The following is a short recap of the events that took place during the Truth and Justice campaign mission in Far Cry 4 – and how not to play the mission.

Truth and Justice

Today I killed Pagan Min, which was neither what I wanted to do, nor expected to do. I resent Pagan Min, don’t get me wrong; he has done many terrible things to the people of Kyrat, but I was not wholly ready for this task.

This very evening I had been summoned to a sizable village called Utkarsh to meet with some of the rebel leaders. I enter one of the larger houses and make my way towards the hidden stairwell, past a misaligned bookshelf. The family upstairs is a front, and the basement has a hidden staging area where some of the higher-ups are meeting. After the bookshelf has been secured and stairs hidden, I start downward to the sounds of voice chatter and know a meeting is already underway.

It wasn’t long after joining the meeting that I hear the screech of halting tires, followed by feet crunching through gravel and the front door of the house upstairs being kicked in.

The flamboyant and unmistakable Pagan Min brazenly enters, flanked by two soldiers and immediately starts questioning the scouts who live here. I hear the commotion, as do my comrades, and our dialogue stops. Creeping under the false floor, I lift a trap door to watch the confusion unfold.

Min’s discomposure is evident, roiling underneath his calm, perfectly groomed exterior as he compliments the family’s home, commenting on their hospitality. His words are muffled so I don’t pick up exactly what he’s saying, but clearly he is leading them to a false sense of security. In a flash of smug satisfaction he storms out, and his falseness is proved true by his twin guards and the muzzles of their assault rifles. In a burst of gunfire, our stand-ins are downed and the guards leave in a huff.

Disgust and anger flood over me as I witness this all-to-common Kyrat atrocity first hand, and vault up through the floor and out the door, scarcely looking at the fallen family. Min is already in his jeep driving down the nearby hill, but his guards are still patrolling. Or were, as I quickly gun them down in my haste to reach the edge of the slope to see where King Min is off to.

My fellow rebellioneers are yelling something at me as I spy the gyro-copter nearby. I don’t hear them though as I jump in the two-man vessel, and spin up the propeller blades; no one can stop me; I’m only seeing red. Exhaust chokes me as the engines come to life. The chopper lifts slightly off the ground, hovering as the blades reach optimal velocity, but I just sit there. How do I go up?

Wrestling the stick between my legs, encouraging altitude, the chopper tilts left and right as the jeep speeds away. “Go UP!” I urge. Spying what I think is the collective lever, I pitch the helicopter forward and up, and up, and up. Soon enough I’m enjoying the breeze of the open-style cockpit, and sit happily above the trees, briefly forgetting my mission.

This is as far as my little bird takes me though. As I reach an altitude of about twenty-five feet, I’m eloquently jettisoned from my seat, shortly followed by a plummet to the ground. The explosion of the gyro meeting a Fir rocks me back, and I clutch my face, shying from the heat wave. The world losses all colour for a moment as I catch my breath.

What happened? Did I forget how to descend and instead jump out? Did my little aircraft really just fail so dramatically? Is this mission over before it has begun?

The questions hit me, wave after wave, but the true purpose of my ill-attempted flight is still real. Pagan Min is very much getting away. Struggling to my feet and limping down the grassy hill, I clamber into a Tut Tut and drive off in the general direction of where Pagan Min was heading. I decide against following the road, and quickly find my piecemeal vehicle careening over ridges and down slopes, dodging trees left and right, straining to hold together. The Tut Tut’s exterior doesn’t add a lot of protection against the incoming branches that pelt my face or kicked-up dirt and dust that chokes me, but soon enough I find a dry path, and agree with the struggling vehicle – the smoother route down the mountain is safer.

I can hear Pagan’s rumbling jeep, so I know I’m at least traveling in the right direction. I’ll just keep an eye on the road and see if I can spot any tire tracks that would betray his path.

As my narrowing route winds around mountainous cliffs and snakes downward along a river, I catch the tail end of Pagan’s dusty trail and slide around the next bend into an inviting village and awaiting soldiers. Min has stopped to bark off a few commands to his Lieutenants but doesn’t stay, instead opting to speed off. He wouldn’t have liked the scene that played out either way.

A handful of soldiers start a patrol and the rest setup a human barricade. Neither slow me as my three-wheeled Tut Tut barrels through the wall of flesh. The surprised group didn’t know how to react when they saw my little blue juggernaut skid into the town, and instead of yielding, saw fit to stand in the way like soccer players and get bounced off the hood. Leaving behind two piles of slightly bruised humans resenting the Tut Tut’s metal frame, I continue my chase after Min.

Coaxing all the speed from my little heap, I read the distance between myself and Min as narrowing – I am more maneuverable after all. One hand on the wheel, I bring out my automatic pistol and start firing at Pagan’s jeep, aiming for anything within range. Maybe he’ll scare and miss a turn, or maybe I’ll catch a tire and turn him over.

Neither happens as a rhino inappropriately interrupts our chase with his very large body and sharp horn, completely removing Pagan’s presence from the road, mangled jeep included. King Min’s body glides out through the windshield, into the air, hitting the ground in a tangled mess of limbs, and slides to a stop against a tree, face down.

My reaction is immediate, extreme, and entirely common in this predicament. “Holy Fuck!” I jerk the van’s steering wheel to the left to avoid the hazardous spike-adorned monster, incidentally turning the Tut Tut on its side.

Before the scene gets any more ugly, I scramble out with arms raised, and nod towards the rhino, signalling my thanks for his service. “I … I unfortunately cannot repay you,” I stutter. Testing the newly forged but fragile peace treaty, I walk around the rhino towards Pagan Min’s lifeless body to see the damage.

The pink and purple clothes, and blond hair – Pagan Min is a sore sight – but the blood, dirt and grass that now make up his face is unbearable. Pagan Min is dead, and Kyrat is better for it. Long Live the King.

I bring up my radio to call my colleagues, but instead receive a call from none other than Pagan Min. “Hello! Did you miss me? Oh wait, I guess you did. Ha! … And you ruined a perfectly good body double I might add. An expensive one at that.”

Pagan Min lives? How can this be. I had come so close to finishing this tale, freeing the people of Kyrat from their torment. Now what will I do, how will I ever get this close to Pagan Min again.

Pagan is still chirping away as I focus again on the radio and interrupt his monologue. “Next time Min, it’ll just be you and me!” I promise him, and clip the radio back on my belt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” He replies, goading a response. I am, however, done talking. After a brief silence he finally grows bored, ” … Strong silent type. I like it.” He hangs up.

I bring out my map and stare blankly.

Now I’m lost…

-iRogan

“At least there’s a silver lining. You didn’t completely fuck it up.”