![]() ![]() And 2) Because it drove home a very important point: The Banner Saga's howling snowscape is not a nice place. He wasn't happy about it, but a colossal caravan of Varl, humans, and peasants of all shapes and sizes wasn't going to lead itself. This moment was significant for multiple reasons: 1) Because that forced Hakon – aka, me – to start calling the shots. He made a mistake, and that was all it took. They were monstrous, sure, but not unkillable. Now, Vognir had sent plenty of Dredge to scrap heap in his day. He'd rushed off to stop humanity's hotheaded prince, Ludin, from getting in over his head with a band of Dredge, Banner Saga's lumbering oblivion. It was a plot-mandated death, but there were no theatrics, no cackling cliché villains or maniacally orchestrated plans to Take Over The Entiiiiiiiire Varl World (Varld). Shortly into my treacherous trek in Hakon's shoes, Vognir died. Hakon knew how to break people, not inspire them. But he was merely second-in-command, the studded, bone-shattering mail gauntlet to the Varl head, heart, and brain that was Vognir. Hakon was an icy mountain of a Varl – and a high-ranking one at that. In that sense, the main character (of a very large, frequently alternating cast) I played and I had a lot in common. Here they are, freshly scooped from my brain and dribbled onto a page for your enrichment. I recently got to spend a few hours with chapter one of the Kickstarter darling's single-player campaign, and it prompted many thoughts. It's a world in conflict, sure, but pensive Viking biffery is only one piece of a much larger, more varied puzzle. The Banner Saga is, at heart, a story and a place. Multiplayer smart-o-battler The Banner Saga Factions might be out and (mostly) free for all, but even the former BioWare-ites at Stoic will readily admit that it was always a sideshow.
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