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Fable 2: The Touch of Evil
By Corvus | October 31, 2008
After spending most of this week nitpicking various design elements of Fable 2, I thought it would be nice to devote a post to a strong emotional reaction the game evoked. A reaction so strong that it actually caused me to start the game over.
This post will do its best to avoid spoilers.
I typically delight in playing the evil path in video games, the original Fable being no exception. Part of this is because I delight in playing a classic cartoon/Hollywood villain in real life–as evidenced by the curly moustache, the pointy goatee, the dark clothes, the typically precise diction and use of rich vocabulary. Not, of course, that the villain I play in real life is capable of anywhere near the depths of depravity, and rampages of utter destruction, I succumb to in video games that offer a dark path. [1]
I also tend to play through these games on the good path as well–just for comparison, mind you. I might even play through a third time making choices I’d actually be comfortable with in real life (were I a Jedi, or crossbow wielding hero), just to see how the game interprets my morality compass. If the game warrants even further playthroughs, I invariably opt to repeat the evil path, over and over. Playing evil in video games amuses me and I take a very playful approach. Mind you, when I say play, I mean “self-guided exploration of possibility within a bounded space.” Playing evil in multi-path games usually stretches the design of the game narrative, often to the point of breaking. As the evil path rarely changes the overall plot of the game, this can cause severe disconnects between the story presented and the story experienced.
Another major component of my delight in playing evil is how irritating I find so many of the NPCs in the types of games that offer an evil path. The simpering, yet condescending, egotism of Whisper in Fable made it easy to start that walk down the dark path. The citizenry of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic and Jade Empire were no better. The shallow characterizations and stilted situations in which you interacted with them made it easy to view them as opportunities for exploring a game mechanic, rather than a character to invest in emotionally.
It should also be noted that I typically play the evil path as a woman when the option is available. This is not born out of any misogynistic belief that women are evil, but because the oldest and most sympathetic villains in my role playing world are women who found themselves on the wrong side of the law when refusing to accept crimes against their gender. As an homage to these cherished characters, I strike back at the inherent sexism that underlies so many video game narratives by allowing them to violently make a stand.
So when I first started Fable 2, I started as a female hero and set out to succumb to the temptation of villainy. What I found, within the first half hour of play is that I didn’t want to be a villain in this Albion. I was too charmed by its inhabitants, and their endless love of fart jokes, to systematically treat them cruelly. No, I wanted to play a good hero! I wanted to charm and woo these people, to save them from the impending evil. So, because I’d made some world-changing irreversible choices in the game’s intro chapter, I started a new (male) hero and explored a little further.
As is my usual habit, the first two games were merely exploratory and I started a third game with the intent of bringing this (female) hero to the final chapter. When I hit the first break point of the game–the point where Theresa warns you that you’re about to leave the world behind for a while–I realized that I was under prepared and not emotionally invested enough. I’d been rushing, even though I wasn’t aware of it. So I decided to start over and make sure I was prepared for this major plot point when it happened.
Having experimented quite a bit with the game by this point, I felt ready to push the design a little further and opted to play a black-hearted (male) hero. I took my time, taking every assassination job, including the one someone took out on my wife in Oakfield because she sniffed rather than blew her nose. I destroyed Farmer Giles who, according to the family lore, was responsible for arresting one of my ancestors back in the day. [2] I bought property and inflated the rents 100%. I bought shops and similarly inflated their prices. But, while the occasional growl was directed at someone who might have a present once they were scared enough, I was actually a fun loving guy. I danced, I whistled, I flirted unmercifully. I was nice to my dog and respectful of the populace… mostly. Admittedly, my relationships were problematic and when my second spouse, a cute trader boy, started complaining about being married… well, I had to “let him go” in the same cellar in the Bowerstone market where I’d dealt with the targets of previous assassination jobs.
By the time I approached the game’s first break point, I looked as pictured above. Horns, veined skin, glowing eyes. A right brute, I was. I’d been sacrificing people at the Temple of Shadows, killed two spouses, taken contracts to destroy countless lives over petty grievances. But all the while I amused the populace, overcoming their natural suspicions of me with dance and song.
Before leaving the shores of Albion to confront Lucien, my sworn enemy, I decided to perform one last quest for the Temple of Shadows. They wanted to destroy the Temple of Light, once and for all, and I was the natural choice to enact their will. What I didn’t realize was that they wanted me to kill every single person in Oakfield–the town where my third wife lived. I didn’t think this would be too much of an issue and I entered Oakfield under the full moon, prepared to fight my way through guards and monks.
I was totally unprepared for how truly awful the experience would be. I was killing citizens. I was, in fact, killing them with a rifle. I walked through the moonlit streets and slaughtered them as they ran. The soundtrack offered up a new track that was particularly chilling as it seemed to emphasize the brutality and callous cruelty of what I was doing. [3] My heart sank. I stared in horror as I watched what I was doing. I began to wall off my emotions so that I didn’t throw down the controller in disgust at myself. Ms. Z sat on the couch next to me and watched–jaw open, eyes wide, having a very similar response. Nothing had prepared either of us for this moment.
I had intended to play this mission and move into the break point the following morning, but I couldn’t end on this note. When the last rifle shot rang out, when the last citizen stopped screaming, I bid Ms. Z good night and went to redeem myself in the Tattered Spire. I don’t want to give away a lot about the Tattered Spire in this post. Suffice to say I was asked to make some hard decisions. I remained in character and acted selfishly, but it wasn’t easy. With the recent shame of slaughtering so many innocents, the choices presented were all the more poignant. I finished the quest and returned to Albion, finally putting down the controller and going to bed.
In the morning, I started up the game and found I couldn’t continue. My hero made me sick to my stomach. I was literally despondent and could feel my heart becoming hard and cold in my chest. Never before has a video game affected me in this way and I’m still sorting through how it all happened, exactly. Because that’s powerful storytelling. True, I brought my own story to the experience, but that’s the power of video games–present experiences within a bounded space and allow the player to find their own emotional path through exploration. I did try and redeem my hero within the context of the game. In exchange for slaughtering an entire town, I was tasked with killing three bandits. Killing. Three bandits. I would rather have chopped wood for a month. Or done something constructive. Something that didn’t involve killing. I had hoped to stick with the character and redeem myself, see how far back from my deeds I could come, but every time I pulled out my rifle, I heard the screams. I just couldn’t do it. There’s no coming back from that, no matter how forgiving the in-game authorities are.
So I started a new character. Another female hero that was kind and charitable, took quests for the Temple of Light, and generally avoided as many gray moral choices as possible. That’s her pictured above, next to the monster, just before she left for the Tattered Spire. I completed the final mission involving Lucien last night and now she can roam the post-non-apocalypse Albion, reaping the social rewards of saving the world. And I will likely spend a lot more time with her, doing exactly that.
But first–I’m starting another game that I intend to play through to the end. And this time, I’ve got a hero that has no conscience from the start. He has nothing but cruel disdain for people and delights when they run screaming at the sight of him. He will not dance, whistle, or charm. He will growl, roar, mock, and offend. He will not see the dog as anything other than a beast in service to a superior being. I will harden his heart and when it comes time to attack Oakfield, he will do so with wild abandon… unless, of course, my own humanity gets in the way and I falter. I may end up preferring to play an endless succession of good heroes, or morally gray heroes, and that would be a video game first for me.
It says a lot about Fable 2’s storytelling that I can spend an entire post explaining a single decision I made mid-way through the game. This is particularly true, seeing that I am a bit choked up over having to relive it and more than a bit mortified at confessing to it. And while I do not feel that the second half of the game (to be discussed in a much later post) holds itself to the same high emotional standard of the first half of the game, it is still a noteworthy and exceptional effort to leverage the emotional power of video games as a storytelling medium.
[1] No, my real life villainy consists mainly of mischievous behavior, mildly seditious views of culture, abstinence from meat and refined or artificial sugars, and a refusal to watch television that doesn’t arrive via DVD or digital download. [return]
[2] You should play the charming Fable 2 puppet show, particularly if you’re playing the game. [return]
[3] I have since heard this particular bit of music several times over the course of play, each under different circumstances, and it hasn’t seemed quite as apt. I wish they’d used it just for the Oakfield Massacre quest. [return]
Tagged:fable 2, storytelling, video games. | 14 Comments »
October 31st, 2008 at 10:42 am
You know, I haven’t made a truly evil person in Fallout 3 yet, just because that first step into it is so large. Like you, I often play the evil caricature because of myriad reasons: fashion choices, seeing how well the plot supports this and usually ’saving’ the world, et cetera. I suppose I tend to build my characters, not just make a selection of whether or not he or she is good or evil, so to suddenly have this fresh character tasked with nuking an entire settlement? It’s harsh. You have to willingly make that decision without any build up.
I’ve not been comfortable enough yet to accept this even though I have no moral connection to these people. It’s just hard for me to justify such a stark decision so early.
Perhaps that’s what I should try this weekend.
October 31st, 2008 at 10:49 am
I have nothing to add except this:
That abstinence from meat would make you good and holy in the Fable II world, you know.
October 31st, 2008 at 11:34 am
Heh. I wondered if anyone was going to draw that correlation, Adrian!
@Denis That’s one thing I appreciate about both Fable games. They give you a glimpse at a traumatic childhood and allow you to build your psychosis and neurosis in early!
October 31st, 2008 at 1:15 pm
I haven’t played Fable 2 yet, but I had the same reaction as Denis to Fallout 3’s evil path. I started as an “evil” character and after that first big decision decided to restart as a good character. It actually made me feel a little sick to my stomach, which is awesome in some strange way to experience in a video game.
Now, going through as my more reputable character, I was surprised to see how much I would have missed if I followed my original path (including a huge reward that is upgradable when I accumulate enough cash).
October 31st, 2008 at 2:58 pm
It’s great to hear about such primal responses to a game.
Re the big decision in Fallout 3: I didn’t make the evil decision either, but I think the best part of it is, it doesn’t seem arbitrarily evil for sake of being edgy or “extreme.” Given how things appear inside the Vault, it seems quite reasonable to me that a Vault dweller might believe Wastelanders don’t have any rights or value. It’s great they were able to build a world with such veracity.
I haven’t had time for Fable 2, but it seems like they were able to create the same kind of world. A world where the denizens had enough substance and personality that slaying them actually evoked such a strong response. It’s great to be awash in such fantastic games.
October 31st, 2008 at 3:40 pm
For me, when I play games that have good/evil choices, I go what I would do in the world (netural), evil, then good. I’m interested to hear about the morality of Fable 2. In the past I’ve always hated the evil choices in most titles. In Jade Empire I didn’t feel so much like an evil person but more of an egotistic jerk.
I remember playing the first Fable when I made an evil choice by accident which affected the story greatly, and I always felt remorse from it even by the end of the game. I don’t want to spoil it for those that didn’t play the first one.
I’ve always wonder if it would be possible to create a RPG where the main character is a villain, no good/evil choices, the only option would be to play as the bad guy trying to take over and kill without mercy.
October 31st, 2008 at 6:24 pm
That’s a fantastic post, Corvus. You’re massacre tale puts my shanghaied-husband one to shame. Obviously, with the way I play, I haven’t received any missions from the Temple of Shadows, but it’s nonetheless very interesting. I wonder why Fable II has been able to get such meaningful emotional reactions from players while other RPGs don’t. Is it the flexible-yet-shallow social system? Perhaps… I’ll have to think on this one.
November 2nd, 2008 at 7:14 pm
I haven’t played Fable 2 yet. But when I did Fable 1 I went through the same reaction as you when I became evil. And like you, I became very concerned with social acceptance in the game too. I couldn’t stomach seeing the peoples’ response to me being around them.
Strange to see how something as ’small’ as smashing crates that one is not supposed to touch can be so damaging. Yet so real life.
In the end I remade my char and went on the path of good. I guess it’s part of what I am. Whenever I play a game I often opt to play the good guy. Heh…
November 10th, 2008 at 2:59 pm
How do you become as evil as the guy on the back cover?
November 10th, 2008 at 5:23 pm
Dedicate yourself to evil and wait. It’ll happen.
December 21st, 2008 at 8:02 am
tha guy on tha cover wid red skin i am pure evil and full corrupt and hav bin playin for ages how comes im nt super evil like tha red guy on tha cover -.-
December 24th, 2008 at 9:01 am
I’ve yet to play Fallout 3, but I’ve thoroughly gone through Fable II multiple times and along multiple paths. I vary somewhere usually between neutral and evil for games that allow me to choose. Fable II seems to punish you fairly thoroughly for playing an evil character. The world becomes a much less fun place to look at when you’ve destroyed most of it, and no to spoil anything but the final evil choice is very unsatisfying. On the other hand being totally good has the disadvantage of irritating towns folk swarming you under all the time everywhere, and once again the final good choice was, for me, very unsatisfying. Overall I hope Fallout 3 has a much more significant outcome than Fable II’s.
December 29th, 2008 at 3:47 am
wow if you get that mentally traumitized by a cartoonish unrealistic video game then you should probably get therapy. the only satisfying part of the whole storyline was blowing luciens chest open while he was explaining his plans. and i only chose to wish my dog back was for achievements. there is nothing emotional about this game and i hope you get the help you deserve
January 16th, 2009 at 3:52 pm
I don’t have much to say, other than the fact that you’re a complete loser with no sense of the world. People are dying every day in real life, with real issues and problems, and you can’t keep your heart in your chest when you slay an NPC? Give me a break. You’re a weakling with no constitution. How old are you? The game’s rated “M” for a reason. If you’re not mature enough to handle it, which you obviously aren’t, then don’t bother playing the game.
I find this to be an even bigger laugh, because you’re expression of emotion is exactly what’s wrong in today’s world. We’re raised in the “turn the other cheek” society. It’s bullshit – as is your expectations of “becoming truly evil”. What did you expect?
Finally, as I’m sure I’m going to get flamed by pacifist douche bags, don’t take any of this personally. Just letting you know that if you have problems playing a game of this magnitude, then by all means, Barney’s Hide And Seek is still available for Sega Genesis.