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Fable II: Schmonsequences
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One Game Feature by MAtt Dujnic, 2/23/09
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An hour into Fable II, I finally emerged from 'childhood' (aka, the training mission) and began my life as the world's Next Big Hero. Starting our with a leisurely stroll, I walked through Bowerstone, a densely-packed mashup of Tudor, Victorian, and Medieval Barn architecture. Every citizen had a name, every building had an owner, and all of the shops operated on an interconnected economy. 'Ah,' I said, 'I've played this tarted-up spreadsheet before!' But then, strange things....
First off, the townspeople were making fun of me - calling me 'Pauper' and muttering protractedly, 'Oh, I don’t think I like you at all.' What did I do? I approached and tried to ask them. Now, mind: even we 'hardcore gamers' sometimes have trouble with these goddamned twenty-button controllers. So instead of saying 'hello,' I actually drew my sword.
Shockingly, the villagers drew back in fear. I hadn't hurt anybody. I'd just wielded the sword - accidentally! Women screamed, children ran. Baffled by this ridiculous cause-and-effect scenario, I fumbled to put it away, but instead drew my gun. This made things worse. I hit the wrong button, honest! This shouldn't be happening. Then I heard (or imagined) someone calling for guards, so I ran away.
Nearby was a doorway - let’s hide inside. But when I tried to knock, the damned sword came out again and smashed the door. Dammit. The inhabitants ran upstairs. A man got up from his table - I’d apparently ruined dinner - and demanded that I leave. Presently, a guard collared me and demanded I pay a fine.
Wait, what? Now I owe money? Well, he also offered community service. Which I guess meant washing dishes. Or maybe building doors. The third option, the one that comes most naturally to incurable sword-and-gun wielders, was to resist arrest. Tempting, but a new sense of consequence stayed my hand. If Fable II didn’t allow me to draw my sword without a commotion, what other sensible logic might lurk in this game? Fight my way out of town? Go on the lam? These people would apparently remember me, and even I survived a mortal fight with these guards, what then? Could I ever return?
So, I paid the fine. My first heroic exploits turned out to be vandalism and disturbing the peace, but this was strangely exciting. As I passed the gathered crowd, I gave everyone a thumbs up, just to show them I wasn’t such a bad guy. The less cynical among them seemed slightly swayed. Most of them still made fun of my clothes.
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Second grumpinion by MAtt Dujnic
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Right, then. Did you enjoy the grumpinion above? About how I was overcome by a profound experience early in Fable II? Ooh, consequences, and so on? Notice my 'gee whiz' reactions? Well, to quote Matt Damon: consequences, schmonsequences.
For those who don’t play video games, but for some reason still read my articles, let me spell it out: Having your weapons drawn rarely has any palpable effect in any game. The cops in GTA don't care when you walk by shouldering a rocket launcher, as long as you aren’t, you know, launching rockets. This is game-logic, and we gamers like it and know it. A more kid-friendly example would be Zelda, where we invade people’s homes, break their pottery, perform spin-attacks their lawns, and everything’s okay. It doesn't matter what kind of game you're playing - these rules apply. So, when Fable II started giving me shit for acting no worse than a twelve year old in green pajamas, you’ll understand when my game-brain exclaimed, 'Whoa, heavy, dude.' It was a full-on Keanu Reeves moment.
Now, the bloom is off the rose, revealing something at Alex Winter levels. It turns out that the reason the villagers had disliked me in the first place was because of my clothes (thus hinted in the last line). My hero had been very unattractive, and audibly accosting ugly people is among Fable II's central mores. I realized that everything from hat to boots was giving me a severe Attractiveness penalty. By the game’s logic, if I took off all of my clothes and walked around in my brown (!) underwear, I would be much better off.
So I did, and I was! Villagers gave gifts, and after I farted and danced enough, a few even fell in love with my naked self. And social blunders, it turns out, could be fixed through flatulence, heroic poses, sock puppet pantomimes, and the like. Far from redefining 'choice and consequences,' Fable II had simply exchanged one bag of buffoon-logic for another. Once I got used to them, the game rules felt like any age-old conventions.
Well, almost. I still pay the fines, I sometimes avoid hurting people’s feelings, and I refrain from slaughtering (most) people who bother me. Consequence still has some sway. This, and the fact that there are three levels of farting, makes Fable II a better, perhaps more enduring, experience.
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'Schmonsequences'
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#&rendershop#
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