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Seldom does a game’s narrative mirror our subjective experience of it. Not the milieu the developers may have crafted to reach the loftiest peaks of immersion, but rather that as the last note of Justin Bell’s wonderful score fades with the credits, the player is left with a distinct binary coded upon their mind; the voyeurism afforded through the eyes of the protagonist, and the intangible sentiment of a story that speaks to a cultural touchstone in a vein rich within the landscape of the RPG.
Pillars of Eternity is at its core, a tale about duality. What does that mean, and can it make sense of this review’s interminable opening paragraph? For the sake of us all, I truly hope so.
The Darkest Souls
You begin your journey with the ever reliable character creator. At first, everything seems rigidly traditional; class type, race, aesthetic, gender, until the choices become less about how your character will adventure, and more about why they do. Is it wanderlust that fuels your restlessness? Necessity? Is it the thought of another cycle in the White that Wends, its polar expanse an unyielding blank page upon which nothing of import is writ? By the time Allea Ouatu found herself traveling with the caravan, I felt a genuine pang of loss, as if I’d created this fully realised character, and had now set them loose in a world that would surely bring heartache. Would the trials and tribulations to come break her spirit? Would her compassion be twisted into the grim introspection of an embattled survivor? Choices would be hers to make, and hers alone; I would merely be a witness to the consequences.
And within the first hour, I was in no doubt as to how arduous those choices would be. The plot gusts through the game’s opening moments with relative disregard for rats and prison breaks, and the duality of the narrative is established early on. Your character is a Watcher, an individual gifted (or cursed) with the ability to perceive the souls of others, and depending on the strength of your will, able to interface with souls and shape their essence. In daylight, every interaction with a living being presents not only the chance to engage with them in your current reality, but provides a glimpse into their past. But at night, your dreams are a paranoid playground, a nightmarish merry-go-round of memories you can never be sure are your own. As the sun rises each dawn, the slivers of light forsake warmth for the threat of a final loss of your sanity. Even your companions comment upon your increasingly haunted appearance, some with words of encouragement, others with measured caution.
Who are these fellow wanderers? Again, duality is as apt a description of their own sojourn as it is of yours. The wizard, who always seems to be speaking over himself. The priest, whose nature is more dissonant dirge than harmonious hymn. The paladin, her mulishness a mask concealing crippling self-doubt. There are five more companions who may make the road a less lonelier place, and whilst some have a story more compelling than others, they are all well defined and all offer engaging conversations. Beyond the strategic options each offers in combat, it is the intimacy of their stories, and the role you will assume in shaping their tragedy or triumph, that renders them more than mere pixels.
Po-ta-toes
But enough of waxing poetic (for the moment), let’s get to the meat and potatoes of the game. Pillars’ isometric perspective and gorgeous static backdrops will please even the most jaded of Black Isle Studios acolytes, and perhaps win over a fresh batch of newcomers to the style. Environments are detailed and sufficiently evocative for this particular style of fantasy setting, though I can’t conceal a mild disappointment at the genericism on show. The village of Twin Elms does present a far stronger identity with its druidic architecture and Viking inspired aesthetic, but for the most part the keeps and dungeons and ruins you will visit are pleasing enough to look at, if insufficient as to inspire awe. Texture resolutions aren’t noteworthy at maximum zoom, but as you’ll no doubt spend the majority of your playtime zoomed out, this was certainly never a distraction for me.
That said, there are certain moments in the game where in lieu of a cutscene, the visuals shift to a stylised extract from a ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ novel, the expressive text and skillful illustration work, deftly operating in tandem with the players imagination, to conjure moments of tension and narrative flair. Having specific items in your inventory may reveal certain options otherwise unavailable, and the game will even analyse your stats in generating an outcome that could leave you smiling at the acquisition of shiny loot, or wincing as a member of your party wrenches a knee from its socket. The frequency of these moments struck me as just about right, and proved a sublime reminder of how effective our senses remain even when deprived of the flashy animations we’ve become so accustomed to.
Players mileage will vary when it comes to loot; veterans of the Baldur’s series will feel a strong sense of familiarity, whilst those with an affinity for more action-based rpgs will probably balk at the lack of variety. There are unique weapons and pieces of armour and accessories which all have interesting nuggets of flavour text attached, but you may well find that items you enchant will prove just as effective. A quick note on said crafting and enchanting, these are painlessly achieved through a very simple interface; you’ll mindlessly collect ingredients throughout the course of your travels, and the crafting system simply lists the recipes and whether or not you have the requisite supplies for creation. The system is useful, if not compulsory if you hope to progress on the higher difficulty levels, but it doesn’t pretend to be the deepest of systems either, which I found a refreshing change from recent rpgs. Potions, food and scrolls are all available for crafting, and you can do so anywhere outside of combat. Ordinarily, this could lead to an abundance of health potions and potion spamming, but Pillars handles the health mechanic with conviction.
Instead of the familiar health bar which takes damage from enemy attacks until it’s empty and you’re dead, Pillars uses a dual system (see, there’s that theme again) of health and endurance. Endurance is what enemies will chip away at, and endurance is what can be replenished with potions and certain spells, but once an endurance meter is empty that character is effectively knocked out. They’ll rise again if the rest of your party emerges from battle victorious and your endurance will replenish, but not without additional status effects and a damaged health meter. Risk an encounter without restoring health, and that character may never rise again. The trick is, health is a far more difficult variable to deal with, and outside of a few limited class abilities, can only be restored by resting at an inn, or under the stars by using a limited number of camping supplies. This alleviates the frustration of having companions killed outright and needing to reload to a previous save, as well as ensuring that combat is always challenging. Triumph is achieved with intimate knowledge of your party’s abilities, and a mastery over the battlefield, not in chugging down potions like it’s the day after graduation.
And what of combat? Combat is, and stay with me here, competent. Or rather, competent enough for the game’s average fifty hour length. It has enough strategic depth to allow for perma-death and solo run-throughs, and I have no doubt there are players who find it challenging enough to tackle in isolation from the narrative, but my experience was somewhat different. I can’t say I ever grew weary of combat, but there’s a definite imbalance between melee and magic users in that wizards, druids, priests and chanters are far more enjoyable to control as opposed to fighters, paladins, barbarians and rangers. I suppose it could be argued that this is often the case in many similar rpgs, but in fairness my reaction is strongly biased by the recent Divinity: Original Sin. Divinity may well have had a strictly turn-based system whereas Pillars is pausable real-time, but Divinity’s classes felt more malleable, and the implementation of environmental effects and spells and abilities that chain together never outstayed its welcome. Companion AI is essentially non-existent, which shouldn’t really be a complaint given that most players will probably be micromanaging their party at all times, but it becomes an issue given that pathfinding is atrocious. Define Atrocious? Well, I’m of the opinion that I shouldn’t need to select two members of my party and guide them toward the exit of an inn simply because a chair has rendered them immobile. And that’s outside of combat. Considering the frequency with which you will be opening doors only to trigger an attack, and having your barbarian MIA since he can’t find his way between your wizard and your ranger, frustration is inevitable. You are able to customise your formation, but this barely mitigates the issue.
If it sounds like combat isn’t particularly punishing, it’s only fair I mention a last few words on the topic; any difficultly above Easy will quickly produce rivulets of sweat upon your brow. You’ll need to understand resistances, damage types, positioning and make peace with knowing you may not always be able to travel with your favourite companion, as party balance can take precedence. Fortunately, the glossary is comprehensive and easy to understand; if you fail in combat, it won’t be your lack of AD&D 2nd edition rules comprehension that discouraged many from attempting Baldur’s. The bestiary is a clever touch; the more you fight a specific enemy type, the more of the enemy’s specs will be revealed. You won’t receive experience points from combat, but you will receive a nominal amount from completely unlocking an enemy type in the bestiary.
Voice work is for the most part, outstanding. I felt almost as connected to many of my party members as I did with those in Dragon Age: Inquisition, which given the additional resources Bioware had in breathing life into the Cassandras and Iron Bulls, is no mean feat. It’s entirely possible to play the game with characters that you can hire and spec as you please from most inns, and some players may prefer this alternative. Having only eight possible companions and eleven classes means that you may not see a certain class in action for the duration of the game, so having the option to build a companion is a welcome one. Especially if you’re as oblivious as I was, and miss two of the first available companions and as a result spend the first ten hours of the game with a mainly constructed party.
Pillars also has a robust reputation system, and I was pleased to see when comparing notes with others, that it has a legitimate and unpredictable impact on the game. Just because you might have access to a previously hidden conversation option, doesn’t guarantee that it’s the optimal choice. We’ve been conditioned to simply accept that if we make, for example, a Might check in dialogue, that option will grant us the most pleasing outcome. Obsidian have gone the logical step further, by encouraging the player to consider every option, and that a response built upon Might or Resolve may force an NPC closer to hostility, as opposed to simple acquiescence.
Religulous
‘Berath teaches us that duality exists in all things. There is Life in Death, and Death in Life – embrace this duality and you honour Berath’
Faerun, Tamriel and the Outer Planes are all worlds that share an existence with deities of shifting potency and alignment, and Pillars’ world of Eora is no stranger to similar fickle and obscured intrusions. Given the puissance with which the deeper questions underscore our realities, it’s inevitable that fantasy should provide a symbolic tapestry in which to thread hypotheticals, to frame questions we often avoid in the real world. And it’s certainly my own dalliance with theology that has made me susceptible to the sharp resonance of this tale. The unearthing of certain revelations late on was transformational, what had up until that point been a quest of modest intrigue, gained an intimacy that spoke beyond the protagonist’s experience and blended with my own. I remain genuinely surprised that the consensus of many critics is that of a largely unremarkable narrative. Perhaps that’s because unlike the targeted emotional response of an encounter between Joel and Ellie in The Last of Us, Pillars of Eternity is less concerned with Shyamalan-esque twists and dramatic manipulation. I’m not pretending that the narrative has a philosophical depth to rival that of Plato’s The Republic, but it’s fair to say the game’s more emotional content nestles in the plight of your companions. Your own journey is content to follow the path of intellectual provocation for the most part, though I will encourage you in advance to take note when Iovara enters stage right. An NPC you will encounter as part of the main quest, her story is one that deserves further exploration, and I would be delighted if Obsidian do exactly that in later expansions.
Choices, I am happy to inform you, do carry through with significant impact to the game’s conclusion. There are a few that upon closer inspection result in a preordained outcome, and the strength of the more complex choices only serve to highlight their superficiality. It’s equally unfortunate that one of the game’s more vexing choices will more than likely be decided upon which reward will prove most beneficial to your character build, but my hope is that you will approach it as an extension of the protagonists predilection, and not yours. Your decisions culminate in a highly satisfying resolution that manages to avoid sequel baiting as well as touch upon the fate of your companions. And multiple endings do in fact mean multiple endings, Mass Effect 4 writers, take note!
The tale is told, the tale is told
At the beginning of this review, I mentioned that the narrative reflected in an almost meta-like sense the experience of playing the game. The Watcher is constantly assaulted with dual realities, and anyone who steps into Eora with the cherished memories of Baldur’s Gate and Planescape: Torment will likely experience the same. When Pillars invokes heady nostalgia, it benefits from an almost inherent familiarity that wins us over the moment we hit the title screen. That it appeases our desire to revisit the fondness of previous decades is absolutely to Obsidian’s credit. But this approach will always risk amplifying shortcomings, and Pillars is no exception. The antagonist, while certainly well written and not without shades of grey to break the ebony black, is no Jon Irenicus, and the scale of the main quest falls short of matching those found in Black Isle’s definitive creations, I vividly recall the moment my journey in Baldur’s Gate 2 came to an end; the relief, the triumph, that palpable moment of quietness as the realisation dawned that I had gone as far as I could go, and no further. Pillars falls admirably short of matching that utterly unique experience, but Obsidian made it clear to which bar they aspired to, and so they must be judged on their attempt to overcome that mark.
Nevertheless, Pillars of Eternity is the most comprehensive emulation of the classic Infinity engine games to date and a wonderful emblem for the potency of the written word. The odd stumble does little to deter what is an Armstrong-like footstep toward a very promising future for the genre, old-timers and neophytes alike take to the digital pathways and rejoice!
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