Review | Dragon Age: Origins

BioWare know how to do drama, though, and when the pacing is on form Dragon Age is an engaging, edge-of-seat journey into the fantastic.  The origin stories mean things take a little while to get going – the opening couple of hours as a human noble, while interesting, didn’t capture my attention to anywhere near the extent of the rest of the game – but the tension and intrigue build remarkably through each tale, complete with a hefty dose of difficult decisions to make along the way.  Dragon Age might be the first videogame to truly get morality.  At no point does it overtly condemn or approve of any decision you make.  Nothing here is black and white, and different characters – based on their own backgrounds, religions, friendships and more – respond to your choices in greatly contrasting ways.  Much like real life, Dragon Age is frequently about having to upset one person to please another.  Deciding who’s most important to please, and what your own conscience will allow you to do, is a major facet of the game.

//Private relations
Less successful are the actual, tangible relationships you can develop over the course of the story.  As in Mass Effect, aligning yourself with a particular character allows a love affair to blossom, but it’s handled as clumsily as it was in BioWare’s previous attempt.  The many characters who may join your party are remarkably fleshed out, with interesting stories, complex minds and wonderful banter, but actually forming a relationship with these people feels artificial.  You can buy people’s affections with gifts, for example, which feels like a particularly cynical outlook.  Or you can gain their trust by listening to their emotionally turbulent tales, and comforting them accordingly.  Ultimately, you know all you’re in it for is the inevitable censored sex scene, as there’s little evidence of organically growing friendships, with all the subtleties that come with them.

Again, where BioWare had the opportunity to really develop this side of the game, it feels like an afterthought to draw in those who fancy a peek at some digital flesh (a theme that runs through the game – one quest features a mandatory section where you must strip your party down to their underwear, supposedly a sign of “purity”).  Call that a cynical judgement to make, but in a game where characters lure you in with side-quests then try to flog you downloadable content, it starts to make some sort of unfortunate sense.

More problems grate away, including animation that fails to impress after Mass Effect, and outdoor levels blocked off by invisible walls.  But even though it’s easy to pick apart, even though it occasionally struggles to maintain the quality of its stand-out segments, there is no doubt that Dragon Age is a brilliant game.  Perhaps, had it been released this time last year, it would have struggled to match Fallout 3’s lonely atmosphere, or Fable 2’s colourful and vibrant world.  But in a year of comparatively few large-scale RPGs, it stands many heads and shoulders above its meagre competition, with a backbone of hefty politics and a culture in which you could immerse yourself for an eternity.

Even in – good grief – over 3000 words, there are things I haven’t found room to cover.  The soundtrack, for example, which flows confidently between moods without ever distracting.  The ecosystem that exists beneath Orzammar, where different enemy types attack each other as well as you.  The striking relationship between a Dwarven merchant and his adopted, mentally handicapped son.  The way you can adjust your character’s appearance to a microscopic degree.  The glorious oak tree that speaks in verse, and the question-obsessed hermit who’s stolen his precious acorn. The list, as they say, goes on.

Perhaps most importantly, this is a game in which your own origins matter.  Though Ferelden is a world of the highest fantasy, its plights are real ones, the sort we face – in some form or another – in our own day-to-day lives.  It’s a game that invites you to look inwards, to your own beliefs, ethics and upbringing, and forge your path through this world in accordance.  When faced with the choice whether to slaughter a child to rid the world of a powerful demon, or sacrifice his mother in order to exorcise it, which path will you choose?  And how will you deal with the inevitable aftermath, knowing that whatever you decide upon, someone is going to think you the most cowardly, immoral and despicable person on the planet?

I couldn’t do it.  I abstained from the choice.  The mother, convinced by her husband not to offer her own life, plunged a knife into her son’s heart, while I stood outside the door.  I was a coward, for sure.  I felt terrible.  But my goodness, I am glad Dragon Age made me feel that way.

8/10

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