He knew the truth. To truly experience the redemption of John Marston or the tragedy of the Van der Linde gang on a PC, you had to play it straight. No shortcuts, no cracked files that leave your machine stuttering like a nervous witness. The real "download" was earned through honest coin, ensuring the sunrises over the Grizzlies stayed crisp and the law stayed off your digital back.
Arthur shifted his weight, the floorboards of the general store in Valentine groaning under his boots. He wasn’t here for beans or bullets today. He was here for a rumor—one that had been circulating through the dusty camps of the Heartlands like a fever.
Arthur tipped his hat and headed for the door. "I reckon I'll stick to the official channels. I’ve got enough trouble without my hardware catching the consumption."
"In this world, Mr. Morgan, 'free' usually comes with a heavy tax," the man replied. "You want that new 'Personal Computer' experience? The high frames and the sharp vistas? Folks say you can just reach out and grab it from the ether without dropping a single gold bar."