Editor’s note: The things we own often help define who we are. Gerard argues that in games like Torchlight, Borderlands, and World of Warcraft, items outline a character’s identity and fiction. After sinking hours in to Torchlight, I can definitely say that game’s highlights come almost exclusively from finding that perfect piece of loot. – James
If someone told me that they play Torchlight for its basic story, I would probably end the conversation right then. I’ll follow up that statement by saying that narrative is what has kept me going back to the game over and over again. But the narrative I’m talking about doesn’t involve chasing down Alric, the evil wizard, or the fate of the town of Torchlight. It is about the adventure of my alchemist, Ytill.
If Runic Games diverted resources away from building a compelling drama for their dungeon crawler, those man-hours definitely went toward the loot system. As a result, Torchlight creates a story for Ytill, much in the way that I create my own story — through the items that he obtains, uses, and keeps.
For better or worse, my material possessions contribute to how I construct my identity. They tell the story of the type of person I am, the type I person I was, and hint at the paths I may one day walk down. Looking at Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I remember not only its story, but the time I spent reading this book — two lazy afternoons at work — and how its content has influenced my thoughts on the counter-culture and the writing of fiction. This one item is a small manifestation of how I construct and internalize my own personal narrative.
For ten levels, the weapon pictured above circumscribed the story of Ytill — an unassuming sword that outclassed any other I would find for hours to come. The growth of my character is inseparable from this item. Over time, my melee-focused Alchemist became a hand to hand combat machine because of this sword.
Fighting with this weapon led to many moments of victory over the hordes of the Torchlight mines. It also affected the ways that Ytill grew and how I interpreted the rules and systems of Torchlight. In the same way that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is not just a simple book for me, this sword was not just an awesome weapon for Ytill. Often, when I found new weapons, I would only half hope that they would be something better…secretly I wished for the opposite.
This sword told so much of my in-game narrative that when I found the Dismantling Sparkling Staff of the Bear — with its higher damage per second — I experienced a moment of sadness. It was time to move on.
Much in the way my room tells a story of who I am, the items that Ytill uses and wears define his narrative in Torchlight. They are memory markers that players can use to construct a story. It is an active process of fiction creation — a different way of imparting drama than other cultural forms.
Fortunately, this is not the end of the story of the sword. It rests in an ingenious communal storage chest in the town of Torchlight, and it’s accessible to any character I create. It waits for the time when Shaggy, the level two Destroyer, is ready — the time when I’ll once again be reminded of my narrative in Torchlight and what the future might hold.