First Playthrough: Reflections

So far, Lothar Ironfoot has completed the main questlines of Skyrim, Dawnguard, and Dragonborn, as well as the Civil War and all of the faction questlines (he chose to Destroy the Dark Brotherhood).  He has also finished an impressive number of titled side quests, including most of the Daedric quests, and countless untitled minor quests.  Frankly, there are very few new quests left for Lothar to do, and while I’m sure I’ve overlooked some minor moral dilemmas here and there, I think I have seen most of the game’s opportunities for moral agency.

This is not to say that I am done with the game, the blog, or even Lothar for that matter, but I think that now is a good time to reflect on what my experiences with Lothar taught me and to prepare to write about my second playthough – one from a very different moral stance.  What follows, in no particular order, are what I consider to be the big takeaways from my first playthrough.

Lothar as Player Avatar

I set out, as role players often do, to play Lothar as a version of myself – what I think I would be like if I were Dovahkiin.  My own moral and ethical profile is the easiest for me to access, and given that I did not know the outcomes of each quest ahead of time, playing from such a close perspective granted an immediacy to the experience that allowed me to think more genuinely about each dilemma.  There are limits to this approach, of course; I am Catholic and an English teacher in a middle-class suburb in 2013, not a legendary warrior in a fantasy Iron Age universe ruled by multiple Divines and Daedra, so my concept of right and wrong doesn’t translate neatly.  Life or death decisions are, thankfully, not part of my everyday experience.  

I point out this difficultly of translation because I want to be clear that Lothar is simultaneously representative and aspirational for me; in some ways, he acts in way I hope I would act in a similar position, but in others, he represents moral and ethical compromises that I must admit I would probably make were I in Tamriel.  I can’t justify all of my/Lothar’s actions, but I can certainly own all of them.

Law and Order

That I sided with the Empire in the Civil War is not at all surprising; in real life, I would rather be part of a flawed organization and attempt to correct its errors than reject it entirely.  As an America, rebellion is in my national DNA, but if I’m being completely honest, I’d rather fix the system than fight it most of the time.  Of course, that’s not always possible in real life, but given the binary choice in the Civil War questline, choosing the Empire was more “like me.” 

What surprised me, though, was how quickly I found ways to justify my actions within the Thieves’ Guild.  Joining (and then leading) a criminal organization is not my style at all, but I managed to make sense of it by looking at the bigger picture. If the Empire was going to take on the Dominion again, then having the Dovahkiin at the head of all of the major factions makes the most sense, even if one of the factions is a gang of burglars, pickpockets, and cutpurses.  Still, in doing so, I became comfortable with breaking the law and stealing from (and sometimes framing) a wide assortment of people.  I tried to mitigate the problem by choosing my targets carefully when I could, but I cannot escape the reality that I was willing to do very shady things in pursuit of a stable Skyrim.

The Role of the Daedric Princes and the Lure of Power

One of the common refrains in this blog has been how much a resented the manipulation inherent in most of the Daedric quests.  Time and time again, I have been impressed by commenters who thought up creative ways to thwart the Daedra; I, on the other hand, usually went along with the quest, did what I was asked to do (even if I chose the “mouthier” dialogue options), and claimed the artifact.  While I stand by my justifications in most of those cases, I still have to confess that I found ways to rationalize actions I would never had done were it not for the promise of greater power.

This situation is particularly thorny for me when I consider that most of the Daedric Princes are a translation of Christian demonology into the universe of the Elder Scrolls.  The Divines are transcendent and aloof, apart for Talos, the man who became a god.  The Daedric Princes, however, appear to mortals on a regular basis, often to manipulate them for their own purposes.  In fact, I would go so far as to argue that most of the Daedric Princes represent a traditional Judeo-Christian type of Satan figure.  Clavicus Vile is the deal-maker, as in Faust’s Mephistopheles; Molag Bal is not only named after Moloch and Baal, but is represented as the satyr-rapist; Mephala is the dark whisperer, the serpent sowing dissention in Eden; Peryite and Namira are the Hebraic unclean ones; Boethiah is the betrayer; Mehrunes Dagon, named after a Babylonian god, is the divine usurper, like Milton's Lucifer; Hermaeus Mora is the Lovecraftian hoarder of forbidden knowledge, and his books look a lot like the Necronomicon; Sanguine is the devil by way of Bacchus.  The implications of fulfilling their quests takes on a more sinister tint when viewed through such a lens.   

The Need for Closure

One aspect of my first playthrough for which I was not prepared was my discomfort with unfinished quests.  I really appreciated the quests that allowed me to fail if I did not wish to complete them.  Having an open quest provided far too much temptation for me to violate Lothar's moral profile.  Let me offer three examples:

• Pieces of the Past: I liked this quest because my refusal to kill Silus put the Razor out of my reach forever.  I was able to congratulation myself on taking the high road.
• Boethiah's Calling: I had no way to fail this quest, so I kept thinking about followers whom I could justifiably betray and kill.  Had I not encountered Ralis, I would have left it unfinished, but being presented with a possessed sociopath proved to be too great a lure for me.
• Lights Out!: Never finished it, never will.  There's just no way for me to justify it with Lothar's profile.  I even tried to kill Jaree-Ra to no avail, as he is labeled "essential."  I feel a little twinge of irritation every time I see the title in my quest journal.

Being able to fail a quest creates a kind of moral guardrail for the character, which makes doing the right thing easier.  But there's the rub: keeping quests unfinished raises the stakes for decision-making and keeps the door open for alternate types of moral agency.

Which leads me to my second playthrough...

The Only Cure

I met the Afflicted Refugee very early in my playthough (on my first walk from Riverwood to Whiterun), but I delayed following up on the quest because other matters seemed far more pressing.  When I finally got around to tracking down Kesh the Clean, I have to admit that I was a little put off by his fascination with disease; like most of the Daedric cultists I had met, he seemed to harbor an unhealthy zeal for his particular patron.  I reluctantly agreed to gather the materials needed to commune with Peryite, mainly because I wanted to get to the bottom of what might be some sort of planned epidemic.

I learned from Peryite that one of his priests, Orchendor, had gone rogue after taking some Afflicted followers down into the Dwemer ruins at Bthardamz.  While I was not interested in doing the Daedra’s bidding (a statement that I fear has lost its value through overuse), I did not fancy the thought of a deranged cultist locking a group of plague-ridden worshippers in some underground facility – the situation reminded me too much of Poltergeist to be ignored, and could be a harbinger of some greater disaster.

When I approached Bthardamz, I did without Sneaking; stealthy entrances were for vampire lairs and bandit camps.  My two initial encounters with Peryite’s followers suggested that these folks, while perhaps a bit “off,” were not particularly aggressive.  Needless to say, I was shocked by the Afflicteds’ stomach-churning attack.  I defended myself, of course, but couldn’t help feeling pity for these poor souls.

My misgivings about the quest only increased as I proceeded.  Now that I was Sneaking through the Dwemer ruins, I was privy to conversations among the Afflicted.  From what I could gather, they were all sick and suffering, but Orchendor was unwilling to let them go, and most of them had already bowed to his will.  Clearly, Orchendor needed to be confronted, but what about the Afflicted who had yet to detect me?  Based on the reactions of their brethren outside, I knew that they would attack me on site, but that was only a problem for me, not the general public (consider bandits for contrast).  As long as they stayed put, they presented no danger to anyone else. 

But what if they didn’t stay sealed away?  What if Orchendor’s plans were more nefarious?  He was in control of a group of bioweaponized zealots, and had clearly lost all sense of balance.  And what of the Afflicted themselves?  Most of the ones I overheard were desperate for release from their prison, but unwilling to defy their leader.  Assuming that I could manage to Sneak past all of them and take out Orchendor silently, what would they do without their leader?  Simply stay and waste away?  Disperse into the general population and spread their plague?  

BLAAARRGGH!!!!

I decided to take the harsher of the two paths by killing all of the Afflicted as well as Orchendor.  I do not feel good about this decision, but in the end, it seemed as though this cult had already passed the point of no return:

• ·         They attacked me on sight.
• ·         While Kesh and the refugee were reasonable, the others seemed to be under Orchendor’s control, dying, or wishing they were dead.
• ·         Killing them was the best way to ensure that they did not spread their disease to non-cultists.

During my post-quest research, I learned that the Afflicted in Bthardamz are always hostile, so that helped me to rationalize my decision, but I still wonder if it might have been more just to try to Sneak past them and take out Orchendor only.  Perhaps on another playthrough.

A Daedra's Best Friend

This Daedric quest features only one moral dilemma, so for the sake of brevity, I’ll cut straight to it: 

I had been wary of dealing with Clavicus ViIe from the beginning, and refused to make any sort of deal with him for fear of being Tamriel’s next Faust.  When the time came to make a choice, I chose to spare Barbas.  He had been loyal to his master despite Vile’s dreadful behavior, and he had proven to be a faithful and brave companion during our brief adventure. There was no way I was going to turn on him now.  Even though Barbas was himself a Daedra, he seemed to be a decent sort, even if his best friend was a particularly nasty Daedric Prince.  Furthermore, it seemed that doing the opposite of what Vile wanted would be the safest course of action, so I reunited Barbas and his master, relinquished the Rueful Axe, and obtained Vile’s Masque.

His master's voice?

It wasn’t until later that I realized a potential error in my thinking.  The Rueful Axe is not a terribly powerful weapon, especially as Daedric artifacts go, but Vile seemed very glad to have it back; he declared that he could “have a lot of fun” with it.  Along the same lines, had he not also admitted that he was less powerful without Barbas?  In granting the dog’s request, had I inadvertently restored a dangerous Daedric Prince to full power and returned one of his favorite weapons to boot?

I’ve mentioned Kant in this blog before, and I think that a Kantian moral lens might be instructive here.  My intention was to perform a favor for a being in need: Barbas.  According to my reading of Kant, the fact that Barbas’s friend is the Elder Scrolls version of Mephistopheles should not enter into my decision, nor should the possibility that reuniting the two might have damaging consequences for someone else down the line.  Still, I feel as though I have once again been manipulated by the Daedra.