As I said, if you don't care, don't post but I wanted to get opinions out so that any person who asks about console release they can read this. @HairyGrenade If this topic gets out of hand please lock it for me. Thank You.

(In a scottish accent) Welcome my fellow Scotsman, try not to catch a breeze up your kilt or you'll get chilly balls

And just stop posting, pointless posts, you don't have anything useful to say then just stop. Stop trying to make this debate go into an argument. @Shimozukachi only for last comment

Best point made so far, we're all playing it on PC so what's it matter! Lol

Wait if its not gonna be cross platformed then why worry the pc economy will be better and the rp too. But for consoles who cares how it will go there and if they want to switch to pc then they will have to buy a new pc.

now the facts: -up to 300 completely different looking characters with different outfits and different cars that are damaged (you know what i mean) -if a player doesn't own a mic he/she/it will need hours to type in "hello" via controller -lag etc. exists for every console -most of the people that want identity for console either played trackmania (you all know that every car on the track is the same), never thought about the fact that a ps4 is based on x86 (i don't care about xbox one) or are just 12 year old kids.

Michael Thatcher Born - 22/10/1959 Name: Michael 'Duke' ThatcherAge: 57From (City, Country): ArizonaAppearance (Body, Face): Heavily Built, Long Grey Beard & Mustache, Long Grey Hair.Attire: Black Boots, Black Tshirt Under A Black Leather Jacket (With MC Patch), Tattered Baggy Jeans, Bowie Knife Pouch On Right Side Of Belt, Red Bandanna Around His Neck That He Pushes Over His Face, WWII Stahlhelm Helmet With Vintage Goggles.Occupation: Motorcycle Club International President/Leader.Detail of House: Old Log Cabin In The Woods.Detail of Car/ Vehicle: Harley Davidson Street Bob.Personality: Low Voice, Cautious, Angered, Rude, Heartless, Detached. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Michael Thatcher was born in Arizona in 1959. His dad, John Thatcher, was the president of a local motorcycle club. His mum, Anastasia Thatcher, was a nurse at a hospital in the center of Utah. She often stayed days and nights at the hospital to save money on travel. Michael grew up not seeing much of his parents. Babysitters where common in their house. However, Michael did grow up around motorbikes and he soon grabbed hold of a dream to run his dads MC after he had gone. At a young age he was riding bikes with his dad and began to go to the MC's club house at the weekends. As the years ran by and the sixties were coming to an end, the club began to do more than just ride. John started coming home with big wads of cash. More than he usually got for selling the odd blunt at concerts. This was big money for the family. The MC had started running drugs throughout Arizona and spreading them around the country. They began with LSD, moving onto meth and ending at heroin. Although the money that came in was great for the small household, the drug trade really fucked up the club. They began losing members due to usage of heroin (Within the club there is a rule against heroin). Their numbers began to drop low and so the MC adopted a new way of making money...guns! The club started importing guns from abroad for cheap and selling them at full price in the country. The gun crime of Arizona increased but so did the amount of money in the clubs wallet. The year was 1987. The club was at its strongest time with members all over the country and chapters covering most of the states and moving into Europe. A regular gun run was set up. John and a couple of the clubs members went to a meeting that was set up by the buyer. Upon arriving, three of the clubs members, including John, were killed by a rival MC that wanted BCR out of their territory. By now, Michael was 28 years old. He spent most of his time riding his Harley from town to town, going to bars and spending his nights at the gym. After moving to England and serving 7 years service with the Special Air Service, he had seen his fair share of war. He was muscular and had short, scruffy hair and a small, uneven stubble. It was at the gym that one of the club members came in and told him that this rival gang had killed his father. He sat in the gym with sweat dropping from his face into the palms of his hands. He set off on his bike and told the club members to wait there. He spent the early morning riding with tears in his eyes but with anger slowly taking over. He reached the meetup point by 7:21am and saw his fathers body lying there in the dirt. He had his back patch removed along with the other two. With laughter and chatter booming out of the warehouse, Michael quickly unholstered his old 1911. He walked towards the entrance and beyond that....no one knows. Its whoever's story you believe the most. Michael was accepted as the MC's new President and he continued to do gun runs, setting up his own chapter in the city of London. Now in early 2016, Michael is now 57 and still running the club. He still carries his 1911 and he replaced his back patch with his dads. The same one that has a large blood stain on the main colours. The Bad Company Rangers is now one of the most largest MC's in the world spanning from England to Australia, from Germany to America and then to a small island. This is where Michael begins his new story. A new Island, a new life, the same brothers. We Are Bad, We Are Ruthless, We Are Bad Company! From The BCR MC History Booklet _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Please remove this.

bump 2: the sequel

*As the clock ticks past midnight, the party begins to wind down. Kevin walks back to his Mercedes, gets in, and sets of driving into the night. As the hours go past, Kevin decides to head home for the night. Once home, Kevin attempts to fall asleep, unable to thanks to the thoughts swirling around his head* "That bastard knows too much about me, and I know far too little" *Kevin remains sitting on his couch pondering his dilemma as the sun begins to rise, indicating a new day. As the clock passes 6:30, a police car drives past with the sirens blaring. It is at this moment Kevin remembers a name* "Daniel fucking Blake" *Kevin takes a quick cold shower to wake back up, gets changed into a fresh set of clothes, and heads down to the street, hopping into his Ford Ranger. Kevin sets off for downtown, stopping at the police precinct. He walks up to the front desk* "Hi, I am looking for detective Blake" "He just got in, might I ask who is asking for him?" "Tell him it's Kevin McMillan" *The officer walks to the back for a few minutes, before returning* "Detective Blake is free to see you if you would just follow me" "Thank you" *Kevin follows the officer to the back, and is let into a corner office, with a large desk to one end with two leather chairs one the side closest to him, with a third larger chair on the far side, back turned to Kevin* "Kevin McMillan, a name I had hoped to never hear again" "Danny boy, good to see you too buddy" *The chair swivels around to face Kevin* "And it's McNabb now after that nasty business with the mob" *Daniel Blake, a lanky man of Irish descent, with a mess of red hair now faces Kevin, wearing a untucked white shirt, with a tie loosely tied on* "I couldn't give a shit what your name is, what do you want" "Such hostility" *Kevin says as he lounges across one of the chairs, looking at the various degrees and awards on the walls of the office* "I was going to congratulate you on your success, but if you want to skip right to business" *Kevin leans in* "You still owe me, so I have come to call it in. After this is done, you can pretend that we never met" "What do you need" "I need information on a group going by the name Bad Company Rangers mc. More specifically someone higher up named Michael. I don't have a last name for you" *Kevin slides a piece of paper across the desk* "That's a burner email you can send the info on. After this we will be even" *Kevin gets up and leaves the precinct, heading home. After a few hours, he gets a email notification, it reads* "Meet me at the abandoned quarry outside town asap -B" *Kevin heads out in his Ranger to the quarry, where he waits for a few minutes before a black crown Vic dives up, and detective Blake steps out with a large folder in his hands* "I thought you didn't want to see me again?" "I didn't, but I figured we used to be friends, and you did save my life. In that folder is everything I could find on the Bad Company Rangers, and it is a lot. Various illegal activities, some confirmed with no real evidence, some suspected. And that Michael character is the international president, who dropped off the earth after breaking out of jail around the same time you got out. He is wanted by everyone, Interpol, the FBI, DEA, and every agency in between. As a old friend, I have to ask you to not antagonize these guys. If Michael is really on this island or not they are a force to be reckoned with, compared to these guys, you will be wishing for the mob to be after you" "Danny, buddy, I'm the most careful person you know" *Kevin laughs as he heads back to his truck with the folder* "You mean used to know" "Yea yea, whatever. Have a good life Danny" "You too" *The two of them get into there vehicles, Kevin heading home to go through the folder*

looks more like art. i like that kind of bikes

Ok Whatever you say lol

I agree with Raffen there is no need for such comments and this is just a debate. I havent seen @MacMcardle beening rude he just put his opinion on this topic. So yeah calm down . And Raffen i have no problem with you saying im 12.

I'm sorry, but are you feeling quite alright? Because your attitude and grammar aren't showing that. To start, it would be much nicer to comment a clear debate with a coherent sentence that doesn't require a translation team to decipher. Maybe you could consider checking what you've typed before you post. Secondly, I think you misunderstand what the topic is about, we are asking why it would be good for a console release to exist, not if it is possible for a console release to exist. Thirdly, what do you have against people of the age or around the age of twelve? @LionKingGamer is twelve years of age, which I hope he doesn't mind me saying, and he's contributed two good points, which is more than you've contributed. Fourthly, will you stop being so incredibly aggresive? You're the only one here who wants anything more than a nice debate about a console release, you have started insulting other people. @MadMcardle never said anything to remotely insult you, so stop trying to dick meaure yourself against other people and stop being so aggresive.

There really is no need for such comments man. We are just trying to have a debate after all.

Nice to virtually meet you. Welcome!

I'd much rather see some external hammer dbs's , but yes, good call.

Silencers don't exist. There is nothing you can fit on the end of a gun that makes it inaudible from under 200 meters away. Suppressors make the gun slightly quieter, but exist mainly to stop muzzle flash.

Umm these cars are nice don't get me wrong, but the game is based on modern life so I am not sure these will be the sort of cars they are going for.

@Shimozukachi Profile picture: 3/10 Signature: 4/10 Sorry for being harsh, but I want people who put serious effort into their profiles to feel better than they otherwise would

you all forgot the famous sidecar https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sidecar

Im just hoping they get the Harley sounds spot on. The choppers in GTA sound like utter dog shit. They need to sound good!

There will be a variety of motorcycles in the game and definetely newer vehicles for free after release.

I like how it says meth on the background of your logo.

Best way to support the police, post pictures of them beating up civilians. If police commit a crime and get caught he will be punished, yes.

They should be able to shield the VIP and use their other arm as sort of a way to push people out of the way while yelling, "PROTECT THE PRESIDENT MOVE MOVE MOVE!" Kappa