Just a BioWare Fan

Though I could have brought all of these to the Dragon Age: Inquisition forum and posted them on the confessions thread there, I discovered that I had an awful lot of things I suspect I do “wrong” in DA games. Instead of hijacking the thread with two full pages of confessions I thought I’d post them here. You, my darlings, are naturally more than welcome to post any of your own or to explain how very wrong I am, complete with Chant verses or explanations of a character I’ve disparaged.

I confess that my first trip through DA:O confounded many of my expectations. The girl did not ascend to the throne despite all adversity. In fact, she didn’t even get the guy. First he dumped her and then he fed himself to a dragon after she had thrown fireballs at its ankles for an hour and a half. (You can use ballistas?! Why don’t my allies use them instead of getting slaughtered wholesale by Darkspawn?)

I confess that, though I adore Zevran’s romance, I cannot resist Alistair. I also confess that I’ve never romanced Morrigan. Achievement be damned, I just don’t like her. I would make a male Warden if he could romance Sten, though.

I confess to giving Isabella to the Arishok my second time through DA2 because she ran off with the book and never returned the first time, even though the second she obviously did come back to Hawke. I hold meta-game grudges.

I confess that I find Anders to be a consistent progression from DA: Awakening through the acts of DA2 to the end. I also confess that, the first time I finished DA2 (unspoiled), I almost threw my controller through the screen. As noted, I held the grudge long enough to banish him from my party for an entire game. Then I let him back in, caught all the painfully obvious clues I blew past the first time, and now have a terrible time deciding whether or not to jump his bones or go with Fenris. The decision usually rests on how long it’s been since my Warden was frustrated by his resistance to her charms in Awakening.

I confess that Daveth and Jory are stripped of gear in every run just before we meet Morrigan because I find the discussion about how cold it is much more entertaining that way. Also, Alistair is always in the Chasind robes.

I confess to making an M!Hawke and rivalmancing Fenris just to ogle that one scene. [mops drool and fans self]

I confess that I always steal the sword from that poor elf messenger at Ostagar, even though I feel guilty for getting him in trouble and doubly so when I’m an elf. Solidarity is not enough to outweigh the stat boost.

I confess that, despite being uninterested in finishing my playthrough as a casteless dwarf, the Aeducan run ended up being my favorite of all. She toyed mercilessly with Behlen and Harrowmont, all the while intending to wrest control from both at the first opportunity. Branka’s quest had massive emotional impact on her and she ignited in me a deep interest in seeing the dwarves push back the Darkspawn and reclaim their thaigs.

I confess that I find Bethany dull and let her die in the Deep Roads for the drama, but that I always make Carver a Grey Warden because he seems so much happier there—after I needle him endlessly through Act 1 about being my sorry little brother. Sibling rivalry FTW!

Also, I confess that I find Leandra irritating in Act 1, forgettable in Act 2, and still heart-wrenching in Act 3. I don’t care how unreasonable her barbs and demands or how uninterested she seemed in Hawke’s life, no one deserves what was done to her. It wasn’t quite broodmother-level like in Origins but I found it a very effective scene.

I hated the Fade in Origins the first time because it was endless. Then I discovered that I was going around the circle backwards so I had to go through everything twice to get through all the obstacles. So many needless, fiery deaths and barely survived golem fights! Once I figured it out, I learned to enjoy shape-shifting and that whole sequence.

I confess that I once failed utterly to win Fenris to my side and, when I sided with the mages, had to strip his weapons and accessories before my squishy little healer could kill him. I may also have shed a tear or two at having to do so.

I confess to resenting Wynne at first because I have long preferred to play a healer. I loved having her in my party (especially with Alistair and Zevran) but it always made one of us redundant. Then I discovered the arcane warrior and learned to love her again.

I confess that I’ve never once wanted to romance Varric and I wish him and Bianca all the best. Further, I don’t love chest hair so I’m just as happy to have him cover it up in DA:I.

It depressed me that I could not always keep my Mabari by my side in DA: Origins without taking up a party slot. When I discovered that the human noble couldn’t save the dog at Ostagar I may or may not have said some harsh words about the writers. There’s enough room at camp for two!

I confess that I run straight to First Enchanter Irving and tell him about Jowan. All my Circle mages consider Irving their surrogate father. Some of them get over it and some don’t but Jowan is such a user that all of them want to make sure he doesn’t get away with manipulating their supposed friendship. Besides, Irving knows anyway so from a metagame standpoint it doesn’t make any difference. I really can’t stand Jowan.

I hated Anora first because of how she treated Alistair, then because she got weirdly jealous and tried to keep me away from the delectable Teagan, and then because she was so short-sighted that she hired Jowan—that greasy weasel JOWAN, I ask you!—to teach her kid how to be a mage rather than sending Connor to the Circle, plus she lied to her husband about it. Even my first time through I knew she was high-noble enough to be able to see him whenever she wished and he’d have been, in Circle terms, right next door. Every death in Redcliffe is laid at her door, as far as I’m concerned, and a fair number of the ones at Ostagar, too. If it hadn’t been for her Eamon would have been there with his army instead of unconscious while his soldiers killed and probably ate their friends and neighbors. I kill her almost every time and give Alistair a stern talking-to about it afterward. Then I give him a present I found in his uncle’s house and we’re in love again. :D

I confess that, much as I love the boys in Dragon Age 2, Aveline was still my favorite companion. Her story about her father makes me cry; that’s the kind of writing that brings me back to BioWare again and again.

I have always wanted my Dalish elf to be able to profess her undying love for Tamlen before he disappears into the eluvian, and to have a heartbreaking scene with him when he comes back later in the game. I head-canon them as pledged to one another but the game won’t let me say it.

I confess to not loving beards (except Duncan’s) and to romancing elves and Alistair by preference because they’re clean-shaven.

I confess to reading and writing lurid fanfic and to knowing all too well about the k-meme. I also admit to shipping Elthina and Petrice solely to maximize the drama of that moment Elthina leaves turns away and starts back up the stairs.

I cannot complete a straight aggressive playthrough, mostly because when I did a full renegade run in ME1 the last conversation with Kaidan made me cry because of how Shepard had changed him. I’m scared of what I might do to my darling companions when I’m pretending to be psychotic!

I confess to disliking Leliana’s song. On top of that I find her to be terrifying after the eyelash comment and none of my Wardens talk to her any more than strictly necessary after the one that romanced her (and then ran away, screaming).

I confess that my Wardens can never be bothered with laying traps. They’d rather bomb in on the enemy with daggers (or two swords, may the Maker grant it) flailing and dazzle them with rogue-y goodness than take all that extra time planning and strategizing.

I confess that I want Orzammar or whatever thaig we see next to be colorful. All of the Deep Roads don’t have to be earth tones. Andraste’s toenails, haven’t the dwarves bumped into any rocks that make pretty colors in all that digging down there?!

I’ve never been able to bring myself to desecrate Andrasete’s ashes. My conflict arises not in some devotion to the Chantry but a complete inability to side with the dragon cult freaks. If they want me to do it then it must be wrong so I never do.

I confess that the idea of having Morrigan's sloppy seconds grosses me out and that was why I denied her the Dark Ritual the first time I played Origins. It's a factor every time I decide whether to persuade Alistair or do the ultimate sacrifice.

Lastly, I confess I've never liked Ohgren.

I stayed at Vigil’s Keep long enough to put things together again. Anders wandered off one day with no explanation. He’d been increasingly strange since we’d returned to the stronghold and spent most of his time alone. I was sad he had left without even a farewell but hoped he could find happiness somewhere. He’d seemed to take the loss of Justice especially hard so perhaps a place that reminded him less of the spirit that had become our friend would do him some good.

A messenger sent with a report to Denerim returned to say that the king had not yet returned from whatever trouble he’d gone to the Bannorn to address. I knew that Alistair fought with Bann Teagan at his side and that the pair of them would be just fine. With nothing more to hold me on the surface at long last I turned my feet to my underground kingdom.

After another round of bridge and stairs, we reached the lowest level and slew the Darkspawn guards. From the smell of it, we faced a cul-de-sac filled with tainted flesh. Rank gobbets covered the floor in various shades of nasty and dangled from the walls much as it had in the Deep Roads beneath Orzammar where I’d first faced—and defeated—a broodmother. Pods like those from which various childer forms had sprung along our path lined what little distance we could see.

We may never find The Architect’s main lab, the place where he’d kept the bulk of his research and presumably a stronghold for those converted Darkspawn who remained on his side in this conflict, but I hoped that he was one of the few, if not the only one, who knew how to make and administer his “cure”. That he had sent so high a lieutenant to draw me to The Mother’s lair lent me hope that he had committed most of his forces in the long string of recent battles and perhaps the two sides had reduced each other’s numbers to the point where we could eliminate both factions.

Anders and I lagged farther and farther behind as the day wore on to sunset. Anders had been casting rejuvenation spells on us but each only lasted so long and his exhaustion limited how often he could afford to renew them. When the other two were out of sight over a rise he smiled at me and asked, “Was it worth it?”

I squeezed his hand and answered, “Definitely.” It was the only time either of us referred to the night before but I was glad for the opportunity to let him know that, regardless of the circumstances and how badly it was slowing us down, I did not regret our exertions. I may well do so in time, but for the moment I was content.

When Sigrun circled back for the third time to check on us I finally called a meal break. Though we knew our approximate destination we needed to decide whether we would press on and take the chance of fighting again before we made camp. I wasn’t sure I could strike hard enough to discourage Ser Pounce-a-Lot much less a more fearsome creature.

True to form, Anders’s response took a teasing tone. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he joked. But he shifted tactics almost immediately, clearly aware that things had not been quite as he had thought. “Didn’t you want me to…join you?” He spoke hesitantly. “You didn’t say anything when I first came in but you responded so quickly…” He paused, thinking. “When you stopped I...did you change your mind, have sudden doubts?”

Apparently he’d had no idea that I hadn’t realized it was him with me from the beginning. He continued uncertainly. “I just thought…well, we don’t know what will happen tomorrow. I thought you were willing to give in, just this once.” He trailed off, sounding disconcerted.

My anger at his presumption melted as I realized that he had done only what he’d thought I’d wanted. Obviously I’d misjudged his interest and his restraint in waiting for some clear signal from me. He hadn’t sought to trick me, to seduce me when I was at my most vulnerable. He’d intended only to give and receive some comfort in the face of what could well be the end of our time together, one way or another.

We were too exhausted to head straight to another string of battles. I ordered the guards to bring any news from the keep to me immediately and my companions and I retired to the temporarily-abandoned inn near the Chantry. The recent fighting had left Darkspawn corpses strewn about the ground floor but the rest of the building was relatively untouched. Anders magicked enough life into the dead to march them out to the street and into a relatively tidy pile.

I appropriated Kristoff’s old room and the others found quarters of their own. Our belongings settled, we rummaged in the kitchen for something to eat then sat around the fire fruitlessly considering our approach to the Dragonbone Wastes where The Mother had hidden herself. This occupation paled quickly. One by one we wandered off to make any preparations we could conceive for a place none of us had been and the unknown enemy at its heart.

Time seemed to stand still that afternoon as we rambled about the inn, too restless to lie down and too tired to commit to setting out for the Wastes. We bathed, cleaned our weapons and armor, bumped into each other in odd corners, and generally got in each other’s way and on each other’s nerves time and again.

What awaited me at the keep was nothing less than an urgent plea to turn around and make all haste back to Amaranthine. It seemed a horde had been spotted making its way overland toward the city and our Darkspawn-killing talents were required. There would be no restful evening around the fire tonight.

Regardless of my personal feelings I knew that we would need both the healing and the rather explosive magic that Anders provided so I tapped him, Ohgren, and Sigrun to accompany me back the way we had just come. I visited Wade first and, while we distributed the rest of the things we had brought back to the others and hunted down what clean underclothes we could find, he completed the wonderful pieces he’d been making for the Wardens between bouts of sword crafting and armor making.

These, too, went to those who could use them best and the four of us turned back to the city with all haste. Anders joked that he felt like a giant in the company of three dwarves but a sharp kick from Sigrun shut him up pretty quickly on that subject. He maintained a running patter, however, mocking companions and enemies alike. We camped for a scant nap on the way, not bothering to do more than roll ourselves up in our blankets with our heads on our packs. Luckily it was mild out and, aside from the lack of a hot meal, we did not miss having a fire.

I don’t know how she found out we were coming, but the first thing we found inside the gates of Vigil’s Keep was Kristoff’s wife, Aura. Ohgren swears he didn’t tell her so I can only assume she tracked her husband to the inn in Amaranthine, discovered we had been there first, and gone after him. We’d been gone only a few days and Ohgren’s return the previous evening would have perhaps given her reason to expect us. Had I been prepared I would have spoken to her before she saw her husband’s body, looking decidedly the worse for wear but walking and talking still.

As it was Anders barely managed to catch her as she fell fainting. He looked absurdly proud of himself, standing there holding an unconscious—but admittedly attractive—woman in his arms and I squelched a ridiculous stab of jealousy. Was I really so badly spoiled that my affections leapt to the nearest available man who happened to remind me of Alistair?

When Aura stirred Anders set her delicately on her feet once more. She thanked him absent-mindedly, her eyes devouring the somewhat dessicated face of Kristoff’s body. The moment she understood the situation she stormed off, seeming to believe, despite the stricken look on all of our faces at the accusation, that we had purposely inflicted Justice on the conveniently-deceased body like some sort of twisted necromancers.

Blackmarsh proved to hold werewolves, Darkspawn, and a haunted air, indeed. Though the village had fallen to ruins the manor house remained, brooding and mist-hidden. We found Kristoff’s abandoned camp and then, unsurprisingly, his body.

It would have done my heart good to find one member of the Order who had Joined before the Blight. Every time a more-senior member of the order comes to Ferelden something horrific happens to him or her. All of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden died in the betrayal at Ostagar, Riordin fell to (or, more literally, from) the Archdemon, and the dozen who came from Orlais after the Blight ended were lost to The Architect’s machinations. I never had a chance to know any of them, outside of a few days’ travel with Duncan and three conversations with Riordin.

That Alistair and I persist in being the longest-term members of the Grey Wardens in the whole country strikes me as a cruel joke of the ancestors at this point. It had been so long since anyone had heard from Kristoff that I held little hope of finding him alive if he still remained in the bogs. Yet I had still clung to that wish that one time fate would have paused in conspiring against the Wardens here long enough to bring me this small bit of solace. I should have known better.

One Warden from the keep appears to have been absent during the attack into which I walked upon my arrival. Kristoff thus was not among the dead in The Architect’s terrifying pit. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until recently that I tracked down someone who could tell me where he had gone. It seems he followed a lead into the Swamp of Despair or some such place and has not been seen since. Now that I’ve reestablished trade and wiped out the bandits who were terrorizing the streets I finally have time to pursue him.

It seems the Blackmarsh, as it is truly named, holds some special fascination for the people of Amaranthine. The village there was mysteriously abandoned years ago and I have found widespread superstition about the place. Nathaniel seems keen to go on this trip and so he, Ohgren, Anders, and I set off in the morning. I would have preferred to stay in the city of Amaranthine one more night rather than trek all of the way back to Vigil’s Keep, well out of our way, but Seneschal Verel sent word of some urgent matters that required my attention.

Along the way I asked Anders something I’d long wanted to know. He’d told me stories about his time hiding from the Templars on each escape and how nasty they were on the way back to the Circle tower each time. But I’d never inquired why he kept escaping in the first place. “I was a child like any other,” he told me. “My parents told me I could do anything and I believed them. Then I got hauled off to the tower.” He made a sour face. “Before my harrowing I understood the watching, the guarding. None of us had proven ourselves and we were a bunch of scared kids taken from home and locked up together. I hated it but I understood.” His eyes narrowed in anger. “But once I’d passed my harrowing and shown that I could resist the demons that the Chantry seems to think pursue us every moment nothing changed. Templars stared and kept their hand on the hilts of their swords as though I would burst into flames and tear out their throats at any second.”

It seems the ancestors insist on my bringing an angry mage on my journeys. We did find much of interest regarding our Darkspawn dilemma but we also found a furious elf who went from trying to kill us all to becoming a Warden the better to join us in bringing down The Architect, as he calls himself.

Velanna has definitely proven herself adept in battle. I only hope that she does not harbor some secret agenda, like Morrigan, that will require so painful a decision. Thus far she seems focused solely on saving her sister. We encountered some of her clan mates and discovered that she had been exiled, much as I once had, but apparently she has no mythic mother that needs destroying. Her sister certainly does not seem able to turn into a dragon or crush us with a glance, though I fear she must be tainted and on her way to becoming a ghoul after so long in the company of the Darkspawn.

It turned out that Velanna had been the one terrorizing travelers along the trade route. She’d believed false evidence planted by the Darkspawn and thought that humans had kidnapped her sister and slaughtered her friends. Not only did the idea that Darkspawn could bait such a trap stun me but her inability to see through such a near-obvious ploy made me concerned. I’ve come since to believe that her guilt and grief that everyone else who had joined her in exile had died had made her easy to fool. Though curt and quite private she has shown intelligence enough to counter that first impression.

I hate to have a game spoiled so I avoided any on-line discussion of Dragon Age 2 for a month or so before it was released. I played that first run wide-eyed and thrilled with the ride, exploring every alley and cranny and eager for more. And thus I flew through the game, playing obsessively so that I could see what happened. I knew there were cameos in store and I couldn’t wait to uncover them.

I laughed at finding Sandal and the adoptive father I’d presumed dead at the end of Origins. My shout when I bumped into Gray Wardens in Kirkwall who sounded just like the dear, departed Riordan brought my husband from the other room fearing I’d hurt myself. I loved the foreshadowing, even if they did leave me to fight the Qunari alone. And my kids and I did a happy dance when Nathaniel showed up for a short adventure in the Deep Roads (with no Ohgren, thank the Maker).

Leliana was very much herself, sweet and lovely and ruthless in her new role as she always had been in Origins and as I played her in Leliana’s Song. Zevran looked strange with the new elven aesthetic, but there was one shot in profile that revealed my favorite assassin lurking inside the new face. He was as flirty and cocky as ever and I thoroughly enjoyed the little sideline.

And then Alistair arrived with Bann Teagan in tow. I believe I squeed loudly enough to make the dog howl. My Lady Hawke was already snarky as could be and the two shared some delightful banter. Sadly, both men looked much the worse for wear and Teagan must have had a bad cold that day. But just hearing that familiar, sexy Valentine voice made up for everything.

While I mourn what the writers did to poor, pivotal Anders I still appreciate the care they gave to the wonderful snippets and the hints they gave about where the Dragon Age franchise is heading. Orlais, anyone? I can hardly wait to see Val Royeaux.