GetDotted Domains

Viewing Thread:
"A Day in the Strife of an NPC"

The "Sony Games" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.

Mon 25/07/16 at 13:12
Regular
"Braaains"
Posts: 439
We often take Non-Player Characters, or NPCs, for granted, yet I'd like you to spare a thought for these oft-beleaguered individuals. It may seem like they're they're just there to provide background detail or divulge some minor piece of quest-related information, but what if they had their own individual stories? Today, I'll take you inside the head of two NPCs and and ponder what might life might be like for them.

City Guard:

As soon as you walked into the guard house that day, you knew something was wrong. The Captain solemnly informed you that one of your fellow guards, a half-elf named Forthal, had been found dead inside Btal's Bargains. It seems if someone had tried to rob the place and when Forthal intervened, he was run through. The oddest thing was, the shop wasn't even on his patrol route, so no-one knows what he was doing there.

The matter was hushed up, not least because the Captain didn't want to alarm the citizenry, the city not having seen a murder in twenty years. It became a lot harder to keep a lid on things when, two nights later, another guard turned up dead. Once again, it seemed as if the officer had interrupted a burglary and been cut down for his troubles. This time, there was no chance of covering it up.

And so, here you are, walking the streets once again, albeit in a manner unbefitting of your five years service. But, you reason, you have a daughter to think of - you don't want to someone to have to tell her that her father has had his throat slit by some footpad, not after what happened to her mother. So, stifling the shame that's rising in your heart, you turn left where once you would have turned right, taking your patrol through the poorer part of town, a place you feel reasonably confident no-one would want to rob.

And then, it happens. There's no puff of smoke or clap of thunder, no faint glow at the edge of your vision. All you know is that one minute, you were walking on cobbled streets, the next your feet are resting upon the floorboards of what appears to be a very dimly lit shop. As your eyes adjust, you make out a faint figure rifling through the shelves. Words jump to your lips, almost as if they want to be said.. 'Stop, thie.'. You don't have time to finish your sentence before the figure is upon you, cold steel penetrating your torso as you crumple to the ground.

Your last thought, as your vision fades to nothingness, is that you hope that the Captain will break the news gently...


Commuter:

Was there every a time when you weren't walking? Your journey must have started somewhere, though you never seem to reach your destination. Are you walking to work? Or have you just clocked off and are heading home? Do you even have a job? These details elude you, even your name a mystery to you. Your clothes, comfortably attired as you are, offer few clues, though they never seem to show any kind of wear. You can't recall ever having changed them, so surely they should be pretty filthy by now. Come to think of it, shouldn't your feet be hurting? Why does this constant ambulation never seem to tire you out?

Often the urge to walk is so strong that it fills your mind to the exclusion of all else, preventing these other more unsettling thoughts from slipping in. You've grown so familiar with the city that you feel you could guide people to any of the thousands of shops, buildings or landmarks therein. Yet no-one ever stops to ask you for directions. Would you be able to even stop if they did ask? Sometimes people mutter pleasantries as your journeys intersect, a mumbled 'Hi', or 'Hello!', though they never show any interest in holding a conversation.

Sometimes, the urge to walk diminishes and you find yourself able to slow a little, though you've never been able to stop. What have you done to deserve this ceaseless torment? Are you perhaps being punished for some transgression? You've passed these buildings so many times that you must be going in circles, as if enacting some grand Sisyphean torture. It's these thoughts that are occupying your mind when the car hits you, careering towards you as the driver leaps clear. 'At last..' you think, '.. I can rest'.

Darkness relinquishes its hold upon you all too soon and you awaken to find yourself lying on the pavement, an EMT standing above you. He pulls you up off the pavement, helping you to stand as you gaze down and find yourself curiously unscathed. You try to open your mouth, to ask if he can take you to the hospital, just in case you've broken something. But nary a word issues from his mouth as he clambers into the ambulance and drives off. What do you do now? Where do you go? Then, it comes to you. There's only one thing to do. You walk.

Neverending stories

The above stories are, of course, fiction. Non-player characters are nothing more than collections of code. They don't have their own dreams, desires or needs and their lives certainly don't carry on when you turn the console off. Nor should you feel bad about the children who became orphans when you decided you were going to go for that 'Oncoming Traffic' achievement. After all, it's just a game - isn't it?

(This also posted on my other blog)
There have been no replies to this thread yet.
Mon 25/07/16 at 13:12
Regular
"Braaains"
Posts: 439
We often take Non-Player Characters, or NPCs, for granted, yet I'd like you to spare a thought for these oft-beleaguered individuals. It may seem like they're they're just there to provide background detail or divulge some minor piece of quest-related information, but what if they had their own individual stories? Today, I'll take you inside the head of two NPCs and and ponder what might life might be like for them.

City Guard:

As soon as you walked into the guard house that day, you knew something was wrong. The Captain solemnly informed you that one of your fellow guards, a half-elf named Forthal, had been found dead inside Btal's Bargains. It seems if someone had tried to rob the place and when Forthal intervened, he was run through. The oddest thing was, the shop wasn't even on his patrol route, so no-one knows what he was doing there.

The matter was hushed up, not least because the Captain didn't want to alarm the citizenry, the city not having seen a murder in twenty years. It became a lot harder to keep a lid on things when, two nights later, another guard turned up dead. Once again, it seemed as if the officer had interrupted a burglary and been cut down for his troubles. This time, there was no chance of covering it up.

And so, here you are, walking the streets once again, albeit in a manner unbefitting of your five years service. But, you reason, you have a daughter to think of - you don't want to someone to have to tell her that her father has had his throat slit by some footpad, not after what happened to her mother. So, stifling the shame that's rising in your heart, you turn left where once you would have turned right, taking your patrol through the poorer part of town, a place you feel reasonably confident no-one would want to rob.

And then, it happens. There's no puff of smoke or clap of thunder, no faint glow at the edge of your vision. All you know is that one minute, you were walking on cobbled streets, the next your feet are resting upon the floorboards of what appears to be a very dimly lit shop. As your eyes adjust, you make out a faint figure rifling through the shelves. Words jump to your lips, almost as if they want to be said.. 'Stop, thie.'. You don't have time to finish your sentence before the figure is upon you, cold steel penetrating your torso as you crumple to the ground.

Your last thought, as your vision fades to nothingness, is that you hope that the Captain will break the news gently...


Commuter:

Was there every a time when you weren't walking? Your journey must have started somewhere, though you never seem to reach your destination. Are you walking to work? Or have you just clocked off and are heading home? Do you even have a job? These details elude you, even your name a mystery to you. Your clothes, comfortably attired as you are, offer few clues, though they never seem to show any kind of wear. You can't recall ever having changed them, so surely they should be pretty filthy by now. Come to think of it, shouldn't your feet be hurting? Why does this constant ambulation never seem to tire you out?

Often the urge to walk is so strong that it fills your mind to the exclusion of all else, preventing these other more unsettling thoughts from slipping in. You've grown so familiar with the city that you feel you could guide people to any of the thousands of shops, buildings or landmarks therein. Yet no-one ever stops to ask you for directions. Would you be able to even stop if they did ask? Sometimes people mutter pleasantries as your journeys intersect, a mumbled 'Hi', or 'Hello!', though they never show any interest in holding a conversation.

Sometimes, the urge to walk diminishes and you find yourself able to slow a little, though you've never been able to stop. What have you done to deserve this ceaseless torment? Are you perhaps being punished for some transgression? You've passed these buildings so many times that you must be going in circles, as if enacting some grand Sisyphean torture. It's these thoughts that are occupying your mind when the car hits you, careering towards you as the driver leaps clear. 'At last..' you think, '.. I can rest'.

Darkness relinquishes its hold upon you all too soon and you awaken to find yourself lying on the pavement, an EMT standing above you. He pulls you up off the pavement, helping you to stand as you gaze down and find yourself curiously unscathed. You try to open your mouth, to ask if he can take you to the hospital, just in case you've broken something. But nary a word issues from his mouth as he clambers into the ambulance and drives off. What do you do now? Where do you go? Then, it comes to you. There's only one thing to do. You walk.

Neverending stories

The above stories are, of course, fiction. Non-player characters are nothing more than collections of code. They don't have their own dreams, desires or needs and their lives certainly don't carry on when you turn the console off. Nor should you feel bad about the children who became orphans when you decided you were going to go for that 'Oncoming Traffic' achievement. After all, it's just a game - isn't it?

(This also posted on my other blog)

Freeola & GetDotted are rated

Check out some of our customer reviews below:

Brilliant service.
Love it, love it, love it!
Christopher
LOVE it....
You have made it so easy to build & host a website!!!
Gemma

View More Reviews

Need some help? Give us a call on 01376 55 60 60

Go to Support Centre
Feedback Hide Feedback Tab

It appears you are using an old browser, as such, some parts of the Freeola and Getdotted site will not work as intended. Using the latest version of your browser, or another browser such as Google Chrome, Mozilla Firefox, or Opera will provide a better, safer browsing experience for you.