Civil War, Part 1 (Katnys)

Reconnecting with the Alik’r in Whiterun really helped Katnys place the whole “Dovahkiin” thing in its proper perspective.  Being Dragonborn was only of value to the degree it could help her take down the Empire that had abandoned Hammerfell, betrayed her parents, and killed her sister; the Greybeards and all of their “Way of the Voice” business could wait.  Right now, she needed to get to Windhelm and join up with the Stormcloaks.

Upon arriving in the capitol of Eastmarch, Katnys and Jenassa were treated to the sight of two Nords (Rolff Stone-Fist and Angrenor Once-Honored) harassing a Dunmer woman (Survaris Atheron).  At first, she was too dumbstruck to intervene; while her parents had often talked of their life in Windhelm, actually seeing one of her own as a.) an established citizen of Skyrim and b.) a victim of racism was a little too much to process all at once. 

The welcome wagon

Eventually, she pulled her wits together and beat some respect into Rolff (not that it lasted -- she would later encounter him drunkenly shouting in the Grey Quarter), then made her way to the Palace of the Kings for her audience with Ulfric.

Having lived most of her life outside of Skyrim, Katnys had been unnaware of Ulfric before the events at Helgen, so she approached him with neither awe nor ire.  She cared little for the intricacies of Nord politics, and even less about Talos, so she expected to express her desire to join the rebellion, grab her bow, and start killing Imperials.  But when Ulfric began talking about missing his father's funeral and about the obligation he had to the men in his command -- those who fell and those who still fought for him -- she found herself moved far more than she had anticipated.  Surely, a man who cared so deeply for his brothers-in-arms deserved her respect.  She still had no strong feelings about Talos, but her hated of the Empire only grew as she listened to Ulfric's story.  Therefore, when Galmar asked her why an elf would join the Stormcloaks,  she could proudly exclaim her thirst for Legionnaire blood.

The first task -- killing an ice wraith -- seemed like a pointless Nord test of courage, but she had grown used to that kind of requirement among the Alik'r.  Looking for the Jagged Crown felt silly as well, but once she got a chance to pick off some Imperial soldiers, Katnys finally felt like she was on the right path.  Under Ulfric's leadership, the Stormcloaks would drive the Empire out of Skyrim and, who knows, perhaps out of existence entirely.

It was this last thought -- that Ulfric might be the one to bring down the Empire -- that allowed Katnys to stomach the racism she encountered from certain residents of Windhelm.  Sure, one beggar and the town drunk (whom everyone tolerates because he's Galmar's brother) liked to toss epithets around, but that kind of impotent bigotry did little to dampen her spirits as she explored the Gray Quarter; after all, it was hard to be upset when she was in her parents' adopted hometown, surrounded by more Dunmer than she had even seen in one place.  In fact, even as she and Jenassa sipped Argonian Bloodwine and listened to Ambarys Rendar complain of the Nords' maltreatment of the Dark Elves, she couldn't help but think that some of these Windhelm Dunmer lacked perspective.  Sure, the Gray Quarter was a bit of a dump, and some of the Nords were less than hospitable, but what did Ambarys and his ilk expect?  From her time with the Alik'r, Katnys well understood that mercy and kinship are not the same.  The Alik'r took her and Prim in -- fed them, protected them, shared knowledge with them -- but they were never really part of the clan...and why should they be?  They weren't Redguards, after all.  People prefer their own kin, their own kind, and there's nothing wrong with that.  You can be generous to a stranger, but you only really love your own. 

It is precisely that generosity -- the kind shown by the Alik'r to the Evyrdene girls -- that Katnys saw in the Nords.  After the Red Mountain erupted, the High King of Skyrim gave entire portions of Solstheim to the Dunmer refugees, and the Jarl of Windhelm opened the Snow Quarter to them.  The Nords' magnanimity, however, was that of a powerful ally, not an adopted family.  The Sons and Daughters of Skyrim have helped the refugees of Morrowind, and that is enough.  For a Dunmer like Ambarys to expect the Nords to treat him like one of their own was not only foolish, but borderline ungrateful in Katnys's eyes.  It is natural to favor one's own, even as it is valorous to help an ally.

In fact, this history of Nord generosity throws a harsh light on the duplicity of the Empire.  Even as the Nords were opening their borders during the Red Year, the East Empire Company was pulling up stakes to avoid the ash.  The events of the Great War further demonstrated that the Empire exists solely for the benefit of Cyrodiil -- which would be fine if the Empire consisted only of Cyrodiil.  The Emperor had no problem abandoning Hammerfell to the Dominion, and then slapped Skyrim in the face by agreeing to the Concordat.  While the Nords might call you names and start a fight with you, they will also open their homes and keep their promises.  The Empire, on the other hand, calls you "citizen" while it sells you to your enemy.  Tamriel would be better served by an alliance of strong, independent nations than this shame of an Empire.  The Dominion would never be able to stand up against the cunning of Cyrodiil, the brawn of Skyrim, the skill of Hammerfell, and the sorcery of High Rock acting in concert as equals, rather than as thralls to a dying Empire.

Now that she held Balgruuf's axe, Katnys was poised to speed that process along.

Rules of Engagement for Katnyss

Since my goal this time was to play with moral agency from an alternate moral profile, I thought it best to lay out some ground rules at the start, just as I did with Lothar.  Instead of recreating the exhaustive list from the corresponding first playthough post, allow me to point out those areas in which Katnyss’s moral composition differs from Lothar’s.

As a Nord Legionnaire, Lothar usually thinks more about principles than about people, the big picture more than the immediate situation.  He sided with the Empire because he believed a united Empire was the best defense against the Dominion, even though the ban on Talos worship was an egregious offense.  He spared Paarthurnax because the dragon had done the right thing in helping Lothar to overcome Alduin, his brother and former leader.  He destroyed the Dark Brotherhood because they wanted him to kill potentially innocent people solely on their command.  He joined the Thieves’ Guild in order to create a more stable and unified Skyrim.  While not all of his actions are laudable, nor all of his rationalizations convincing, he tends to consider his actions in an abstract, impersonal manner (which action is more just?) rather than a concrete, personal one (which action is best for me and those for whom I care?)

Katnyss, on the other hand, considers the world in terms of relationship rather than principle.  The rightness or wrongness of an action depends mostly on how it affects those around her; abstractions are useless at best, dangerous at worst.  The primary moral obligation of a person is to those with whom she is connected: family, friends, allies.  People outside of these relationships are secondary or tertiary considerations, if at all.  An action is right if it benefits her “tribe,” wrong if it hurts them, and morally neutral if it doesn’t affect them.

Consider the example of Lothar’s relationship with Uthgerd the Unbroken.  During a quest, Lothar accidentally killed an innocent Stormcloak in the midst of a larger battle.  Because I received a bounty, I know Uthgerd ratted on me.  Using Lothar’s profile, however, I had to admit that I admired her adherence to the law, and dealt appropriately with the bounty.  Were Katnyss to find herself in a similar situation, she would see Uthgerd as a traitor who reneged on her obligation to support, protect, and care for her friend.  Uthgerd should have valued her loyalty to Katnyss above her belief in the rule of law.

This difference of worldview has profound implications for the game.  Her parents, loyal to the Nords who took them in, put themselves on the line for the sake of the Empire to which Skyrim belonged.  The Empire, however, abandoned them to the Thalmor.  The Empire failed her again when she lived in the Cyrodillian orphanage, allowing her to be neglected and abused by those who were supposed to be caring for her and her sister.  Then the Empire killed her sister.  The Empire, therefore, must be destroyed, along with the Thalmor they apparently serve.

There is more to this moral profile than revenge, however.  Valuing relationships over principles has led Katnyss to form very strong attachments to certain factions and followers.  It also provides a lens through which she judges the NPCs she encounters, even if they have no significant attachment to her.  I’ll elaborate on these aspects as they come up.  All of the other rules for Katnyss’s decision-making follow from this prioritizing of personal connection.  When she steals and from whom, how she decides which quests to take, and how she understands her role as Dovahkiin will originate from this moral profile.

Anniversary Update

I started playing Skyrim about a year ago, and, given the fact that my posts have fallen far behind my actual playing, I thought it might be worthwhile to write an anniversary post with some content that never quite fit into any of my previous posts.


One of the most significant developments for me came about six months ago when I started to let my eleven year-old son play.  Even though the game comes with an M rating, by June I felt that I had a sufficient handle on the game's content to permit my son to play under my supervision.  While I wasn't going to force him to copy my playstyle, I have occasionally required him to explain and/or justify his actions, which has led to some fascinating debates.  What follows are some of the more valuable aspects of his playthrough.

The Character

Before I let him play, my son had already formed some strong preferences.  In contrast to my "ranger" playstyle (predominately Warrior, with enough Rogue to specialize in Archery and Sneaking), my son expressed an interest in running a "battlemage" character (primarily Mage, with enough Warrior to survive without magic).  Accordingly, he chose an Altmer character in order to take advantage of the High Elf racial benefits (extra starting Magicka and enchanced Magicka recovery).  I helped him choose an appropriate Altmer name ("Erefor"), then assigned him his first narrative task.

Because every PC, regardless of race, gender, or playstyle, begins the game as a prisoner of the Empire, facing execution for sneaking across Skyrim's closed southern border, the role-player has to create a believable backstory in order to explain his predicament.  My backstory was easy to compose; a Nord returning to Skyrim needs little explanation.  My son, on the other hand, faced a more complex project.  Why would a non-Thalmor Altmer travel alone to Skyrim in violation of the Imperial order?  I was impressed with the depth and inventiveness of my son's answer.

Erefor, having grown up under the Aldmeri Dominion, became a member of the Thalmor in order to serve his homeland with honor.  Over time, he grew disillusioned with the goals of the Dominion -- in particular, their obsession with the eradication of Talos worship seemed pointless and wasteful.  When Erefor voiced his objections to his superiors, the Thalmor rewarded him by stripping him of his position and gear, beating him senseless, and dumping him just inside the Skyrim border, where he was discovered by the Legion.  This backstory not only explains Erefor's presence in the game, but also demonstrates a nuanced understanding of character motivation and a clear moral standpoint -- particularly for an eleven year-old player.

The Civil War

Although I was not shocked that my son and I ended up on opposite sides of the Civil War (the contrarian apple doesn't fall far from the tree), his rationale surprised me a bit.  When Erefor joined the Stormcloaks, I challenged my son to provide one good reason for an Altmer to join an army of Nords who hate his kind and wish to drive them out of Skyrim; he gave me three:

1. The Empire tried to execute him for something that wasn't his fault.
2. The Empire had acquiesced to the Thalmor, who had betrayed him.
3. Freedom of religion is an absolute.  The Empire relinquished its right to rule when it forgot that.

The first two are personal, Stage Two moral reasoning, but the third demonstrates Stage Four abstract fundamentalism.  Erefor sided with Ulfric in order to protect the religious freedom of people who harbor a distinct prejudice against him, and who practice a religion that he not only does not practice, but that he actively disputes.  As a left-leaning Catholic, I have to admit to a certain pride in my son's rather progressive rationale...but I stand by my original decision to side with the Empire.

Followers

Another area of difference between my playstyle and son’s concerns the role of the follower.  For me, followers are like colleagues: we partner for a specific purpose to achieve a specific goal, and once the quest is complete, we go our separate ways.  

I have a number of reasons for using this model – some pragmatic, other more role-playing oriented.  On the practical side, unless I am heading into a large battle against multiple opponents (Civil War, Dawnguard) or situations in which I am likely to be ambushed and outnumbered (Blackreach, In My Time Of Need), followers often get in the way more than they help.  Some of them don’t sneak well, and my Ranger/Rambo style of play suffers when a follower starts tripping booby traps.  From a role-playing perspective, I get nervous unless my follower is clearly prepared for a dangerous quest.  My first follower, Sven, was a nice guy, but I wasn’t sure that a small-town bard was really prepared to go dungeon-delving, so I didn’t employ him until after I cleared Bleak Falls Barrow, and then only to help me loot the bandits and draugr I had already killed.  My housecarls, on the other hand, are trained bodyguards, so I have outfitted each with specialized equipment to help me with certain types of quests – Argis the Bulwark, for example, is my Dwemer ruins partner, and therefore I have given him Dwarven equipment enchanted with fire damage and shock-resistant magic (especially useful against Dwarven automatons). Furthermore, if I'm being honest, I have to admit that I like the "lone hero" narrative for my character.

My son, however, has yet to dismiss his first follower, Faendal.  He sided with Faendal during A Lovely Letter because, as a Bosmer, Faendal might well have the same antipathy toward the Thalmor as Erefor.  My son has really enjoyed having a follower NPC, so his playthough has become a "buddy adventure" starring Erefor and Faendal.  On a practical level, Erefore is essentially a Battlemage archetype, so his desire to create a small army makes sense, as doing so maximizes power and minimizes risk.  During dungeon crawls, for example, he continually casts Conjuration spells (mostly Flame Atronachs) so that he has at least two allies backing him up at all times.  While I would find that kind of playstyle chaotic and difficult to follow, he finds it rewarding and reassuring; each successful quest is a kind of team victory.

Crime

I have noticed an inconsistency in the moral aspect of my son’s playstyle, specifically around the issue of crime.  Generally, he plays a Chaotic Good character: benevolent and compassionate, but with little patience for the rule of law.  If he needs to increase his Pickpocketing skill, for example, he sees nothing wrong with lifting a few gold coins or a sweet roll from the town guard [in fact, I tortured him during my Thieves Guild quests by stealing the required item in order to fulfill the objective, then replacing it with an item of equal or greater value], but he criticizes his friends who arbitrarily kill shopkeepers and other non-hostile NPCs.  The inconsistency arises when he does something that violates the (admittedly unarticulated) moral code of his character. 

An instance of this contradiction occurred during our separate playthroughs of Scoundrel's Folly.  The stage in which the Dragonborn follows Gulum-Ei into the East Empire Company warehouse in Solitude was very challenging for me as a moral agent.  The warehouse guards, all mercenaries (as opposed to Solitude town guards), were immediately hostile to my presence, but I could not justify killing them; they weren’t doing anything wrong, and, my good intentions notwithstanding, I was in fact trespassing.  Through a combination of high Sneak skills, Invisibility potions, and a well-timed Battle Cry, I managed to navigate the warehouse without a single drop of blood spilled.   My son’s character, however, lacked the skills to avoid detection, and found himself in a battle fairly quickly.  When I pointed out that he had just killed a bunch of guards who hadn’t done anything wrong, he reminded me that playing with moral agency is my project, not his.

What interests me about his answer is that he didn’t even attempt to justify his character’s actions, which, while difficult, was not impossible.  Instead, he distanced himself from the moral aspect of the game and razzed me for taking it too seriously.  I suppose, given his age, I should have expected his reaction; a child’s first forays into moral abstraction (Stages Three and Four) are frequently marked by rigid absolutism, which makes moral dilemmas very hard to negotiate.  Faced with mutually exclusive choices – murder the guards and fulfill the objective, or spare the guards and fail the objective – he opted out of the exercise; killing the guards no longer mattered because it was “just a game.”  By excusing himself from the moral task, he inadvertently highlighted the power of the game as a moral laboratory.

Reflection

Despite its M rating, Skyrim has been a useful and rewarding point of connection for my son and me.  It has allowed us to have conversations about religious tolerance (the Thalmor), drug addiction (skooma), racism (the Grey Quarter), and many other topics that can be utterly daunting in the real world.  In the low-stakes setting of a video game, moral issues can be considered and debated without the emotional weight of personal history and anxieties.  I hope to continue the conversation for a long time.