Day 1, Cont'd: Hunting in Cyrodiil

Sharlassa sets out for the gate about 9am. Right out of the gate, I spot another apple tree and some aloe. I pick as much as I can and start whipping up some more potions. Things are definitely going my way. Nothing can sour my mood, not even the sun-bleached skeleton I find near the road.

I spot a big, sinister stone shrine with a nice overview of Anvil's bay.

Shortly thereafter, I see someone sneakily moving through the grass. A bandit? I drop into a crouch to hide, and ready my bow in case of a confrontation.

She's already seen me, though. I consider shooting at her just in case, but she hasn't shown any hostility. I choose instead to approach. Turns out, she's just out hunting. She gives me the low-down on the criminal element this side of Tamriel, and she's happy to buy all my potions and some of the arrowroot I've managed to pick up in my hiking.

I'm starting to feel like more of a botanist than a hunter. I haven't seen so much as a squirrel in the couple of hours that I've been roaming the countryside, and my stomach is starting to rumble. I break for a midday lunch of bread and beef while I talk to the hunter. Then it's off to seek out some tasty animals.

I find the corpses of the deer the hunter just slew, but she's already stripped them of their meat. Dammit!

Ahead I see some ruins, and I sneak up to check them out. A voice in my head tells me they're called Crowhaven, which sounds pretty ominous. I make sure to walk very stealthily, just in case.

Aha! I see movement in the ruins, so I take aim and... huh? That looks like a skeleton. Hmm... maybe I'd better just leave. I start to creep away, but the skeleton spots me and runs at me with a giant mace. Waugh!

I pull out my rusty little dagger and slash at him, carefully blocking his blows with my head. After a few minutes of our deadly dance, he flops to the ground. No sooner does he fall than an even bigger one with a giant battle axe comes out swinging. I make him dead, but I nearly die myself. After I take a few moments to recover, I decide to investigate the ruins. After all, how many more skeletons could there be? I remember that one of Sharlassa's racial abilities allows her to Detect Life within 100 feet. I cast the spell to look around.

Holy crap! This place is swarming with skeleton guards! I take the only rational course of action:

After I get comfortably far from Crowhaven, I head north up the coast. It occurs to me to use my newly remembered power to look for game.

It works, though all I manage to spot is a couple of mud crabs. I splat them with the axe I salvaged from the skeleton warrior. Booyah!

I also find some more of that strange root.

Near some more ruins, which my woman's intuition tells me are called Garlas Malatar, I find buttloads of water plants to harvest.

I near yet more ruins, and this one houses a mage who seems not too happy to see me. She initiates hostilities, but I pwn her with my axe in one swing. Who's yo momma!

Among her possessions is a wicked magic staff, along with a shiny new dagger to replace my old rusty one. Nice! This makes up for the total lack of animals on this hunting trip. As thanks for making my day, I leave her naked in the grass.

I've about given up on finding anything worth hunting today. It's already 4:30, and I'm a long way from Anvil. I need to start heading back if I want to make it there by nightfall. I take one final look out at the ocean before I head inland to look for a road. Ahh... that's the great thing about hunting in Cyrodiil. Even if you don't kill anything, you can still find a sweet view.

Day 1, Cont'd: Grand Theft Onion

I head through the dock gate and into Anvil Proper. It's a nicer place inside, but my admiration of the city's nightly beauty is cut off by a sneaky-looking figure skulking through the streets.

Thinking him up to no good, I begin to follow him through Anvil's alleys. Soon enough, my suspicions about him are proven right. He begins looting the barrels and boxes outside people's homes. Huh. Must be an adventurer.

While thievery is one way of scrounging up some money, I don't want to get into trouble with the law my first day here. People get cranky when you take their stuff. No, if you're going to steal something, it needs to be public property; after all, Congress gets away with it. Er, I mean the Elder Council gets away with it. Anyway, I look around for something small, and soon I realize just the thing.

I proceed to stuff my pockets with flowers. Stealing the city's beauty is low, but it's something that grows back. After I pick a few, I realize morning glory has restorative properties as well, and I make a note to seek out an alchemist to sell them to.

I scour the city, picking morning glory here and aloe vera there. I also find a strange herb that emits a curious ringing sound. I pick it, hoping it'll be valuable. Dawn is starting to break, and I'm getting hungry. I'm about to break into my loaf of bread when something hits me on the head. Ow! I look down to see an apple rolling around.

Chow time!

I eat a few apples and pick whatever else I can reach. It's a graveyard, not an orchard, so I doubt anyone will complain. Still, I nearly jump out of my loincloth when I hear a man yelling. It wasn't me!

But the yelling continues, and it doesn't seem to be coming any closer. I follow my ears to a preacher fellow.

Ahh... this must be the prophet the pirates were talking about. I listen to his speech for a little while, nodding and giving the occasional "Amen!" just to be polite, but I really don't understand a word he says. I shouldn't have egged him on, though, since he starts talking directly to me about taking a quest and the writing in blood and some ancient king who's killed the gods. Both to humor him and to get away from his ranting, I decide to duck inside the chapel across the street to see the scene of the crime.

And what a scene it is! Dead bodies litter the chapel, and what looks like bloody runes circle the central altar. The guards are incompetent, I've been told, so maybe I should use my kick-ass tracking skills to pick up some clues as to the killer. I examine the bodies and find the murderer was not interested in money.

I stop to think for a moment. Why are the bodies still here? If the prophet arrived a few days after the attack and has been here "ever since", that would suggest the chapel was attacked a week ago or more. And yet, someone's left these bodies in here stinking it up! Typical government work, if you ask me. Incompetent guards? Yes. I decide to, uh, bag and tag the evidence. Specifically, that evidence which proves that they weren't killed for money. I tell myself it's acceptable. After all, if their property is unclaimed by relatives, that makes it public property, and it's only fair that I have access to it.

Feeling quite smug about my ability to rationalize thievery in broad daylight, I continue my search for alchemic ingredients, secure in the knowledge that now I've got 46 septims in my pockets. That'll last me a few nights at the Black Flag, but I can't count on finding slaughtered clergy every day, so stealing veggies it is. When I'm satisfied that I've gathered any vegetable matter in the city, I head over to the Mage's Guild to hoc my morning glory to the resident alchemist. I get there before he's awake, apparently, so I twiddle my thumbs for a while and listen to a Nord woman try to recruit the head mage into the fighter's guild. Persistent buggers.

Eventually the alchemist, a dark elf named Felen Relas, appears, and I begin to dump all my morning glory on him. I'm about to get rid of the aloe vera, too, when I realize there's a much better deal to be had. He's selling a mortar and pestle which, through my kick-ass livin'-off-the-land skills, I know will help me whip these common plants into some much cooler, and much more valuable, potions. So I buy it and mix up apple bits and aloe vera into mush to create a potion of restore fatigue. Felen, though watching me mush together two 1 septim ingredients, buys each of the potions for 6 septims. W00t! That's business in Cyrodiil, baby! You gotta spend money to make money, but when your ship comes in, buy does it come in! I sell off the excess ingredients that I can't make into potions and, when I step out of the guild, I'm sitting pretty on 297 septims. Now that's pocket change!

Next, it's off to Morvayn's Peacekeepers, the weapon and armor shop right across the street. I pick out a nice steel bow which, while more expensive than the iron one he has in stock, is more durable and lighter. He's only got eight arrows, though, so I buy those and make a mental note to conserve ammo. I also purchase a repair hammer for good measure.

I step out into the street a true hunter. With my bow in hand, all fluffy, cuddly things will fall before my awesome hunter skills. I also look pretty bad-ass, if I do say so myself.

Quit staring at my ass, pig!

Day 1: A Fresh Start

My ship pulls into port in the dead of night, and the captain runs around waking everyone up. I grab all my possessions, which isn't saying much. I've got 17 septims to my name, an apple, and a dagger. Not much to start a new life with. I yawn, climb up to the deck and step onto the dock.

Anvil, jewel of the Gold Coast! Well, it's not much to look at this time of night. Actually, that's good. The dock is covered in junk and barrels, so it's just as well that it's so hard to see out. I shrug and head up the docks to chat with the locals. My mission: find a place to sleep and someplace to buy a bow. After all, what's a hunter without her bow? (Answer: hungry.)

There's a couple of sailors slapping each other silly, but they turn to talk with me. The wood elf is obviously insane, claiming to be royalty and that someone slaughtered all the people in the chapel. Ha! Like I believe that!

Further up the dock is a shabby inn call the Fo'c's'le. I have no idea how to pronounce that, but I poke my head in anyway. The proprietor isn't there, but I learn it only rents to sailors. I try to put on a pirate accent, but the other sailors just look at me funny. Huh. I guess they're not into piracy.

Luckily, though, I find some folks who are. At the end of the dock I find the Black Flag Tavern, a charming joint sporting a skull and crossbones outside the door. Well, if that's not begging the Legion to bust your hideout, I dunno what is.

Inside I find an old bartender named Peg Head Jack. Yep, it's definitely a pirate joint. I chat him up, talking like a pirate for maximum effect. I boast ("Arr! I be a pirate t' rule all pirates!"), admire ("Ye've got quite a peg head there."), coerce ("I'll make ye walk the plank, ye yeller-bellied landlubber!"), and joke ("What'd the cap'n say about the ship's wheel bein' in his breeches? 'Arr! It's drivin' me nuts!'"). In the end he offers me a room in the inn for 10 septims a night! Hurrah!

Further idle chat reveals that the crazy little elf dude's ranting wasn't entirely crazy ranting, and Peggy here gives me an editorial.

I shrug and purchase some beef and a loaf of bread in case I get hungry, setting me back 9 septims. Wait, now I don't have enough to buy a room for the night. Argh! I mean, "Arr!" If I can't come up with the money to buy a room, let alone a bow for hunting, I may have to resort to piracy. Best to cultivate good habits early.

As if to drive the point of my poverty home, the old argonian sitting at the bar leans over. "Hey, buddy," he hisses (though I'm not sure if he's trying to be stealthy or if that's just how argonians talk), "Wanna buy a ship?" Well, I suppose that would help my career in piracy. Is he serious?

Sweet! I only have to come up with... 24,992 septims! Hmm... that might be a while, especially with my current negative cash flow trend. I put him off with excuses, but make a mental note to consider coming back later when I have the money.

The pirates in the corner tell me a little more about the attack on the chapel, this time throwing in some details about the strange new fellow that showed up a couple of days after the attack.

I decide to look around the city a bit more before settling on the Black Flag as the place to plant my rump. Walking back up the dock brings me to the Flowing Bowl, where I get some information on one possible source of income. I don't think I want to join the fighter's guild, though. They'd probably expect me to do some fighting, and I dunno that I'm up to that. Sounds like a job for an adventurer, to me. Caenlorn, a wood elf who claims to be the identical twin of the short dude behind the counter (who looks completely different), gives me some tips about where I can shop:

Bingo! Morvayn's sounds like the perfect place to buy a bow. Now to find a way to make some money.

Intro: How it Works

Taking a page from my model, I'll be playing a normal, average, everyday, run-of-the-mill, ordinary citizen of Cyrodiil. I'll be following all the rules the game normally provides for NPCs:

1. I must eat. That means at least one meal per day, though preferably two or three. I won't require myself to drink, since NPCs don't have to bother with that.


2. I must sleep. Minimum of 12 hours of rest every 48 hours, though preferably 8 hours a day. This means I'll have to find someplace to live or at least temporarily take shelter. I could buy a house, but that requires money. I could rent an inn room, but that can be even more expensive over time. That means, point 3 is...


3. I must find a source of income. Jobs may be difficult to find, but if I can't manage to support myself, I'll have to resort to plundering dungeons, and no one would read a blog about that!


4. No fast travel. If I want to get somewhere, I'll use my own two feet. Or four, if I manage to scrape together enough to buy a horse. Part of this project is enjoying the immersion of the game. I want to really get inside my character's head and see what he sees.


5. No reloads. This is the big one. NPCs don't get to start over when they die. Except in the case of RL tragedies (say, I forget to pause the game when taking out the trash, only to be ripped apart by wolves), I won't be reloading for any reason.

If you've read Livin' in Oblivion, you'll recognize these rules as a straight rip-off. I'll be making one big change, though: I won't actively avoid adventures and quests. I'm going to try to stay in character and approach thing the way my character would. That's not un-NPC-like. After all, there are NPCs in the game that charge in and try to close Oblivion gates on their lonesome. No, I think I'll take things as they come, only being open to adventure when my character feels up to the challenge.

Who is our not-quite-a-hero, then? Well, I don't think I'll be able to stand looking at someone as fugly as Nondrick for hours on end. I have a tradition from years of gaming that I must uphold: if I must watch a character's butt running around on screen, it will damn well be a hot one. Being of the masculine persuasion, I conclude I must therefore play a chick.

Hello, darling! Can I buy you a dri... eh? She looks different? Well, that's because I'm using a custom race. Our heroine (that's with an "e"; the other kind doesn't exist in Oblivion, since we have skooma instead) is a Wildling, a race hailing from the more remote regions of Tamriel. They're fond of magic, good hunters, and possess the power to partially enter the spirit world occasionally.

How did one get into the Imperial Prisons, you ask? Well, now's a good time to mention another handy mod I'm using: Modular Oblivion Enhanced. It's a large mod with lots of different features, but the one that figures in to this blog the most is the Main Quest Delayer plug-in. It makes it so the Emperor was never assassinated. No one talks about it, there's no invasion from Oblivion, and there's certainly no need to save the world. More importantly for me, it starts the player off on a ship in Anvil. I'm poor as dirt, and I'll need to find a job. That might be difficult, though. First off, Oblivion doesn't generally offer jobs outside of adventuring. Even if it did, there's another problem:

See that wonderful 20 on Personality? Yikes! I think Sharlassa (yeah, that's what I'll call myself) will feel more comfortable in the woods than in town. I'll suppose she's a hunter who's left her homeland seeking adventure, driven only by... ugh, that's so cliché. Ah, I know! I've left my homeland in a fit of rebellion and now seek my fortune by... no, no. That's no better.

Oh, I've got it: I'll be a normal girl from a simple tribe just trying to make her way. I'm not prone to reckless adventure, but I may accept the occasional challenge. I'm a simple girl of simple means with a simple past. I'll make my decisions as they're presented to me and let my experiences change who I am, and maybe I'll grow into adventuring. That's the most appropriate way to role-play, I think, regardless of whether I'm playing an adventurer or not.

Time to get out there and live my simple life. Let's start living in Cyrodill, baby!

Intro: WTF?

Every once in a while, you stumble upon a blog so deep, so earth-shattering, and so unmistakably the product of genius that, when you have read it, your life changes forever.

This is not that blog.

It is inspired by one like that, though: the wildly popular Livin' in Oblivion, which follows the life of Nondrick P. Cairk'tir, a player-controlled NPC trying to eek out a meager living. This is my attempt to capitalize on that blog's success, to reap some of that fame and glory, and to set more faces smiling.

So is it just a cheap imitation? Of course not! It's a complete rip-off, is what it is. I even tried to steal the name, but livinginoblivion.blogspot.com is taken by an emo goth blogger. Alas! I shall have to be tragically creative and change the name slightly.

So if this blog is a total rip-off, why do it? Well, besides the above reasons, it just looked like fun. Chris has taken an excellent game and turned it into an immersive experience just by slowing down to smell the roses. I want to do that, too. I role-play in Neverwinter Nights all the time, so why not in Oblivion? Time to roll up a character and run him/her/it/whatever through the game.