Welcome to a special Wednesday edition of Loving the Narrative. I will be busy for most of tomorrow, and will not be able to post on the normal Thursday schedule I set; so you‘re getting it early instead! (Though please be aware that I will not have time to proofread and edit as I usually do, so things may be a little long and a little raw compared to previous postings.) Article Three of what is now going to be a Six-part series will cover some western RPGs.

Loving the Narrative is a Six-part series in which I will chronicle and analyze the use, abuse, and effect of narrative across a variety of genres and games. In Article One I covered some narrative choices in the Shooter arena that I found interesting. Article Two covered some games of the RTS and RTT genre. Today in Article Three we will explore the expansive and generous world of western RPGs. Article Four will cover some games of the Japanese RPG genre. Article Five will cover a few Action/Adventure games. And finally, Article Six will be a summary, and an in-depth look at some of my favorite game stories of all time. If you enjoy this, remember to check back every Thursday for the next installment.

Warning: Spoilers will likely be present in every article. Read at your own risk.

First of all, I’ve decided to split the RPG types into separate articles. RPGs are an extremely rich, active living worlds, and I think it would be wrong of me not to treat western and JRPGs to their own separate articles.

With that out of the way, let’s get right down to business.

When you think of the word narrative or story, what genre jumps to mind? If you play games as much as I have, three letters should appear emblazoned upon the back of your eyelids, searing the concept deep into your synapses. These three letters are R, P, and G.

I consider the Role Playing Game to be the grand-daddy of story based games. Great care, it seems, has always been taken in RPGs to ensure a complex, consistent story, and the gestation of a living, breathing, functioning world. Every RPG does not meet these lofty goals (in fact, many do not), but I’m sure we can all name more than a few which either measured up or set the mold for everything that followed. The games I will cover in this article are special in their own ways; whether they are trend-setters, unique experiences, or they are simply too damn good to put down because you have to know how it ends, each game has earned its stripes.

The beginning, for me, was Baldur’s Gate. This was and continues to be a special game for me. It is something that opened my eyes to a brand new type of game; one in which the goal wasn’t to rack up kills, but so much deeper and more important than that. Interacting with characters, watching them go about their lives, battling through hordes, and striking down small legions of foes. All the while completely immersed in another world, barely aware of the fact that as living and breathing human being that I should probably be eating or sleeping at some point.

It’s impossible for me to pin down a moment within the game that really linked up with me. The reality was, the game itself was actually more like some kind of psychedelic trip brought on by a single, solitary drop of LSD. That “drop” was a moment which will live on in my memory until I wither and die. Character creation.

I had never thought about creating a character before. Characters had always come pre-packaged and pre-assembled for my use and abuse. Avatars through which I channeled pure, fast-paced adrenaline-pumping destruction. To create what I would play was like the first taste of a wondrous, intoxicating elixir. One whose alluring call I obey to this day with the giddiness of a child experiencing fingerpainting for the first time; the very basic satisfaction of creation would serve to link me to my characters from that day forward. Everything that they experienced was something I shared with them. Every blow landed to their bodies was always sobering strike to my own.

Through creation I had placed a personal stake in their journey, from beginning to end, and I have been a slave to the RPG genre ever since.

If Baldur’s Gate was my awakening, then Mass Effect is my apex.

Some of you might have read my first Monthly Musing. Those of you that have would remember that I gave Mass Effect a pretty thorough lashing over being a mash-up of two often counter-intuitive genres. And while I maintain that the physical gameplay of Mass Effect was an atrocious mockery of both genres, the fact remains that Mass Effect was a brilliantly written, brilliantly told story full of fairly complex characters and viewpoints. But if we’re going to talk Mass Effect, we’ve got to talk about its lineage first.

Knights of the Old Republic was amazing. There’s no two ways about it; the combat was fairly complex, satisfying to watch, and just fun in general. The real draw of KOTOR, though, lies in its story. Clever selection of time and place allowed it to slip out of the traditional Star Wars canon and really allow the player some leeway in their character’s discovery of the Force, share in the joyous hum of that first ignited light saber, and choose to follow their own path. Everything, from the design of the characters, their personalities, and the great twists and reveals throughout the story, added to KOTOR’s naturally impressive atmosphere.

However, despite all the praise I have for this game, I have to say that I’m still deeply saddened by the fact that it opted essentially for the “good” and “bad” concept of morality. You could be a murderous, baby-eating Sith monstrosity, or a champion of good and balance as a Jedi master. Light or dark; no ambiguity to be found, and no middle ground to be straddled. The game asks without judging: “Are you a monster, or a saint?”, and guides you down your chosen path from there.

In Mass Effect, life is not so simple as good and evil. There are many roads to your objectives, and you may choose which roads you wish to travel in order to get there. It’s not about being good or evil, or even right or wrong. The only concern in Mass Effect is how you personally feel about what you decide to do.

It was strange, yet pleasing to step into the shoes of a pre-made character for an RPG; an experience I do not typically savor, as you might imagine from reading my earlier comments. Commander Shepard is essentially whoever you determine him/her to be.

Let’s talk for a moment about the sheer complexity of Mass Effect, from a narrative perspective.

Everything about Shepard comes into play in the story. The class you choose has an effect on the dialogue other characters will have with you, or about you. The background you choose determines a side-mission relating to your chosen story, and also has a marked effect on dialogue and interaction with other characters. The service history you select determines a second side-mission relating to Shepard’s military history, and further specializes the dialogue and bonuses you receive.

From this point forward, decisions you make, dialogue you choose, and your general standing all have a further effect on Shepard. As you mold Shepard into the character you think he/she ought to be, you are allowed to see the evolution of your choices in the characters around you, the assignments you are given, and the contacts you are able to make.

Your decisions throughout the game can have varied, and important consequences. Some sequences of the game can play out completely differently based on a single dialogue option, or a decision to go left instead of right. Subtle and minute differences between play styles can lead to varied and different experiences for every player. That is not a simple task to complete, but Mass Effect is able to do it with a bare minimum of difficulty; an impressive feat by any margin, and one that demands respect.

The first time I completed Mass Effect is something I will never forget. I had fumbled through the earlier parts of the game, just generally getting a handle on the lousy shooting mechanics and power/squad controls. Just as I was beginning to really grasp what I was doing, I realized that I didn’t like the story much up to that point. It was all sort of dragging on in a way that I didn’t find particularly pleasant, and the finality I usually seek in a game seemed to elude me. Something big would have to happen if this game was going to snare me, and finally it did.

What got me to drop my previous perceptions of the game? I answer in a single word: Virmire.

Virmire changed everything for me. The revelations of that mission, about how dire the situation truly was, about what was really happening, and about how important my choices would really be, all hammered home Mass Effect as one of my favorite gaming stories and narrative styles in years.

It was set in motion with Wrex. One of the inner circle I had created of characters that I simply liked being around. After every mission I ran into the elevator and tapped my feet impatiently to wait what he, Garrus, and Ash would have to say about whatever we’d just done. I loved Wrex… and then he pulled a gun on me.

I smashed Wrex in the face and then blasted him to death with a shotgun. One of my most trusted had turned against me. Never again would I make the same mistake. From that moment onward, I had grown infinitely more cold toward my compatriots. I treated them with caution and distance. If I could not trust Wrex, it was possible that I could not trust any of them. When I was done, Kaiden walked up and asked how I was doing. Eyes on the corpse of his former Krogan comrade, my Shepard almost laughed. “I’m doing a Hell of a lot better than he is.” But I wasn’t, and Shepard wasn’t; we would both carry that burden, tossed in a pile marked loosely as “Getting the job done.”

That moment changed the whole game for me, but it was just the beginning of a series of climactic events that turned the game from acceptable into one of my favorite and most-played games in recent years.

The second moment came when I learned the terrible truth of the Indoctrination. I subsequently went about exterminating the poor bastards in their cages; they would die in the explosion, I knew that with almost certainty, but I was still so angry over blowing away Wrex that I wanted to kill everything I laid my eyes on, and I did. In the third, I spoke to a Reaper, a vanguard of the destruction of all biological life, and subsequently severely pissed it off. Finally, I made my final decision of the mission. Kaiden did not return to the Normandy, and from that moment on I felt a painful sinking feeling with every glance at his former post, and the gnawing knowledge that a few words I chose had been the difference between one life persisting and another being snuffed out.

Virmire sent me catapulting toward the endgame of Mass Effect. After Virmire, I was compelled, I was consumed by my desire to see the mission through to its bloody end. It had gone far past a passing curiosity. I had to know what would happen to Shepard and the crew. I had to know what the future held. From Virmire on, I didn’t stop to do anything except go to the bathroom. I needed the closure.

But what was it that made Mass Effect’s narrative system so satisfying? Surely the complexity of available options, as I’ve already suggested, but there’s something more. For me, it was the cinematic quality of the dialogue system. So simple, yet so brilliant. A few short lines give the player a general idea about what Shepard will say or do, but in the end the lines that are delivered by Shepard are not the same lines that the player selects. This adds a certain unique cinematic quality to the gameplay that nothing else quite touches. It allows the player to select and set the mood, but still be surprised and satisfied by the delivery of the dialogue by the characters. The dialogue system in Mass Effect gives the player something rarely seen in the main character of an RPG of this sort: spontaneity.

Now, for our final game this session (as this is getting a bit long even by my standards): Fallout 3.

I considered going over Morrowind, or perhaps Oblivion, but in the end I decided that I would have to discuss the game which resonated with me the most from Bethesda.

Fallout 3 is all about atmosphere. It is unique, cheeky, witty, dark, cold, adventurous, narcissistic, virtuous, and all the while manages to have more than a few laughs at itself. It is difficult to find a game, particularly in this genre, that is able to straddle so many contradictions and still manage to be coherent.

Fallout 3 is one of those games which I honestly can’t pick a moment in. There was no great storyline punch in the mouth like Virmire in Mass Effect. Instead, Fallout 3 managed to captivate with atmosphere alone. It demanded my attention because I wanted to spend my time in the wasteland. It was a world I wanted to be a part of, and that is just as difficult a task to achieve as anything else can be. Whether you’re fighting giant fire-throwing ants, scrounging through a raider settlement after procuring it from its former occupants, or marching toward doom itself in well maintained, heavy plated power armor, the atmosphere of the game is evident throughout, and that makes Fallout 3 an experience that is truly special.

That’s all for this week. In further installments of Loving the Narrative, I will continue to explore some of the most beloved games in their respective genres, and more of my personal experiences with game stories. Tune in next Thursday for Article Four, where I will be discussing a couple of very special JRPG games.