Just a BioWare Fan

Searching for Hope

Cullen took the time to investigate the novice barracks though he was sure he’d left all of the children in the atrium with Wynne and the apprentices.  There wasn’t much he could have done had he found a young mage cowering in the baths but he couldn’t chance some creature leaping up at his back.  

The bunk beds, lined up in ranks with trunks at their feet, gave him a clear view across the long room.   He found nothing more threatening than balls of dust and the occasional lost slipper or glove and a makeshift ragdoll that had fallen from some poor little girl’s pillow.  Cullen picked it up and tucked it into the bunk beside which he’d found it in the hope that its owner was one of the little ones safe behind Wynne’s barrier.  He prayed fervently to Andraste that they could be reunited soon.

When he felt satisfied nothing lurked in the shadows he left, closing the door behind him.  It went much the same on the rest of the lowest level.  Those who’d lived so close to the main doors had either fled before the doors had been shut or ascended to join the fighting.

As usual, I was reading the BioWare boards and an idea sprang into my head.  You see, it’s never sat well with me, this image of high dragons huddled in caves deep underground.  Dragons fly.  They don’t tunnel.

(Sidebar: Why are they called Archdemons and not Archdarkspawns or Archspawns?  [narrows eyes at writers]  It sounds cooler, sure, but do demons really come into it?)

At any rate, the thought of dragons snoozing so tightly bound and deeply buried that the Darkspawn take centuries to dig it up bothers me.  How did they get there and who put them to sleep?  (Fen’Harel?  Only time will tell, if BioWare ever does.)

What if what the Darkspawn find underground is not literally a sleeping dragon, it’s a magically sealed vessel containing the soul of an Old God?  They let it out and

Tenuous Survival

A lone woman moved among the slaughter near the far door. She looked about her dazedly, dark hair matted and hanging in her face. To all appearances she was having as much trouble believing she’d survived as Cullen was. The mages who had been fighting around her sprawled in untidy, unmoving heaps.

Cullen recognized the enchanter lying just at her feet. His heart sank at the sight of the healer’s body but he picked his way to her through the filth and blood. She lay unmoving, so pale he thought she must have fallen to one of the demons. As he reached her side, however, Wynne sat up, her shaking hand going to her head while she swayed. The other woman gasped, “I thought she’d been killed.”

“As did I.” Wynne’s calm voice sounded wry as ever, weak though it was. She took but a moment to gather herself. “We have to get the children somewhere safe.” She spoke serenely, as though she weren’t sitting among dead abominations and the bloody remains of her friends.

I was pondering recently about the ruined land your Inquisitor finds in the Western Approach.  It’s been centuries since the Darkspawn roamed the lands freely and still nothing can live there.  As the blights of old lasted years the horde had plenty of time to ruin the land.

Since our superstar Warden ended the Fifth Blight in a mere year, Ferelden recovered quickly.  There are still a few references to tainted land but not a horizon-spanning, blasted waste.  One more reason your Warden is awesome—as if you needed one!

In following this trail of thought, however, I suddenly realized that the dwarves have a much bigger problem in reclaiming the Deep Roads than I’d thought.  Also, BioWare has a much bigger lore problem.  The Darkspawn have been carousing down there for a thousand years.

Nightmares Come True

Cullen’s mind wandered a bit with his aches and boredom. The mages had begun discussing the various fraternities and how best to keep the peace among those factions within the Circle. As the conflicts had amounted to little more than verbal tussles and the occasional thrown punch, they themselves held little interest for the Templars.

The views of the fraternities, however, did, at least the ones obvious about how they chafed at the Chantry’s control of the Circles. As the mages technically governed themselves the Templars could do little overtly but many of the Order found methods, subtle to varying degrees, to encourage those who supported the status quo. The little privileges the knights encouraged the First Enchanter to grant and the more aggressive treatment the others received made the Aequitarians a strong faction, even if they weren’t the strong Chantry supporters the Loyalists were.

The differences fed the restlessness of the Libertarians. They pointed to every perceived inequity, no matter the true source, as further proof of their oppression. Cullen wondered from time to time

Settling Down

The tower felt dank and empty after Kyla left with Duncan. Cullen dreamt of her often; the fleeting contacts and covert smiles haunted him. The other mages seemed dull in comparison and even overtures from friendly Templars could not tempt him. He focused on his training and renewed yet again his devotion to Andraste and the Maker.

Jowan’s display had shocked him out of the complacency into which he had so quickly settled. Between the proof that the mages needed closer watching and the removal of Kyla’s insidious, if delicious, influence he found himself more sure of his duty than ever. Events over the following weeks tested that new dedication.

The Warden’s sudden departure left all of Kinloch Hold on edge. The Templars who’d believed Duncan had been ready to recruit them groused about a blood mage and a slip of a girl, an apprentice mere months past her Harrowing, forcing him to leave before he could decide which of them to take.

A Heart Conscripted

A young man in worn novice robes emerged. He’d clearly outgrown them—his thin ankles and wrists showed where the size intended for young people hadn’t kept up with his adult size. His head was turned as he spoke to someone behind him and for a moment he remained unaware of the threat facing him.

When Jowan faced the room he stopped cold, his greasy black hair tumbled across eyes widened in fear and anger. In a fraction of a second he'd pulled a little blade from its sheath at his belt and drawn it across his wrist.

The room erupted into bedlam. The Templars reacted with their abilities made to suppress blood magic, their training overtaking their shock at being confronted so boldly. Irving flung a spell of paralysis at the younger man. The homely woman in yellow Chantry robes behind him screamed and flung herself away, burying her face in her hands.

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.

If the Warden and Alistair were still involved at the end of Dragon Age: Origins he mentions her to Hawke in DA2, whether as a Grey Warden or as King of Ferelden. Yet four short years later Cassandra observes to Leliana that Hawke has gone missing, “just like the Warden.”

Whether it can be a coincidence or not (and, one assumes from the inclusion of the line that it is not), she and Alistair must have had quite the conversation about it before she left him. Because you have several ways to play DA:O even within the confines of an Alistair-Warden relationship, you could have anything from a wife leaving her capable husband to rule his country to a mistress bailing out on a miserable king who only rules with the support of his uncle and didn’t want the job in the first place.

We don’t know a thing about where the Warden went, as yet. For the moment, my head canon is that she didn’t tell Alistair, either. I sincerely doubt he could stand up to Leliana’s determined questioning, after all. Even a hardened king still wants to think the best of everyone and would never believe the devout little redhead that helped save Thedas wasn’t his trusted friend. But if the Warden can’t tell him where she’s going, what the heck would she have said?

A Warden and a Worry

On an early-spring day of the sort that made Cullen wish the Circle tower had windows below the Harrowing chamber, a man arrived that threw the complacent residents into turmoil. The weathered little boat rowed across Lake Callenhad unannounced and a Grey Warden stepped onto the dock.

His dark beard jutted to a perfect point before him and his distinctive plate threw sparks of sunlight as he strode up to the doors with a dagger and sword gleaming prominently on his back, at least according to the men guarding the entry that day. Everyone in Thedas knew of the fabled order and their ages-old charge to protect their world from a threat unseen for four hundred years, no one at Kinloch Hold had ever seen a Warden nor expected to.

Even in the isolation of the Hold reports had come ever more frequently of skirmishes with Darkspawn, the tainted creatures that teemed in the Deep Roads the dwarves had tunneled beneath all the known world thousands of years before. The king himself, Cailan the Glorious, had called for a contingent of the Circle’s strongest mages to travel far south to Ostagar.

Everyday Temptations

In the days that followed Cullen learned the routines of his new home.  He found his way around the unfamiliar halls and came to understand that mages did not cook with fireballs or play catch with bolts of lightning.  What he’d been taught to fear was more a myth than a reality.

He saw children as young as five or six who had been brought in from all over Ferelden, taken from their families or turned over to a Chantry somewhere.  Few of them displayed the power do to much more than hurt themselves or break the dishes.  Most simply settled into the dormitory with the other novices.  The apprentices that watched and guided the little ones had long experience dealing with homesickness and tiny rebellions, from their own adjustments to life in the tower as much as from having seen them with each new child.

The newest Templars were usually assigned to the most senior enchanters, those who had been with the Circle for decades and whose stability was most proven.  Cullen was the youngest of the Order at the Tower and the first new recruit to have come for several years.  As a result he did little more for his first few weeks than walk the upper corridors with an older man.

I never liked Jowan in Dragon Age: Origins. From the very first run I looked on him with distrust. Everything he did proved me right. In part it was that greasy-looking hair; in part it was asking his supposed closest friend to help him do something dangerous and illegal then making her do all the work.

Factor into that his unwillingness to piss or get off the pot as far as the Harrowing was concerned, add that nasal, whining voice, and you get nails on a chalkboard. Jowan was precisely what the ritual of Tranquility was designed to control: a weak-willed mage who would turn to blood magic because he wasn’t talented enough to do anything useful. His only saving grace was that he turned out to know the ritual to get the Warden into the Fade to save little Connor from the demon that was raising the dead all around Redcliffe’s castle. I found him to be a weasel of the highest order.

Thus, I’ve written the sort of conversations my Amell Warden would have had with him, had she been able. This is, of course, tongue in cheek. First, a short conversation during the Templar confrontation at the beginning of the mage origin:

Recently we’ve gotten news that Patrick Weekes, newly freed by BioWare from his fantastic work in the Mass Effect universe, not only had moved to work on Dragon Age: Inquisition but that he would be writing the next in the series of books based around the games. Speculation on the BioWare Social Network has, naturally run rampant.

As I’d not read any of the books after the horrid mess that was Mass Effect Deception, I thought I’d suck it up and read lead writer David Gaider’s Asunder so that I could form an opinion on whether the projected April, 2014 release date for Dragon Age: The Masked Empire indicated anything about the release date for the next game.

The argument runs thus: The Masked Empire’s plot covers the Orlesian civil war that was just beginning in earnest as Asunder came to an end. Thus it would set the stage for the events of the Inquisition and would be released before the game.

My response, having finished Asunder all of ten minutes ago, is, “Poppycock!” What follows contains some serious ending spoilers so if you don’t want to know, don’t click through. I won’t spill all the gory details though because you really should read the book, particularly if you want to see Wynne and Shale again. It’s exciting, filled with lore tidbits, and it’s from David Gaider so you know it’s well written.

A Fitting Introduction

With gratitude toward his parents and his devotion to Andraste strengthening his dedication, Cullen had applied himself to his training and absorbed the lessons of his elders. Eight years of assignments in increasingly larger villages had brought him full circle back to the Chantry in Denerim where he was evaluated by the same people that had begun his training.

Along the way he had had occasion to help Templar Hunters find escaped mages. He had guarded children turned in by their families until representatives of the Circle could retrieve them. He’d seen fear paralyze the hunted and felt it pierce his own heart. But mostly he had waited.

He had stood in needless plate to stare across fields and contemplate dun-colored hills. He had guarded wooden chests in which naught but a few coins rattled, all the local farmers could spare to help those with even less. He had listened to the muddled, rambling stories of Templars who could barely raise their swords.

I’ve read from a few of the developers on BioWare’s boards that the Frostbite engine can produce realistic skin tones in the darker spectrum and that they intend to make use of that capability. First, let me say that I can’t wait. I like to make my PCs in a variety of colors but the old engine generally went from “glass of milk” to “badly jaundiced”.

[Sidebar: I adore that SWTOR lets me not only go from grey-white to ebony black but all the primary colors and combinations thereof. I have sky blue, deep green, blood red, and chalk white as well as my humans. It’s agonizing to pick for new characters, but an agony that I enjoy to the hilt.]

Dragon Age 2 did a little better but anything darker than a light tan tended to look odd. However, there’s been a lengthy and intermittently interesting debate about the inclusion of cultural elements from outside medieval Europe which has somehow devolved into a discussion of Africa, genetic phenotypes, and how Isabela can be black.

First-Day Jitters

Cullen’s first day at the Ferelden Circle of Magi in Kinloch Hold was nothing like what his Templar training had led him to expect. Instead of slavering fiends waiting for a moment’s inattention to burst into full demonic flower he found children carrying books, elderly women who looked more like his grandmother than dangerous maniacs, and young people studying and engaging in lively debates.

He had first joined the Order as a recruit at the age of fourteen, fresh from the farm, filled with self-assurance and love for Andraste. The good Sisters had cropped his red-gold curls short, fit him for long skirts and his first shiny breastplate, and given him a sword. He and a dozen others had sworn to loyalty and devotion to the Maker and his bride. It was, in short, as thrilling as he’d expected…for about a week.

Then he discovered that most of his time would be spent studying and learning Chantry history and scripture. Lessons began with reading. None but the wealthiest young people recently accepted could make out so much as their own names much less the ornate and dusty tomes containing the Chant of Light. Rote memorization and long lectures filled the hours between chores and meals.

“Can I ask you a question, Alistair?” He sat, apart from the others but still near the evening’s fire, cleaning the shield Arl Eamon had given him. When I spoke he set it aside and rose, polite as ever. If he stood a little closer than he used to, well, that was fine with me.

“At your service,” he said, bowing just the tiniest bit. I regularly pestered him with queries about the Grey Wardens, his Templar training, and about a dozen other things. He was patient and self-derogatory, sometimes sarcastic and a little silly but always willing to talk. But the brewing tension between us had me curious and I’d decided to just come out and ask him.

I tried to phrase it delicately. “So, if you were a Templar have you never…” The phrase dangled limply while I searched for a tactful term.

My Dearest Alistair,

I know that you don’t want to talk to me just now. You’re angry and hurt at what you probably see as my betrayal. I’m sorry that things happened the way they did. It must have looked like I was leading you on while I was building my relationship with Zevran. But you did not give me a chance to explain anything and I believe that it is important that I do. Even if we never talk about this please do read what I have written.

You probably think I’m an unfeeling bitch at this point, someone who toyed with your emotions for sport. But that’s not true. I love you, Alistair, I do. One thing holds me back from flinging myself at you entirely.

How do I put this delicately? Look at the size of you, dear.

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.