"We are the 1%—that small fraction of Skyrim’s population who can actually achieve, who will do anything of note ever. And for whom the world revolves around. I feel it: fifty-six hours in, I don’t earn renown, I am assailed with it. Just recently, a young, fresh-faced courier braved the hellish cold of the East to deliver into my potato-filching hands a precious parcel: an invitation to a museum. Why are you doing this? I asked him. You could be living my life: slaying dragons; marrying busty, dead-eyed women; accumulating immeasurable quantities of goat cheese wheels. But instead you choose this. Why, man? Why?
I once reveled in the weightlessness of coin…at how expertly value and substance in Skyrim has been cleaved in two; but lately I’ve been reveling less and less. My heart’s no longer in it. What was the last straw, you ask? It was something the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, Astrid, said to me…a statement which summed up (for me) the underlying injustice of Skyrim—
“We’ve got to deal with this situation.
You’ve got to deal with this situation.”