"... its interesting how you get to know someone just through their writing. I love how your tactics in a game revolve around running away from EVERYTHING and always choose the safe option, while Nathan dives headlong into fights and generally causes a mess at every opportunity!"
I think I've just been called a coward over email.
When long-time reader Jess Bird sent the above, I stared at my screen aghast. Man, that's a total crock of shit - I've been known for moments of extreme bravery while playing games in Iron Man Mode. Remember that time when... that time... well, if I was to scour the archives I bet I'd be able to find a classic moment where I displayed unparalleled courage in the face of adversity instead of just running away.
"... my health drops to below the half-way mark. This bard is smart enough to know when he’s licked. I gather what little dignity I have left and hightail it outta there." – Elder Scrolls: Arena, #1
" ... The last time we left off, I’d built a gigantic rocket to hopefully get a satellite into space after the first failed attempt. I then got scared that the giant rocket would go horribly wrong, so I downsized it to a more conservative design." - Kerbal Space Program, #4
"... I look around and my confusion turns to terror as a few Ghasts are homing in on us, and I’ll never be able to fight them... I only took one step away from the portal before completely losing my shit and leaping back into it." - Minecraft, #15
"... I look it square in the eye and shoot back at it anyway, just to let it know how I feel about the situation. I then get scared and run away." - Half-Life, #0.5
"... now I’m armed to the hilt, which takes my confidence to soaring highs! Unfortunately, the incredible darkness and scary monster noises take my confidence to crushing lows. So I guess on balance my confidence is about neutral." - Minecraft, #5
OKAY FINE. Maybe Jess has a point. But that doesn't mean Nate is braver or more ferocious in battle than me. If we were to get into a fight, I'd totally win. Maybe. If I was armed.
We've already been there and done that, anyway.
Either way, I think it's time to address this blatant besmirchment of my good character, and possibly point out how funny the word 'besmirch' is. And I think I've got the perfect opportunity to do that with the new series I'm about to embark upon.
Since we first opened shop there isn't a week goes by without at least one person asking when we're going to do Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. As a game, it ticks all the boxes for a good Iron Man Mode candidate: it's very sandbox, almost totally driven by the player's own actions, lends itself really well to a written narrative and you get to hit innocent civilians with axes. But despite my love of uniting faces with medieval weaponry, an equal number of factors made me vow never to play it for the blog. That was until I got Jess' email and realized it was the perfect medium with which to prove my excellent track record with conflict management.
Typically - and as you might expect - I play some kind of thief class in RPGs. I max out my archery skills so I never have to get too close to enemies, pour points on my sneak ability so I can stab people in the back if I run out of arrows, and never have to risk dungeoneering for loot because I can just steal it from shops when nobody is looking.
But not today. When I hit the character creation screen, I choose to play as a big, burly Orc. His career prospects in Skyrim are either construction or brawling, and given the amount of shitty, crumbling castles in Skyrim, I don't think the residents here are that bothered about construction. So I'm going to level up in all the fighting abilities, and exercise them at every available opportunity. I'm going to wear heavy armour. Magic? Fuggedaboutit, magic is for pussies. I'm going to wade into Skyrim fearlessly and master heavy weaponry.
One thing I am going to spend some time on is my speechcraft, since that's important in Skyrim. I just so happen to speak the language of axe-to-the-face.
First though, I flick through the presets to define how Shrek looks. I'm rather taken to the first one, actually - at the risk of sounding culturally insensitive, he looks like an ageing man from Trinidad (if you ignore the dental work). This is the face of a man who ain't taking no bullcrap from anyone. "Whatchoo talkin' about, boi? Dun' nonna jah be disrepectin' ya elders wit' any o' dat tomfoolery."
I need to give our Caribbean friend a name, too. And again, I'm going to risk sounding like I'm stereotyping an entire race here.
I call him Waaarg.
Apologies to any Orcs reading.
