I may not always roll a thief or assassin in Elder Scrolls games, but I’ve learned over the years the rogue types are my favorites in Bethesda’s fantasy series. In the case of Oblivion, my first-ever character was a Nightblade, so it only made sense to break the law and go back to the beginning when The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion Remastered was shadow-dropped last month.
This decision also reignited a stupid pastime of mine while playing Oblivion back in my high school days: sifting through random houses’ objects and breaking into dwellings just to learn about the peculiarities (if there are any) of each NPC and their lives. Even 19 years later, The Elder Scrolls 4 excels – general AI silliness and jank included – at selling the illusion of a living and breathing fantasy world, and sometimes, I just find it more entertaining to let Cyrodiil continue to exist beyond my interactions with it.
This doesn’t mean that I won’t steal valuable goods while I’m at it (I need to get into the Thieves Guild’s good graces after all), but believe me, I’m just curious. I want to learn about A Fighting Chance’s stock, and check whether First Edition’s Phintias also has a personal room full of books. How much thought went into each NPC and their surroundings? That’s something that’s always fascinated me about Bethesda’s RPGs; these characters don’t just stand there. Their schedules may seem invisible, but that quickly changes if you pay attention.
Touring Imperial City
I’ve come to accept that Imperial City is one of my favorite video game locations ever. It’s no sprawling metropolis. It’s barely distinct when compared to other fantasy game locations. But it feels like home. Perhaps it’s just the result of spending so many hours fast-traveling in and out of it, but I know it like the back of my hand and its streets are always welcoming (unless you’re going through the main quest’s final stretch).
Its circular and district-based design also helped it become memorable. In fact, it made it perfect for one of The Elder Scrolls Online’s best content packs. Me, personally? I’m all about the Market District. Everything is close by, making it easy to sprint through all the shops that you need to take weight off your inventory (and gold into your purse) in a few minutes. The robust architecture – all about chunky blocks of stone – is perfect for the heart of the Empire, but it also turns almost every interior in the city into pretty convincing and modern-ish houses and establishments that I’d be happy to rent in real life.
Sneaking into Amantius Allectus’ house as part of ‘May the Best Thief Win’ was meant to be a quick visit. Grab his diary and get out. Instead, I just let Methredhel win (it’s not the end of my career) and walked around, soaking up the refreshed atmosphere thanks to the Lumen-powered lighting and the overhauled assets. Even the dullest rooms can now look fantastic, so that’s a nice bonus.
This experience during my early hours with this iteration of Oblivion is what made me rethink my ‘optimized playthrough’ strategy. My best times in Cyrodiil in the past were tied to simply inhabiting the world and marveling at the little details, so I’ve become a nosy ‘tourist of interiors’ again. A personal favorite? The Tiber Septim Hotel and its tiny study. I also have a soft spot for finding new trap doors leading into the Imperial City Sewers because I’m a freak.
Local flavors
A huge part of why Oblivion, especially in its remastered state, feels more special than Skyrim is the fact each major town has a more discernible style. Whereas places like Whiterun or Morthal were mostly defined by the natural environments and layouts, Anvil and Cheydinhal have entirely different houses and chambers. It’s not only about the materials, but also about how they come together to give buildings a distinct style in the vein of real-world European locations and dissimilar eras of their history. After all, the Empire is at the center of Tamriel, which makes it a hub of sorts for all the cultures in the continent.
Bravil, the poorest of Cyrodiil’s towns, represents the Empire’s vision gone wrong. It looks bad from the outside and the inside. Its inhabitants have very little to offer, and its interiors back those claims up. The remastered visuals may help everything look sharper and warmer, but you don’t want to live there... unless you’re a criminal yourself. Unlike the Imperial City, this is a multicultural location that’s been neglected due to its location on the map (Elsweyr and Black Marsh are nearby) and no-good-doers taking advantage of the swampy terrain.
Move up to the very north of the map and you’ll find Bruma, which has a Skyrim-ish flavor but not quite. That huge church sticks out like a sore thumb when everyone lives in Nord-styled houses or small depressing cabins. Almost every house I’ve visited has a pretty cozy sparkling fire in its center and a modicum of decorations, but it seems poor Ongar is just wasting all his Thieves Guild money in drinking at Olav’s Tap and Tack, another dreadfully dull place.
Bethesda excels at environmental storytelling, and Oblivion is no exception, but I guess the point I’m trying to make is that a lot of the game’s character comes from what you find inside each home and store, sometimes hidden away from prying eyes, sometimes just in plain view. Dig deep enough and you might even trigger a quest in a surprising way. Randomly walking into a crime scene is funnier than being told about it and then preparing an improvised Horatio Caine act. What’s that noise? Ah, yes, a pack of chill scamps surrounding a lady stuck with a cursed staff inside her house. Nice decorations though.
