It’s not often that I get sentimental attachment to a character in a video game or otherwise. I rarely get so drawn into a story that I begin to feel emotions for fictional characters. There was one character, however, that I felt somewhat of a kinship with. It was Umbra, the warrior who sought a death in battle.
While playing Morrowind, I would ignore the main quest and strike off on my own. The thing I’ve always loved about these open ended games is creating my own adventures and going wherever I please. During one of these aimless journeys, I stumbled on Umbra. At the time, I had never seen a full set of orcish armor and I was quite in awe, especially in that it bore a resemblance to samurai armor.
His dialogue suggested a life of heroism and villainy, an endless cycle of warfare, all while lamenting that no one could defeat him and grant him an honorable death in battle. I was intrigued by this and decided to take him up on his challenge. I had fought a few enemies already and I was certain that I could at least pose a challenge.
The fight was over in seconds. Umbra had cut me down with little effort and I knew I was no match for him. So after reloading, I left him there and went about my business. No matter what I did or where I went, Umbra was always in the back of my mind. My desire to defeat him and claim his sword were what drove me to get stronger.
Eventually, the day came when I felt ready to face this warrior and grant him the honorable death he deserved. The battle was intense and several times I was nearly defeated, but I was victorious. I didn’t feel victorious though. I had expected to feel exhilarated at conquering such a strong opponent, but I instead felt sorrow. Even with the sword Umbra claimed as my own, I wasn’t as glad as I thought I would be.
I wound up doing something I thought I would never do and, in truth, I haven’t done it since. I made a grave for a fallen NPC. I knew his body would disappear with time, but his armor could remain in one spot indefinitely. So I set his armor upon the ground where he had fallen and lined each part up from head to toe. Whenever I was passing through I would always visit his grave and, on occasion, I would leave flowers at the site.
Although this was a fictional character in a video game, I could not help but feel a kinship and sense of loss after his defeat. I suppose it was my admiration for his warrior’s way and the type of death that he sought. It may seem silly to feel in such a way for something or someone that isn’t real, but that is the entire point of art. Whether you’re reading, watching, listening, or playing, the strongest forms of art will always invoke some form of emotion. That is the truest testament to the greatness of any art form.
- Martin AKA SorrowfulKain
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