Five Things Skyrim has Taught Me About Myself
by Joseph Trotter, posted on 15 November 2011 / 22,871 Views
What a glorious, glorious time to be a gamer. As the nights get shorter the gaming sessions get longer, and I can't think of a better release period ever with which to spend the winter evenings. At the moment it appears like a classic is released every week, and I, like many, believe The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim to be the best of the bunch. Hours have already been ploughed into this immersive game, but, sometimes, in a game where you are effectively playing a blank canvas in which to present your own personal preferences, you must take a look at what you have placed in front of you.
This is what I've done, and it doesn't exactly put me in a good light . . .
5. I'm a Compulsive HoarderFrankly, I kind of knew this already. I spend most of my spare pennies (student loan) on vinyl records, books, cds, and, you've guessed it, games. As such, the collector gene was already well oiled even before the temptations of Skyrim's collectables arose. Even then, there are certain things that are acceptable in a dangerous fantasy world: two sets of armour? Go for it. Three swords? Sure, one for each hand. But Joe, look at yourself for a second; do you really need 165 carrots (and counting)? Do you really need to plunder all the mushrooms, venison and the like you find and carry them around like an obsessive Gordon Ramsey? What about the bow; you've not fired one in 3 Elder Scrolls games, why do you need 2, let alone 500 arrows you will never, ever use?
I mean, I could sell them and make some money, but, like that Steps cd received on my 6th birthday, there's always the chance it might one day see some action. Or not.
It had been a beautiful, beautiful way to spend a day; dappled in the sunlight of Whiterun, my new best friend and I spent the day crafting daggers, tanning leather, pulling kiss-kiss faces, the things young lovers do. I was smitten. She was sexy, kind, kinky (I like a woman in armour) and well connected; her father is the Jarl's right hand man you know. It was all going swimmingly, but as the sun set, I remembered why I was there; a strange man I had barely met had asked me to beat her up for money.
So I did it. Twice. Then stole all her belongings. I've lost count of the amount of people I've befriended then, as soon as their trusting back is turned, stolen all of their belongings, money and pitchforks; see above. Then, maybe I'll pickpocket them for good measure. I wouldn't trust me, and neither should you.
I'll be honest; most of my time in Tamriel so far has been spent running away from things. Dragons, trolls, wolves, beggars, children; you name it, I've shown it a French heel. I'm not even sure if it's because most of the things are more powerful than me (they are) or because I just don't have the fight for it. Nor am I the only one in my Skyrim at it; as I was bravely running away from a dragon, I quickly realised that the beast was actually running away from me, allowing me to viciously spurt fire aimlessly from half a mile away in triumph. I should probably change my name from 'Sir Joe' to 'Sir Robin':
2. I'm SadisticI've been walking up a mountain for a fair while and I'm feeling a bit hungry after a hard days fleeing. Sometimes, a man needs something to eat in an attempt to replenish his withering stomach. Aheyo, a goat; what better grub for an adventurer than a billy's rump? Now, there are two choices:
Humane: Shoot it with an arrow. Quick, easy, efficient.
Sadistic: Fireball it off a cliff.
I always, always choose the latter. If there is a cruel, spectacular way to kill a victim then the liklihood is I've already poisoned their apple and dynamited their chair (allegedly not possible in Skyrim). In a thwarted attempt to call the Dark Brotherhood (spoiler: this isn't how you do it), I spotted a lonely fisherman by a lake. Sensing opportunity, I asked him to follow me. Follow me he did, to a bear's lair, at which point I froze him and used an animal taming spell to have the bear attack him, ending in a glorious mess I had to run away from.
I could have just stabbed him. Humanely.
Like a fine, upstanding young lady in Amsterdam, I am up for anything as long as the price is right and you watch your fingers. Skyrim has taught me I will literally do anything for money, no matter the personal cost; I'm the capitalist dream baby. Extortion? Fine. Murder? Love it. Fetch some herbs? Why not. Spend 3 hours getting my arse kicked by rats, mages and god knows what else to retrieve a helmet? For what? A 100 gold? Sure. At various points in my life I've sold my soul for work (paperboy, leafleter, games journalist) but never have I felt so eager and yet so under-rewarded to feel the weight of gold in my pocket.
Hell, at some points I can't even be bothered to pick-pocket so I just kill the guy outright. Imagine if everyone just killed their rivals to hoard all the gold in the country instead of earning it properly; what would happen then?
Oh.
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