Far Cry 3 likes holding your hand, but not in the clingy, clammy way committed by worrywart games. A more pedantic guide would have dragged you through a clockwork jungle, crushing the chaos that lies beneath brilliant moments of discovery and sudden warfare. What you get on the pirate-infested island paradise of Far Cry 3, with great relief, is a tug in the right direction, and tacit approval when you decide to frolic and fling grenades at goats.

Goats, by the way, are not to be trusted. They seem like innocent targets in their grass-chewing congregations, but there's evidence of an assassination plot burgeoning between the billies. One led me across the road, just as an enemy patrol car came rattling around the bend. I pursued another through a frenzy of gunshots and screams, amidst mercenaries and a ... collective noun of Komodo dragons. And the most evil of all goats had his revenge in death, sliding down the hill while I bent down and followed, trying to liberate his skin for a carrying bag. That's when I fell off the cliff, chasing a slippery corpse.