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Jan 19th, 2017 at 23:27:36 - The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (PS4) |
Tonight I played The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, which is one of my all time favorite games and literary adaptations. Looking at the game as a whole, I’m impressed by how effectively and creatively it presents moral dilemmas along with the consequences that follow. I love how I’ll be traversing the game world and will see its populace subtly affected by the choices I’ve made, whether it’s the smoldering ruins of a village, a familiar face whose life I previously decided to spare, or Redanian soldiers harassing a group of unfortunate nonhumans, unopposed. CD Projekt RED’s use of visual storytelling techniques really helps set The Witcher games apart in their genre of epic fantasy and in the video game industry as a whole.
During my playtime, I specifically pursued the side quest “In the Heart of the Woods.” This takes place in a small village on one of the isles of the Nordic kingdom, Skellige. It is an investigation mission that I began by meeting a group of villagers at the edge of a dense forest, standing around a mangled body. I was asked for help by two of them, one a young and somewhat charismatic man named Sven, the other a white-haired village elder named Harald. I quickly learned that the forest harbored a powerful spirit, which Sven presented as a violent menace that had plagued the village for years, and the villagers agreed that it was almost certainly at the hands of this beast that the poor sap at their feet had met his end. Conversely, Harald insisted that the woodland spirit was an omniscient guardian and pleaded with me not to try to hunt and kill it (a somewhat unconventional request, as hunting and killing monsters is what witchers are primarily known, and indeed employed, for).
After a little detective work I guessed that the spirit was a relict (an ancient creature of legend) and specifically a leshen. It seemed to me that its fate was directly tied to that of the forest. At this point I should mention a complication: The only way to complete the Griffin School Armor set I had been working on crafting and upgrading for some time was to obtain a mutagen from an ancient leshen, and the only way to do this would be to kill it. In addition to this, I learned that the leshen had likely marked one of the villagers with its magic and would not leave the villagers in peace until this person had been killed or banished from their midst. I discovered that this person was a young washerwoman named Hilde. I told Sven as much and convinced him to banish her rather than take an innocent life, although in this harsh world this may have been a small comfort indeed.
Now I was faced with the decision to fight the leshen, or do as Harald had recommended and perform sacrifices at its shrines within the forest to appease its righteous anger. Selfishly, I decided that my personal progress was more important than any of the villagers’ desires, and the course ahead was clear. I brewed a couple of potions to help me in what was sure to be a bitter struggle, coated my silver sword with Relict Oil, and meditated until nightfall. A full, swollen moon shone down upon me as I opened my catlike eyes. After drinking the potions, I stood and walked calmly forward, disappearing into the trees. I sought out the first of the leshen’s shrines, an easy enough task as they were tall, impressive wooden constructs decorated with the bones of woodland animals. After easily slaying the white wolves that appeared to protect the shrine from my ill intent, I invoked the Igni sign and burned it to the ground. As I did so, a bloodcurdling, inhuman scream broke the silence. It came from deeper in the forest, and sounded equal parts enraged and wounded. The leshen.
I delved deeper into the woods, burning each shrine as I went. Each time the chilling scream was closer. As the last shrine disintegrated into ash before me, the air grew cold and dense, and from the mist rose a towering figure with enormous antlers and claws as long as Ofieri sabers, half ghastly skeleton and half ageless tree. Again and again I narrowly dodged its vicious attacks. Again and again I cast forth flames to burn its wooden skin. At last I stood over its still, defeated form and reached down to grip one of its antlers. With one brutal hack I freed its head from its body and strapped it to the saddle of my faithful horse, Roach.
As I rode back toward the village, dark clouds formed above me and rain began to fall, gathering in cold droplets on my armor. Eventually I reached the village and was greeted with a gruesome sight. While I had been preoccupied with killing the woodland spirit, Sven had seized the opportunity he had long awaited and murdered Harald and all but one of the other village elders. Already his lackeys were harassing the poor village women, perversely viewing them as a reward for their actions. Several huts burned in the background and acrid smoke swirled amidst the carnage. I confronted Sven, who asked (or rather, told) me to turn a blind eye and let him rule over the helpless villagers with an iron fist. Although it was too late now to save the pale, lifeless Harald or any of the corpses surrounding him, my conscience would not allow me to let Sven live and see the innocent villagers suffer further. I drew my steel and swiftly butchered him and every one of his men, hacking their limbs from their bodies as they screamed in surprise. Clearly they had not heard tell of the fighting prowess of Geralt of Rivia. With one last glance at the remaining villagers, who were gazing around hopelessly with expressions not unlike cattle awaiting slaughter, I turned, mounted Roach, and rode away. The crying of the women and children followed me for a moment but was quickly drowned out by the thunder echoing from the stormy sky above. My work was done, and I knew that I would never revisit this sad place so recently full of life. I did not feel the cold of the rain as it pelted my pale face or the bite of the wind as it howled through the trees, a lament for the forest and its people that none who could aid them would ever hear. I rode on.
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