I Stayed Up Until 2am Trying to Make a Rooster Like Me in Far Cry 6

I’ve done a lot of weird and wonderful things in my years playing games. Once I stayed up until the early hours of the morning trying to beat a bow-tie-wearing black blob in They Came From the Ground — a largely unknown Xbox Live Arcade game — whilst incredibly drunk. Another time I watched my mates accidentally plummet out of a helicopter to their death in GTA Online, forgetting they needed a parachute. And I have even chased down a panty thief in the ever-eccentric Judgment (you should totally play it by the way). But in Far Cry 6, for reasons I’m still not entirely clear on, I stayed up until 2am trying to befriend an extremely angry and anti-social rooster.

My quibbles with my own actions aren’t that I ultimately semi-succeeded in my task, but the fact I found the idea of waiting until the morning to do such a thing so inconceivable. “I must befriend the rooster before I sleep,” I muttered to myself, like some disturbed streetwalker.

That rooster — if you’ve played the game you’re likely already aware — is Chicharrón. A bird so bad-ass it wears a nose-ring; has a multi-colored plume of feathers, and wears a spiked choker. Why? Well, I can only assume to instill fear in any fool unlucky enough to locks eyes with this beady-eyed beast.

So where did my desperation to befriend such a rage-fueled rooster begin? When Ubisoft made an entire near-2-minute trailer outlining the poor fella’s backstory. Snatched from the beaches of Yara and thrown into a cockfighting ring, only to escape, leaving explosions in its wake as it charges through busy streets chased by the FND military.

My hero.

So, when the ‘Man’s Best Enemy’ quest finally popped in the east of Yara, I knew I needed to make meeting this charismatic creature my priority. Alas, it was late. I was reviewing Far Cry 6 — check it out, sorry not sorry for the plug — and one thing had led to another and before I knew it, it was 2 am. But there, finally, after 20+ hours of playing (I visited the eastern region of Yara last), Chicharrón was in reach.

Sleep is for the weak, especially when you have a roid-rage rooster as a pal.

So off I jetted and met Reinaldo, an NPC and proud owner of the aforementioned rooster, who told me the bone-chilling tale of Chicharrón’s bloodthirsty backstory. Having trained this bird to be the best and baddest cockfighter in all of Yara, the FND had rocked up, tried to arrest Reinaldo for smuggling cash, and his cockerel companion had lost its metaphorical shit.

“When he tasted the blood of soldados, Yara’s greatest guerrilla fighter was born… He has an insatiable thirst to kill those who hurt the innocent,” Reinaldo told me.

At this point, there’s little else you really need to know about why I needed to befriend such a creature. An eye for fashion? Check. A taste for sweet, sweet, justice? Check. But then Chicharrón gave me the blood-red icing on the cake.

First I had to help him take care of some vicious attack dogs the FND was breeding. Relatively straightforward enough. But then the next quest, ‘Pecking Orders’ had me “following the angry rooster,” as it made its way to the next locale to be soaked by the blood of our oppressors.

Along the way, Chicharrón, clearly pissed off for no good reason, smashed up an innocent merchant’s stall by the side of the road, much to their displeasure. He literally pecked an FND vehicle until it erupted into a ball of flames, sending himself careering backward into the middle of the road into a colorful heap of feathers.

We then stormed an FND headquarters, destroying hundreds of files and documents, I can only assume for the hell of it… and because, as previously stated, he’s a very angry, bad boy.

Our reign of terror and the beginning of a beautiful friendship concluded with me protecting the beaky boi as he pecked a monument to smithereens. The anger of this rooster against the establishment knows no bounds.

But what brought a smile to my face wasn’t just the dent me and my rooster ally had put into Castillo’s corrupt establishment, but the fact we tagged wherever we went with Chicharrón’s tag, like a calling card to let the FND know what was up.

After all was said and done, everything we’d been through. I walked over to my newfound friend — or so I thought — and tried to give him a pet.

Like a professional boxer, the bastard ducked and weaved my encroaching hand before trying to nip it. Heeding the story of Chicharrón’s insatiable thirst for human blood, I backed off.

If you’re ever questioning what you’re doing at any random stage in your life, just remember this:

I stayed up until 2 am doing nothing more in Far Cry 6 than trying to befriend a virtual rooster, and after everything we’ve been through, it still won’t let me pet it.