Earlier today, I finished off the Thieves' Guild main quest line, and with that was leader of of the Companions, the College of Winterhold, and now heading up this group as well. I was feeling pretty good, with a swagger in my step. Figuring it high time to head to my homestead, I made my way there. While dumping an ungodly amount of gems and ebony items into one of the nearby chests, my adopted daughter Lucia ran up shouting, "Mama, you're home!" She does this every time I swing by, and on this occasion she wanted to give me a flower she'd found. Such a sweet girl. It was while she was beaming at me, radiating an aura of unconditional love that a rather unsettling thought occurred to me: Am I an absentee parent?
It all started innocently enough. I was making my way to Jorrvaskr on some Companion business when this little girl came up to me asking for money. I thought it rather odd, being in the well-heeled Sky District and having this child do such a thing, so I inquired why she was begging for gold. The girl then introduced herself as Lucia and explained that her parents had recently died, and her aunt and uncle had kicked her out of the house, taking her family's land for themselves.
After hearing her plight, I felt a pang of sympathy for the kid. Then I remembered that I can adopt a couple of orphans if I want. I've even got that big ol' homestead for her to hang out in. With plenty of food, a nice, warm hearth, and fresh air outside, it would be great for her. So, I offered to adopt the girl. At first, Lucia was a little bit hesitant and wanted to make sure it was okay. I told her not to worry about it. It's no problem at all. Overjoyed, she said she had just had to say goodbye to everyone and gather her things. After that, she would come to the homestead on her own, and I would probably see her the next time I was out that way.
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| Lucia shows an aptitude for knife wielding. |
So it began, my bold leap into virtual motherhood. All the while, it felt like I had a new accessory to play with in my homestead more than anything else. Lucia would come running up every time I got home, wanting to give me a present, play a game, and with growing frequency she would be asking me for presents and sometimes even an allowance. Was she giving up on earning my affections, instead deciding to at least milk me for a few gold coins?
At one point, when she asked if I'd brought her anything, I decided to give her an enchanted dagger that I had found in some Dwemer ruins. It wasn't really doing me much good, and would probably have otherwise been sold at Warmaidens the next time I passed through Whiterun. Lucia actually seemed extremely happy when I handed her the blade, but what transpired next was a little disturbing. Upon receiving her present, Lucia made a bee line for the basement where some small practice dummies are kept. She immediately pulled out the dagger and began slashing the thing with a worrying measure of zeal.
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| I'm out in the world. Making a difference. |
Granted, it probably isn't the best parenting decision that one could make, handing a small child a weapon as a present. Again, it's one of those situations that had me wondering why the game was even allowing me to do this to begin with. First it's telling me not to worry about sending a little girl across the unforgiving tundras of Skyrim all alone on her journey to a new home. Now it's apparently okay to give them very sharp items. There may well come a time when Lucia shows an interest in Stabby Stabby Culture, but surely that can wait a little while longer. This game has some very strange ideas of what may be appropriate gifts for children.
Really, though, I have to wonder if Skyrim unintentionally provides a window into many broken families in our own world. Places filled with successful, and very career-oriented people that are going through the list of their Paint by Numbers Lifestyle. They've got a nice job where they do well, they've bought a big house, maybe have a fancy car, and some shiny baubles. Then they think the next logical step is to procreate. Parenthood ahoy! The problem is that they still want to put all that time into their jobs despite that kid coming along. Yeah, they'll come home, and go down that list of things that parents are "supposed to do": give junior a present, play a game with them, tell them to do their chores and / or go to bed, then it's back to the rat race once more. It's all very clinical and to the point. Surely that must be enough! Conversely, it could a matter of desperately running down a list of things to do in order to create some semblance of quality time all the while knowing that duty will call, and it'll be time to leave soon, be it to perform a string of life saving surgeries, or stopping Ulfric Stormcloak's rebellion. All the while, the guilt and regret quietly mounts as time wears on and they think about all the moments they'll miss out on.
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| Oh, I also adopted another kid, because why screw up one child's life when I can do the same to two of them. |
And that's sort of where I am with my parenting adventures in Skyrim. I've stopped a thousand year old vampire prophecy, unlocked ancient Dwemer secrets, I'm thane in half the holds in the realm, helping the Imperials stop a civil war, and slain countless dragons. By all accounts I should be doing everything right. Some might even consider me a hero. However, every time I see little Lucia in our homestead part of me wonders if I'm actually the foulest monster in all of Tamriel.
Other Installments of Doing All the Things: Skyrim Edition
- Part One: Getting Started
- Part Two: Picking Sides
- Part Three: Of Werewolves and Vampires
- Part Four: The F Words
- Part Five: Parenthood
- Part Six: Doing all the Things was a Terrible Idea
