a look.

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Oh. Good music though.

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About the Author

Adam Smith


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