All right then, let’s dive into the antepenultimate part of this LP. In this one, we’ll see the Old Watch questline to its end. The Mandate will follow, and lastly the actual end.
To begin, we talk to Shrike who asked to see us:
In short, Shrike needs our help. Since the invasion by the Imperium forces, the most fanatic shaper cults have fortified Cellerdown as their temporary base; and naturally Xai Revel is there with them. The Imperials—who abhor all things shaper-related—know of his location, but dare not storm the place, dreading as they do Xai’s powers; thus negotiators have been employed, but to little effect.
Both the Imperials and the Old Watch’s mysterious Benefactor have specifically called for my presence over there, wanting I will mell myself of their problems.
Afore we leave for Cellerdown, she says this:
Oh, Shrike, it’s no luck indeed, but nor is it an angel oversees my every action; it’s Tyranicon’s implacable will!
Approaching the entrance into Cellerdown proper, we see a familiar face:
Remember him? It’s Captain Harlock, whose men were crushed to death by Xai in the clinic, and whom Xai left alive.
So Xai is still up to his wizard tricks, I guess. The guy has on himself a permanent Chain Contingency [Enemy Comes In Sight | Nearest Enemy] containing Time Stop -> Bigby’s Crushing Hand [Maximised, Empowered]; I’d be scared too.
Then—lo!—the “big hancho” himself comes, as Captain Harlock says:
Do you hear that? How strange a sound… as if air inhaled in great quantities… is it… why yes, yes it is indeed: gasps! prolonged gasps all around.
The Black Watch? Unless we’re talking about something else, it’s called the Old Watch… Are you sure you’re the one pulling the strings? I wouldn’t exude quite that level of smug self-suffisance if I couldn’t even manage to remember the name of my own organisation.
But almost miraculously, the game then offers me the option to say the following: “Hey! You’re that hologram from the library! Care to explain?”
Nah, just kidding. Forget about that. It’s not there. And nobody comments on the situation.
Moving on.
Thus, since Pike is a craven-hearted bitch-ass of a little man, I’ll enter Cellerdown to negotiate with Xai. Pike hands me a small datapad containing the details of the Imperials’ demands; and though I don’t know what exactly, I’m fairly certain this datapad will trigger a trap of some sort once in proximity to Xai.
In Cellerdown, more precisely in the brothel formerly run by the Progressives:
At this point, I can ask him a few questions. The only one truly interests me is the following:
“That’s what you are,” is not an appropriate answer to my question. At that point in the game, there is no valid reason for Xai to indulge in any cutesy crypticism. In fact it is the opposite. Given Xai’s story, his self-perceived failures, his enduring conflict with Pike, and the pressing urgency of the situation, he should be telling me everything he knows in order to guide me along the lines of his own thinking.
Tyranicon, I think this is a point of the game when you badly needed to put yourself and your writing idiosyncrasies aside, for the benefit of your game.
Now you have characters acting out of character, against their better interest, in order to preserve… to preserve what, exactly? I’m not even sure. A sense of mystery? To what end? Mystery for the sake of mystery?
When is briefly mentionned the topic of S-Narsum, Jack and Xai confirm something I already understood:
But obviously I can’t ask any question about that, of course; it would make too much sense.
Stepping forward, I hand the datapad to Xai. Then:
Behind us and from outside Cellerdown, we hear erupt a thunderous gunfight that then rapidly encroaches on us. Heartbeats later, troops of the Imperium barge into the place:
Why do I choose to attack? Because of sense of loyalty to Shrike, having in mind what would she herself probably do, were she here? Because I care about Xai, and want to prevent any harm might befall him? Because I sense in Pike some potential adversary to my future? Because I’ve gone full-on murder hobo? Nope. I attack because I’ve learned that no matter what I do, nothing will change; and for an instant, combat manages to break the uninvolved monotony consisting in turning the pages of a Visual Novel.
After the combat:
I honestly don’t know what them being ‘mind-slaved’ entails that is unfortunate for me. They’re unkillable, perhaps?
This said, Pike seizes the chains coiled about Xai’s wrists, and shakes them. A ripple of energy washes through the room.
How considerate of you, mister Pike. But Jack isn’t keen on the notion and, taking for himself a gun, points it at his own head, taking ownership of his body then vehemently declaring:
Hell yeah! You go, girl! Shove it all up their prophecie’d asses! Go ahead: do what I, the main character, can’t. Please allow me live vicariously through you, you glorious bastard.
Alas Jack, like me, is little more than flotsam under which run currents can not be fought; for Xai is of a different mind:
And I find myself in the past:
Xai… what the Helen Of Troy do you want me to say? I don’t know what you’re trying to do; I don’t know why you’re trying to do it; I have little or no understanding of anyone’s true motivations; I can’t ask questions; no one is forthcoming with answers; and I have no influence whatsoever. I don’t care. I can’t care, because the game won’t let me.
See? This is what I mean, when I say characters are acting out of character, against their better interest. It’s plainly obvious Jack and Xai should—entirely of their own volition and for their own benefit—provide me with answers aplenty. There is absolutely no valid reason to explain their reconditeness.
– “Be careful. Don’t trust him.”
– “Why not?”
– “I won’t say.”
– “Why won’t you say?”
– ”
”
And with that, we’re yanked back into the present:
Nothing of great interest is hereafter added. In short: Jack didn’t die; Xai is well; Pike is gone; Shrike owes me big time (even though I didn’t do anything). And that’s the end of that questline.
God, the game is kind of falling apart in this last chapter. Over the course of twenty-five and some hours, a few wrongs coalesced into an odious admixture, and now its noisome stench is become unavoidable.
Earlier in the game, when you’re still meeting new people, discovering new places, and progressing at a great pace while characters punctuate adventures with little touches of humor, it’s easy to ignore those aforementionned wrongs; it’s even possible to find them quirky enough they might be considered endearing. But ultimately they come back in full force for the end.
There is not a lot wrong with the game, but what is wrong is really quite wrong. The more I think about it, the more I realise that gem/10 is a perfectly appropriate rating for this game.
As a side note, and as I had briefly remarked when beginning this LP, I do so love the idea of irremediably burning memories to power one’s magical abilities. Weaving that kind of mechanic seamlessly into a story would be a tour de force, but the potential is immense.
Comments are closed