All of us -- newspapers, T.V., fashion magazines, pop-culture, gun-culture, gang-culture, those prone to homeland-security anxiety, political leaders, hybrid drivers, pushy pedestrians, fast-food places, the rich and poor, and on and on.

Listening to those critical of the game, the hook of Rock star Game's newest title is the game's mindless violence, the drunk driving and the other stack of hot button features that have roiled the hype-geist.

All that combined would only make the game playable for like 15 minutes, half-hour tops.

The real draw for the ninth game in the GTA franchise is the story it makes you weave -- a dark tragicomic satire of current American culture told through the eyes of a down-and-out illegal immigrant. The game's profane bent and subtle humor is on par with such novels as "Catch 22" and "A Catcher in the Rye."

Rockstar Games' Yossarian/Holden Caulfield is Niko Bellic, a scrappy sort-of bearded Eastern European immigrant. Niko is the most compelling, flawed and complicated character in the realm of digital entertainment to date.

Sharing traits of determination and stoic mo-fo-ness from the pantheon of the immigrant anti-heroes, (think Vito Corleone and Tony Montana) Niko is pulled to the amber waves of grain by the elusive and ephemeral "American Dream." The Serbian refugee, fresh from the Balkans, is lured by promises of wealth by his taxi-driving cousin Roman to Liberty City, a stunning vision of New York.

Once he sees his brother's walk-up, one-room flat in an ersatz Brighton Beach, the reality is much less posh than advertised. Niko's initial disillusionment with the reality of the promise of America is ham-handed, but that's the weakest part of the narrative and its over barely after the credits are done.

From the pullout couch in Roman's apartment, Niko sets out scrabbling to make his way in the criminal underworld, a journey that sends him on a collision course with the past he thought he left behind. About 60 hours or more of game-play will lead to one of two ambiguous endings.

Once the game's over, there's really no thrill of victory; it's the end of the story.

Along the way from gore-fest to gore-fest, Rock star takes shots at a consumer-obsessed culture through advertising in the game, vulgar radio shows that play on boosted rides and the Internet sites Niko checks during the game. For example, a radio talk show mercilessly flays self-righteous hybrid owners who buy organic produce that's shipped by air at boutique grocery stores.

Interacting with the characters along the way in GTA IV makes the game worth playing. Sure there are warehouse shootouts, but how about taking a date bowling or shooting darts with your Rasta buddy in the expansive Liberty City, a dead ringer for New York's tone. (Driving in the Queens stand-in, Dukes, I could have sworn I'd been on that block in Astoria under the subway tracks last year heading into a Greek diner).

And then there's the driving.

Cruising Liberty City on wheels is the single best game feature in the game, way better than the often clunky combat engine. The rides are responsive, and behave more like real cars than previous versions.

Jamming gears on a Porsche surrogate on a Brooklyn Bridge stand-in, weaving through traffic is more thrilling than any of the game's shootouts. An added GPS feature in the game takes the frustration out of getting around town.

At root, Grand Theft Auto IV is an interactive novel driven by choices and characters, not blood and gore -- engrossing enough to keep players interested beyond running over unlucky pedestrians, stealing cars and getting loaded and getting behind the wheel.

The moral: Just because you can shoot a stripper after a performance, doesn't mean Candi with an "i" has to be plugged to win the game.

But having the option will enflame the critics enough to rail against the game for what it's not -- a training tool for murders. Pundits should worry more about what the game actually is: a satirical reflection of an over-sexualized, hyper-violent and paranoid post 9-11 America which they had a hand in creating.

Hear that? That's Rock star laughing all the way to the bank.

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