Now That It’s Over — Let Me Be Honest About GAME OF THRONES (w/spoilers, obviously)…

I watched the show, from beginning to end, and still find it to be one of the most overrated TV series in years next to LOST.

This isn’t a revelation that came with the poorly-written, lackluster finale where Arya Stark turns into Frodo Baggins at the end of Return of the King but within the first season itself. Yes, the one that so many have retroactively portrayed as being close to perfection while ignoring the telltale signs of issues that’d become apparent in future episodes. Even Saturday Night Live had a sketch back then, which has since been scrubbed from the internet (for some reason — but I’ll assume that a segment of Game of Thrones fans are giant crybullies), mocking the gratuitous nudity and sex in the brothel scenes (apparently we’re too dumb of an audience to understand what happens in a place referred to as a “brothel”) by speculating they were taking advice from an over-sexed thirteen-year-old boy on set. It perfectly represented everything wrong with the series, just as it began, and now it’s gone…

As time went by, subsequent seasons came out and I noticed others commenting on the overuse of rape as if it were some great surprise. Really? Do you think a show that’d be so pandering with (largely) female nudity would leave rape as shock value dramatics off the table? Even though it manages to have varied and layered female characters unlike many shows and movies, which erroneously think a “strong female character” is simply a male action hero with different reproductive organs, you still have them getting sexually violated or physically beaten as if they were in a snuff film and it all functions as a juvenile approach to character-building. The kind of grotesque non-creativity that Satoshi Kon deftly criticized twenty-two years ago in Perfect Blue that goes unheard while Darren Aronofsky heavily borrowed from it.

There’s a lot of problems I have with the series but, to avoid making it a series of impenetrable blocks of text, I’ll make a somewhat breezy Cracked.com-style list of my three major issues. Starting with…

1. HISTORICAL FICTION WITH MAGIC (KINDA)

If there’s one thing I can’t stand in horror stories involving zombies, it’s the refusal of characters to refer to zombies as “zombies.” They always have to come up with some awkward alternative, as if it’s embarrassing to utter the word. But…why? They’re animated cadavers that mindlessly devour human flesh — they are zombies, based on the common pop culture portrayal of them. Some may run than limp along, others more invulnerable to damage, and can even have fungal growths spouting from their craniums like The Last of Us but they’re still zombies. Is it because the creators think to have characters refer to them as such be “too silly”? Why be so hesitant to embrace zombies fully as horror story monsters in a horror story? Why act as if they’re anything else?

Similarly, watching Game of Thrones is more like watching historical fiction about the War of the Roses with the pretense of also being a fantasy adventure. The majority of the series is a bunch of people standing or sitting around discussing statecraft and all the fantasy elements, like the dragons or magic, are few and far inbetween until later on. They’ll appear to remind us that this is, in fact, a fantasy story but will remain downplayed as we watch a bunch of similar-looking honky motherfuckers as they speak of the fake politics of a fake kingdom with a fake history at interminable length. Maybe you’re supposed to be impressed by how Shakespearean it all is but The Bard himself was more willing to embrace the fantastical in A Midsummer Night’s Dream or The Tempest while this show only does it begrudgingly despite the intentional inclusion of those elements.

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PULSE POUNDING ACTION! ACTION!! ACTION!!!

It would certainly be easier to accept, if it were a stage production, technical limitations and that much of the plot would have to be driven by dialogue via character interaction. However, Game of Thrones isn’t a stage production — it is an expensive televised series, yet it feels like a stage production nonetheless. It has no excuse to be that way, other than pompously self-satisfied enough to assume soap opera-style melodrama makes up for the lack of concrete action.

If Game of Thrones was titled “The War of the Roses” and actually about the War of the Roses, I’d have far less issue with that storytelling format. I’d be more willing to tolerate all the statecraft because there’s a real-world historical basis for it and, hell, you might learn something from it. Though a dramatization of those events, they are based on an important occurrence that shaped the United Kingdom as a confederation of nations inhabiting the same island(s) — something that has affected how we live right now, in some way or another. For all the real-world parallels Game of Thrones tries to use as part of its setting, it doesn’t really matter if you lack an attachment to Westeros as a place and having such would only be possible if you’ve already spent time immersed within it. The only perspective you see of Westeros is from those with immense power, compared to others, as they go about their political machinations. You never really get a sense of how the other half lives and I can’t help but find it aggravating as peasants and slaves exist only to aggrandize or demonize those in power, never to explore their perspective of the events. They may as well be non-player characters in a videogame than real people.

The reason I despise talking about the novels with people who’ve read them, as someone who hasn’t, is how some insist I should read them to “get” and “truly appreciate” the setting. But, as I’ve said elsewhere, declaring who does or doesn’t “get it” is fanboyish gate-keeping based on obsessive adoration of the content than an understanding of the narrative structure or overall cultural context. Maybe, when discussing what makes the characters unlikable in a modern context, I don’t want to be chastised because I’m just supposed to take everything as a given — immune to all scrutiny — while purposefully ignoring the world outside of it. Except it is a product of our modern culture and did not form in a vacuum separate from that culture. The books and TV series using real-world parallels from the past at all means any attempt at keeping it separate from reality is utterly inane. At least when it came to Lord of the Rings, stuff like The Silmarillion was supplemental than integral to understanding the story of a halfling journeying to throw a piece of mystical bling into a volcano. In fact, LotR never shied away from the fact it was a fantastical story in a fantastical setting the way Game of Thrones did until latter-day seasons. Though, even then, they botched it.

2. MAGIC: THE ULTIMATE DEUS EX MACHINA

I’ve never been as fond of fantasy as I have sci-fi when it comes to storytelling. Though concepts within both genres are wholly imaginary — sci-fi usually attempts to explain the mechanics of its technologies, in as internally logical a way as possible. Faster-Than-Light space travel might not be realistic but having characters, who’re informing the unaware, explain how it works which adds both a sense of texture to that world as well as setting up rules that those characters are governed by within it. But magic? At best, it’s vaguely defined — at worst, it’s arbitrary.

It’s a lot more interesting to watch an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where they’re dealing with starship engine troubles, discussing these well-established aspects of that device and the inner-workings in order to fix it, as opposed to seeing Gandalf use spells in the most convenient of times without a proper explanation as to why he didn’t do it before (those giant eagles would’ve cut down on a lot of travel time). He’s brought back from death in a more powerful form and the reason for it comes down to “just ’cause.” How the fuck can there be any tension, by that point? All dire situations can be fixed by Gandalf and the only reason he doesn’t is that Tolkien willed it so.

I know I just argued about the show’s unwillingness to fully embrace its fantastical elements, but part of that is because usage of magic becomes common in later seasons and ruined by the haphazard writing. The initial nature of it being seldom used is dropped for a more typical portrayal where it can pretty much do whatever the showrunners want at the moment to either increase or relieve tension, though it may not make any sense, than this unpredictable and unwieldy force as suggested in the story. The show couldn’t commit to its own hesitancy in using magic. It ends up going all Gandalf as the conclusion drew near since it’s easier to tell a fantasy story in that way, than sticking with what has been given precedence and keeping things consistent.

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Worst. Wizard. Ever.

I assumed, at first, magic was downplayed because so much indicated that — within this setting — it was ultimately unreliable and tended to make situations worse as a result. It was admittedly refreshing that one of the reasons magic was almost non-existent is that its practitioners, like Melisandre, were never consistent with the efficacy of their spellcraft. She sacrificed an innocent girl under the assumption that would lead to an important battle being won, but that doesn’t happen — the would-be king’s army fails miserably and Melisandre’s contribution didn’t help at all. She just burned a child alive based on a premonition that supposedly came from some fire god. Everyone else, on her word alone, simply took it on faith that human sacrifice would work in their favor and that adds a level of realism to the show far more than people dryly talking fantasy politics for tens of minutes. People in the past did exactly that, presuming certain atrocious rituals would please supernatural forces, and the results weren’t that much different.

When Melisandre manages to resurrect Jon Snow after being murdered, it’s portrayed as being more of a happy accident than anything else. There’s a delayed reaction that makes her think the spell didn’t work at all. Problem is that, past this point, magic is increasingly useful to being downright uncharacteristic and contradicting what came before. It even allows one character (Beric Dondarrion) to keep coming back to life, after numerous on-screen deaths, and to set his sword aflame as if he were in Dark Souls. So, this “Lord of Light” will turn that guy into an undead killing machine for no adequate reason other than “fate” while sacrificing a child based on their whims to win a battle doesn’t do anything? What an asshole! The fact Melisandre keeps doing things in favor of such a wretched deity, who screws them over in times of need when not refusing to assist them whatsoever, only makes her look like a dumbass than some wise mage…

Unfortunately, she’s not the only unbearably unintelligent character featured. It also seems, with many others, the showrunners caved into fan service — completely forgetting how those characters were written in previous seasons along with the ever-present possibility of their expendability. Y’know, the one thing the show is most known for.

3. NO LOVE FOR KINGS, QUEENS, LORDS, OR LADIES

I’ll never, ever understand the fondness others had for this guy:

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The Cinematic Prometheus

Ned Stark, if you were really paying attention, isn’t only a complete fool who brought death unto himself (he was very credulous of someone who is obviously untrustworthy yet never expects betrayal) but also a total piece of shit who made the conflict featured throughout worse due to short-sighted apathy anda slavish devotion to the divine right of kings.

Did everyone forget that, within the very first episode, he completely dismissed the warning of two men who saw the White Walkers before decapitating them? That his reason for doing so was basically “it is the law and you can’t contradict it”? I’d argue it wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that one act alone almost doomed everyone else in the story, making them ill-prepared for the Night King and his zombified hordes. Calling this guy “heroic” is almost kind of offensive, especially when you find out he’s well-aware of Robert Baratheon’s incompetence as a leader and supported his rule for the pettiest of reasons.

He didn’t go to war against Aerys Targaryen II because he was a sadistic ruler that made the people under his reign suffer horribly (Jaime Lannister, however, rightfully killed him for that exact reason), but because his best buddy wanted to have sex with his hot sister and denied it. Making it unforgivable when he lies about the truth of the matter, that the relationship between Rhaegar and Lyanna was entirely consensual and not an act of rape (of course that has to be brought up!), that rationalized Robert’s war to become a gluttonous and wasteful king who doesn’t really improve anything. Ned knows this system is broken and the people in charge are corrupt as well as incapable of proper governance, but he nonetheless continues to support it because…it’s the law. The guy may as well be the Sheriff of Nottingham yet people keep acting like he’s goddamn Robin Hood.

It’s bad enough the show has a baffling number of characters to keep track of, many of whom only serve a perfunctory role and not developed past it, but that a majority of prominent ones are members of a feudal monarchy. They tend to be bougie pricks who never truly suffered under the opulence they lived in while everyone else was reduced to squalor. Like Ned Stark, most don’t reconsider the system to be a cruel joke that needs to be broken down and rebuilt from scratch with all the evidence of its disadvantages. Just about everything within the story implies that rule based on royal lineage only engenders endless conflict as numerous families manipulate and wage war with one another to gain a position of superiority regardless of the collateral damage caused. To hold such an amount of overwhelming power indefinitely until another challenger comes along, as more collateral damage is caused in the process. Not to mention, noted by some characters, those born into noble houses aren’t inherently more skilled at statecraft than anyone else and assuming that’s the case is part of the problem. Plus, well, the inbreeding that makes them mentally and emotionally unstable.

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Too bad he didn’t finish the job properly…

I can imagine some (disingenuous) pedants would argue characters espousing anachronistic viewpoints in a setting evocative of Pre-Renaissance Europe would, somehow, break all immersion. Yet this doesn’t explain why characters such as Tyrion Lannister or Oberyn Martell exist as well as the fact they’ve been two of the most popular characters on the show. Both frequently voice attitudes and behave in ways, closer to our own values and comportment in reality, that clearly make them outliers within the setting. It was nice, after so many scenes of people murdering infants and children like it’s a mundane activity, to have someone like Oberyn come along to point out how awful they are for doing such.

Both of them are well aware of their position in the world but, rather than be deferential to nobility, are often critical of it — Tyrion himself knowing that, if not born a Lannister, he’d of been culled as a newborn and frequently shows disdain for how others exploit “honor” to justify the unjustifiable. They know that almost all nobility, far from being majestic, is comprised of vainglorious human garbage. Then there’s Davos, the closest person to being “nouveau riche” in the cast. A guy so laid back that he doesn’t treat his new status as anything of note — never holding it above others or with a rigid sense of obligation, his loyalties based on his internal moral compass — and that informality makes him just as relatable to any contemporary person as either Tyrion or Oberyn.

If there’s any indication the showrunners aren’t responsible for the nuanced characterization of women in the cast, as much as G.R.R. Martin, it’s Arya Stark. Even the actress portraying her, Maisie Williams, had issues with how her character had become invulnerable instead of dying and whose arc was anti-climactic as there was no pay-off for the set-up. I’d add that it’s also when the showrunners fall into the trap of turning her into another vapid iteration of a “strong female character.”

Arya becoming a single-minded, emotionless assassin at the cost of her childhood should’ve been a tragic story to the very end than treated triumphantly at any point — another sign that pursuit of the Iron Throne only ruins the lives of others, with youths faring worse than anyone else. It’s acknowledged, once or twice, but she becomes defined wholly by how supposedly “badass” she is and ends up killing the Night King in a contrived manner ’cause fan service probably. The straw that broke the camel’s back, for me, was how dozens upon dozens of people in King’s Landing are being burned alive by Daenerys’ dragon while remaining unaffected herself. It’s almost like she was surrounded by an invisible everything-proof shield! Then a horse, also unharmed, comes out of nowhere to give her a ride and…that’s when I truly stopped giving a singular shit whatsoever.

A POSTSCRIPT

There is another fantasy story, also based on a series of novels, which I wanted Game of Thrones to resemble a bit more: The Witcher.

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It fully embraces the fantastical while managing to weave it into incredibly personal stories dealing with the human condition. Where monsters and people meet one another and, rather than any killing, come to profound existential truths with a tragic or heart-warming end attached. Politics, parallel to both past and present, are dealt with in a succinct manner than lost under a mountain of minutiae that is meaningless in the long run. All while fully acknowledging conflicts between the affluent are always masturbatory and help no one but themselves — the kingdoms and their rulers feeling interchangeable despite their ostensible and self-proclaimed differences (hint: they all fucking suck). Magic is not just a superpower that operates purely by the will of the storytellers but an arcane form of science with cohesive rules. Its practitioners are more like chemists, physicists, and engineers who follow specific methods and formulae for results than wizards flinging their hands around and making particle effects appear. Even the titular character, Geralt, treats the monsters he hunts less like the mythical beasts they are and no different to any other animal (or even person) as if he was just a gamekeeper — between the moments he’s either acting as a soldier of fortune, an investigator, or a political advisor.

It should be clarified what introduced me to the series wasn’t any of the novels, like many of those who watched Game of Thrones, but the third and final installment of the videogame series. I literally started at the end of Geralt’s story and, due to being was so intrigued by the world and those inhabiting it, decided to go back to the beginning of it all. Yet, having watched Game of Thrones from beginning to end, I feel the exact opposite about A Song of Ice & Fire — I’ve glimpsed into this place and its people, but far too alienated to indulge further. It was an exercise in drudgery, chasing a carrot at the end of a stick in the vain hope of finally catching it, that only ended in further disappointment. There’re things I liked about it such as the cast and production design, much in the same way with most Marvel movies, but the whole package is still less than the sum of its parts.

I could concede that the show “ended as good as it could have” but…that’s defeatist bullshit. It’s just setting the bar low and excusing creative laziness even as the show put itself on such a pedestal. Anything less than giving us the moon would be a broken promise because that’s what they advertised to everyone, for years. It had all that time leading to the finale to end all finales and, instead of delivering any of that, we just get another typical fantasy adventure that thinks too highly of itself.

[Originally posted on 5/28/19 @ Medium.com]

A Non-Fan Review: The Witcher III

For whatever reason, high fantasy (specifically of the Western variety) is something I never became partial to as a genre. Why is science fiction so much more appealing? High fantasy is as capable of creating believable, lived-in worlds while also dealing in morality tales and speculate on the state of human nature — so why the lack of enthusiasm?

Maybe it’s because so much of that genre feeds off the corpse of J.R.R. Tolkien like a rabid zombie, where every setting is a feudal medieval environment with elves and dwarves and orcs. Maybe, despite the fine details, such overused and iterative tropes make those works almost indistinguishable from one another. It also does not help that, with the wealth of mythological material from so many cultures at their disposal, many storytellers are determined to use the Nordic kind until the end of time (perhaps “Ragnarok” would be more apt?).

Yet, at the same time, one of my favorite videogames in the last decade or so — Dark Souls — is a Western-style high fantasy. Not to mention my fondness of Ico and Shadow of the Colossus. None of these titles, however, came from anywhere in Europe or the U.S. but in Japan. They were the genre’s tropes filtered through disparate cultural sensibilities that, while not necessarily making it original (for nothing truly is), gave it a distinctly ethereal and ominous approach that differs from others of its kind.

That game also spends time world-building, but more through its environment and what can be inferred through the scant dialogue spoken and cryptic item descriptions. While the lack of info-dumps is well enough (players are rewarded not only with more weapons or armor or spells but further information about this world with exploration), it is a prime example as to why videogames can function uniquely as a storytelling medium as opposed to borrowing heavily from passive forms of Art like film or television.

The Witcher III is not Dark Souls, by a long shot, but one aspect makes it stand out among the rest: an anachronistically modern attitude.

Fantastical Frolic

Remember Dennis the Peasant from Monty Python & The Holy Grail?

Well, it’s kinda like that. Even the sense of humor. Yet The Witcher III and its source material is not a cultural product of Britain — but Poland.

Given the country’s unfortunate history of being occupied by Nazi Germany and then annexed by the Soviet Union as well as one of the last pagan areas in Europe to be Christianized, it is hard to not see Geralt of Rivia — the pallid-skinned, white-haired, dry-witted yet sarcastic protagonist — as being representative of the nation. He tries to maintain a tangible sense of identity, with his own internalized but consistent sense of ethics, despite attempts by other parties to change or erase it. He is mocked and dismissed by those who nonetheless require his skills and knowledge for problems they cannot solve themselves but he takes it all in stride. He endures and continues on, in some way, whether it is through the company of good friends or the peaceful quiet of loneliness.

He very much feels like someone who’d adapt well to a real, contemporary world like our own (though this goes for much of the cast). Besides the nonchalant approach to casual sex that’s fairly well-known about the franchise by now, several individuals are (similarly to Morrigan in Dragon Age: Origins) openly atheistic and scientifically-minded when it comes to magic. Even the Witchers themselves study and treat mythological beasts as if they were actual animals and curses were they akin to medical ailments. There’s also a very anti-authoritarian streak that would be more fitting for a 1970’s Punk or even a Millennial — both from the setting’s inhabitants and by the narrative — that treats all war and struggles of power as a masturbatory exercise among the elite. Those below them are more like expendable commodities than people, who will always suffer the worst effects of the conflict while the affluent hoard what gains are made. That war does not have a winner, for victory is really based on who loses the least.

You see, this is the kind of realism I want when it comes to high fantasy. Best of all, doing so while still embracing it exists in a world of rock trolls and vengeful specters. It retains a sense of humor even with all the grim (and Grimm) subject matter on display. Its best moments do not come with gratuitous violence or pandering sexuality but the very personal interactions between characters. All those animations of Geralt chopping off heads and limbs or putting another notch in his belt pale in comparison to him acting as an adoptive father to a rambunctious daughter or accompanying a friend to a wedding in which she’s a bridesmaid…while occasionally possessed by a highwayman’s ghost (it’s even better in context!). The most minor of characters are rife with personality; where cretins can have fleeting moments of empathy and self-awareness while ostensibly admirable people will rationalize indefensible actions with tortured, self-satisfied logic.

This is also a world where prophesies and destiny are tangible forces but there are still those, for one reason or another, who are skeptical of their viability and argue against it (or of certain “signs”). Those that believe in them are prone to making inaccurate predictions or reach for conclusions based on very circumstantial evidence. No one believes it without a second thought or without some personal bias attached. Even curses can be accidentally invoked by those who were simply too vindictive or reckless to think of its effects, with the means to reverse such a hex never being quite clear due to numerous factors both known and unknown. At least until a Witcher investigates and deduces a situation based on observation as well as previous experience.

Y’know, like most flesh and blood people would…

Fantastical Follies

Okay, okay, okay — enough adulation. There is one big problem I have with the storytelling and it’s one I have with a lot of Western high fantasy: it’s racially monochromatic.

Elves, dwarves, and hobbits may be intended to be oppressed social minorities…except they’re all portrayed as white. While the Hearts of Stone DLC adds the Ofieri — a conflation of people from India, Pakistan, and various Middle Eastern nations — to remedy this, it’s still bewildering to have groups referred to as “nonhumans” resemble all the other white humans (save for having pointed ears or smaller in stature or both). Why couldn’t elves, say, appear as East Asians? And, no, “‘cause it’s like feudal Europe” isn’t an excuse. If we are going to use history, why not use the mistreatment of non-white groups to emphasize that point in the narrative? It’d give more weight to the way elves are often seen as naturally devious or how females are exoticized due to their race, for example. If science fiction can use extraterrestrials to substitute real ethnic groups, why couldn’t elves and dwarves and hobbits? There is none — unless you simply contrive it.

The Witcher 3 no empeorará su calidad gráfica - The Witcher 3 ...

As far as the actual gameplay, it’s like a weird conflation between SkyrimRed Dead Redemption, and the aforementioned Dragon Age: Origins but manages to be better than all three combined — with a combat system akin to the Batman: Arkham games or Shadow of Mordor, as well as some eerily similar elements of dodging and riposting opponents from Bloodborne. Unfortunately, it carries over some warts from some of those titles. Big warts.

“Embarrassment of riches” is the first thing to come to mind because, as common in any game with role-playing elements (or made by Ubisoft), there are innumerable items that lie around for the taking and micro-managed to oblivion. Many ostensibly useless knick-knacks become necessary for fashioning new equipment as well as brewing concoctions — which would be welcomed, were the choices not so overwhelming and often go unused anyway.

The concoctions themselves are so specific in function yet last too long at the same time. Then there are oils applied to swords to cause extra damage to certain kinds of monsters, made convoluted due to some odd categorization (why are Nekkers considered “ogroids” instead of “necrophages”?). While this may be consistent with the source material’s lore of a Witcher’s methods — it only translates to busywork, padding out the least interesting aspect of play, in a videogame. Having only half of all types of monster oil and one concoction combining the effects of few others might be considered too streamlined — but it cuts down on so much wasted time and effort for such little added effect.

The Witcher 3 might be the next big title for Xbox Game Pass ...

It’s a problem endemic in action games with RPG elements attached. So much of the basic gameplay in such titles is based on mechanical skill, mainly mastery of the control scheme, which makes an abstract stat system more complimentary with turn-based combat feel out of place. In fact, given this is an open-world title as well, it feels more like an arbitrary barrier to where you can travel instead of allowing player agency — which is wholly counterproductive to such an experience. These aren’t a matter of challenge either as enemies at higher levels than yourself (each quest has a “suggested level” to accomplish them) are so disproportionately powered, a few blows are enough to kill Geralt, that it doesn’t matter how skillful you are as a player.

It also does not help that newer, better equipment is dropped so much or for sale in shops that anything crafted becomes quickly obsolete. Even one “free DLC” (read: content update) includes access to the best armor and weapons available, so why even put up any pretense of managing inherently inferior equipment? In fact, why have players endlessly replacing various swords than just keeping two throughout that only need to be upgraded or repaired? It could be argued that, because of their status bonuses, things like armor piercing or increased Sign intensity make the player weigh their options — but such effects are either meaningless or negligible. I can’t say which, exactly, because it was barely noticeable. Perplexingly, being able to dismember enemy combatants is noticeable but seems unaffected by any status bonuses from equipment. It occurs often enough as is, with lower level enemies becoming easily separated from their extremities.

Fantastical Philosophy

However, after so many role-playing games with a morality system, where one’s actions are measured on some variation of “good” and “evil,” Witcher III takes the best possible approach: it doesn’t have one. At all. The first area of the game (acting as something of a tutorial section), White Orchard, has two great examples of such.

The first scenario is when approaching a dwarven blacksmith whose workshop has been subjected to arson. Geralt, being a Witcher and thus an adept tracker, is tasked to follow the arsonist’s trail and apprehend him. You find him but are offered financial compensation to let him go free. Now, you can be an upstanding citizen and refuse the bribe to keep your promise. Why not? It is, ostensibly, the right thing to do. The problem is that, due a singular yet irrelevant technicality, the man is hanged and the dwarven blacksmith is further ostracized within the village he works. Was it really the “right” decision, then? Perhaps letting the arsonist go, to have the blacksmith just bite the bullet and live with his loses, might be preferable. The arsonist is a drunken lout, wounded by carnivorous river imps, who spent all his money on booze and is willing to part with whatever he has left to go unpunished for his crime. But, really, didn’t he already punish himself? He wasted the inheritance of his dead mother to get himself shit-faced and then inadvertently commit a crime in the process, towards someone with whom his dead mother was a good friend.

The second scenario involves coming across an herbalist with a young woman in her care, who had been severely wounded in a griffin attack. Geralt is given the option to use a basic healing item for Witchers to help her recover — though he warns that, for anyone who hadn’t gone through the mutagenic process he had, such a potion may have adversely detrimental side effects. You could simply let her die due to that fact, much to the herbalist’s disappointment. If you decide to use the potion, the herbalist is ecstatic and rewards you a bunch of items — thanking you for “actually caring.” Again, this sounds preferable, but the writers throw another curveball by having Geralt meet the injured woman’s significant other and he berates you for it. He explains your potion, though it let her live, broke her as a person. She is stricken by so many psychological dysfunctions that she cannot interact with anyone as she did prior to her recovery.

Which decision is right, which is wrong? That’s entirely up to you, the player, to decide and accept (or excuse). There is no “correct” approach to these situations and, thankfully, the game never lazily reduces them to cases of false equivalence. It is often so easy to make things either a wholly black-and-white affair or cynically claim “both sides” (even if there’s several) are somehow equally awful or valid ’cause reasons. There’s an acceptance and understanding of how complex (or complicated) the world is, where causation and effect are not always clear until well after the fact. Life is predictable, due to recorded history and everyday monotony, yet often punctuated by unexpected events that lead to upheavals and a clash of values. Those values are not always cultural or political differences between people of competing nations and ethnic groups — but your values as well.

Despite being the third and final installment in a videogame franchise, not to mention part of a literary one which first began in 1986, it more than succeeds on its own merits. It succeeds so well that I could not help but order and purchase the first official English-translated anthology of short stories — The Last Wish — that only endeared me further with the material as well as the subsequent Sword of Destiny. I’ve already gotten The Blood of Elves, the first book of the five-part saga, and plan on getting the rest soon enough.

[Originally posted on 8/25/17 @ Medium.com]