Finished the main portion of RDR2 earlier today. I cried. Not just once but multiple times. Admittedly I never finished RDR1 and I don't play many games on the whole, let alone ones with a real storyline, let alone finish those ones with a storyline (the last one may have been a Arkham City). But I didn't quite expect that deep of an emotional impact. I really came to love Arthur. And my horse, which I refused to switch and when the game forced me to use a temporary horse I would always audible an apology or gentle reassurance once reunited with my real companion.
I had dinked around for the first few chapters; dropped the game for months. Can't say why I decided to get back into it, and I still wasn't hooked. I like the nature of this game, but I don't love it. And I can't spent hours upon hours trying to gather pelts to make a new saddle that I don't even really want to use. But after Arthur [] I was riveted. Still made time to enjoy the world (love you, Rolling Block Rifle), but the story is where it was at for me. I felt the ending coming and kept telling myself I should stop and go finish finding rock carvings or dinosaur bones before it's too late, but I couldn't help it.
I wish I'd known what more I could have done with my money. Bit of a disconnect with Dutch constantly harping about needing more money and I'd want to be like "buddy I can fund us all to gtfo here".
Also wish I could've fucking found Gavin.