Oh, Skyrim dialogue -- what immersion won't you break?

A funny little Orc story.

I'm currently playing an Orc dual-wielding heavy armor character, named Kharnus Kor, and am RPing by smithing all of my own armor and weapons the hard way (without grinding 93,874,958,274 iron daggers). At level 19 I made it to 60 Smithing and the Orcish Smithing perk this weekend, so I decided to take advantage of that by making a full Orcish armor/sword set.

Only thing is, at level 19, orichalcum ingots are still rather hard to come by. I soon tired of running all over Skyrim to find merchants who had them for sale, and I was quickly running out of cash. So I decided to make a little trek into the mountains, back to my roots, and visit the Orc stronghold Mor Khazgur. The mine there has seven orichalcum ore veins, so I could just mine the ore and smelt my own damn ingots.

Arriving there, I met up with its chief, Larak, and had a friendly brawl to gain his favor. He confided that he had just become chief after killing his father in a challenge, as per Orc tradition, and still had a lot of work to do to gain the trust of the stronghold.

I slept on that, waking the next morning to get to work mining the ore I needed. Dual-wielding pickaxes to quickly amass 21 ores, I smelted them down to create my full armor set, plus two swords that I upgraded to Epic (strangely, the place didn't have a workbench, so I couldn't improve the armor). Suddenly remembering a chest I'd neglected to check in the mine, I ran back in to take care of that.

I emerged from the mine to the now all-too-familiar roar from the heavens: a dragon attack.

I looked up just in time to see a Blood Dragon -- my first -- making a low pass over the stronghold, causing all the inhabitants to grab weapons and scramble. Air raid! This is no drill! My fellow Orcs, bless 'em all, poured out of the mine and the longhouse to join the battle as the dragon THWUMPED down smack dab in the middle of the square.

As the music swelled I ran in to get my cuts. The beast tossed one unfortunate Orc aside with a sweep of its massive tail, but I managed to hack it down to just above half health before it went airborne again. Tracking it, I ran along with it as Borgakh the Steel Heart -- I would later make her my follower -- sunk a few more arrows. Thus weakened, the dragon fell to earth just outside the stronghold gates.

I sprinted outside and slammed my dual swords home. Scratch one Blood Dragon. One more soul rightfully delivered to the Dovahkiin.

When the wisps of soul absorption died away, I realized that the full complement of Orc denizens were standing at the gates, staring, speechless. Full of myself, at first I thought they had come to awe at their newly arrived savior. But then I looked down upon... the corpse of Larak in the dragon's jaws. The beast had killed the chief.

Feeling like a dunce, I respectfully picked up Larak's body and carried him back inside the gates, wondering what to do with him. I didn't want to just leave him lying there -- an Orc has standards, after all. So I decided to at least have him lay in state, wrestling him up onto the table at which he had been sitting when the dragon attacked.

Then I heard the alchemist, Sharamph, standing directly behind me, watching me arrange the corpse of her dead chief:

"Larak is still a young chief. He has much to prove."

Immersion: broken. I snapped out of it, sitting behind my keyboard, yelling at my monitor: "HE'S DEAD, YOU STUPID #${%`&+#{$!!!1!!!"

Sweet Talos, I hate it when that happens.

I like it if I've just been caught stealing from a store & get away with it (via persuasion or whatnot) & the vendor will turn around & say something to the effect of. "You're my favorite customer,"... right after they'd pulled a knife on me!

Great story! You had me completely immersed as well. There needs to be a section on here for Skyrim fan fiction. I'd love to hear some of the stories people come up with.

Ah, yes... but the "keep it clean" rule would spoil any reason I've ever had for reading ANY fanfic EVER.

Mistress Lebeau wrote:Ah, yes... but the "keep it clean" rule would spoil any reason I've ever had for reading ANY fanfic EVER.

(Funny that "keep it clean" only means "no porn", and not "no gore". But oh well. I shall not debate the finer controversies of Real Earth here.)

I can go on all day, because I love how easy it is to stay immersed in the game. Some of the scripted encounters, when experiencing them for the first time, are truly engaging. Some of them are truly enraging.

Take last night, for example. (All below dialogue is paraphrased, but this happened in game just as my mind pictured it.)

I was jogging down the road outside of Dawnstar as my aforementioned Orc character, on the way to the location of a radiant quest I'd picked up from the Companions. Presently I saw three figures trudging toward me on the opposite side of the road. I slowed and targeted the leader, immediately recognizing the haughty, purposeful gait and impeccable golden armor sets.

Thalmor. Justicars, to be exact.

Now, as an Orc who RPs as an avid reader of history, I am fully aware of the Great War that had occurred 20 years before when I was but an orcling, and many of my fellow kind -- serving as Imperial troops -- had died at the hands of the high elves during the siege of the Imperial City. Despite being a descendant of mer, it was a source of pride to not be taken in by fools who would want me to believe that we were superior to any race, high elves included.

But the Thalmor were another matter. I was sworn to loyalty to the Empire, as my ancestors were. These elven totalitarians were bent on forcing its subjugation, and that would not stand, Stormcloak rebellion or no. I was working my way up through the ranks of the Companions as a sort of personal test, a training regimen that would eventually see me joining the Imperial Legion as a hardened fighter. To preserve the Empire -- no, to preserve Tamriel.

"Stand clear. It would be unwise to interfere with official Thalmor business!"

The lead Justicar had stopped, noticing my stare with one bushy eyebrow upraised.

I decided to pose a question, although history tomes had already taught me the answer years ago. The query came out of my boar-toothed mouth with disgust, rather than a desire for knowledge, since I already knew what they'd say.

"What are you doing in Skyrim?" I said, evenly, squinting.

"We're here to enforce the provisions of the White-Gold Concordat," the Justicar sniffed, "to wipe out that Talos-worshipping" -- he almost spat out the word -- "cult by the lowly humans, and to maintain Elven supremacy in this heathen land. Make way!"

The three Justicars started again on their journey toward Dawnstar. Knowing that an unsuspecting town of peaceful citizens awaited their arrival, their interrogation... perhaps even their torture.

I ran past the lead Justicar and stopped him again. "Do all the Thalmor have such a high opinion of themselves?" I asked. I put my pig-face right up into his.

"It is preordained that Elven supremacy is the only truth!" he snapped in reply. "And in fact, I'll bet you're a filthy Talos worshipper just like the rest of them. We may show you some mercy if you confess openly. Go on!"

Any idiot knows that Orcs don't even worship Talos -- we're partial to the Daedric prince Malacath. But it mattered little to these goons; they were simply looking for an excuse. I said nothing.

"Not willing to admit the truth, are you?" said the Justicar. "You know what? I think you may be a heretic. There's only one way to handle you."

He stepped forward, hand on his scabbard. His two companions squared to either side, readying spells. It was the only cue I needed.

There was a concussive thud in my ears. The world flashed into an orange blur, and there was the metallic sshhhiing! of orichalcum as twin Epic Orcish swords swung into view.

I sprinted forward, greensabers raised, preparing to demonstrate that the only supremacy is Oblivion, and death is the great equalizer.

I could have sworn I heard the lead Justicar, in his final moments on Nirn, softly utter his final words:

"Oh shi

Dude. All I have to say is...carry on. Have you ever thought about writing as a career option?

Kypsalis wrote:Dude. All I have to say is...carry on. Have you ever thought about writing as a career option?

Thanks. Alas, it's probably too late for that...

Awesome stories. It's so easy to become immersed in Skyrim. And then have it blown to bits by some random NPC chatter.

Nothing like being in the midst of some important scene only to have Serana walk between you and the NPC who's in the middle of some dramatic monolog. As if that wasn't bad enough; she then proceeds to blurt out some inane comment about the weather, push you (or the NPC you're actually speaking to) off to the side, forcing you to continue the dialog with a disembodied voice seemingly coming from the wall, and then lean over and start hammering on a near-by armorer's table. Sort of ruins the moment.

(I used to rather like the little vampire princess - until I realized that they have you go on this big, epic adventure with her, build a relationship with the character, get to know her, and then when it's all over... ...it's just all over and your options are left to: A) ditch her and pick up a less chatty follower who won't raise and subsequently dust any handy corpse at the first sign of trouble. B) go solo from here on because it's a bit easier to take out swarms of bandits without having to worry about hitting your companion. C) ...well, that's about it, A and B. Hope you're playing on the PC and have mods if those aren't good options because you can't marry Serana.)

Anyway, it's never "too late." ..unless you're dead. Though if you are and you're doing anything besides being dead then you can most likely still proceed with writing a book.