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My Skyrim character, an elf named Harold Bloodshadow, was completely on board with taking down The Empire...until he met the Stormcloaks and realized that they're totally racist...against elves. As far as I'm concerned they can all go to Hell. Thankfully, Steven has put more thought into this dynamic than I have.
Every fiction writer worth their salt will tell you that the best villains always imagine themselves to be the heroes of the story.
Video games create a similar situation. Rarely are we forced to second-guess our actions in Gears of War's battle with the underground-dwelling Locust, and we're never left wondering whether Halo's destruction of the human race is indeed the will of alien gods.
Because the efficient video-game soldier cannot have a crisis of faith on the battlefield, the warrior must see himself not as a murderer but as an instrument of God.
I understand your party's trade policy but if I may interject here...
There's no need to discuss the government's tax policy when aliens declare holy war on humanity, and there's no time to debate political agendas when the world is ending. With this oversimplified moral motivation we willingly give up higher brain function in favor of ignorance and guilt-free violence. We're just here to shoot things.
It's easily the route Skyrim could've taken. I can just see designer Todd Howard laughing gleefully to himself during the opening sequence as the player is led to the executioner's axe on account of a paperwork error. I can't help but sympathize with the rebel faction and despise my imperial captors.
40 to 50 hours of gameplay later I am horrified to learn that these seemingly patriotic Nords I've pledged my allegiance to are nothing but racist louts.
Wait...what happened to taking the fight to the evil empire? Why do we hate elves now?
Uhh, is that a standard issue uniform? Or do I have to find my own bear skin?
This shouldn't have come as a surprise. The nuance was always there, I just wasn't used to looking for it: a guard sympathetic to my unjust execution, a shopkeeper extolling Skyrim's dependence on the empire, a Stormcloak slur about dark elves. I had been blinded by my own fanaticism.
The Empire’s supporters are not other-worldly invaders, they are my friends and neighbors. At every turn the game plays with my preconceptions and forces me to face issues head on.
The city of Whiterun is the perfect microcosm of Skyrim's division. Upon arrival, I was immediately set upon by a member of the Battle-born clan, strong supporters of the Imperials, and bluntly questioned as to my intentions and loyalties.
The man cornered me outside the inn: "So, which political party do you belong to?"
It's a loaded question. My answer would reveal my political leanings in the civil war, my adherence to traditional Nord values, and even my religious beliefs.
Come on, I haven't even saved yet.
The brawny blonde offered me a warning: "You better make up your mind soon."
A few more steps and I'm confronted by a preacher ranting about a deity whose worship has been outlawed by the Imperials. "Injustice!" I cry, only to discover the decision was actually a last-ditch effort to create peace between the weakening empire and a supremacist nation of elves. Once again, things weren't as simple as I thought.
Yet, how can I support religious persecution at the hands of an invading force? How can Skyrim be free while foreign armies control our government and trample our traditions, devour our wealth and bleed our sons and daughters in wars far from home?
There is no righteous cause in Skyrim. There is no cut and dry theology or political view here, only hard choices and people struggling to live with the consequences.
It may take some getting used to, but that's the last time I join a rebellion on a whim without hearing all the facts.
