This previous article is by no means a comprehensive discussion of Dragon Age: The Veilguard, but addresses a few specific bugbears. It was written after this one, and is not necessary to my line of argument.
Introduction
The following began as a preface to my thoughts on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, a game that has given me symptoms including but not limited to:
eye strain
sleeplessness
irritability
anger
depression
These can mostly be attributed to the fact that I really love Dragon Age, and Veilguard is emphatically not Dragon Age, but pretends to be. In Thedas1 terms, it’s an abomination, a demon wearing Dragon Age’s skin, and I fear that the only cure is a Templar’s sharp sword.
My view is that Veilguard not only fails miserably as a Dragon Age game, but even if treated as a standalone, for reasons I will get into in future posts. But for me, its failure as a Dragon Age game is far more offensive on a personal level – these games have been a big part of my life for many years, and while imperfect they have come to mean a lot to me. As such, it’s hard to see them dragged through the muck.
I should also note that at time of publication, we’re slowly seeing a shift in the narrative around the game - initially, review sites were all hailing it as a ‘return to form’ for Bioware and giving it 9/102, while user ratings were drastically lower. Now, we’re slowly seeing the company starting to admit that it was a disappointment to fans, because:
It was never going to match the Dragon Age 4 in people’s minds.
I will be examining this claim later on, but before getting into the many failings of Veilguard, I feel it is necessary, as part of my line of argument, to establish clearly and firmly what Dragon Age is, and what it is not.
To this end, I have written a retrospective of the previous games in the series, which will be published in three parts over the final weeks of the year, assessing the previous three games in order.
The roots of Dragon Age
In this day and age, Dragon Age requires some introduction – it’s been ten years since Inquisition, and you are certainly not going to get any sense whatsoever of what Dragon Age is by playing Veilguard. I know of at least one reader who might enjoy the anime, which is a) more recent, b) not terrible, and c) actually still feels like Dragon Age.
The series was launched by Dragon Age: Origins, a dark3 fantasy roleplaying game released in 2009. As a Bioware RPG, Origins was in very good company at the time, with forerunners including Baldur’s Gate and its sequel, as well as Knights of the Old Republic (which I have touched on previously), and Mass Effect.
Origins had a very different identity, however, which was strongly established by the unique feature that gave it its name. The ‘origins’ mechanic provided a variety of different playable backstories for the player to experience at the beginning of a new game, which are specific to each playable race and background.
This feature is beloved by fans to this day, many of whom have been revisiting Origins for a decade and a half, although others are still discovering it today. The game still holds up incredibly well, and has had a small renaissance in the aftermath of Veilguard, which has only reinforced Origins’ reputation as a genuine masterpiece of interactive storytelling.
The ‘origin’ mechanic is undoubtedly a huge part of this – it is an extremely effective way of putting the protagonist in context, delivering key exposition about their culture, family and place in this treacherous world, and above all getting the player invested in their character. The origin stories are typically very dark and gritty, and all end up with the protagonist being either persuaded or coerced into joining the Grey Wardens, a secretive order devoted to fighting the monstrous Darkspawn.
How dark, and how gritty?
To give a sense of just how brutal these backstories can get, the city elf origin involves either the player character’s bride (if male) or the PC herself (if female) being abducted from her wedding by a human noble with the intent of rape. In either case, you have to resort to violence, and it is certain that your family and community will be punished for your decision to fight back.
This origin introduces the plight of the setting’s elves as an oppressed and segregated underclass, in stark contrast to the aristocratic elves of Middle Earth4, and it very effectively puts the player in the shoes of someone suffering under this barbaric system. If you play as a city elf, you (the player) are led to strongly identify with your elven character, sharing their rage, fear and indignation against the human race, and this will inform your entire roleplaying experience, especially when returning to the city where these traumatic events took place.
Dwarves in Dragon Age are also a deeply troubled people, with strict caste segregation, and as such two dwarf origins are available – the player can either be a royal heir exposed to cutthroat family intrigue, or a casteless criminal from a shanty town, forced to wear facial tattoos that mark them as less than a second-class citizen. A casteless dwarf protagonist will be outed as such after posing as a noble during a tournament, and harshly punished. On the other hand, a dwarven noble will be sold out by their own brother, and rescued by the Grey Warden Duncan after being sent to die in the Deep Roads. Either way, you are left with a keen sense of the injustice of dwarven society, which will shape your experience when you return to the dwarven city of Orzammar later in the game’s story.
Mages in this setting are also faced with profound and serious problems – every magic-user in Dragon Age draws their power from the Fade, a realm of spirits and demons, and is therefore subject to the threat of possession and the temptation of dark magic. As such, mages are kept under lock and key in institutions5, hated and feared by society and kept under the watchful eyes of Templars, religious warriors whose duty is to kill them if they rebel or become possessed.
The game’s opening narration, seen in every origin, also establishes that there are deep quasi-mythical reasons for people to hate and fear mages, which are baked into the setting’s culture through Chantry6 scripture and superstition. A mage protagonist will be faced with demonic temptation at the beginning of the game, and will also be a victim of mundane intrigue, used as a pawn in the petty political conflict between the Circle’s leaders and the Chantry.
The brilliance of the origin stories
In short, every origin story establishes that this is a dark and dangerous setting, and that it’s also a world rife with social injustice and prejudice of every kind. Origins pulls very few punches in this regard, and it’s not afraid to confront the player with things that might be upsetting – it is very much aimed at an adult audience, and earns its M rating.
The playable backstories show us straight away that Dragon Age is a story about social conflicts, and it wants to talk about racial prejudice, class prejudice, prejudice against mages7, etc. It’s also a setting where people express attitudes and values that are not likely to be compatible with the player’s, and can be challenged and confronted over it.
This is, in many ways, a brilliant foundation for a roleplaying game, because it’s a setting where your choices at character creation really feel like they matter. In Dragon Age, being an elf or a wizard is not treated as frivolous or incidental, but instead carry a huge amount of social and cultural baggage, and we’re shown how this affects individuals in very dramatic ways.
Dragon Age certainly has high fantasy elements, with fantastical races, a complex mythology, and battles between heroes and monsters, yet low fantasy8 is also a huge part of its DNA – writers and developers at the time spoke of being influenced by George R.R. Martin and Robert E. Howard’s stories, which can certainly be recognised in the final product. Warhammer is also a noticeable influence on the game’s art style, tone and particularly on the lore around mages, demons and the Fade9.
Origins’ plot is set in motion by the Fifth Blight, an apocalyptic invasion by the Darkspawn, who are like Tolkien’s orcs but much, much worse10. The subterranean Darkspawn are an endemic threat to the races of Thedas, but are only united during a Blight, in which they are led by an Archdemon, a corrupted dragon which may or may not be a god. The Blight is also a disease carried by Darkspawn blood, which corrupts everything it touches and is eventually fatal for anyone who comes into contact with it.
But here is the thing – Origins isn’t actually about the Darkspawn, or the Blight. It’s about the friends we made along the way11, and just as importantly, the enemies we confronted.
We spend most of our time in Origins trying to unite the various races and factions against the Darkspawn, but are opposed at every step along the way not by Darkspawn, but by uncooperative human, elven and dwarvish leaders who are too wrapped up in their own problems to recognise the impending apocalypse. Apparently, those Warden Treaties weren’t worth the paper they’re written on – if we want these people to help, we have to play politics.
As such, the game doesn’t resemble a traditional fantasy hero’s journey so much as a social history of Thedas, delving deep into the troubled history of this world and its peoples. For much of the game, the main antagonist isn’t the Archdemon leading the Darkspawn, but the rather more relatable Teyrn Loghain, who left his king to die at the Battle of Ostagar and usurped his throne, and sees the protagonist as a threat to his tenuous rule.
Teyrn Loghain: the definitive Dragon Age antivillain
The thing is, while Loghain is certainly morally dubious, we can understand why he did what he did. In his youth, Loghain fought in a rebellion against a brutal empire that enslaved his people, and he feared that his king’s plans to bring in reinforcements from that very empire would have doomed his country to subjugation. Moreover, he does get to have his say as to what happened that day at Ostagar – Loghain seems to genuinely believe that the king’s forces were already lost12, and by sounding the retreat he was doing the only thing he could to save the lives of his remaining troops.
There are good grounds for him to believe this – the player knows very well that the signal for Loghain’s advance came too late, because we were the ones who lit the belated signal fire13. Loghain also expresses grief over the soldiers he knew personally who died with the king, and since he is a man of common birth who rose to prominence as a rebel general, his words ring true. The PC can even have a brief audience with him at Ostagar before the battle, and he treats the lowly Warden recruit with surprising courtesy, regardless of background. He’s an ambiguous figure, a hero to some, a villain to others14.
This, to me, is the essence of Dragon Age – it’s about flawed leaders who are faced with dire circumstances, where there are no good choices, but only degrees of bad. Time and time again, this is what the series asks of the player, who must make difficult choices knowing that there is no ideal outcome, and that we could make a terrible mistake. The writers present us with scenarios that pose complex moral, political, and philosophical questions, which are often as polarising for fans as they are for the characters in the universe.
It’s possible to get through most of Origins without learning about the history of the Archdemon, which is the game’s final boss, and what we do learn about this creature resembles legend and hearsay more than fact. As powerful as the Archdemon is, it’s a remote presence through much of the game, and ultimately remains mysterious. On the other hand, you won’t get through the first hour without encountering people and politics, and the game requires you to form opinions and weigh moral dilemmas from its first hour to its last.
The beauty of Origins
Finally, it must also be added that Origins is a game of great beauty. Matt Rhodes’ magnificent art direction gives the world a unique visual identity, and Inon Zur’s soundtrack delivers some of the most memorable moments in gaming. The game’s writing and world design also emphasise the scale and history of this world, where wildness and mystery is everywhere. Imperial ruins tower over untamed wildernesses, peopled by witches and cannibals; haunted forests teem with werewolves and spirits; sinister cults hide away in the frozen mountains.
Ferelden is only one kingdom among many, yet its fringes are occupied by many wild tribes, with their own traditions and identities. In short, Origins makes Thedas feel vast, ancient and mysterious.
It is a good feeling.
Closing thoughts
Not only was Origins groundbreaking for 2009, but it remains leaps and bounds ahead of many RPGs today in terms of immersion, worldbuilding and player agency. Its ‘origin’ mechanic was incredibly effective not only at setting the tone and introducing key themes and issues, but also at putting you in your character’s shoes and making you identify with them.
The game was also an excellent introduction to a world with a deep history, which feels much bigger and older than the glimpses we see of it. Origins wisely leaves many mysteries intact around its high fantasy elements, keeping the focus on human conflicts and dilemmas, which are experienced both by the player and by the various villains and antivillains opposing their efforts.
While its fantasy elements, in particular the dark fantasy and horror elements, are very effective, Origins is ultimately a story about people, about the circumstances and relationships that shape us, and the choices that we make.
To be continued…
The setting. Fun fact: this was originally an acronym for ‘The Dragon Age Setting’, but stuck.
Which is bold if nothing else. No-one who has played any popular fantasy RPG in the last decade would call Veilguard 9/10. If this is 9/10, what the hell is The Witcher 3?
(I’ve bolded dark for a reason)
It’s also worth noting that Origins’ elves are mortal, with similar lifespans to humans, making them more grounded and relatable to the player.
Known as Circles.
The setting’s equivalent of the medieval Church.
Mages don’t really have an exact real-world analogue. Possibly the mentally ill, if we think about the history of asylums, and the fear and stigma attached to magic. It’s not a perfect analogy, as real mentally ill people are not at risk of literal demonic possession, although historically mental illnesses were sometimes attributed to demons.
(fantasy involving less magic and more grounded conflicts)
It’s literally just the Warp, except we can’t fly gothic cathedral-shaped spaceships through it.
The uninitiated should take my word on it. Don’t look at their wikipedia page.
The Warden’s companions are a bunch of misfits who can become fast friends or bitter enemies of the PC. They include: an unsocialised swamp witch who uses only the most archaic English; a silly little guy who is also the heir to the throne; a laconic giant who will have intense political debates with you and respects you more when you disagree with him; a delightful old lady who isn’t actually that old; a weird girl with a Joan of Arc complex; Puss in Boots.
Which might be motivated reasoning, but maybe not.
Oops.
One aspect that annoys me is that they have him selling elves into slavery. I don’t feel that this was adequately explored, and it really detracts from a character who is otherwise presented as very nuanced and even likeable.
Regarding footnote (7), I think the most common inspiration for oppression of 'mages' in modern fantasy is the totalitarian distrust and purge of the 'intelligentsia' class exemplified in [at least the popular western conception of] the Communist revolutions. A group of people selected, and then self-selected for greater knowledge of, and control over, the world around them, who are then imagined to be tainted by that very power and exclusive, insular community, a suggestion that is encouraged by those whose authority would be, if not directly challenged, then potentially undermined, by that class. In both cases, a careful and dangerous balance must be struck to keep the very useful and talented around, but reminded firmly that they will face brutal repercussions for any affront to their less naturally gifted benefactors.
It's good to read a cogent and earnest reflection on DA:O - I couldn't get into it when I finally gave it a shot, years after its impact had waned. I think Knights of the Old Republic soured me too much on that 'modern' period of RPG and Bioware in particular. But I know it couldn't be terrible, because it seemed to have genuinely been a significant RPG for a lot of people who don't otherwise have miserable taste. But it's hard to really pick up on why Origins was worthwhile when most series fans seem to be more interested in complaining increasingly bitterly about each successive sequel.
For me, the most memorable aspect of Alaistar is my female PC trying to figure out how to let him down gently