Once I finally get my lazy little fingers around to playing Fallout 3 there will be some interesting choices to make. To cut down to it – am I going to be good or bad? Most of the time, when presented with choice in a game, as much as I want to be nasty, corrupt and an all round bastard… I just can’t bring myself to do it.
Fable 2 is a good case in point. Good or evil choices were much mooted in the many lavish previews and I rubbed my hands with glee, imagining the disgraceful things I was going to get up to. I popped the disc into my 360 with the worst of intentions… and then bottled it in the first few minutes when some fagin-esque piece of work wanted me to smash up a load of warehouse crates. I was appalled and he was naturally told to do one and thus, my halo remained intact. Yay for me. Or perhaps not – you see, being good is so incredibly mundane.
The majority of games are spent saving useless people, doing pointless errands and gunning down baddies; the warm fuzzy feeling from such putrid niceness has been stretched thinner than Tony Blair’s credibility. In short, I’m sick of being so nice. Yes, I may receive a tasty piece of furniture from an Animal Crossing resident, but just once, I’d love to go on a rampage around the acres, razing houses to the ground and kicking Tom Nook in the bells. I’d love to slaughter Princess Peach, sledgehammer Pikmin like a Whack-A-Mole game and tarmac over Hyrule.
Why was it then, that when it came down to it with Fable 2, I couldn’t do it? I couldn’t put the rent up on a house or contemplate slaughtering the incumbent tenants to clear the way for a property take-over. Instead, I saved the day and ate a lot of tofu… in short, I sold out. I have promised myself that once I complete it as a do-gooder, I will go back and be a thorough bastard, but still, for once, it could have been the other way around. For once, I could have been bad from the get go and then been a good gal on the replay.
So Fallout 3 is my saving grace. Choices will be offered and gratefully taken – sorry, brusquely snatched. I will make the most of being a nasty piece of work for once and I plan on enjoying it. Good will wither and evil shall rise and part of me wonders that if I enjoy it as much as I feel I will in my blackening bones, will I ever cross back? After all, evil does have more fun and often the best outfits, look at the history of the best of the bad: black clothes, scary black gloves which always need to be removed very slowly, pointy teeth/horns/or hats and best of all, red lightsabers. Sold.
In an alternate universe…
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