As you might have gathered from the image above, this is not what one might call a “traditionally heroic” story. If you’re not familiar with the Kingdom Come series, it’s a franchise of historical role-playing games set in early-15th-century Bohemia (somewhere in Europe). The series stars Henry, an everyday guy who started the first game as the illiterate son of a blacksmith and who evolved (in my case) into a sneaky, murderous rat bastard who spent most of his time stealing from dead bodies (don’t worry about how they wound up like that). This involved an investigation into a group of horse thieves (they all ended up dead), infiltrating an abbey (the residents: dead), and a battle against bandits occupying a village deep in the forest (yup, they died).
The sequel ends its requisite tutorial section with a bit of a character/inventory reset (although I thought it was handled well), so Henry began his journey proper with much less money (and fewer thieving/murdering abilities) than I would have liked. I got a day job as a blacksmith’s assistant – and when I say “day,” I mean “day, singular.” I made enough gold to buy some fresh pocket lint, and temporarily despaired over my financial circumstances.
This changed when the sun went down.
It started innocently enough, as these things tend to. While taking a jaunt outside the village during lunchtime, I’d passed by a roadside camp where a pair of marksmen challenged me to a shooting competition. I agreed, only to have it pointed out that I didn’t have a crossbow (or money to bet on the competition).
Fine, I said. What they didn’t know was that I’d already nicked a dagger in town, and that’s all you need to make 15th-century Bohemia your oyster. I had Henry lurk in the nearby shrubbery until midnight, when the two marksmen went to sleep…just like the campers in a Friday the 13th movie.
Two stabbings later and I was up a couple of crossbows and some half-passable armor. Of course, this gear – and my own person – all happened to be covered in blood, and the corpses weren’t helping anything, so I made like a ‘70s pornstar and hid my sins in the biggest bush available.
OK, I said. One-time slipup.
Everybody makes mistakes.
I took my new crossbows and sought out the nearest pasture, where I sat in the bushes (smaller ones, this time) and shot down cattle until about an hour before dawn. I then spent an uncomfortable amount of time watching the “butchering” animation while I collected several hundred pounds of raw steak. As the sun rose, I made off with my illegally-procured meats, returning to my lodgings at the blacksmith’s forge laden down with a shitton of uncooked beef.
I then realized that I:
- Didn’t know where I was going to cook it, and
- Didn’t know who I’d sell it to if I did.
This presented a problem, the solution to which might surprise you.
I stashed the stolen meats in a big box, put my tail between my legs, and completed several of the story’s main quests, only pausing to murder the majority of the population of the village of Tachov because, frankly, I needed their pocket money. Otherwise, I was a pretty good guy! I figured two (legitimate) incomes were better than one, so I got a job with the local miller, who seemed like a stand-up dude – he even had one of his other employees teach me how to pick locks! In case I lock myself out, you see.
Things were looking up.
Then I encountered a man along the roadside who appeared to think that I was the Devil, Satan, himself (this was about where I fell back off the story-quest wagon).
The passerby (who we’ll refer to henceforth as Conroy) informed me that he’d been making offerings in the hopes of summoning the Dark Lord. Naturally, I said that I was just the fallen angel he was looking for, and told Conroy that his soul was mine for eternity.
I’m sure there will be absolutely no consequences for any of this.
The next person I ran into on the road was a bellicose gentleman of a knightly persuasion, sporting armor significantly heavier (and shinier) than my own. He challenged me to a good-natured bout, which I accepted. We faced each other in the muddy road as the skies split and rain poured down around us, swords shining with wet…
…then he bonked me on the head once and took 2/3 of my HP, before calling it a win and declining to finish bashing the top of my skull through my jawbone. I repaid him for his mercy by sneaking up, knifing him like it was his first day in prison, stealing all his clothes, and leaving his body ass-up in a bush. (Something I’ve learned: bushes are convenient for skulduggery.)
My crime-mentor the miller asked me to retrieve a certain document for him from the rathaus (not actually a house for rats, it turns out) in Troskowitz, one of the early-game hub towns.
Well, I got the document. And every other document in the place. I also tripped and fell knife-first into nearly every member of the town guard. Thankfully, this all happened at night, so I sprinted out unmolested with the documents in hand and haven’t been back since. I assume everything’s fine.
I’ve been stealing my vict- uh, business partners’ food (and immediately eating it) this entire time, so Henry has spent the duration of his misadventures heinously overfed. Shockingly, this did not result in catastrophic weight gain – merely an inconvenient reduction in stamina. (I’m not counting the one time I ate 47 severely spoiled apples and fucking died.)
I haven’t been eating people’s valuables, though, and carting my ill-gotten gains across the map to sell to unsuspecting merchants has proven to be much more profitable than my other, more legitimate, endeavors.
Needless to say, I’m a very gold-rich, morals-poor man at this point. I’m also still only a few quests into the main story, but Henry’s told a pretty crazy story of his own by now (notice how I say “Henry,” not “me.” This is a deliberate choice intended to make me look better).
We’ll have to wait and see where the future takes Henry: I’ve gotta end up doing more main quests sometime, but part of me wants to wait and see if any of the shitty birds I’ve let fly end up coming home to roost.