It’s progress, you dirty son of a gun and today I’m doing a short review on the first Witcher game. Some of you may very well know that this game was a stepping stone in the way of role-playing games and how storyline delivery and combat could be intertwined to create an engaging and striking combination.
Murder of Crows
'There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street.' - DH Lawrence
Kodiak walked along the cobbled streets of Midtown, following the one way road with each lonely footstep. The streets were abandoned, shrouded in the coming night that throttled what could almost look like an inviting line of storefronts and dive bars, if not for the vicious scent that poured from the each crevice like phantoms of decay. Above him, in the splintered balconies of shady motels and dusty curtains lights flickered, people squabbled over the most inconsequential things, wives were beaten and appliances were thrown.
"Lovely place" Kodiak said, surveying the surrounding petty orchestra of crime and disdain "Glad I got called out here instead of the fucking Kingdom." picking up the pace and hurrying towards the distant bar: The Broken Mare, his destination and the first call of the night, came from there. Admittedly, it wasn’t the worst waterhole in town - it was a nice place quiet and rarely ever packed with the flocks of assholes this part of the city was so used to, no the problem was the goblins who frequented it.
Pushing through the lilac door, Kodiac stepped into the musk of a bar enjoying a full night, the city let loose on a Friday night, with the mortal populace flooded to thier nightclubs, pubs, taverns and dives. The immortal populace on the other hand, stayed in thier domain, instead opting to lurk in the slums, parks and alleys, despite the fact that after the Rednight Reform more open spaces for the Fairytales developed; as did more ways for Tales to socialize and live a near-functioning life.
Inside hung the smell of assorted spirits and aged liquor, pints were being pulled by the current barmaid while the owner, Charon Tabere, was gathering empty glasses and talking to regulars, greeting Kodiak when he came near to him entering. “Charon, you called me?” he said, following the man as he went behind the bar, taking a seat next to a lone man. “I did, unfortunately. Sorry to call this late” Charon said, glancing at the customers then returning his attention to Kodiak “We’ve had a bit of trouble with the goblins again.” “What is it this time?” Kodiak sighed “Indecency? Assault? Indecent assault?” “No, no, nothing like that. I phrased it wrong, it’s better if I show you, follow me.” Charon escorted him behind the bar, taking him to the back door and into the mangy alleyway. They arrived at the obvious scene, five goblin youths, no more than seventeen years old each, were lying beheaded, strewn across the ground, blood painting the garbage can, spilling into the manhole like crimson serpents. “What the fuck happened here?” Kodiak asked, approaching the bodies, surveying the surrounding area. Charon stayed put, loosely watching him as he analyzed the remains. “It’s better I show you. Sorry detective, bills to be paid.” Tabere said, slipping an elvish dagger from his belt, it’s edge radiating with the moonlight. “What the fuck are you-” Kodiak sputtered, interupted by the passing blade with which the barman was readying for another slash. “This really, really isn’t going to end well.” Kodiak slipped past the thrust, grabbing his arm and driving his elbow into the attacker’s skull, the flesh split.