Dawn is breaking on Morndas, the 8th of Frostfall. My character, a ruthless Imperial battlemage, has just finished cutting purses and throats in a subterranean bandit hideaway, on bounty orders from the leader of a nearby fiefdom. The real treasure from this quest isn’t the bounty, however, but the flawless amethyst I looted from the corpse of the bandit leader. This one makes three, the exact number requested by my Aragonian contact in the faraway town of Riften, who needs them to craft a wedding band for his beloved.

I had met him by chance in the Riften marketplace as he sought to buy the gems himself, and offered to help find them for him. I set off for the dingy hamlet, across snowy tundra and open plain, making my way past hostile wildlife and more than one menacing dragon flying above. It’s nearly dusk when I stumble into Riften, past city guards who seem vaguely aware of a few petty thefts I’ve committed during my stay in the city, but who aren’t particularly motivated to bring me to justice for them. Thankfully there were no living witnesses to report any of the more serious crimes. I enter the inn where my contact works, pushing past the usual rabble – a pontificating preacher, seedy mercenaries, and a couple regular old folks drowning their sorrows. Talen-Jei, my reptilian contact, sees me enter and slithers up to me.

“You’ve got real nerve coming back here after what you did to Keerava” he hisses, referring to the time I strong-armed his bride-to-be into paying overdue protection money to the local Thieves’ Guild, using information he supplied in confidence. I’m thrown by his anger – perhaps the days spent scouring the countryside on his behalf will end up being for naught. His tone changes immediately when he sees I’ve brought the stones for his wedding band. “Oh, thank you stranger! I was certain kindness like this was dead in these dark times. I couldn’t be happier. Keerava and I are forever in your debt!” he gushes, paying top dollar for the jewels. Pleased to have an ally in Riften, and hoping to find more work, I attempt conversation again. “Haven’t you already done enough damage here?” is the only response I get. “You’re no longer welcome”. A million miles away, as dawn breaks on my apartment on a random Saturday, I recoil from my TV like Brad Pitt had just spliced a single frame of turgid cock into my experience. What just happened? The game goes on without missing a beat, but this audience member is now a little bit the wiser.


It was either BP or the turgid cock, and Russ tells me dicks hurt traffic numbers. Sorry to disappoint. (Editor’s note: This convo never took place.)

To be sure, this isn’t going to turn into a gripefest about Skyrim’s many glitches and how they break the game’s flow. There is a certain tacit acceptance of bugs in Bethesda games – after all, with such a huge game world and so many moving parts, there are bound to be a few hiccups or hilariously misrendered pixels. So long as it isn’t a savefile corruption or an impassable glitch in the game’s main storyline, the bugs themselves are generally more humorous than odious, and give the experience a weird kind of charm. Glitching the game is almost like a rite of passage for a Bethesda product. I was over 40 hours in before I had my first in Skyrim, the result of a court steward tasking me to clear a bandit hideout I’d sacked a few hours prior. The only damage done is a quest log entry I can’t clear, an innocuous bug if ever there was one. The bugs themselves can be overlooked because they are unintentional, clear mistakes that no game developer would have ever left in place had they been discovered.

Far harder to move past are the instances in the game world where characters cease to be cogent personalities and become transparent, acting as agents of the game developers themselves. I took the gem-collecting quest from Talen-Jei at first meeting, when we were neutral toward one another. After blackmailing his girlfriend and threatening her family for money, he became bitter and hostile, yet he still was willing to accept my help. At this point he had stopped being Talen-Jei, the down-on-his-luck wistful romantic. He became the receptacle for fetch quest #2904. He said he hated me for what I had done to the woman (lizard?) he loved, but never broke off our agreement. His flowery speech about undying gratitude was similarly for naught – the whole exchange was hollow and artificial, the last two things a role-playing game ever wants to represent.

Talen-Jei is hardly an isolated case. There was also the case of Faendal, a wood elf whose relationship I destroyed when I gave slanderous letters to his love interest. He always greets me with a testy “Why would I talk to you, after all you’ve done to me?”, but happily provides Archery lessons when asked. Or there’s Brand-Shei, a Riften merchant I planted stolen goods on before reporting him to the town guards. Even from his dungeon cell, he turns to me to help him uncover the secrets of his ancestry. The game is full of characters I’ve wronged who, under the normal rules of human/elf/lizard/etc interaction should want nothing to do with me (if they don’t already want me dead), yet are still willing to serve as skill teachers, quest facilitators, or reward dispensers. A casual gamer might not notice or even be bothered by these things, but the rotten cynic inside me sees it for what it is – a game developer’s attempt to create the illusion of choice.


Machine City from Matrix Revolutions : Bethesda’s studio

Skyrim wants you to believe your actions have repercussions, but it’s also deathly afraid of closing doors to the player. Closed doors mean lost quests, missed goodies, and the very real possibility of an irate gamer yelling “Well if I had KNOWN I wouldn’t have done THAT!” Unfortunately for the weak-willed, such is the risk you take in making a decision, both in real life or a fantasy setting. Decisions are tradeoffs, and 99% of the time the gain associated with choosing one side is balanced with a loss (or prospective loss) on the other. Without the threat of loss, the impetus to make the right decision (“right” here meaning the decision most associated with what a person wishes to gain, not necessarily morally “right”) is gone – choose whichever option you want, and come back later to claim the other side. By taking the teeth out of choices, Skyrim blunts their effectiveness – I don’t have to ponder the weight of my decision, just figure out which option is most expedient at the time.

This brings us back to the illusion of choice Skyrim presents as it attempts to substitute some of its width for depth. When I was given the option of betraying Talen-Jei’s trust, I should have been forced to weigh the loss of a potential ally with my desire to join the Thieves’ Guild. Same with Faendal. Would his Archery training be better for my character, or should I choose the cold hard gold from the jealous lover seeking to set him up? As it turns out, there was no downside to the choices I made – both characters still offered their services or quests, they just did so with a harsher tone of voice if they’d been maligned. The choice to help or betray, be virtuous or be cutthroat, exists entirely in the player’s mind. Normally this is a good thing, as it necessitates some degree of imagination on the player’s part, but sadly the game makes no commentary on choices made and, with scant few exceptions, never forces the player to take a stand and accept a loss of freedom or feel the repercussions of their decision. Without risk, there’s no role to play, and it takes a toll on the enjoyability of the experience.


What he should have said when I tried to woo his reptilian love: “You try to strongarm my woman? That’s cold blooded, holmes. I’ma cuff that chick when I see her next. As for you, get those little kidney stones out of my face and kindly get the fuck out of my tavern.”

When I first started Skyrim, I didn’t know these things. When I first reached Whiterun, the first major city a player will usually encounter, I was immediately accosted by an intimidating Nordic warrior demanding to know which of the city’s two factions I pledged allegiance to, his or “the enemy”. Fearful of giving the wrong answer, I tried to explain to him I was new in town and had no idea which side I supported, and he let me off with a stern warning not to choose the rival clan. I appreciated his frankness and, more to the point, that he left his sword in its sheath. Some thirty hours later, when I made it all the way across the map and into another major city, I met a palette-swapped version of an intimidating Nordic warrior, demanding to know which of the city’s two rival factions I pledged allegiance to, his or “the enemy”. Knowing full well my answer was without consequence, I confidently told him to get out of my face lest he want to be strangled with his own entrails. He told me “he’d let that slide, because you’re new here” before letting me off with a stern warning not to choose the rival clan. Rudeness, and in other cases vandalism, theft and even petty violence, all failed to evoke any permanency or close any doors. The rich world of choice I thought lay before me had once again been boiled down to a simple binary question, the only real “choice” Skyrim offers : Will you do my bidding, or will you not?

Choice and consequence. For a game that offers a myriad will-you/won’t-you of the former, it is surprisingly light on the latter. NPCs hardly register your actions, no matter how disruptive they are. As an initiate in The Companions, a group of warriors in Whiterun, I was caught looting their main hall. They simply asked me to stop, despite their previous insistence on honor and fealty. Upon becoming Harbinger (leader) of the group, I still had to take flak from members asking aloud why the previous leader allowed me to enter and what he saw in me. Shopkeepers threaten to sic the Dark Brotherhood (Skyrim’s Assassin’s Guild) on me should they catch me stealing from them, even though I lead that group as well. Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion in the Civil War questline and Nord supremacist, will still gladly appoint the player to be his right-hand man even as an Altmer, the very same race Ulfric believes to be behind the oppression of his Nordic people. A cabal of dragon hunters takes you as their ultimate champion after countless centuries of toil and sacrifice, but should you align yourself with a reformed dragon rather than kill him as they demand, their wrath manifests itself in a glorified “son I am disappoint”. A potent quest reward item can be made significantly more powerful by allowing it to consume human souls instead of non-sentient ones, but no harm or loss of standing befalls the player for choosing the decidedly more evil option. Towns can be overrun and emperors can be killed or deposed, but somehow these otherwise gameplay-changing events are almost entirely cosmetic. Once you pass the character creation screen, you’re no longer playing an impossibly huge open-world game. You’re playing the most engrossing and well-disguised rail shooter ever devised.

Without consequence, the game world becomes static, and a rigid game world destroys any sense of immersion. Very rarely in Skyrim do you see the results of your actions manifest themselves in any significant way, which begs the question : why was I given a choice in the first place? Am I really free to do whatever I want, to plunder and loot and screw over as I see fit, if in the end nothing really changes? Once you begin questioning the decision-making of game developers, you’ve become acutely aware of their existence, and Skyrim’s spell is broken.


If I go into this bar and ask this fine serving wench to “Shake what her momma gave her,” I expect to be reprimanded. Big, lumbering bald boyfriend comes out of the back with a knife. Or, well… sweet, sweet reprimanding. In the form of medieval lovemaking.

The real tragedy here isn’t that Skyrim isn’t 100% immersive; it’s that Skyrim is 98% immersive. When you’re knee deep in Draugr corpses, cutting down giant spiders and trading spells with Dragon Priests, the game truly is exhilarating. In the moments where you’re standing on a windswept field, rattling sword and shield and screaming dark curses as a dragon circles overhead, you become the warrior of legend. The music swells, the dragon crashes to earth, and the next 60 seconds are a pitched battle where everything else besides man and beast is only so much grey. It’s the quieter moments where the game loses its hold, when you notice the developers were better at modeling the fantastical elements than they were the mundane. When an NPC’s reactions don’t quite match common sense expectations, and slide slowly into the uncanny valley. Or when what you thought was an agonizing choice leaves you not with unforeseen consequences, but rather no consequence at all.

About The Author

Matt Molinario

Matt "Mola" Molinario is half sports enthusiast, half precognitive genius, and all man. Some say he can download a Library of Congress/War and Peace's equivalent of data into his brain within seconds without blinking. Others say he was the inspiration for that little kid with the glasses that came up with the 'Annexation of Puerto Rico' play in the movie, "Little Giants." The world may never know.

  • PeevedCitizen

    I’m not sure who this Matt fellow is but he clearly should not be writing this article. I stopped reading after the first two paragraphs for two reasons, I didn’t want to read a fair weather fan WHINE about insubstantial glitches and two it was far too long. I’ve played all the elder scrolls series and they are as close to perfection as possible. Bethesda has yet again produced a marvel of modern technology and does not deserve to have people like this talking smack about them. 
    No one is forcing you to play, so shut your mouth and stop playing if you don’t like it.

    • lolwut

       ”now, I didn’t read the article, and I missed part where the author explicitly states he’s not complaining about glitches, thus missing the point completely, but FUCK YOU!”

      Good point, Peeved Citizen. Good point.

    • upeevedbro?

      I’m not sure who this PeevedCitizen is but he clearly should not be reading this article… or any.. I did not stop reading this comment… and kind of regretted it.. I should have stopped after “I’m a bethesda fanboy and take any criticism as insult”

      • PeevedCitizen

        Listen you Mongoloids,
        I finished reading your article and who would have guessed it, it was terrible. My comment still stands. And yes thank you I am a Bethesda Fanboy, they earned it. So in conclusion, ball’s in your court Monkeys.

        • PeevedCitizensConscience

          “HAY GUYS, I’m just kiddin’, I didn’t read only the first two paragraphs and then become disconcerted when my 2nd grade reading level failed me!

          I actually read the whole thing.  But it’s bad.  Why?  Because I think the game is perfect in every way and I disagree with this guy’s opinion but won’t use even the slightest modicum of factual evidence to back myself up. 

          Just throw around the words ‘mongoloid,’ and ‘monkeys’; two words I picked up from my grandpappy! Real good razzes from 1950s segregated America!  That’ll sure show ‘em! 

          I do this to seem like I have some sense of self-worth and am not just a miscreant with extremely low self esteem whose asshole quivers with pain when a person point out an aspect he didn’t enjoy of a video game like someone just mushroom stamped my mother!”

          • PeevedCitizen

            Obvious Troll is Obvious. ;-)

          • 123

            Yes, pointing out how immature you are is trolling.

          • Donwebly72

            I don’t understand this 123 person. Disagreeing with an article and disliking the writing is immature? 

          • DonaldTrump

            Reading only the first two sentences of the article and then forming an opinion on it due to one’s blind devotion to the game is… which is exactly what happened here, Donald Webly! 

            You’re fired.

          • Donwebly72

            It says, “I stopped reading after the first two paragraphs…”

          • DonaldTrump

            What’d you say?  I stopped reading after the first two words.  But your post sucked anyways.  Whiny fairweather basketball mongoloid.

          • Donwebly72

            Is this the author because you’re my comment as if I insulted you? What the heck is wrong with you? Just making a point. 

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=734830205 Michael Pursell

    I thought it was kinda long too….I liked it otherwise. He was pretty dead on about not having any real choices.

  • Darkinvalid

    too bad AI isn’t up to the standard most gamers want.  most shooter games use “too action/noise” scripts.  I agree I have killed alot of people in skyrim and days later they give you a quest. But alot of people would freak if they accidentally stole something and wrecked a series of quest instances because the shop keeper tells you fuck you. And in context every person that choose a Elf character in Skyrim should not be able to get any nord quests because they all surely hate you for the previos war.  
    All in All great game. No great is with out little glitches.

    • http://www.facebook.com/harley.miller.121 Harley Miller

      They would get upset, thats why there is saves. I would say to such people who get upset, welcome to a real RPG where your actions have consequences good or bad and you need to live with those consequences just as you would live with doing something in real life.

  • http://twitter.com/FilthyMetal Forest Landa

    It’s a conundrum that developers of games like this will have to face for years to come until one decides to take the plunge and give real consequences for your actions. It’s easy to understand that with a game that took so damn long to make and is so vast, they wouldn’t take the chance of screwing it up with consequences. 

    • http://www.facebook.com/harley.miller.121 Harley Miller

      Thats the thing, in previous games like Morrowind they did let you screw things up with consequences and guess what. it was a brilliant game that was GOTY.

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  • Moony

    So very true. Especially after playing games like Witcher 2 the lack of real choices is really disappointing. It also makes roleplaying much more tedious since I pretty much have to imagine everything myself.

  • http://www.facebook.com/harley.miller.121 Harley Miller

    The term is Suspension of Disbelief. When a story/game world has a pre-set standard of laws by which things are meant to abide by has elements that do not make sense within the worlds own laws and mechanics. This creates disbelief. Not that dragons are unrealistic but as the idea of Suspension of Disbelief states we as someone entering a story is willing to accept that some things are unrealistic like magic, dragons and so on but only as long as they follow the laws that are laid out in this world, another words you cant just have ‘whatever happen’ else the immersion fails and disbelief falls upon you. Having a world where your meant to have choice but really dont breaks the expectations of the worlds laws and therefore creates disbelief and destroys the immersion of that element and in an RPG such elements can be game ruining.

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  • Jerry Lee

    Witcher 2 had real choice? There was like only one choice that really mattered, you’re sent to the “next mission” each chapter which nullifies anything you made in the past, resetting the story. In the original vanilla version it didn’t even have the side bars showing what you’ve done in the end game…

    Skyrim has pretty few meaningful choices as well. Games today seem to love throw pointless dialogues that have no consequences but use extra resources (voice over) to give players a sense of larping….

  • Gobbles

    True dat..Sometimes i just crave for an answer.Does this NPC like me or does he not ?I don’t care what he answers , just let the answer be straight.instead it’s something like “divines smile on you friend , but get the fuck out of my face”