{"id":3821,"date":"2011-09-15T22:23:13","date_gmt":"2011-09-16T06:23:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chocolatehammer.org\/?p=3821"},"modified":"2026-06-15T17:07:22","modified_gmt":"2026-06-16T01:07:22","slug":"3821","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chocolatehammer.org\/?p=3821","title":{"rendered":"The Cyrodiil Look: Cahmel’s New Travels (Let’s Play Oblivion, Part 24)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

I love to see you go, but I hate to watch you leave.<\/p><\/div>\n

When we last left our cunning hero, he was on his way to perform an assassination pro bono<\/em> because a strange man told him it was a good career move. Something to think about, isn\u2019t it? I mean, I\u2019m not implying that this whole ritualistic cult murder thing doesn\u2019t seem legit\u2014perish the thought<\/em>\u2014I\u2019m just pointing out that I have to take it on some faith that once I\u2019ve killed my target, I\u2019m not going to get left out in the middle of the woods with no follow-up visit while Lucy heads back to his bosses and says, \u201cWhat, Rufio? Yeah, I took care of him. No problem. Now, what are my next ten assignments?\u201d<\/p>\n

The journey to the location is more or less uneventful. Funny thing about Oblivion is that half the time, traveling on the road seems to lead you to more areas of interest than wandering around off the beaten path. That might seem intuitive, at first\u2014except that it means there\u2019s a bunch of ruins that have been sitting around in heavily populated areas, bursting with ancient treasures, significant historical artifacts, and monsters poised within striking distance of main roads\u2026for centuries. In a realm where the two most popular professions appear to be:<\/p>\n

1.)\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Working for a guild centered around some genre of murder<\/p>\n

2.)\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Hanging out in the woods, killing people and things, exchanging the loot for yarn and wooden spoons<\/p>\n

It\u2019s the classic Fallout problem of, \u201cWhy hasn\u2019t someone been to this supermarket full of perfectly good food and drugs in two hundred years, when it\u2019s right next to <\/em>a settlement with no obvious food source?\u201d When combined with the level scaling, which warps every living creature in the realm to however good you are at violence, it kinda ruins the illusion that the world is their for anyone\u2019s benefit but yours. You get the vague sense that NPCs sit around town smoking cigarettes when you\u2019re not there, and all scramble back into costume when they see you riding over the horizon\u2014proudly brandishing the goodie bag they\u2019d left for you in one of their vast, gloomy activity centers.<\/p>\n

Morrowind didn\u2019t really have this problem. This was partially because the roads were generally winding, unclear, badly labeled, and dangerous enough that you generally just wanted to use the fast travel. This was partially because the enemies were not level scaled, and after the sixth or seventh time you got your ass fried for getting to close to Asharganafukuwup, you got a sense of why people steered clear. It didn\u2019t matter that you\u2019d eventually be able to level up and take the place on\u2014hell, that\u2019s what made it feel great when you did. It was like, \u201cI, Outlander O\u2019Utlander, am the only jerky-gnawing enchant-abusing mark-recalling wrecking crew who is a bad enough dude <\/em>to clear this place out, and dammit, I had to work to get that way.\u201d That worked for the higher level places, anyway–and generally, the low-level areas would be quaint, easy-to-miss cave doors, either temporarily occupied by banditos or crewed by ancestral spirits and skeletons the natives would have compunctions about messing with.<\/p>\n

Whereas in Oblivion, it seems like half the dungeons have obvious superstructures that can be easily seen from the main trade roads\u2014broadcasting an invitation to all potential looters\/archeologists\/mages looking to stomp necromancers unmentionables. And since you know you can take on any one of these dungeons at any time, it becomes harder for you to see why anyone else wouldn\u2019t\u2014especially when you\u2019re first level, and every undead, goblin, bandit, and necromancer has the striking power of a hair dryer and the structural integrity of a baking souffl\u00e9.<\/p>\n

Anyway, the point\u2014which I think I dropped behind the seat cushion three or four paragraphs ago\u2014was that a lot of major dungeons are clustered along the road, and if you walk off the road, you might go some distance without bumping into one. It does partially depend on where you are, and how straightforward your path is, and how unlucky you are, and whether or not you can read the compass properly. In my case–apart from a little shrine where you can give yourself a temporary piece of armor that looks silly and is of debatable application, much like those rub-on tattoos of dolphins and M&Ms you can buy at pizza joints\u2014I bumped into buck all on my journey to the Inn of Ill Omen. Which is just as well, I suppose. It meant I\u2019d be able to save my strength and wits for the job, which I already got the feeling was going to be tricky.<\/p>\n

Okay, take it easy. What you\u2019re about to do is gain access to the room of a man so paranoid, he\u2019s holed up alone in the middle of nowhere, and kill him without attracting the attention of any guards, or private henchmen, or bystanders. This is obviously going to take a certain amount of finesse. Approach this as you would any treacherous and multifaceted mental exercise: methodically.<\/p>\n

Step one was to find Rufio\u2019s exact location. That meant worming it out of the proprietor. The proprietor was a calm, guarded man\u2014easy of disposition, but with an air of worldliness and caution that instantly put me on my guard. He looked at me, and his expression was nothing but smiles and good old folksy hospitality, and I knew that he could smell<\/em> what I was. The moment the door swung open, the stink of my sins and deceit reached him, and he withdrew into his fortress and barred the gates. This man didn\u2019t just roll off the turnip cart. He was a worthy opponent. Getting this information out of him would be my first test.<\/p>\n

I walked up to the bar and ordered myself a drink. He served it up on the bar, a midrange Surille\u2019s of adequate vintage. I thumbed the cork open, took a long, casual sip of wine, and opened with: \u201cNice weather we\u2019ve been having.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Rufio?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDown that trapdoor. End of the hallway, first left. Door\u2019s unlocked.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

"Heya. How've you been? Name's Cahmel. C-A-H-M-E-L. If some guards come through here asking who killed Rufio, could you be a dear and let them know it was me? Only sometimes, I forget to leave a note."<\/p><\/div>\n

Like a shadow, I walked across the well-lit barroom, nodding politely at the other patrons, and climbed the ladder downstairs.<\/p>\n

Rufio was, as the bartender had promised, down the ladder\u2014waiting for the end of his life to come, borne by me on semiswift wings. Perhaps the only way to give you an accurate impression of the chaotic, blood-pounding, tooth-and-nail battle that followed is by sharing the following pictures with you:<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Well, that was a close one. I was dangerously close to falling asleep myself.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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