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Hunting last night. Lots and lots of hunting. I needed beaver and boar and I eventually got everything I needed. Then I shot some birds and collected some Red Sage and made my way back to Mexico to give them all to chap who’s probably going to kill himself with them.

A pretty quiet night, really, but throughly absorbing.

Things you can do when you only have half an hour to play Red Dead Redemption at the end of the day:

Kill a horse thief, then run over the horse’s owner by galloping back to them at full speed.

Kill a coach thief, then destroy the coach by riding over a rock at full speed while trying to return it to its owner.

Drink some whisky.

Find the last two treasures to earn the rank of legendary treasure hunter.

Stop and admire the beauty of the snowy woodland spread out below you.

Get killed by bears. A lot.

It sounds like a lot, but it was the quickest half hour of my life. I’m a bit sad that I’ve completed all the treasure maps now. It’s pretty much impossible to pick out a favourite element of a game this big and wonderful, but if I had to, it might be them. I love that you actually have to use your brain and eyes to find the treasures, rather than just following blobs on a map.

Two things have killed me in Red Dead Redemption: animals and stupidity.

You see, if you keep your wits about you, people aren’t a problem. Peasants with guns, mostly. Use Dead Eye mode correctly, stay in cover, look for smoke and muzzle flashes and use the terrain to your advantage – do all that you won’t die. You’ll only be killed by gunfire if you run into crossfire with an empty Dead Eye meter, or if you fail to spot where bad guys are hiding. (Or, sometimes, if you go into a big, important mission without stocking up on medicine first. That definitely counts as stupidity.) Gun fights with armed humans are exciting, satisfyingly brutal and often make you feel like the coolest badass in the world, but they’re never very difficult if you’re sensible and keep your head. (Though that is, as you might expect, easier said than done in the heat of the moment.)

It’s the animals that are really dangerous. Out in the desert at night packs of wolves come out of nowhere. Cougars can pounce without warning, bringing down your horse and, if you don’t react quickly enough, you too. When you’re out, alone except for your horse, you’re very vulnerable indeed – especially at night. There’s nothing in the game that hurts worse than seeing your horse crumple to the ground when attacked by a wild animal. (Except, of course, when your horse gets hit by a bullet due to your own greed and stupidity, but we talked about that a few days ago.)

On the upside, at least when you do see off a pack of wolves you can skin them and take their hearts. That’s a pretty good way to get revenge, if anything is.

I lost two more horses last night.

My much-loved Lucy, who I’d saved from an overly-amorous owner, died when a cougar came out of nowhere and attacked her. I shot the cougar in the head, but it was too late for poor Lucy. I couldn’t bring myself to skin her, so I wandered off and found a new horse, who my wife named Shitfire.

I blame myself for his death. As I was riding across the desert a man called out, asking for help in rescuing his wife from some lowlife varmints. We galloped across the desert together and found his wife hanging by her neck from a tree. I shot the rope before the poor woman choked and plugged a couple of bandits for good measure, then rode off when the man put his wife on his horse and thundered away. I’d left a couple of the bandits alive, but I didn’t think it would matter and I was anxious to claim my reward.

As you may have surmised, that was a mistake. We slowed to stop half-way down a hill. The man and his wife both thanked me profusely… and then the two remaining outlaws appeared at the top of the hill. Shots rang out. The man slumped in the saddle, quite dead. His wife ran screaming, straight towards the two bandits. I galloped after her, switched to Dead Eye mode and killed both bandits. As they fell to the ground, Shitfire did too, hit by one of the last bullets the bastards fired. I let the woman run into the desert as I stood by my fallen steed. I have no idea if she survived.

I should have been more careful and let caution override my greed. I didn’t think the bandits would follow us, but that’s no real excuse. I must have known there was a possibility, but I wanted to claim my reward before the husband and wife got too far away. That miscalculation led to the man’s death, the death of a good horse and, quite possibly, the death of the wife. The nighttime desert is no place to be when unarmed.

At least I wasn’t stranded. The outlaws had owned horses and one was the spitting image of Shitfire. I’ve named him Shitbiscuit. I wonder how long he’ll last?