Entries Tagged as 'Dragon Age'

Eldritch Dragons, Missing Justice

This post contains a lot of spoilers for Dragon Age 2. Click here for more of my thoughts on the Dragon Age series

Something lurks under Kirkwall. Unnamed, unknown, but powerful; it infects the minds of all who dwell near it. Hawke, a refugee of blight-destroyed Lothering and eventual champion of Kirkwall, are among the very few to glimpse what is really going on. This may look like a political struggle between cruelty and terror. It is not. Whatever is corrupting Kirkwall is using the life and death struggle between mages and Templar as a means to it’s own end. The story of this entity is what Casandra pulls out of Varric. She trades him lie for lie, and comes out the victor.

From the standpoint of game play mechanics, this is a fascinating choice. There are two stories being told. One that Varric is telling, and one that Cassandra is hearing. There is the story that the player is unraveling, and the story the designers are hinting at. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a game developer hide the real story of a game within the narrative fiction of a game before.

In the theology of Dragon Age, humanity attempted to storm the gates of heaven; literally turning it into hell. From this hell, the darkspawn were born. It is the darkspawn which search for and unleash the Old Gods, causing the Blights. It is the Old Gods which constantly call out, begging for release. The Old Gods who taint and corrupt anything which happens too near.

In Dragon Age, demons are a real, tangible presence. They infect the sentient beings who inhabit Thedas, turning them into abominations. In Dragon Age Origins, Abominations were rare. Each was a tragic story happening to a named character who the Gray Warden may well have known. Certainly the Gray Warden knew the story behind the creation of each Abomination (save the ones that were encountered in the Fade). Contrast this with Kirkwall. Abominations were plentiful. They occur not simply in the mage’s tower, but in warehouses, fields, streams, gullies, the chantry… I’m honestly not sure there’s a place I didn’t stumble into several of them. This tells us that either the designers were lazy, or:

There’s something wrong with Kirkwall. It was purpose built as the center of the slave trade for a massive empire. Untold millions of sentient beings were herded through it’s streets to begin their new lives as chattel. Below Kirkwall is a Dwarven Thaig. Before the Champion’s expedition, that Thaig had sat untouched for centuries, and unused for millenia. The contents of that Thaig would be an archeological marvel, a chance to learn much about Dwarven history, perhaps the very history of the Fall itself. Would be, that is, were it not for the small fact that those who go down there tend to go mad.

There is so much insanity in this game that it would be easy to overlook the true craziness that happens Down Below. In the normal distribution of human personalities, we would tend to expect a murderer for every couple of saints. Given that this is a game about extraordinary people, perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that the people are more monstrous than average. It’s worth drawing attention to the fact that twice we see dwarven expeditions into the primeval Thaig, and twice we see brother turn on brother over a trifling trinket or a pocket of gold. These are the incidents in which we see cut-scenes of Varric being questioned by Casandra. The game calls far less attention to your slaughter of a dragon than it does to the disposition of Varric’s brother.

The artifacts pulled from the Primeval Thaig are tainted. That much is clear. The sword wielded by Knight-Commander Meredith is made from such an artifact. Her strictness with the mages became outright paranoia and hostility. She herself becomes something akin to an abomination. It is possible that her paranoia is justified, at least insofar as it encompasses the mages of Kirkwall. I believe that the only mages who do not end up being possessed by demons are Hawke and Merrill. Every other mage in Kirkwall gives in to their desire for power– if only the power to keep themselves safe– and becomes an abomination.

Kirkwall is not a safe place for the souls of mages. It will seduce them and destroy them. Nor, does it seem, is this a safe place for the psyche of non-mages. It isn’t merely Knight-Commander Meridith who goes mad. The Arishok of the Qun also rampages through the city. After a half-decade of mostly-peaceful settlement and waiting, the Arishok eventually grows despondent over the corruption and filth of Kirkwall. So despondent, in fact, that he decides only blood and fire can purge the city. The similarities between these actions and the Right of Annulment cannot be overlooked.

Among your companions is an abomination. The mage known as Anders holds within himself a spirit possessing the qualities of justice. This spirit was bonded to this mage, and together the pair sought to find a better way for mages to integrate with Thedan society. Throughout their time in Kirkwall, the pair became darker. They brooded on the evils done to mages until finally they felt compelled to act. In a stunning act of terror, Anders and Justice used Qunari technology to destroy not merely the Kirkwall chantry, but also commit the purposeful murder of the one person who could have possibly reconciled the mage and Templar. With enough time in Kirkwall, even Justice became perverted, and turned into vengeance.

There is something lurking under Kirkwall. It might be an Old God clawing to the surface, or– terrifyingly– something even more cunning. Through it’s influence, Thedas has been set ablaze. Mage and Chantry are in a state of war against one another. The Seekers are trying to discover the whereabouts of the one person who has emerged from this opening salvo with soul unscathed.

For all the cut corners the designers took with the production of this game, for all the paring down the mechanics suffered, the story itself was rich and well told. So well told, in fact, that many players might not have noticed the slight of hand. Varric seems to have missed it himself. Whatever flaws we can point to within the game, Bioware did something bold and new with regards to storytelling within games. That is worthy of a song.

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Draggin’ your companions around

“There’s a recipe to a good hero, Hawke, it’s like alchemy. Take one part down to earth, one part selfless nobility, two parts crazy fool, and season liberally with wild falsehoods. Let that percolate through a good audience for a while, and when you’re done, you’ve got your hero”. Varric

“But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke.” Ishmael

The threat was realized, the riots had begun. Only a specific holy relic could stop them. Good news! I knew where that relic was, and was on my way to collect it. Bad news? I had sort of promised it to a friend of mine, for her to use hundreds of miles away. To which do I give greater weight: the lives of hundreds of citizens to whom I owe little to nothing, or the life of a friend to whom I made a promise?

Dragon Age 2 is about friendships and loyalty. Family, duty, and interpersonal connections. At the end of the game there is a choice to be made. You don’t know what that choice means, but that’s almost besides the point. What matters is why we chose to do what we chose to do. I chose friendship. In return, my friend chose me.

As important as your friends are, Dragon Age 2 is a story about you, and your exploits. It is not a story told by you. In fact I’ll say that it’s unique among games in that– within the fiction of the game– it is a story that is being told. And it is being told by an unreliable narrator. Video games may not have found their Citizen Kane, but they certainly do seem to have found their Moby Dick.

I hated Moby Dick. Dragon Age 2 would be a far superior work of literature if it’s only virtue were the omission of anything resembling Moby Dick’s Chapter 32. Dianu.

The story of Dragon Age 2 is told by a friend of yours. A Dwarven man named Varric. He’s a self confessed liar, with a nose for adventure and profit. Other friends include a blood mage named Merrill, the captain of the City Guards, a former slave, an apostate and (former?) Gray Warden, and a pirate.

In a large departure from the fantasy RPG norm, the player is not able to outfit and dress up companions. Fantasy RPGs, much in like fantasy football, statistics min/maxing is very much what people play for. And yet, it doesn’t really fit the theme of this game very well. Your companions are just that- companions. Friends. You are not their commander, you are not on a mystic quest to save the world. It is very rare that I go into my friend’s homes and decide what they will wear– games shouldn’t be different. Thus a simple mechanical change reinforces the theme of the game.

The end of the game involves a friend doing a Very Bad Thing. That friend will do that Very Bad Thing pretty much regardless of what you do. Your choice is how you respond. For all it’s myriad faults, Dragon Age 2 does a good job at representing this key aspect of human existence: we cannot know the outcomes of our decisions. They may be good, bad, or irrelevant. What’s important is the attitude with which we confront those choices, and the reasons behind our decisions. The game presents a much narrower scope of action than I would like. But as a meditation on human existence, it works quite well.

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These Dragons Keep Getting Older

After about three hours, I wrote up some first impressions of Dragon Age 2. It’s been about 10 more hours, so I thought I’d do a bit more writing. Also, I was prompted. To answer the question directly: the best part of the game has to be Kirkwall.

Let me back up a bit, though. With very few exceptions, I don’t really care for the combat in RPGs. Combat is what I have to put up with to get to the good stuff. A game that will let me use brains, guile, stealth and my wits will win my heart forever. Bioware doesn’t make games like that. Instead they give me codex entries. Yes, I will scour every environment to find a new dungeon just so I can find an obscure little bit of textual world building.* I’m basically here for the story, and the chance to make my mark on a (virtual) world. I want to explore fantastic locations and great characters. I want to get inside someone else’s head for a while and learn who else I could be were both nurture and nature wildly different.

Looking back, I think I started to really understand this game when I met Merill. Merill is everything my Hawke is not. She is sweet and shy and will use blood and death to shape the universe to her will. (I’ve written before about blood magic in Dragon Age). I am sarcastic, brash, and my magic is fire and ice.

Meeting Merill was grounding for me. My thoughts changed from “what is my next quest?”, to “I wonder what I need to do to make girl happy?” At that moment I was willing to lay all of Thedas at her feat, just to make her smile. At that moment, Hawke switched from third person to first.

There was a moment yesterday when I was on the docks at the city and I very nearly tried to smell the ocean breeze before catching myself. I actually leaned in close to the monitor to catch the scent before I realized I was playing a game. That was exactly when Merrill made a comment about it smelling like dead fish. That was the exact moment when I understood how much Kirkwall had become my virtual home.

But Merill, my dearest elven minx? I think I’m going to be stuck in Kirkwall for a while. If this relationship is going to go anywhere, you really need to learn to appreciate it’s pleasant stinks. That, or I’m going to be stuck buying you a lot of fancy perfumes to cover the city’s oder.

What makes Dragon Age 2 work– at least in the 11 hours I’ve played– is that I’m not the ultimate bad-ass of ultimate destiny. I’m just a person in an interesting place doing some interesting things. I’m looking forward to drinking with Varric, and slaughtering slavers with Fenris, getting Aveline to unbend. And perhaps spending time with Merill, getting to know the city we will make our home.

*Perhaps After Mass Effect 3, they should make a game where I can play an archeologist.

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On the Aging of Dragons

The greatest strength of fantasy (a category that includes science fiction) — and it’s greatest weakness– is that it takes people with recognizably human characteristics and puts them in extreme and alien circumstances. The rules change according to the whim of the author. In the Dresden series, for instance, a wizard can create flame in an enclosed area– but the heat from it will leak out onto anything nearby according to the normal calculus of a deferential equation. In the Riftwar saga, however, Pug can toss around fireballs all day without toasting marshmallows a few feet from the flame. The trick, therefore, is to find a character to whom the rules can be explained, so that the author can fill in their audience.

We see this in non fantasy stories all the time, in fact. It’s no coincidence that so very many cop movies have a rookie cop and a days-from-retirement veteran. One person to explain the rules, and the other to be explained to. Also: culture clash is comedy gold.

Which brings me to video games. Characters in Role Playing Games (RPGs) are, just as the name implies, playing a role. We inhabit a character who has a position within and defined by the world. The problem is that our characters have names, histories, families– if they’re real people they have everything real people ought to have. Unfortunately we players have just begun the game. We don’t know the 15-50 years of back story that our character has developed.We don’t know the history they would have learned as a child the prejudice they would have imbibed with the milk of their infanthood. We are, in short, a stranger in a society we ought to know.

There are a few solutions to this problem. The most cliche is to simple give the character amnesia. It’s the perfect excuse for not knowing who their best friend is– and also gives the player an immediate goal that coincides with the character’s motivation. Another interesting way to do this is the same “fish out of water” technique I mentioned in the cop example. Commander Sheppard can’t know every alien race because the galaxy is vast and humanity is new. The Vault Dweller is fresh from a vault. All ties are cut in an alien environment.

And then there’s Hawke. Hawke is the main character from Dragon Age 2. Your Avatar in that world. The iconic image, is of course female*, though you can also play a male version of Hawke. Hawke is a different sort of person than any other I’ve inhabited. She has a mother. A brother. She has history we don’t know about. At all.

We do meet her as she’s running from everything she’s ever known, and on the way to a land that loves her not. This would almost be the classic piscis ex aqua situation, except…

In the second part of the first act, Hawke is given a choice about who to work for in the coming year. That year exists solely as a cut-scene. She develops new relationships and strengthens older ones, all without player input and without player knowledge of what is happening. Mechanically, we are led to assume that our Hawke is continuing in the direction we have pointed her, but it does lead to an odd disconnect between what the character knows, and what the player is able to learn.

One more interesting thing that Dragon Age 2 does that is worth mentioning:
In most any body of literature, we know what the hypothesis is, and thus when the story is over. A scientific paper will state this up front, along the lines of “we thought X was true, did some testing, and we were right!** the proof follows”. A work of fiction is a bit different, but generally within the first chapter we know what the goal is: “win the Trojan war”, “found Rome”, “Marry Romeo/Juliet”, “rescue the princess from the 8th castle”.*** This is utterly unlike real life. In real life, we simply do not know when our story is over. Mythologically, people who do learn this information go mad– but the fact that it’s mere mythology sort of proves the point.

In Dragon Age, the conflict takes a long time to develop. I’m 3hrs into the story, and I don’t know what Hawke needs to do yet. I’ve got a couple quests I can do, so I do them. I’m basically killing time within the story until it develops more. In this sort of aimless day to day existence, I am playing Hawke very much like an actual refugee might behave. I don’t know what to do with Hawke, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself. But both of us know that she can’t just lay down and do nothing. This is a perfect marriage of character and player motivations.

Dragon Age 2 so far as managed to do something I’ve never seen a game do before, and do it in a way that I find intriguing. I’m not actually sure if this was the intended direction for the game, but I hope it was. Bioware has done something unique. I can’t wait to get back to Kirkwall.

*Suck it, Bioware Marketing.
** I can haz tenure now?
*** Yes, I did just compare Mario to the Iliad? why?

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Civil War makes Dragon Age Hands Unclean

I’m currently obsessed with Dragon Age:Origins*. The game play is old school, and story is deep. I’m about 17 hours in and I feel like I’m just beginning to get a handle on the shape of the story. When they say this is an 80 hour game, that’s not just marketing…

In this game, there is a type of magic which requires the use of human blood for energy. In the society as presented in the game Blood magic is evil, and when (in the past) it it had been left unchecked, slavery and tyranny were it’s inevitable outcomes. So, Blood Magic= Evil. Indeed, many of your companions like you more if you kill those who practice it.

Also, well, this game is dark. The first time I was forced to murder a demonically-possessed child, I (the player, me) was haunted. Was there anything I could have said or done differently so as to prevent that outcome? I congratulated the game makers on producing an actual emotional response in me. The second time, though, the game asked me to kill a possessed child I was livid. There has to be another way. There was.

Blood magic, of course.** The game asked me to make a moral choice: was I willing to sacrifice the child’s mother (who bears part-blame for the child’s possession), use forbidden magic, to save the life of this child? Or was I to let the child die? For me, the choice was simple. There was no way in hell I was going to murder another child. None. The pure visceral reaction I had surprised me, but again– the game had succeeded.

And I succeeded also. The child was saved. Sadly, mom did die. And yes, that blood will forever stain my virtual hands…

*Note to Cristian Game makers: I would totally buy a game called Church fathers: Origen. The selling your library, and visiting the sick chapters could be an awesome examination of early church life. I admit that the self castration mini-game wold make this an M rated game, however.

**I wouldn’t have set that up in the beginning without the payoff, would I?

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