u/Makrebs

Reading the book series is a curious endeavor, because while they're really good (seriously, go read them), you come out of it both enjoying the games even more and also having a bone to pick with a lot of weird changes.

Some decisions are easy to justify: for instance, expanding the "Witcher school" thing as a whole makes sense. It's just an unimportant detail in the books, which care little for these "fun fantasy" elements for the most part, but turning it into a system of guilds makes sense for a video game (especially one that aims for eventual sequels).

However, what truly puzzles me is the pick-and-choose attitude toward more personal aspects of world-building and character relations. The CDPR guys will often rip micro-level elements straight from the books, like Keira Metz's chest mole, but ignore world-changing events like >!Fake Ciri!<. They'll reference some obscure character who appears in a single chapter of Book 4, but not mention >!the Hanza at all!<. They'll even take a fan-fiction-level detour in Geralt's love life, giving Triss an importance she never had (neither in Geralt's heart nor in the overall plot).

Don't get me wrong, I love these games. This isn't a book purist coming here to tell you how wrong you are for enjoying them or anything. But reconciling both game and book canon is... weird. You have to treat them as almost separate things. CDPR used Sapkowski's work more as a jumping-off point (a garden from which they freely pick fruit) than as a pillar to build upon. Does that make sense?

Perhaps that's the eventual cycle of art. Poets and novelists have been rewriting and recontextualizing each other's ideas for centuries. Maybe that's how stories flow over the years, ever-changing. Some food for thought.

"Before we begin tonight's program, we'd like to thank our sponsor.

Have you ever looked at the state of politics and thought, "I could fix this country"? Well, now you can.

In Suzerain, you'll step into the shoes of a newly elected president and navigate a nation on the brink. Balance economic crises, political infighting, corruption scandals, constitutional reforms, foreign policy disasters, and enough backroom deals to fill an entire cabinet.

Now, speaking of difficult political choices, please welcome President Anton Rayne."

Interviewer: Mr. President, let's begin with Petr Vectern. >!He resigned after the scandal involving his secretary and later took his own life. Some people say your administration abandoned him.!<

Rayne: Petr was a grown man. He made his own decisions.

Interviewer: He was also your closest friend.

Rayne: Which is why I trusted him with the vice presidency. Friendship doesn't exempt someone from consequences.

Interviewer: So you feel no responsibility?

Rayne: For Petr's personal choices? No.

Interviewer: Let's discuss the Women's Equality Bill. Critics say you rejected it to secure conservative votes in the Assembly.

Rayne: I've heard that theory.

Interviewer: Is it true?

Rayne: I'm a married man. Happily married, in fact. I have nothing against women.

Interviewer: That's not really what people are asking.

Rayne: Governing requires compromise. Some people call that politics.

Interviewer: Your relationship with Walter Tusk continues to raise questions. Opponents allege favoritism and even insider trading.

Rayne: Walter is a businessman.

Interviewer: A very successful businessman.

Rayne: Exactly. The economy was in recession when I took office. Now it's growing again. If successful businessmen helped make that happen, I don't see the problem.

Interviewer: So he's just a friend?

Rayne: A business friend.

Interviewer: Critics also claim your constitutional reforms were really about dismantling Tarquin Soll's legacy.

Rayne: That's ridiculous.

Interviewer: Many of the reforms targeted institutions Soll created.

Rayne: We reformed institutions that needed reform. If some people take that personally, that's their concern.

Interviewer: So it had nothing to do with Soll?

Rayne: I honestly don't know what you're talking about.

Interviewer: Any final words for the people of Sordland?

Rayne: Our nation faces challenges, but together we'll continue building a stronger and more prosperous future. Thank you, and good night.

The cameras switch off.

Rayne: Marcel will make sure they print the economy part.

Aide: And the rest?

Rayne: The rest doesn't matter. By tomorrow the papers will be arguing about my tie instead.

He smirks.

Rayne: God bless a free press.

John Marston is not a good man. This is one of the first things Red Dead Redemption establishes about its main character. An outlaw with a mountain of sin and regret, who tried to turn over a new leaf a few years ago... except this world doesn't believe in his redemption, or even his right to redemption, for that matter.

>"People don't forget. Nothing gets forgiven".

Yet, in true Rockstar fashion, our problematic protagonist is, deep down, a regular man. A man living the consequences of a series of terrible choices that forced him into deplorable situations. I'm not saying I feel pity for John or even approve of what he does (you'll see his temporary allies committing atrocities during the campaign), but you can see how one ends up in that situation.

There is this episode of Black Mirror, "White Bear". >!Long story short, it is revealed at the end that the protagonist is a criminal who has her memory erased and is forced to relive the same terrible day over and over for the pleasure of a salivating audience. She then has her sins explained to her, only to be promptly mind-wiped again. The point is, even if you believe a criminal deserves to suffer for their actions, at some point you're dirtying your own hands so much in executing that punishment that justice becomes sadism, and nothing makes sense anymore.!<

This brings me to another important player in the field: Edgar Ross. In a highly immoral quest, he kidnaps Marston's wife and son to force him to go after the members of his old gang who were practically his adopted family. It’s a grim deal that Marston has no option but to accept: a few more weeks of bloodshed in exchange for his freedom. The government gets to boast about "getting things done", and Marston gets to leave.

The scariest thing about Ross is that, much like in real life, people like him not only don't face consequences for their horrible deeds but are applauded by the general population. Such is the desperation of the average citizen for peace, for normality, that they're willing to elect deranged men who enjoy violence a bit too much into positions of immense authority, all in the name of "getting things done."

I have an innate suspicion of people in positions of power, especially those that involve violence in some way. I cannot trust a man who enjoys having an excuse to harm another human being, no matter who it is. There comes a point where you have to wonder if a criminal is being punished because they deserve it or because some sick individual realized that a criminal is a socially acceptable target for sadism.

Such is the world of Red Dead Redemption, a spaghetti western infused with a massive amount of misery and tragedy. I don't see anything "badass" about Jack Marston, for instance, going after Ross at the end of the story. He is a boy who grew up rough, never knowing if his father would come home and hearing all kinds of horrible stories. Even in adolescence, he shows worrying signs of anger issues. A boy like that murdering a man at a young age? No, I can't see anything but tragedy in that.

Even in the case of truly abhorrent people, I cannot say I condone murder. It's not about the act itself. I am not religious. When I talk about murder, I don't think about a soul, I think about what's left of an individual who takes a human life. Some people can't cope. They never come back from that. And Jack Marston? Sheesh, that is a boy with a laundry list of issues.

Although the Beecher's Hope section of the story is short, it does wonders to establish how John's family suffered the consequences of years of stress and how this outlaw life doesn't allow anything to prosper long-term. Problems breed more problems.

You can see from John's conversations with Jack how far apart they are. John struggles to find the words, as if he's searching for the right combination that will make up for everything and make Jack understand how sorry he is. But he can't find those words. He is a simple man, a gunslinger. Jack, meanwhile, is torn between hating John for bringing him into this chaotic life and wanting a father. He wants to understand him and believe in his sincerity.

There are no happy endings in here, though. John, the sinner who tries hard to turn things around, gets shot to death on his own ranch like a sick dog. While Jack, the boy who was brought into this world in turmoil, festers in hate for years and prepares to kill a man who barely remembers him.

I think I understand what makes people say the characters from RDR1 and RDR2 don't fit seamlessly. RDR2 is sad and tragic, but RDR1 is miserable, gritty, and unfair. They have substantially different tones and messages. I'm not saying this as a comparison. I don't want to drag the conversation into "x > y." It's just been such a long time since I last played RDR1 that I had forgotten how deeply disturbing it is.

EDIT: the quote block had disappeared for some reason.