In a Hostile Country: The Saga of Cahmel (Let’s Play Morrowind, Part 24)

Bonus Cahmel’s a bit earlier than I originally planned, but you lot were so quick to read V&B that I figured I’d get it right out. Vatsy and Bruno itself should be coming up here, followed by the next D&D post.

When we last left our silver-tongued hero, he’d just came back from a mission of bribery (mandated) and larceny (my own discretion). To my great surprise, my reward of 1000 drakes actually surpassed the sum I had to blow through getting there and doing the quest.

Bolstered by this unexpected windfall (read: getting paid), I press Uncle Crassy for more assignments. He replies that he has “no more business for someone of your rank.” Oh, that’s right, the whole point of me coming out here was to get promoted. I ask him for a rank up, and hit a bit of a snag.

See, most factions in Morrowind have two criteria for advancement. First, you have to perform enough duties. You can usually perform these any way you like: you can do almost any Fighter’s Guild quest with magic, and do almost any Mage’s Guild quest with brute force. At some point, the devs realized, “Hey, isn’t that kind of stupid? I mean, sure, you’re getting the job done, but nobody’s even checking to make sure you’re doing it right? It’s like getting promoted to the CEO of Microsoft because you’re good at firebombing Apple stores.” So they added a second criterion: you must raise one skill germane to the faction to a certain rank, and at least two other related skills to a significantly lower rank.

To the developers, this solved two issues in one. Firstly, they ensure that any verisimilitude-breaking class/faction combinations did not ensue. Secondly, they ensure that players are skilled enough to undertake any given mission (there’s no real level scaling in Morrowind, so it’s easy to stumble into a quest that’s way over your head). There’s just one tiny flaw with this system:

Morrowind has a spectacularly, luminously, gloriously broken training system.

Seriously. Most RPG forums are like libraries of exploitation, combination archives and debate floors where every crack in the game’s balance is analyzed and worried away at until it splits wide open. To the denizens of such forums, Morrowind’s training system is something of a sacred bounty. If you use training—not even abuse training, but use it at all, even unwittingly—you should know that you are breaking the game. All of it. Forever.

See, here’s how training works. You go to a trainer. This trainer will have three skills they can teach you, usually only up to a certain (high) point. You pay them a fee, and you get a skill point. You pay them another fee, and you get another skill point. If you get enough skill points to level up, you level up. You are quite literally buying your character’s progression.

Now, sure, there’s a system of diminishing returns where every point purchased is more expensive than the last, but when you consider that Morrowind (like most RPGs) suffers from a broken economy, that’s no real object. I mean, look at me—I’m hemorrhaging bribe money, splurging on transportation, and paying other people’s debts out of my own pocket, and I’ve still earned more money incidentally than I need for anything, including this. And I’m still buying training appropriate for my level—in the endgame, where you’re fabulously wealthy, you can essentially master any discipline on a whim. In my first Morrowind playthrough, once I became head of the Fighter’s Guild (and absurdly rich), I just bought master training in three schools of magic. Then I joined up with the Mage’s Guild and became Archmage without learning a single spell. It’s like if Sylvester Stallone bought a shady online degree and became the Dean of Harvard.

I buy 7 ranks of Light Armor before I even bother to check my finances. When they’ve gone dry, I leg it upstairs and hit the pawn shop to sell some of the obscenely valuable items I haven’t gotten around to hocking yet. Then I come back down for some more. By the end of the day, I’d raised my Light Armor skill from 46 (out of a possible 100) to 60, enough advancement to wrangle two promotions.

Not pictured: an engaging, balanced mechanic.

Now, here’s the thing that’s kind of funny: technically, training doesn’t take any time. You just go to a trainer, go into conversation, and click to get trained a point. You then leave conversation and your skill goes up. In-game, no time has passed. Basically, my character has just learned everything there is to know about using light armor in 5 or 6 seconds. It’s kind of like the Matrix, except stupid.

Cahmel: I know Unarmed.

Crassius: Show me.

Cahmel:…oh-kay, I don’t remember that sounding so creepy when Morpheus said it.

Crassius: That’s the magic of Uncle Crassy, puddikins.

Despite this marathon cramming session/training montage, I’m still not good enough to get jobs from the creepy man. Luckily for me, the next logical quest-person is only a short walk away. Unluckily for me, that means I’m stuck in this goddamn city for another half-dozen missions. Whatever, I’m gone, Crassy. Don’t leer at anyone I wouldn’t leer at.

My next boss is Edryno Arethi, a woman who lives in a tiny office/dwelling downstairs. When I get there, I get the fairly warm greeting I’m now used to getting from my peers. Er. Just so it’s clear, that’s actually not sarcastic, there. Hlaalu employees are genuinely friendly to me at this point. I guess my reputation as a bribe-briber, letter-deliverer, and bug-squasher precede me in my business dealings.

Drano doesn’t look terribly busy, but apparently she has something damn important to attend to, because she gives me a quest to deliver a package to one of her colleagues in the Hlaalu treasury. For those of you keeping score, these offices are located exactly across the hall. Like, 50 feet away. She could probably crumple the package up and lob it outside his doorstep. But no, she needs a professional to transport it for her. I’m so glad I took so many classes in Light Armor, guys. It’s nice to know that if I get a papercut on my way, I’ll be able to roll with it or something. I dunno.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: sealed package, huh? Treasury, huh? Haven’t I seen this quest before in something a little shadier? Well, you can put away your mithril-foil hats—this seems pretty on the level. Firstly, she’s on the same floor as this guy, so we can infer that they have some sort of casual working relationship. Secondly, I’m bringing this to the actual head guy, so if there is some sort of corruption at that level it’s really not my problem. Thirdly, you’d have to be pretty friggin’ brazen to start scamming the treasury not a day after someone gets sent up the river for scamming the treasury.

Anyway, I deliver the package and get a whole 50 drakes for my troubles. Wow, that’s a whole half of a Bastard Tax!

Next quest…lookee there, seems have to find some guy and collect some debts from him. Know what, screw that action. I’m sure it’d be a wild and whimsical romp beyond the telling of it, but I’m going to make an executive in-character decision and pay the debt myself…all 800 drakes of it. On the plus side, since I “recovered” the “debt money”, I get to keep half of it.

Alright next quest. Yadda yadda, flavor text, merchants ambushed…they need bodyguards…it is my task to…

Escort a merchant and protect him from bandits? Aw, seriously? You’re, like, you’re breaking my streak, man. It’s been like five solid in-game days since I’ve had to hold some NPC’s hand and escort them across the street, carefully steering them around geography and praying they won’t choke on their own tongues. It was probably the best 5 days of my life.

Whatever, I’ll mange. Where am I taking them to? Pelegiad. Oh, okay, small town. Don’t think there’s any fast transport there, so we’ll have to…waaaaait a second.

Pelegiad. Pe-le-gi-ad. That’s…why is that so familiar?

Oh god.

Sweet albatross gumbo, that’s the town I streaked through twice.

Looks like I’m gonna go ahead and break that promise to never go back to Pelegiad.

Again.