Game Moments #6 - Ultima 7
Skilled fiction writers know that you should always start your story out with a "bang" - some high point of drama. It could be a literal "bang" in the case of an action or pulp story, or more of a figurative "bang" of mystery, romantic tension, or whatever.

Ultima 7 was one of the first computer RPG games to start with that incredible "bang." And boy did it work. You were thrust onto the scene of a grisley, ritualistic murder, and immediately saddled with the responsibility to solve mystery. The first part of the game involved more Sherlock Holmes style drama than traditional hack-and-slash fantasy combat, but it worked.

Along the way, you'd meet the too-friendly religious leader Batlin, the head priest of a new religion that was sweeping all of Britannia. You'd also come to hear of the exploits of his enigmatic partners, an apparently do-gooder pair named Elizabeth and Abraham, who turned out to be partners in evil schemes to subjugate not only Britannia, but other worlds as well. And perpetrators of the original murder.

(As an aside: Elizabeth and Abraham's initials were a subtle dig at powerful Electronic Arts, which later went on to buy Origin, the makers of Ultima 7. Interestingly enough, none of the the "true" Ultima games which came out after the EA buyout garnered nearly the critical acclaim of Ultima 7 and many of its predecessors. Though Ultima Online sure ushered in the era of Massively Multiplayer Online games. But that's another story.)

At one point in the game, a mysterious Wisp offers to trade information with you. It offers crucial information in exchange for access to a notebook by a reknown sage named Alagnar. Alagnar turns out to be a pretty pleasant guy. Your efforts to win his trust take you to the ruins of an island city peopled by tormented ghosts who need a past wrong righted. That adventure concluded, you return to Alagnar.

Having won his trust, he gives you the notebook. But he also asks that you return it as soon as you are done with it. You continue what seems like a normal "Fed Ex" run, exchanging the information the Wisps desire for game-critical data, and more information about the sinister Guardian - the figure worshipped by Batlin's church.

Returning to Alagnar, expecting the next piece of the puzzle, and stumble across another ritualistic murder scene - and this time Alagnar was the victim. Apparently the Wisps informed the Guardian, who immediately dispatched his agents to silence the sage who had gotten so close to the truth of the matter.

I guess I shouldn't have been taken by surprise as much as I was by this twist. After all, they spent a lot of time giving Alagnar some interesting, friendly dialog, making him a really fun character. I should have KNOWN they wouldn't have put that much time into him without intending to tragically bump him off later... but I didn't. Even though the character was only about thirty pixels high and his dialog consisted of only a few lines in a truly gigantic font, I felt some real emotion with his death. Just like the death of a favorite character in a movie or book series, I felt the loss, and felt something akin to anger at the characters who did it. UNLIKE a book or movie, though, I also felt a weird sense of personal guilt over his death. After all, I hadn't even questioned why the Wisps wanted his notebook.

At that point, the game kicked into high gear for me. I felt a bit of personal investment in the game --- I really, really wanted to see the Guardian and his trio of mortal agents fry. It WORKED for me. The remainder of the game had me spellbound. It remains one of my favorite RPGs of all time - mainly because of that one moment.

Normally, scripted events in games don't do this for me. When I realize that it's a railroaded plot device invented by the designer a long time before the game was even released, something that I can't really avoid, I emit the usual, disgusted "That's Lame!" noises (whadayamean the Princess is in another castle?!?!), shrug, and move on. This was one of the few exceptions. The only other one I can think of right now is Aeris's death in Final Fantasy 7 - a far more universally experienced loss than poor Alagnar.

So let us not forget to mourn poor Alagnar, departed now some fifteen yers (Man, has it been that long? Wow...)

Labels: Game Moments, retro

- posted by The Rampant Coyote @ 11:58 PM (Permalink)