In time, she rose to find the Dragonborn, Great Hero of Our Age, standing before her, and he spake aloud, saying in words like the clash of glaciers, 'You can keep this junk, it's too heavy to carry.' Strange sounds did she hear, a thumping and clattering as of chests being opened and middens being raided, but she stirred not, for such was her great love for staring at walls.

Then did Yngsir, Daughter of Yngsir, feel a desire stirring within her to sit in a chair in another room, there to stare at the wall with great intensity and at great length, a pastime beloved of all peoples of Skyrim, for reasons man may not know and the gods may not divulge. Straight-faced and ruddy of hue, Yngsir, Daughter of Yngsir, greeted her honoured guest warmly, and boldly did she bear witness as the Dragonborn bravely ignored her and did honorably rifle through her possessions and spend many a minute flipping through her books.Д«ut these shameful books pleased him not, and he spake aloud, saying in words of thunder: 'Lame, no skill point upgrades.' The hoarfrost riming his beard gave way to the heat of the hearth, creating a mighty puddle, a cold-slick ocean of drips that would verily be a pain in the ass for Yngsir, Daughter of Yngsir, to clean. 'Damn,' swore the Hero, and 'Crap' was his oath, as a score of lockpicks shattered at the touch of his mighty fingers, as had so many foes fallen before his blade.ДЇortune favoured the brave, as ever, for the hour of the day turned from 7:59 to 8:00, and lo, the stubborn lock relented and gave way at his touch, for this was the time of Many Locks Suddenly Opening, for reasons man may not know and the gods may not divulge. Bright was the day and blue was the sky, when the strong-hearted Dragonborn came upon the modest village.Д«lessings of Akatosh surely smiled upon Yngsir, Daughter of Yngsir, that day, for the Great Hero himself came unto her own home, and did grimly endeavour to conquer the stout lock that barred his entry, so great was his desire to make witness to the miracle to come. Hark, and listen, for I tell you truly a tale of magic and miracle. The Miracle of the Sudden Cheese From the Saga of the Dragonborn Here, then, is a saga of Skyrim, featuring the words and deeds of the Dragonborn as he truly lived. I have chosen the ancient and noble art of fan fiction to aid me in this task. I have decided to bridge the gap between the simulated worlds that our characters inhabit and the certifiably insane ways in which we, the players, behave when we 'live' in them. But when you or I control them, these men are lunatics who blow stoplights by weaving between lanes of traffic at 80 miles per hour, not because they're being hotly pursued by Johnny Law, but because that stoplight is between them and a food cart that will allow them to eat 20 hot dogs in a row in order to vomit in front of my wife for her delight and disgust. Tommy Vercetti, Carl Johnson and Niko Bellic are men who exude a quiet confidence that commands respect from the lowest of criminal scum to the highest echelons of political power. Take any of the Grand Theft Auto games, for example. Likewise, when we play a video game, we aren't the hero.

Dammit, Jeeves, I only smoke Big League Chew, I don't care if the local tobacconist doesn't carry it or that it's actually children's gum in the shape of tobacco! We see a picture of a pipe, but we cannot use it to inhale stimulants or clout our incompetent servants on the ear when they bring us the wrong brand of inhalable stimulants. We see a pipe in the painting, but there's no pipe there. The Belgian artist Rene Magritte has a valuable lesson to share with us all about the nature of video games: 'Ceci n'est pas une pipe', or 'This is not a pipe'.

You are not the dragonborn