AT THE start of Fable 2, I really wanted to be good. The game world of Albion was so gorgeously rendered, the people so sweet, all I wanted was to be their hero. I determined to stay healthy and bought a rag doll and toy bow as presents for the children in Bowerstone Market. Women flocked to see me dancing, cooing expectantly before I blew them kisses and made my way.
Life in the game world was good, but I should have known it wouldn't last. I went down to the lake late one night looking for the potion seller in the gypsy camp. I was minding my own business when some drunken thug suddenly kicked my dog, calling him a dirty fleabag. I decided to cut him down. I opened the menu, turned off the safety setting that had been keeping the citizens of Albion safe until now and drew my sword.
He begged me not to kill him. But dog kickers had no place in my vision for Albion. I cut him down with a single slash. The public execution was morally sound, but a nearby trader started shouting, drawing the guards to my position. "To hell with you all," I thought, loathing mankind. "He deserved to die." I killed 16 guards before my thumb got tired and accepted the guard's offer of community service in return for my freedom.
I went back to Bowerstone Market a few days later. A young girl ran away screaming as I approached. Young women who just the other day were cajoling me into performing another dance said scornfully, "I know all about you, murderer!"
Action role-playing games are tricky things. Giving gamers like me weapons and then punishing us for using them seems hypocritical. But then again, it is a good feeling knowing that in Fable 2, our choices have consequences.
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