Grand Theft Auto: Vice City

Vice City is a 1986 that never existed, rendered so confidently that it replaced the real one in my head. Neon, palms, pastel suits — a city built out of album covers and film posters.

But the radio is the real exhibit. Flash FM, Wave 103, Fever 105, V-Rock: whole stations of period music with DJs who talked over the intros like real ones did. It taught me the trick I still use everywhere — atmosphere is a soundtrack problem before it’s a visual one. I have sat in a parked, virtual car waiting for a song to finish. More than once. The mixtape next door in the Sound wing exists because of this case.