#kressle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dastardlyobnoxious · 1 year

Text

My time with Pathfinder: Kingmaker (P.1)

Full disclosure: I'm spoiling major stuff about Pathfinder: Kingmaker in this post, this is a recollection of my experience with Kingmaker. Both runs of mine were on easy and effortless difficulty and this will be my attempt at recounting the details of my playthroughs. This wasn't initially written with three parts in mind, so apologies for any confusion. (Text Dump below)

In the initial run-up to my buying Kingmaker, I’d just beaten Skyrim for the first time and I was in need of a new fantasy/RPG experience. I considered quite a few games, from mass effect to Oblivion when MandaloreGamings review of Kingmaker came out. I’m a big fan of his reviews, with them often offering a window into games I’ve never heard of or never played. So, it didn’t take much convincing to dive into a game that sounded like just what I was looking for. For context though, beyond my time with Skyrim and the Fable series I had little outside experience in RPGs let alone ones with turn-based or management mechanics. Leading into my unprepared self forgetting key details of that initial review and eventually grinding my playtime in Kingmaker to a halt.

The Start.

I want to clarify that Kingmaker is very beginner friendly, from its customizability to its encyclopedia explaining key details of the Pathfinder lore. Both of these systems kept me afloat throughout my playthroughs from my lack of knowledge of basic terms like Armor Class to stat distribution. The story especially roped me in with how engaging and fun it was to learn about this world and my companions, even the smaller things like resting dialogue gave the game this charm you don’t see often. That said, Kingmakers' gameplay was a struggle, from my avoidance of the turn-based system opting to run the game in real-time. To my complete lack of awareness when it came to enemies casting ailments like blindness, fear, or sickness. When I’d finally beaten the Stag Lord and moved on to kingdom management that was an even bigger hurdle. It felt like a system I had to appease rather than enjoy with its constant deadlines and success rates being debilitatingly low. On my first playthrough, I was consistently frustrated with myself past the Stag Lord, alongside having missed both Jubliost and Ekundayo initially. Only finding out you could miss companions when I was in desperate need of a treasurer after already having sent off the only other non-dlc/non-mercenary option. All this built-up frustration snowballed into me taking a long break and eventually giving up on my first playthrough.

Act 1

Upon returning to the game, in October of 2022, I realized anything less than a full restart would’ve been a disservice to Kingmaker. From my memory of the story being blurry to my less-than-stellar kingdom management, I needed to sit down and commit to learning pathfinders systems within Kingmaker. And it did help, knowing the weakness and strengths of the initial enemies and being at least a bit more competent in running my kingdom led to a better overall experience. I’d only made it to the start of Season of Bloom in my first playthrough, and it led to a deeper appreciation of both the story and the initial dungeons in Troll Trouble and The Stolen Land. I’ve already name-dropped him a couple of times but the Stag Lord is iconic, he’s this faceless threat up until his confrontation, and for him to be revealed as this nut acting like someone out of the WWE is perfect. My character's alignment started as chaotic good and eventually shifted to neutral good due to my choices here, but these encounters with people like Kressle eventually siding with you against the Stag Lord or the Kobold an Mite feud in the Old Sycamore make strong first impressions. It’s very low stakes in comparison to the rest of the game but that’s what sets it apart, from my pursuit of Tartuccio to the recruitment of Jaethal. Amusement can be found almost anywhere here from the clearing of high Kobolds and Mites chilling to fighting that Worg and his gang hungry for Kobolds.

Act 2

I wasn’t the hugest fan of Troll Trouble either time I went through it, just because of the initial difficulty spike in the form of the Swamp Witches Hut. The dreary colors and muggy feeling of the location on top of poisonous clouds and tough encounters made this into an area I always try to rush through. The same can be said for Candlemere Island, it’s a nasty ambush of electric wisps instantly downing/wounding your companions if you aren’t primed to counter their element. So, while I’m not the biggest fan of the aforementioned dungeons, the story still holds up, in both its side and main story. Candlemere Island's story of three explorers visiting the island only to find their corpses as we go up is chilling, and to have to fight the last remaining member transfixed on the location? It’s hinting at a greater curse here. That and the overarching threat of the troll and kobold king all build up this unknown puppet master. When it was revealed that the Guardian of the Bloom was the real threat, it was genuinely intimidating walking into an ambush instead of a gift. It’s an encounter that would’ve been rough with a full party let alone my physically weak player character who died multiple times before escaping. Aside from establishing the central villain, defeating Tartuk the kobold king and the beast that was Hargulkain was no easy feat. And while it would’ve been easy to dismiss or execute the former Tartuccio here and there it only made sense to me that they became a vassal of my kingdom. The trolls on the other hand were not nearly as lucky, between the general danger they posed alongside a majority of them eating humans, they were promptly kicked out of the region. Ekundayo's backstory is that his family was slaughtered by Trolls and he’s on a never-ending revenge trip. Watching his inner turmoil when faced with killing those troll children was such a profound scene for such a stoic character.

(the Lizard Folk are my favorite of the “non-civilized races” in the game, wasn’t really sure where to put this but if there's other good Pathfinder content focusing on them do tell.) Act 3

Unlike the prior acts I had little forewarning on what was to come, Season of Bloom made a name for itself through its epidemic of animals bursting out of people. The mystery of the infection was a constant source of entertainment for me, from Tristain’s scene with Jhod debating if the disease could be extracted or not to having to appease a populace shaken up. Underlying this mad dash to find a cure was the cult of Lamashtu and the potential threat they or any other Lamashtu follower brought with people dying by the second. When I finally arrived at the cabin chasing one such follower, I wasn’t expecting a Whodunnit situation and was left pretty clueless on who exactly the Lamashtu follower was. After finally tracking and cornering their cult leader I’d spare the fools, even if I heavily questioned their practices it didn’t feel right in interfering with their chosen religion. Around then the tip-off that goblins had been interfering was revealed and it didn’t quite hit my expectations. The goblins had their moments of chaos but as genuine threats like Hargulkain they were grunts in a bigger game, their few friendly encounters at the windmill or through the goblin shopkeepers were hilarious but otherwise unremarkable the same cannot be said for Nok-Nok. His defeat of the goblin king and general quirky nature just made him super fun to be around even if I barely used him. The other companions' disgruntlement of him was honestly surprising because I never seemed to have trouble with him. While the Goblin Fort isn’t bad, it doesn’t match up to the Old Sycamore in terms of enjoyment, Nok-Nok’s moment may be strong but beyond him, this dungeon doesn’t have much going for it. After stomping the Goblin King out and finding the potential source of the bloom I was left with two choices, go back to support Jhod in the capital or support Kesten in his attempt at cutting the source of the bloom. This hurt, going into it I couldn’t have known Kesten was bound to die if I didn’t have a lawful alignment. I don’t regret going to the capital over aiding him just because of how chaotic it was on top of the Primal Owlbear being double the size of almost every other enemy in-game. And while I’d later honor Kesten by undergoing the project Jhod put in his name, it was a relief being able to stop the Guardian of the Bloom’s scheme and making that owlbear into a tavern rug.

Act 4

I wasn’t sure how the story could one-up itself after Season of Blooms raid on the capital when the mystery of the Varnhold Vanishing began. I’d visited Varnhold a few times before the start of Act 4 and during those encounters I was often let down, without the Varnhold DLC this might as well have been a barren grassland with a shopkeep or two. So, upon receiving the message from the Swordlords about the area I didn’t expect much, maybe another power-crazed bandit lord? But no, with the guardian of the bloom confirming her lack of involvement I had no clue what I was walking into. A fog of silence lay over the town, it truly had no inhabitants, and it was a very eerie feeling pushing further and further in. A singular Raven was following me, as I came upon the band of Spriggan squatting on the corpse of Varnhold. Clearing the place wasn’t difficult and gave more questions than answers, it had been easy to assume they were behind the disappearance at first but now after defeating and letting their leader go that wasn’t the case. Only getting some answers when the Raven screamed hypocrite and openly announced it had some sort of involvement in the disappearance. Following this, I was left searching for clues with Barbarians pouring into the region on the whim of their leader and a group of Defaced sisters. Dugath was our only connection to Barbarian leadership at this point and while his gruffness might’ve put certain people off he didn’t like being dragged so far out of their homelands. After receiving the quest to find the other defaced sisters, I’d slowly come to find out what happened to the Defaced sisters and the barbarians who followed them alongside Vordaki the Cyclops necromancer. Areas like the Sepulcher of Forgotten Heroes while interesting were trap and puzzle hells for me, and while the City of Hollow Eyes would make up for this rough patch it was clearly illustrated how the Barbarians were being used as meat shields by the defaced sisters. Even going so far as to have the barbarians thrown at traps or left for dead before the Defaced sister would flee. I’d end up sparing both surviving sisters on the assumption they’d cease their violence, only to find their betrayal when I got back to Dugath’s camp. Unfortunately for them, Dugath was no fan of the sisters and their farces and turned on them instead. All this led me to the Valley of the Dead and Vordaki’s tomb, two extremely important areas I was unprepared for. First of all, I’d felt it necessary to bring Tristian along for his companion quest even if I had barely used him up to this point. He alongside Jaethal, Jubliost, Nok-Nok, Regongar, and eventually Harrim all became expert seat cushions as I stuck to my main five. With one last warning from the Raven, we entered and I could’ve made it so much easier on myself if I knew of ONE button. Using rations to heal, not just wait/skip time, as up to this point I’d never been thrown in a dungeon where I couldn’t leave. It made everything so much more intense because I didn’t know of healing/rationing in dungeons so as my main spells dried up I leaned more and more on potions and scrolls only barely making it to Vordaki in one piece. Speaking of Vordaki, he’s hands down my favorite of the villains in Kingmaker, from his appearance to his personality and his goal of invading the surrounding region. He’s the only villain in-game that isn’t a puppet of the Guardian of the Bloom and between his menacing appearance and Tristian’s last-minute betrayal, it left me dumbstruck and very intimidated, nearly losing when he finally went down. From here, freeing the souls of Varnhold was a breeze and it led to me feeling very accomplished. This was my favorite dungeon of the entire game with it being both challenging but never tedious in its encounters alongside my assumed lack of safety nets.

Act 5

The Twice Born Warlord is mostly spent wrapping up the loose ends of Varnhold vanishing, from the role that the Defaced sisters hold in relation to the guardian of the bloom or “Nyrissa” as we come to find out. To what’ll become of Armag the barbarian leader and the traitor named Tristian. It does have interesting moments, but to me, act 5 is a stop-gap between the introduction of the kingdom of Pitax and the defeat of Vordaki. From Amiri sneaking into Armag’s camp and attempting to kill a defaced sister only to be faced with fighting Armag in a one-to-one duel (that is insanely in his favor). To the fun but rather short-lived raid on Armag’s camp with the Aldori Swordlords. Having to chase Armag into his tomb is interesting as well, between each of the trials via story books to the eventual realization that the Armag we’ve been chasing isn’t the true Armag but instead, a plant brought up by the defaced sisters and Nyrissa. I’d end up killing the fool and taking Ovinrbaane alongside the Warpainted Skull of Duthica, two items that’d make Amiri into a beast of a fighter. I’d end up helping appoint Dugath as the new chieftain as he was rather level-headed and knew it was best to return to his homeland. Finding out Tristian had been used by Nyrissa wasn��t a shock considering how much puppeteering had been done by her. What had been shocking was the fact he was a fallen angel of Sarenrae and after fighting a defaced sister the confusion that captured him seemed to break. He knew what he’d done was wrong, and now I was left to decide to banish, kill, or let him remain in my kingdom. And while he’d done a lot wrong I pitied his plight and wished for him to redeem himself in the eyes of his goddess. So, I let the fool remain even if he was now blind, I knew he’d try and make up for what he’d done. The last major thing that happens in Twice Born Warlord is the coronation, and it felt like a major accomplishment after all the fighting and working through dungeons to finally have proof that I’d made it deep into Kingmaker. And with one last confrontation at the bald hilltop the Twice Born Warlord comes to an end.

Act Six.

The War of the River Kings is in an odd spot for me, after what’s arguably the best stretch in the game before the start of Act Six you're left with a huge countdown until the Ancient Curse attacks again. I get this sorta time is meant to be used for kingdom management but as someone who had combed the map for new spots, companion quests, etc it really was just me and the kingdom management tab for a couple of hours. Which isn’t bad, but when you are even remotely like me and failed to keep up with the leveling/training grind of kingdom management, balancing the 0% success rate advisors while trying to get them above 20% was a challenge in its own right. Only bailed out by the amount of gold I had and me realizing I could buy build points to counterbalance my own failures. When the Rushlight Tournament finally started it's the easy highlight of this chapter, it’s a cocktail of skill checks, betting on AI fights, and prizes! King Irovetti is just a jerk, and he’s probably the weakest of the antagonists in Kingmaker. Wishing to expand and grow his kingdom with an iron fist while keeping up appearances as he juggles all sorts of petty backhand behavior to discredit you. A lot of the quests here aren’t bad but not amazing, the stolen throne is probably my highlight in its absurdity, bartering with a goblin, and even as you discredit Irovetti’s attempts to bring down your kingdom it kind of bounces back to Nyrissa more than Irovetti here. From her selling him out via the Whiterose Abby and Evindra, to Linzi and the Storyteller using Nyrissa’s dreams to discover the truth about her and her plans. Irovetti is quickly left to hide in his castle after my party shows up to his capital, and embarrassingly this would mark the first time I’d used the turn/round base fighting mechanic that streamlines so much stuff and allows for SO much more experimentation. It doubles the time spent in combat, sure, but when you're fighting hordes of enemies alongside the Zottenropple twins you desperately need that buff. Speaking of the twins, they were the first of many lucky breaks for me as after loads of save scumming one of the twins had ended up polymorphing the other they’re so much worse than the fight with Irovetti. Killing Irovetti was nothing too difficult, finding clues and hints that he, like a certain wizard experimenting with trolls, had instead used an artifact he was keeping under wraps from Nyrissa.

(Ivoretti reminds me of a taller Lord Farquad and it was so hard not seeing the parallels in his appearance and his eventual demise.) Part Two: https://www.tumblr.com/dastardlyobnoxious/718622705272913920/my-time-with-pathfinder-kingmaker-p2?source=share Part Three: https://www.tumblr.com/dastardlyobnoxious/718899022820261888/my-time-with-pathfinder-kingmaker-p3?source=share

#pathfinder kingmaker #pathfinder #writing

1 note · View note

obsidianbunny · 5 years

Text

« À la santé du patron, le grand Seigneur Cerf ! »

Les choppes s’entrechoquèrent violemment dans un bruit sourd alors que de lourdes gouttes de bière s’écrasèrent sur la table en bois, éclaboussant les trois camarades. Cela faisait longtemps qu’un tel esprit de fête ne s’était pas invité dans la forteresse des bandits. La grande salle, dont les froids murs de pierre donnaient d’habitude une atmosphère lugubre, résonnait ce soir-là des cris d’allégresse du clan de brigands. Bien que les victuailles restaient maigres, l’alcool coulait à flot.

« Akiros, tu m’impressionnes », lança une femme de sa voix grave et enrouée. Elle affichait une mine patibulaire et ses épaules étaient larges et inquiétantes, mais son sourire était franc. Ses cheveux, longs et noués en une unique et épaisse natte, tombaient sur une armure de cuir renforcé qui laissait ses articulations découvertes. « Comment tu as su, pour cette caravane d’alcool ? On en a pour plusieurs semaines de beuverie quotidienne ! »

« Tu sais Kressle, je crois que ce n’était qu’un coup de chance », répondit l’intéressé. Sa voix était faible et monocorde, ce qui tranchait avec son physique athlétique. Son corps était visiblement solide et musclé mais il n’était guerre mieux bâti que la moyenne, et ses cheveux mi-longs, poivre et sel et détachés ne parvenaient pas à dissimuler la grande balafre qui lui traversait l’œil droit. « À vrai dire, je n’ai pas beaucoup de mérite, on a repéré des traces de passage avec mes gars pendant la dernière patrouille. Il nous a suffit de lancer l’assaut quelques heures après avec nos renforts, et de voler les caisses dans la carriole. J’aurais préféré laisser ces pauvres marchants en vie, mais tu sais ce que c’est, ils commencent à brandir leur fourche avant même qu’on puisse s’expliquer. Quant à la bière et au vin, c’était un hasard. Nous aurions tout aussi bien pu tomber sur des jupons.

– Je suis certain que tu aurais très bien porté le jupon, Akiros », siffla son voisin de table d’une voix suave.

– Ce n’est pas que j’y sois opposé », rétorqua l’homme avec amusement, « mais je crains que cela ne soit pas d’une grande aide au combat. Mais toi Dovan, tu ne te sens pas tenté ? Je ne crois pas déjà vu te battre depuis que je suis arrivé au fort ; si tu ne combats pas, profites-en pour t’habiller avec fantaisie.

– Hors de question ! », s’offusqua le dénommé Dovan avec exagération. Sa voix haut perchée semblait bien correspondre à cet homme à la silhouette très grande et très fine, aux cheveux très longs et sombres qui lui tombaient sur les reins et aux manières d’aristocrate vaniteux. Vêtu seulement d’un pantalon de cuir plutôt serré et d’un plastron sans manche et si court qu’il ne couvrait pas plus que quelques côtes, le brigand semblait utiliser son corps comme un instrument de scène tant ses mimiques et ses intonations étaient théâtrales. La chair nue de son ventre, de son collier, de ses épaules et de ses bras semblait offrir ses nombreux tatouages au regard de quiconque souhaitait l’observer. Quelques paires d’yeux s’y aventuraient, et cela semblait beaucoup plaire au bandit. « Tout d’abord, je tiens à te faire remarquer que tu n’es parmi nous que depuis quelques semaines, tu n’as encore rien vu. Je me bat quand il le faut, mais jamais pour le plaisir. Céder à ses pulsions de violence, quel manque de distinction ! Si je dois faire couler le sang, je préfère que le travail soit fait rapidement, sans hurler comme un bœuf et sans risquer d’esquinter ma plastique parfaite. Donc non Akiros, je ne me bat pas : je tue. Ne t’avise pas de penser que c’est une preuve de paresse. Et puis, des jupons, quelle idée saugrenue ! Tu me verrais, affublé d’une étoffe si large qu’on me croirait enroulé dans une voile ? J’ai un certain sens de la tenue qu’il me faut respecter.

– Oh excusez-nous, môsieur le grand nobliau Dovan de Nisroch ! », rétorqua Kressle avec une obséquiosité forcée. « On voulait pas vexer vot’ petit cœur fragile ! Mais je crois pas t’avoir vu souvent manier le couteau à beurre non plus. Hé, tu serais pas super faiblard en fait ? », asséna-t-elle, volontairement vexante.

Dovan se renfrogna. La discussion semblait commencer à l’agacer.

« Je me fiche de tes provocations, femme », répond-il, acerbe. « Tu te bats peut-être avec plus de violence que moi, mais contrairement à toi je suis parfaitement au clair avec mes sentiments.

– Je… quoi ? Comment tu... », bafouilla la bandit qui ne semblait plus savoir où se mettre.

« Tu sais parfaitement de quoi je parle. Maintenant si vous voulez bien m’excuser », s’exclama Dovan en se levant de son tabouret, « mes propres "sentiments" réclament d’être satisfaits. Passe une bonne soirée, ma chère Kressle ! », dit-il avant de tourner les talons.

Ses propos avaient mis la jeune femme mal à l’aise : elle jouait avec sa choppe ou ses couverts pour se donner de la consistance, son regard passait nerveusement du fond de son bol aux trophées de chasse accrochés au mur de la grande salle, et osait parfois s’aventurer vers le visage d’Akiros pour tenter de deviner ce qu’il était en train de penser. Ce dernier suivait le départ de Dovan, une lueur amusée dans les yeux. Peut-être était-ce à cause de l’alcool ou de l’heure avancée, mais il ne semblait pas avoir saisi les insinuations du bandit, ni le fort intérêt que lui portait Kressle. Dovan saisit sèchement un autre bandit par la nuque et, sourd aux bruyantes protestations de sa proie, le traîna au sol en dehors de la pièce. Akiros alors se retourna vers sa camarade, l’air pensif.

« Heureusement que Dovan est ici. C’est un psychopathe, mais c’est peut-être le seul parmi nous qui soit vraiment heureux.

– J’ai pas l’impression qu’il t’aime beaucoup », répond Kressle, la voix empreinte d’une inhabituelle timidité. Elle ne semblait toujours pas à l’aise dans ce tête à tête.

– Oui, j’ai pu voir ça. Tant pis pour lui, on ne va pas l’attendre pour être amis toi et moi, n’est-ce pas ? »

Kressle ne répondit pas immédiatement. Le regard fixé à ses chausses, elle semblait en plein conflit intérieur. Après quelques secondes silencieuses, elle lâcha un « Merde ! » à peine audible et ficha son regard dans celui d’Akiros.

« Je n’ai aucune envie d’être amie avec toi ! », lui cria-t-elle, le joues empourprées, sûrement plus fort qu’elle ne l’aurait voulu. Les autres bandit interrompirent leurs bavardages et se tournèrent vers leur table. Akiros ne parvint pas à dissimuler la surprise qui passa sur son visage. La jeune femme s’empressa de se corriger :

« Je veux dire… Ça ne me convient pas, amis. Tu es beau Akiros, tu me plaît ! »

La bandit pris conscience qu’elle se donnait en spectacle. Après une courte interruption, le temps d’attendre un semblant d’intimité, elle reprit plus doucement : « Je veux pas juste faire des concours de boisson avec toi, ou qu’on compare la taille de nos muscles. Je veux que tu me regardes comme je te regarde. »

Akiros gardait le silence. Il baissait doucement les yeux, son visage était empreint d’une sombre mélancolie. Lasse d’attendre une réponse, Kressle poursuivit :

« Le patron m’envoie au camp du gué de l’Épine. Je pars demain. Akiros, viens avec moi !

– Je ne pense pas que… Ce n’est pas possible, Kressle », répondit enfin Akiros d’une voix morne et triste. « Je t’apprécie beaucoup tu sais, mais tu ne me connais pas.

– Je m’en fiche ! J’ai pas besoin de te connaître, j’ai besoin que tu vives avec moi au camp. Juste nous deux, on sera aussi des seigneurs !

– Mon cœur est déjà pris, Kressle. Je suis désolé. »

La bandit fut prise d’un sursaut. L’idée qu’Akiros appartienne à quelqu’un d’autre ne l’avait pas effleurée.

« Mais qui… qui c’est ? Dis-moi qui c’est ! », s’énerve-t-elle. « Tu mens, Akiros, c’est impossible. Il n’y a pas d’autres femmes que moi ici, avec qui tu… Attends, c’est Dovan ? Tu es amoureux de Dovan ?

– Quoi ? Mais enfin, pas du tout ! », s’exclama Akiros, tout à fait confus. « Voilà pourquoi je te disais que tu ne me connais pas. On a tous nos histoire, on vient tous de quelque part. Moi, mon cœur est resté à des lieues d’ici, dans mon village natal. Il ne m’appartient plus de te l’offrir. Je suis sincèrement désolé. »

Kressle affichait une expression de dégoût sur son visage. Elle s’était levée, et surplombait de sa carrure solide un Akiros misérable et désolé, presque recroquevillé, ses yeux plongés dans la bière de sa choppe.

« Tu m’écœures », cracha-t-elle. « C’est bien la peine d’avoir une queue, si t’es pas foutu de t’en servir. Ne t’avise pas de recroiser ma route », lâche-t-elle, acerbe, avant de quitter la table, puis la pièce.

Akiros était seul. La clameur joyeuse autour de lui s’était tue, remplacée par les ronflements des bandits ivres-morts et les murmures des curieux qui avaient assistés à la dispute. Il saisit une bouteille et remplit sa choppe. Il fallait boire, boire plus, afin de se noyer. Il remplit sa choppe.

#writer #writing #texte #auteur #author #pathfinder #pathfinder kingmaker #kressle #akiros ismort #dovan #stag lord #seigneur cerf #nouvelle #fanfic #french #francais

0 notes