The Brooklyn of Beat Cop often feels like the New York that I love, re-rendered in pixel art. Brownstone buildings crowded with mom-and-pop stores; hotdog carts doing business, street dancers on the curb; cats lounging on window sills; metalheads rocking out, dudes bursting onto their balconies to perform their morning aerobics, unmoved by the thought of an audience. By midday, the streets are bustling. Suits and hippies, gangbangers and priests, everyone and anyone who might conceivably live in this time management-adventure hybrid of an '80s cop-simulator. More than once, Beat Cop has made me pause, nostalgic for the city of my heart.
Then, I pass by the little black girl eating a slice of watermelon on a stoop.
I have complicated feelings about Beat Cop, which is steeped in a kind of low-key awful. Second-tier racist epithets are everywhere; everyone's a stereotype, down to the portly passerby who growls about how there's "lotto wildlife" in these parts. Your colleagues at the precinct aren't particularly nice either, cracking jokes that'd likely earn them a trip to HR today.
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