The defining experience of every Grand Theft Auto-style game is running over pedestrians with cars. Typically, I think nothing of it — they’re not really people, after all. They might look a little bit like you and me, but they are devoid of personality, of consciousness, of soul. So when I’m fleeing five cop cars and a pedestrian-filled getaway route presents itself, I don’t hesitate to mow them down. Sometimes I even smile as they bounce off my bumper, their limbs flailing around.

But at a San Francisco preview event for Watch Dogs, a game that plays much like Grand Theft Auto, I felt something I’ve never really felt in a game before.

I felt guilty.