Ninjerk
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2013
- Messages
- 14,323
Introduction:
Last night whilst idling in the Tranny/Rapebox, someone mentioned Ultima Underworld and I stated my desire to play it. I had heard of it years ago; I believe Warren Spector made some mention of it when discussing emergent gameplay in his University of Texas Master Class videos (some of which are truly must see material IMO).
Thanks to the generosity of Doctor Sbaitso, I now have a copy of Ultima Underworld I&II. I promised him I wouldn't just play it for an hour and quit, and I thought that making a creative Let's Play out of it could make us both feel a bit better about the exchange.
I have no prior experience playing any Ultima games, and little knowledge of the affairs of its world beyond what is contained in the UU manual and the Cabirus supplement. Furthermore, I intend to ignore the introduction to the game and write my own. I will alter and embellish as necessary as I dive deeper into the game.
Thanks to the generosity of Doctor Sbaitso, I now have a copy of Ultima Underworld I&II. I promised him I wouldn't just play it for an hour and quit, and I thought that making a creative Let's Play out of it could make us both feel a bit better about the exchange.
I have no prior experience playing any Ultima games, and little knowledge of the affairs of its world beyond what is contained in the UU manual and the Cabirus supplement. Furthermore, I intend to ignore the introduction to the game and write my own. I will alter and embellish as necessary as I dive deeper into the game.
Part I:
I had always kept my back to the wind. Now my back was against plate steel and rivets; freedom and the only world I had ever known lay beyond it.
How did I end up on the wrong side of justice? My father learned the hard way what a man could expect for exchanging freedom and sweat for the justice of other men. I prided myself on learning things the easy way--from the mistakes of others. Yet here I was.
I had spent most of my youth ranging far and away from the company of others. A poor life, but a free one--free from the tyranny of others' opinions, their problems, their justice. I would always be drawn back however. Call it loneliness, boredom, the longing for a warm bed in safety or whatever you will. Occasionally, I found, it was necessary to accommodate the presence of others.
Maybe I should have stayed away from the tavern. I probably should have drank less. I should have trusted my gut that she was trouble. These sorts of thoughts always run through your head when its aching from the depths of drunkenness and the sting of a blackjack.
What little light crept in from the edges of the portal behind me cast itself across a loosely bound sack on the dirt beside me. Party favors from Almric's boys: a length of steel one could hardly call a sword, a half-used torch, and some vittles--stale bread, tasteless white fish, and an apple that felt like it was starting to turn on itself. Black humor on their part, but I would have to make use of it.
The torch sputtered to life, and I rose to my feet as reticently as the flame lit the foyer to the Abyss. Some poor bastard, Elmore apparently, had written his own epitaph on the wall to my left:
We attacked the entrance with all manner of tools, but it gave not a hair. It simply cannot be breached. Hence we have resigned ourselves to die in this hellish pit. No doubt the prose of Cabirus' stooges.
Was it any wonder the Abyssal Colony had failed? Where the leylines of ambition and desparation meet, there tragedy rushes to join them. Remember this?
As I made my way down the corridor in front of me, I vaguely recalled seeing a troll the night before. Had he abducted Almric's daughter? Or had she run off with him voluntarily? I definitely should have drank less.
A pull-chain and a door. If any time was ripe for a welcoming committee, this seemed like it.
Alas, the fruit of combat. Perhaps Elmore's.
Where before my hands felt along worn, mossy stones, here was something fresher and rough-hewn. Sandstone, perhaps? Here, too, my feet found purchase on stone rather than damp dirt.
Locked doors flanked this area on the north and south. I have little knowledge of thievery; I will need a key.
I retraced my steps and found myself padding through the dirt once again in search of yet another open passageway.
More doors, more blood, and a rucksack.
Some sort of magic casting implements. Useless for me, but perhaps they will be some use yet should I find a friendly face in the depths. The note within the pack made me feel better and worse. The better feeling for having company in inequity, the worse feeling that my company was likely this dried matter and rotting bone. Alas, the Baron was likely the bastard I thought him to be.
I would test the key in the bag later, for here lay open doors at my disposal.
Behind the first door, my blade found a giant rat, my legs protection, and my pack more food--cheese and meat being the rat's hoard.
Beyond the westernmost door, I heard distinctly human-sounding footsteps.
Enter Bragit.
He inquired about the circumstances for my being in the Abyss, but I'd bet a simple look told him all he needed to know. I was covered with a thick layer of dirt and sweat by this point--the soil mixing in places with the bits of rodent blood (and likely my own from the previous night)--and to say I was lightly armed and armored would be a laughable understatement.
Still, he wisely sized up my response, and I his. Bragit is a straight-shooter. I like straight-shooters, and I like Bragit. But I'd no reason to tell him everything, and settled for the simplest explanation for why I was there. I wasn't even sure if I was looking for Almric's daughter, or if I cared about anything but getting the hell out here and off the god-forsaken island.
I told him I had been wrongly accused and sentenced, and it seemed to suit him just fine. Resources would be scarce down here, he said, and that I had better get used to the idea of scavenging. It seemed as well that the goblins down here had reverted to belligerence and chauvinism. In other words, what I could have already guessed.
What I hadn't accounted for was the possibility that there was something of a human settlement here where the light of dawn never trod.
Bragit conversation screenshots within the cut:
It wouldn't do to scavenge the same plot as my courteous new acquaintance, so I left him to his looting. Retracing my steps towards what I felt was East, I found my way to the pair of locked doors once again where I could test Alfred's key. I chose at first the southern door. I believed the entrance to the Abyss to have been to the South, and I figured I would run into a dead end sooner since I'd be heading towards the outside world. With any luck I might well find a secret way out, as well.
No such luck. What I found surprised me. A peculiar looking silver plant would greet me, replete with a banner to match on the wall behind it. Touching it reduced it to a silver seed right before my eyes. Surely, I must be seeing things. But lo and behold the seed found its way into one of my bags.
The plaque beside the sapling was outrageous and I barely paid it any mind. For all I knew, the dark and the dampness of this place were starting to wear on my sanity. I had heard of stranger things, however, and the seed didn't weigh anything so why not bring it along? Alfred probably would.
When you spend as much time as I have away from the comfort and safety of society, you learn very quickly the importance of mindful listening--or maybe you don't learn anything ever again. Something about the echo of dirt crunching beneath my heel as I pivoted towards the exit made me stop. Something wasn't what it seemed. I stuck my dagger in the dirt and begin running my hands along the wall, keeping the torch close to catch any odd stones or pattern breaks in the wall. Lo and behold I found a space where the stones hadn't been laid all at once.
Setting my weight against the stone revealed a pathway.
Another corridor led me to a set of unconnected platforms. Where once bridges likely stood, now was empty space traversible by only the slightly more intrepid-than-not. There was plenty of water below and it seemed fairly safe, but the pounding in my head hadn't quite subsided enough for me to begin vaulting about to plumb the secrets of this passage. At the very least I could be content knowing that only creatures who could likewise move across such space would be able to come back through the sapling room.
I once again retraced my steps to the room in which I had awoken and headed the only remaining unexplored path available to me--northwards.
Whereupon I was beset by a lone goblin. I was surpised at the sophistication of his tactics--after taking several swipes at me he backed off and began launching bullets at me with a sling. I suppose to have survived here he must have developed some level of martial competence.
Alas, I unapologetically plunged my dagger repeatedly into his guts. When at least he ceased writhing on the cold flagstones that covered the bridge, I held my breath and listened for the telltale hissing of bullets cutting the dank air in protest of the creature's murder, but nothing came. At least it hadn't been human, I thought--though that was sure to come in such dire circumstances as we all were in.
I cut west towards where Bragit had said the human enclave was located. I entered a much wider corridor, perhaps 4 to 6 men long if you laid them head to foot, where I was greeted by the first of Cabirus banner.
Adjacent the porcine banner of Cabirus stood a man-sized portcullis guarding a lone green goblin. He watched me intently, scratching his head, perhaps pondering my business as Bragit had. Or maybe he just wanted to shank me for my valuables. I certainly wouldn't find out immediately as I saw no means to open the portcullis.
What was really bugging me, though, was the juxtaposition of the human banner and ponderous goblin. Was something amiss in the human enclave, or, despite Bragit's simple directions, had I missed the enclave? Perhaps I hadn't gone far enough North or West, perhaps too far. He did mention a leap.
I could scarcely concern myself for too long with people I hadn't ever expected to meet, however, and set off further yet to the west, and soon south through a tunnel made of blood red stones, not dissimilar in size and shape to all that I had seen thus far.
Still more rats met the dulling edge of my blade. I discovered a small vial of some dubious concoction and several candles tucked neatly behind a row of pillars.
At the conclusion of an inclined ramp I found an ominous looking door concealing the shuffling sound of yet more dungeon denizens I had little desire to meet yet. I decided to save this for later; the more I had killed, the more my adrenaline swept away the cobwebs of drink, and consequently the better and more prepared I felt. It wouldn't be long before I was ready to take on whatever this level of the Abyss could throw at me, but that time wasn't yet and I still had to find a weapon I was comfortable with. Thus far I had my trusty dagger, and had run across clubs and axes in various states of disrepair, yet nothing was terribly suited to my liking or particularly well-balanced.
I returned beyond the corridor with the pillars and slain rats, and ascended a long staircase.
I fell upon still more goblins in a dirty little wing that seemed hastily constructed from limestone clay bricks.
I collected their provisions from around a small campfire they had built. Feeling relatively safe, I laid out a bedroll I had found near Bragit and allowed myself to doze off. Rest would do me well.
I awoke, uncertain of how much time had passed. Likely very little, given the type of stress I was under. I found switch-controlled portcullis in this wing of the dungeon.
Before me lay a wide-corkscrew staircase descending to...
...likely another layer of struggle and misery. Hooray!
On the bright side, the dwarves might have adjusted better to being encased in dirt and masonry. I certainly hoped they had made do better where weapons were concerned, as I was beginning to feel a bit naked with the dagger Almric's men had left me. That last goblin I fought was a bit tougher than the rest, and the fight was quite taxing.
Still, I had yet to discern the true location and health of the human enclave. The last I could do was check on what were likely the last of my kind alive this deep beneath the earth.
Something, however, had compelled me to venture beyond the false wall near the Silver Sapling room. Perhaps I was feeling bolder, perhaps my hangover had subsided enough that I could handle the leaping.
I leapt across the chasm...
...and came upon a door.
A locked door. Curse my luck.
Back across the chasm...
...I discovered a mechanism...
A simple mechanism.
That opened the door. What horrors lay beyond, I wonder?
Even here at the foot of the ramp I could see that this place was different. Someone had cared to plaster the walls here. It wasn't exactly homey, but the air seemed a bit less damp and foreboding. There was warmth, although I could see no source for it.
The plaster had peeled away in places, betraying much finer masonry than I had seen anywhere else in the dungeon. Someone had taken great care to construct this area.
What I saw when at last I came to the center of the room had scarcely ever given me comfort before...
...but the Abyss was nothing like the sprawling plain or the shady thicket. Here I found solace, at least, that this place would be free from all manner of bats, goblins, and worms.
I carefully read the mantras on the wall. Perhaps reflecting upon my travails in this dank and gloomy place would yield some insight into how I might continue.
I don't think I took screencaps of when I leveled up, but I just wanted to say this is a pretty elegant system for leveling up given when it was made. I really like it.
Judging by Bragit's direction, the human enclave was west of his location. Something about Cabirus' banner near that goblin had stirred my curiosity, however. The goblin hadn't taken a swipe at me through the bars (a goblin would be dumb enough to try something like this); perhaps Cabirus had managed to domesticate them to some degree.
Sup drog
What had I to lose? I had dispatched their kind before, and recently. Should the need arise I was sure I could do so again.
Two roads diverged in the deeps...
...and without thinking about it too much I chose one and barreled down it.
I found a rather quaint font. The water seemed clear enough, but that wasn't what I was here for. I returned to the higher road.
Another plain looking goblin greeted me.
They had a boss. Had they retained some organizational capacity? Never mind that, he sounded like a loafer.
I took the recipe. It was hardly legible. I was amazed at their resourcefulness. Perhaps I had underestimated the little buggers.
This goblin was as plain-looking as the last, but with the slightest gleam of intelligence in his eyes and he stood rather upright for one of his ilk. This must be their King.
A bit of flattery should do for one such as this--putting on airs as he does.
This grew tiring quickly.
But he would not relent in his charade. Ah well. The show must go on...
I believe I asked him something or other about his cloak (I didn't care really, but it was clear only flattery would get me anywhere).
Compliments on the area (certainly not for him or his companions)...
I have some assorted screenshots of this conversation, but apparently didn't get all of the steps in sequence and any arrangement of them won't make total sense of the conversation. It suffices to say that he doesn't like the Gray Goblins, would like to poison their king, Ketchaval, and likes the lizardmen well enough but can't understand them. He also puts in a good word for Cabirus and doesn't seem to have a high opinion of either the Knights or the Trolls.
He blathered on for a bit about the various factions of the Abyss, and filled me in on the artifacts that Cabirus was supposed to have bestowed upon the factional leaders. The artifacts remain in limbo. Perhaps I could make a tidy haul of this little adventure.
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