A Bit of a Love Note for Well-Done RPGs

I fall into new games the way I fall into any new activity-- with optimism, curiosity, and willfully dancing a jig on that edge of unhealthy levels of obsession. Inquisition has been out for three days and the sadistic "time played" counter tells me without fanfare that I have logged over thirty hours. I'm tempted to stop writing now to instead dedicate myself to this beautifully rendered and complex virtual world for the rest of my waking hours. Husband is lovely and supportive, feeding my physical body with random offerings of meals and snacks as I traverse the mountains and coasts of Thedas, closing rifts and helping random farmers. I promised him I would come back to this world for a few hours this evening-- have a proper dinner. It's his birthday.

A truly amazing game, like any media, should teach you something about yourself, and Bioware seems to have embraced this by crafting a story about the individual player. Sure, they call me Inquisitor, and though sales numbers haven't been released yet, I'm certain it's safe to say that there are hundreds of thousands of people currently sharing that title. And yes, I'm often restrained to making a choice between two options. I can talk to everyone but only select people to the depth that I'd like to. My experience will likely be similarly played through by hundreds of others, but what Bioware has done is given me the tools and invited me to participate as if it were my story. And I clicked the "Join" button to that event invite, because shit looks amazing. Dragon Age feels like a world that truly exists somewhere, and I have been thrown into it. The rift I walked out of might have been my entry from this world into that one, my hinted-at back story an inconsequential reorganization of the universe to make room for my existence. I'm also playing a clever-yet-totally-confused Inquisitor. I freely admit to having no clue what I'm doing and my companions seem to appreciate that.

And this has become a singular experience in playing games. I have a nasty habit of attempting to game RPGs. Even when all choices are "right" I'll go back to previous saves to make sure I have the "rightest" one. Restart the game for the perfect run through, keep seven tabs open on my phone browser so I can make sure I get every chest, access every dialog tree, get the maximum approval, and maximize my skill points. The first thing I did after meticulously sculpt my character's face was antagonize my first companion. 

Sorry not sorry. I've got my eye on you, Judas.

Sometimes decisions are placed before you and none of the options are good. Sometimes all of them seem equally good. Sometimes all of them seem equally mystifying and you choose one because a decision has to be made. It's a very good analogue of how I experience my own life as a clever-yet-totally-confused human being. But it's let me discover that I do care about politics, and that there are some dialog trees I won't attempt to unlock, that I'm not so much a completionist as a sap that can't say no when someone needs help, and that when the world is repopulating with herbs every few minutes, yes I do absolutely have to get every single one of them.

Thirty hours in and I haven't even approached the midway point of the game. I'm curious to discover all the other bits of me I didn't know about.