Hey, everyone.
I'm toying with the idea of some Fallout 4 comedy, and knocked up a quick Skyrim sketch (just under 400 words) to see whether the idea might have legs. Should stress I've just written this quickly so it probably isn't very sharp, but I'm more after a general view of whether it, and a more serious effort in the future, is worth the attempt.
Spoilers for the intro, first settlement and first city [I know it's been out ages, but still].
**
As a travel writer, particularly an elven one, I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome when I arrived in Skyrim. The barbarians managed to exceed even my meagre expectations. Upon entering the province I was immediately arrested by Imperials, plonked in a prison cart, and found myself trundling deeper into barbarian country.
“Crossing the border?” a fellow prisoner asked.
I nodded.
“Oh dear. That’ll be decapitation for you then, pointy-ears.”
“Decapitation?” I exclaimed. “All I did was cross a border between imperial provinces!”
Thankfully, the Eight look after their loyal elven worshippers. Just as I was about to be executed, a massive black dragon attacked and started roasting the Imperials. Ulfric and his blue-cloaked bitches ran off with one of the prisoners, and I was left alone. Fortunately, the dragon was too busy eating soldiers to notice me and I sneaked off.
It was a short road to Riverwood. After changing out of my prisoner clothes I tried slaughtering a chicken, but someone saw me and all hell broke loose. The blacksmith swung a warhammer at me, and hit the mill owner, Gerdur. She stabbed him and he dropped dead. Gerdur’s elven worker, who had been aiming at the blacksmith, accidentally hit her, and she ran after him.
It was at this point I decided chickens were more trouble than they were worth, and ran off to Whiterun.
Night had fallen, and two idiot guards were blathering about their knees when I approached the gate and used my silver tongue to get inside [this is not a euphemism for anything frisky]. Anyway, once in the city I was attacked, and defended myself. Well, I was verbally assaulted. Some oaf called Nazeem disparaged my social status, and I may have over-reacted (it had been a long day).
Thankfully, the guards did not seem too bothered by the fool’s severed head rolling around. A thousand gold pieces ensured the matter went no further.
Whilst relieved, it was also quite perplexing. How the hell does this country’s legal system work? The sentence for crossing from one province to another is decapitation. Attacking a chicken leads to death by enraged mob. And murdering a man is acceptable so long as you pay a fine.
No wonder Skyrim’s screwed.
I'm toying with the idea of some Fallout 4 comedy, and knocked up a quick Skyrim sketch (just under 400 words) to see whether the idea might have legs. Should stress I've just written this quickly so it probably isn't very sharp, but I'm more after a general view of whether it, and a more serious effort in the future, is worth the attempt.
Spoilers for the intro, first settlement and first city [I know it's been out ages, but still].
**
As a travel writer, particularly an elven one, I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome when I arrived in Skyrim. The barbarians managed to exceed even my meagre expectations. Upon entering the province I was immediately arrested by Imperials, plonked in a prison cart, and found myself trundling deeper into barbarian country.
“Crossing the border?” a fellow prisoner asked.
I nodded.
“Oh dear. That’ll be decapitation for you then, pointy-ears.”
“Decapitation?” I exclaimed. “All I did was cross a border between imperial provinces!”
Thankfully, the Eight look after their loyal elven worshippers. Just as I was about to be executed, a massive black dragon attacked and started roasting the Imperials. Ulfric and his blue-cloaked bitches ran off with one of the prisoners, and I was left alone. Fortunately, the dragon was too busy eating soldiers to notice me and I sneaked off.
It was a short road to Riverwood. After changing out of my prisoner clothes I tried slaughtering a chicken, but someone saw me and all hell broke loose. The blacksmith swung a warhammer at me, and hit the mill owner, Gerdur. She stabbed him and he dropped dead. Gerdur’s elven worker, who had been aiming at the blacksmith, accidentally hit her, and she ran after him.
It was at this point I decided chickens were more trouble than they were worth, and ran off to Whiterun.
Night had fallen, and two idiot guards were blathering about their knees when I approached the gate and used my silver tongue to get inside [this is not a euphemism for anything frisky]. Anyway, once in the city I was attacked, and defended myself. Well, I was verbally assaulted. Some oaf called Nazeem disparaged my social status, and I may have over-reacted (it had been a long day).
Thankfully, the guards did not seem too bothered by the fool’s severed head rolling around. A thousand gold pieces ensured the matter went no further.
Whilst relieved, it was also quite perplexing. How the hell does this country’s legal system work? The sentence for crossing from one province to another is decapitation. Attacking a chicken leads to death by enraged mob. And murdering a man is acceptable so long as you pay a fine.
No wonder Skyrim’s screwed.
