The Necessity of Narrative for Understanding the Relation-Based Moral Agent

As I finished the previous two posts, I noticed that there is a distinct difference between the way I wrote about Lothar and the way I am writing about Katnyss.  Because Lothar is more of a direct extension of myself into Skyrim, I needed to delineate the rationale behind my decisions, but did not usually feel the need to explain the assumptions and definitions behind my rationale.  For example, in my post on Lothar's Unbound, I explained that I went with Hadvar because he seemed to value human decency over political ideology, but did not explain why I value the former over the latter.  Of course I know the assertion that compassion should be preferred to political orthodoxy is not self-evident, but that preference is so central to my own real-life moral profile that I didn't think to explain it.

Katnyss, however, represents such a departure from my own worldview that I feel as though I have to support every move with an explanatory narrative.  Lothar goes to Bleak Falls Barrow because one is supposed to help people in need -- no further explanation required.  Katnyss, who does not operate on principle, needs a more finely-tuned rationale -- helping Lucan might in turn help her avenge her sister.  Without larger principles to rely on, I feel as though I have to provide Katnyss's personal insight, along with any emotional coloring that might help make sense of her actions.

One side effect is that some of these posts are going to be longer that their mates in the first playthrough.  While I certainly indulged in some storytelling my first time through the game, it was usually as a way to document my first reactions to a given moral dilemma.  On the second playthrough, however, I already know how most of the quests turn out.  Furthermore, I am consciously trying to find a way to do the quests differently than I naturally did the first time.  Therefore, I feel as though I need to explain the reasons behind Katnyss's actions in greater detail than I did Lothar's.


The danger, of course, is that some of the posts will sound more like fan fiction than moral reflection.  I'm willing to take that risk in order to explore a moral system that differs significantly from my own.  I would argue, in fact, that exploring conflicting ethoses is one of the strengths of modern storytelling, and deserves the amount of time that it sometimes requires.

Take, for example, the most recent episodes of AMC's The Walking Dead.  Early in the series, we require very little explanation for Rick's moral profile: he is a sheriff with a wife and son, so we are not surprised when he does the right thing.  Even when he puts himself at great risk for his fellow survivors, we might marvel at the strength of his character, but we don't need an explanation of why he is so devoted to the principles of justice and service to others.  The Governor, on the other hand, requires a multi-episode apologetic for his ethos precisely because he judges everything through personal relationships rather than abstract principles.  In order to understand why he does what he does, we have to know much more about him than we need to know about Rick.

What makes the Governor such a compelling character is that even his most horrifying actions, especially in Season 4 (that is, post-Woodbury), are born of a sense of personal loyalty and responsibility to those who depend on him.  For the Governor, there is no greater good that the survival of his group.  When Pete refuses to raid the small camp of survivors, he places justice and mercy for strangers above the interests of his own group, thereby making him unfit to lead in the Governor’s eyes.  When Hershel pleads with him to consider the lives of the people in the prison, the Governor responds that they are not his people.  His ethics are based entirely on who “belongs” to him:

Hershel Greene: You say you want to take this prison as peacefully as possible. That means you'd be willing to hurt people to get it. My daughters would be there. That's who you'd be hurting. If you understand what it's like to have a daughter, then how could you threaten to kill someone else's?
The Governor: Because they aren't mine.

By allowing the audience to see the Governor’s post-Woodbury journey, the show runners give us the additional information we need in order to fully understand his worldview.  Without these episodes, we are in danger of seeing him as a mere megalomaniac who uses the end of the world as a chance to become the tyrant he could never be before.  With these episodes, we can see the Governor as a man who knows that he must be prepared to do brutal things in this brutal world in order to protect the people who depend on him.  By taking the time to make us understand the Governor, perhaps even agree with him a little, the show creates a far more robust conflict when he makes his move on Rick’s prison.

Similarly, I feel the need to tell Katnyss’s story with greater detail than Lothar’s.  While Katnyss is not meant to be a Governor-esque villain, she is definitely a very different kind of protagonist from Lothar, and therefore requires more in-depth explanation.  Like the Governor, she believes her actions are right, but because her value system runs contrary to the abstract principle-oriented ethos that we generally espouse in Western society, we need to hear more of her story in order to understand her moral agency.

 

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.