Arthur Morgan is a good man. Sure he’s killed a few dozen lawmen—this is the wild west, who hasn’t? And sure, he’s run a few horses off of cliffs and pulled his gun on random people in shops and on street corners, but these were accidents and accidents don’t define Arthur. Yeah he broke that guy out of prison who shot up half the town and then helped him shoot up the other half, but he didn’t really want to—he was just being a good friend. Arthur is a one woman guy. He is loyal, friendly, and kind. He gives to the poor and helps most people who ask. He is also quite a bit more progressive than most people of his age—he can choke a poacher and punch a nazi with the best of em and he supports women’s suffrage too. Yes he is technically a wanted man, but really Arthur doesn’t go looking for trouble, trouble just seems to find him.

Here are 6 stories of crimes Arthur accidentally committed:

A Man of Virtue – C.T. Casberg

I may be a no-good, low-down, mean, cold-hearted killer, but I ain’t a monster. So when I beat up that immigrant and rifled through his cupboards for valuables (all to make up for a loan he couldn’t repay), I left the wedding ring he’d been trying to hide from me. I mean, I took his horse, and I could hear him shouting in German or something as I rode off, but at least I left him the ring. A man’s got to have some virtue.

And I tried to do a good deed with that stolen horse, so that all counts for a lot. I think.

I was riding into a town to do the gentlemanly thing of breaking an associate out of prison when a man stumbled out of the woods into my path, crying for help. I don’t recall what his malfunction was, but he asked for aid getting back to town, which I obliged (virtuous man that I am). He wouldn’t climb up on the horse on account of there being no saddle, a minor consequence of me stealing the horse and galloping off into the hills just minutes prior. So we began a leisurely stroll on the trail, and I switched to the game’s cinematic camera to automate the process. Sadly, this caused me to bump into an oncoming carriage, which in turn caused my horse to swing his posterior around into my new friend’s face, sending the poor feller flying into a nearby pile of rocks.

John must have learned that technique from Arthur.

This spooked the gentleman, who ran off into the woods, screaming that he didn’t want my help any longer. Virtuous man that I am, I thundered after him on my horse, roped him with my lasso, tied him up, and strapped him to my saddle. He’d asked to get back to town, after all, and I wasn’t about to let my sacred duty to help this stranger be forestalled by something like a little scare on the trail.

Sure, he shouted a bunch and may have cried a little. Sure, when I finally cut him loose at the edge of town he ran hollering to the sheriff’s office, and they came out firing rifles at me. Sure, there may have been a minor shootout, and some lawmen may or may not have been hit by bullets (who’s to say whose fault that was?), but a gentleman, a man of virtue, knows when he’s not welcome, so I high-tailed it for the hills. Minutes later, I was selling liquor to some lumberjacks, and after that I went beaver hunting. A man in a shack offered to make me a hat, after all, and a man has got to have a sense of style.

– C.T. Casberg

A Fistful of Five Dollars – Kevin Ireland

The fact that “talk to” and “point gun at” is the same button in Red Dead Redemption 2 is the source of 99% of my problems and a parable for America. I’ve threatened everyone from my friends, innocent bystanders, strangers I’ve just saved from death, suffering people I am attempting to donate to and obvious quest givers. However, this was not the cause of my worst sin in need of red dead redemption.

I once bet a man five dollars. I bet him I could gun better than him while gunning at a selection of empty bottles. He won easily and I assumed he took the money away from me automatically. He certainly did not. The man got angry that I was walking away on my bet and not giving him his five dollars. I was also mad the man didn’t have my five dollars. It’s a matter of honor and he earned it fair and square, so I ran back to remedy this situation.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TAKE MY $5 FROM ME AUTOMATICALLY!!!”

I try to give him five dollars, but apparently he had a countdown going that I was unaware of because as I pressed the button to give him five dollars, the man shot me. I shot back and proved I could gun better when it matters.

There was a witness that I estimate to be roughly fifty miles away. He saw the whole thing go down with his super vision, so I also had to prove to him that I could gun better too. There was no option to give him five dollars otherwise I would have taken that choice and likely still accidentally shot him in the process. On the way back to my camp I mourned them both because I haven’t figured out how to change the radio station on my horse from “ragged breathing” to anything that could have taken my mind off this misadventure and the lives I had taken.

– Kevin Ireland

Horse Loving Bigots – Drew Dixon

It was a dark, cloudy night as I slowly made my way to Strawberry—that good for nothing town where they’ll just as soon put a $300 bounty on your head as look at you. Seeing as Strawberry is a bitter, unforgiving place, where they’ll tax a man for shooting up half the town when all he’s really just trying to do is help a friend in need, I have half a mind to never return. But I’m a decent fella. I pay my debts. I soon saw a row of lights off in the distance. I assumed they were coming from homes just outside Strawberry, so I headed in that direction when suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the largest elk I had ever seen. It must have been six and a half feet tall!

I did what any nature lover would do and quickly drew my repeater and shot it in the head. Around this same time, that row of lights began rather ominously to move toward me. I rode up to skin my kill fast as I could and realized that I had not shot an elk but a horse. And the row of lights was actually a mass of torches held by men in white hoods. Worried I might have accidentally shot a horse belong’n one of these fellas, I jumped down from my horse to take a closer look.

There was no saddle, so it must have been wild. However, that did not hinder these men. If there is one thing white supremacists won’t stand for, its killing wild horses, apparently. The mob was rushing at me. I drew my revolver and shot 5 of them in rapid succession. This scared off the rest as they ran for the hills in all directions. All except for a heavy-set fella, mighta been their leader, who rose up and punched me in the face. One thing led to another, and next thing I know the leader is lying in a heap next to the ones I shot with my boot in his face.

Sure enough, lawmen from Strawberry showed up and weren’t too happy to see what I’d been up to. Seeing as I could not find the option to explain how all this started with a horse-lookin’ elk, I drew on them too.

I was just trying to do the right thing, pay my debts even though they weren’t really my fault. I suppose this demonstrates another reason Strawberry is no good: they can’t tell the difference between a murderer and a fella who is just trying to make things right.

– Drew Dixon

Beware of Hotels – James Nelson

When I play games like Red Dead Redemption 2 that have honor systems, I usually start out trying to be a good guy.

I got through the first few missions and I’m at the point where your crew sets up base camp and I am finally able to roam freely. So I saddled up my horse and headed to a nearby town called Valentine. I greeted every local I came across in town. I took in a local nickelodeon which, for those that don’t know, is what they use to call movies. Shortly after I made my way to the north side of town and into the saloon. I was a gentleman. My crew, however, did not follow suit. Next thing I know I was dragged into a drunken bar fight. 

When the fight concluded in the muddy street outside the bar, I was filthy, so I decided to clean up at the local hotel. I splurged a bit with an assisted bath. Don’t worry, it was totally professional.

After cleaning up, it was getting late so I figured I would stay the night at the hotel. I purchased my room at the front desk. I walked down the hall and into my hotel room and there stood a man. A stranger, in my paid-for room!

The guy yelled “What the hell are you doing?!? Get outta here!”

Confused by what had just transpired, I said, “Wait, what!? What the hell are you doing here in my room!?”

Shocked at this twist, before I could defuse the situation he pulled out his gun and shot me. He shot me! In my paid for room, this guy shot me!? Before he could put my lights out for good, I quickly Dead Eyed him dead.

Next thing you know, I was a wanted man! I was stunned. Here I am an honest paying customer and some wacko in my room shoots me, now I’m wanted? The hotel quickly became surrounded. I threw on my mask so as to not let my true identity be known. I waited patiently in the hotel until the time was just right to sneak out the back to avoid the law directly. No one spotted me. I could taste freedom, I called my horse and rode out of town.

Eventually I had to go back into town and pay my bounty. Beware of hotels. It’s a trap!

– James Nelson

Murderous Medicine – Michael Morejon

The town of Valentine has a medicine store that will sell you illegal drugs in the back. I had never gone to a drug store before, so it was interesting that the game informed me of black market wares hidden there. I could threaten the clerk to show me the good stuff, but I hesitated—I was already a wanted man in the area. After knocking on a metal door in the back room that refused to open, I changed my mind and thought to give it a try.

I aimed my pistol at the man behind the register and he opened the metal door for me. Once inside, there were several armed men staring me down. I thought I would just buy some illegal paraphernalia, maybe some rare guns or some drugs to boost my stats, but of course, they all decided to shoot me! I retaliated and ended them, looted the place, and found a much better gun than what I had. I was ready to head out until I heard voices from the entrance.

Of course, the sheriff had to walk in at the wrong time and I had to end him as well. Then another two guys walk in. A pile of floppy cowboy bodies in my wake, I knew my bounty would keep going up so I made a run for it, but was stopped by bullets flying by the window of the store. I ended up running for my life and shooting more townspeople on the way. Before too long my bounty was over $300.

Whether it’s a random animal running through the forest, or a guy that asks you to suck poison out of his leg, or a drunk guy who tells you to watch his “stuff” because he killed his horse by accident, there’s all sorts of craziness happening in RDR2. You never know what you will bump into out there!

– Michael Morejon

A Pile of Dead Horses – Tieranie Albright

Horses are incredibly important, whether you catch, steal, or buy them. So important that there are horse specific health items, and even a reviver for when the worst happens. I, however, have such poor luck with the majestic creatures that even revivers are not enough. My experience with RDR2 is littered with dead horses

The first horse I ever bought was a dark race horse I named Dahlia, after the flower. On one of my first rides on Dahlia I mistook a small cliff for a slope and well … somersaults aren’t quite as natural for horses as you might think. I rushed to Dahlia, hearing her pained cries as she writhed on the ground. I tried to help her but alas, I had no medicine. So I did the only thing I could do and put her out of her misery. I was devastated. The next horse I bought was a plain brown Tennessee Walker I named David. A slow, but lovely horse, David kept me company until I could catch a faster horse. We passed a man who needed help, and when I stopped and he turned to speak with me his horse kicked him square in the jaw. I checked his pulse. He was dead. Horrified I went after his startled horse and calmed her down. A golden dappled thoroughbred, I named her Honeycomb and took David to the stables. She had a new loving owner.

While still riding dear Honeycomb, I caught and tamed a wild Kentucky Saddler with a beautiful black coat. I was still missing Dahlia so I named her Black Dahlia and stabled her. That did not last long. Honeycomb got caught in the crossfire while I was on the run from the law after robbing a gun shop. Hoping to turn my luck around, I pulled out Black Dahlia, or BD for short. I was taking some time to hunt and fish, trying to track down the legendary buck I had heard so much about. I was at a nice pond in the middle of a river. I caught a 19 lb pike. In my excitement, I strapped it to BD and mounted up to ride to Valentine to sell it to the butcher. I was a little too eager to head out, because I instantly tripped over a rock, plunging BD into the water where I underestimated the depth. First things first, so I went to grab my giant catch. By the time I picked it up and turned around, I saw a severed horse head floating in the water. It was quite unsettling, but worst of all I had to I walk all the way to Valentine carrying a near 20 lb fish.

After the long walk to town to sell my fish, I retrieved David from the stables and stole a Belgian Draft horse, fittingly named Stella Artois, and continued using trusty David. Here is where I gave up all hope on horses being safe around me. I rode to St. Denis to make some purchases, get a haircut, the works. While meandering through town, a woman stepped in front of me and I knocked her over. I was immediately reported for unarmed assault. Annoying, but only a $5 bounty, so not a big deal. Before I could reach the post office or even surrender to the very aggressive law enforcement that came after me for my pedestrian mistake, David was shot. In my hurry to save him, I was shot, and rendered unable to render David aid. My heart was torn, and I slumped towards the stables to retrieve my one living horse, Stella.

I since have had better luck (for now) and am riding a mustang I caught. We will see how long this lasts, but as I ride into the sunset, with a pile of dead horses in my wake, I wonder how long the animal beneath my saddle with survive. They call me the Horse Slayer in some parts. I hear them whisper it as I go about my business, but occasionally someone has the gall to say it to my face and they end up getting punched. Between the horses and the bounties, I am not sure how long I myself will last in the South.

– Tieranie Albright