A GAME FOR ANIMALS
Over the years, I’ve often come across the cover of Far Cry 3. The hypnotic stare, the mohawk, the guns — the poster boy looks like a viper, coiled and ready to strike anyone who dares challenge his position. I’ve always been fascinated by it. But only recently did I notice the severed head buried in the sand in front of him. And only now did I notice the bodies hanging in the background. His gaze lures you into a tropical paradise, distracting you from the brutality lurking just beyond the frame.
Far Cry 3 is straight-faced ridiculous — and I mean that as a compliment. It merges the lush setting of the first game with the open-world freedom of Far Cry 2 into a full-blown cinematic spectacle. Add to that my decision to finally play it on PC, and this becomes a personal high point for the series. It’s a liberating experience, one I haven’t felt in a long time, and I’m almost overwhelmed by nostalgia while playing it.
That said, I can’t quite pinpoint what I’m nostalgic for. It might simply be the joy of playing a first-person shooter with mouse and keyboard — something I’ve barely done in over a decade. The difference is staggering. Where earlier entries felt stiff on a controller, Far Cry 3 on PC lets me react purely on instinct. Switching weapons is instant. Aiming is as simple as pointing and clicking. Dexterity replaces friction. I feel unshackled.
I can easily see how this formula has grown stale over the years — the industry has certainly reminded us often enough — but for now, let me revel in its survivalist fantasy. Stumbling through the jungle with a knife in hand, stalking tigers, sharks, tiger sharks, and the occasional red-clad slaver bandit. Those, I prefer to deal with from afar, using my trusty silenced sniper rifle.
The story casts you as Jason Brody, a pampered thrill-seeker violently awakened to the indifference of nature. I don’t like him much, but that’s clearly intentional. The jungle doesn’t care about your comfort, and Jason is forced to grow up fast or die. The game opens with a montage of reckless tourism — skydiving with friends — before abruptly shifting gears. Jason and his older brother are captured by slavers and locked in a bamboo cage.
Enter Vaas.
A drug-addled native with a wild stare, Vaas delivers a threatening monologue that instantly defines him as something more than a typical villain. He is chaos incarnate — Far Cry’s answer to the Joker — a manifestation of jungle law overriding civilized order. Michael Mando’s performance is chilling, and it’s no surprise he later found fame in Better Call Saul.
Jason’s brother orchestrates a desperate escape, only to be killed in the process. Jason plunges into a river, loses consciousness, and wakes up in a village under the care of Dennis, a member of the Rakyat — a faction of natives fighting the human traffickers. With no better options, Jason joins their cause, hoping to rescue his friends.
And almost instantly, he transforms into a hyper-competent killing machine.
Progression is represented through tattoos, marking Jason as a Tatau warrior. These function as a skill tree, unlocking abilities like improved stealth, health upgrades, and more efficient looting. The system is uneven. Some skills feel indispensable, others — like ledge takedowns — barely see use. Still, the visual metaphor works, reinforcing the theme of Jason’s gradual loss of innocence.
Narratively, the game is strongest when Vaas is involved — which unfortunately isn’t often enough. The supporting cast is colorful and well-acted, but Jason’s core group of friends remains painfully bland. This contrast feels deliberate, especially given the binary choice presented at the end, which offers two radically different conclusions.
Where Far Cry 3 truly excels, though, is in its moment-to-moment gameplay. The gunplay feels exceptional, even as I begin exploiting the game’s questionable AI. Whether I’m sprinting through foliage, sneaking through camps, driving recklessly, parachuting, or swimming through predator-infested waters, I always feel in complete control. The weapon variety supports both long-range precision and chaotic close-quarters combat.
Enemy outpost takeovers are a standout. Scouting with binoculars, injecting scent-tracking syringes to track them even through walls, and planning an approach turns every camp into a lethal puzzle. Explosive barrels, caged animals, vantage points, chokeholds — everything becomes a potential weapon. The game rewards patience, creativity, and restraint.
Main missions push this even further. They range from stealth-heavy infiltrations and reconnaissance tasks to bombastic, Michael Bay–esque action sequences. The pacing steadily improves as weaker side activities fall away, and some of the most memorable moments take place during surreal, drug-induced hallucinations that blur the line between spectacle and storytelling.
Many of these mechanics would later be copied endlessly. Horizon Zero Dawn, for example, clearly owes a debt to Far Cry 3. Climbing radio towers reveals the map, liberated areas unlock gear, and hunting animals expands your inventory capacity. These systems are functional, but rarely exciting. Crafting and hunting involve excessive menu navigation, slowing the game’s momentum.
Optional content fares no better. WWII letters, drug-operation flashcards, and animal-shaped relics feel like filler for completionists rather than meaningful world-building. They’re easy to ignore — but they also signal a troubling direction for future entries.
Ultimately, you don’t explore this island for introspection or subtlety. It’s a trap. Beneath the lush visuals lies a primal power fantasy, daring you to abandon restraint. Far Cry 2 was deeply flawed, but it posed the same uncomfortable question this far superior sequel asks more confidently:
This is a game for animals.
Now which one will you be?
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