Dishonored, Today — Absurd Nerds

This might be a bit of a “touchy” editorial… but hey, Dishonored was a touchy game.

Is, I should say. Eight years after it’s release and the game is STILL racking up overly positive reviews on Steam and beyond - meaning people are still buying and playing it.

I should know. I’m one of ‘em!

Dishonored completely slipped under my radar when it first came out, probably because I didn’t really play games much in my younger years, for many reasons (parents wanting to keep my eyes from melting out of their sockets chief among them). Only this past April have I bought it at the recommendation of my Dungeon Master, who was baffled that I had never played it before after rolling a near carbon-copy of Corvo for my half-elf rogue, “Blink” ability and all. I have only completed one full play-through thus far, and it has immediately became one of my all-time favorite games.

And I could not have picked a more relevant time to play it.

Here’s where I’m gonna get “touchy.” Spoilers ahead!

Dishonored, mechanically, is a stealth game with a ridiculously rich combat system. Thematically, it’s a story about betrayal, corruption, plague, and all-encompassing human fallibility. There’s political backstabbing, murder, kidnappings, gangsters, religious persecution, dark magic, and don’t get me started on the all-powerful, all-seeing and morally-detached God thing they’ve got going! Dishonored is about struggling to remain honorable, kindhearted and true in a society on the verge of tearing itself apart.

Rather reflective of our own world at the moment, no?

Well, all the best stories are, but the tragic state of affairs in Dunwall are very on the nose with what’s sweeping ‘cross the Earth at this moment in 2020.

No, it’s not a “Rat Plague,” nobody’s turning into “Weepers,” nor have whole city blocks been cordoned off yet (EDIT: at the time of reviewing this article in 2023, more than a few city blocks actually were quarantined in some countries)… but the synchronicity is eerie and undeniable. Little details like the poor getting sick the most, and the rulers stockpiling ever more power only to fight each other for it in the end, are on Simpsons-levels of uncanny predictability. Actually, “predictability” isn’t even the right word. Most of Dishonored’s plot elements are inspired by real historical coups and pandemics! If Harvey Smith was witty enough to throw hints of Charles Darwin in Sokolov and a little Carl Jung in Piero, I’d bet my bottom he’s done his research on plague pits, socio-economic instabilities and tyrannical seizures of power, too.

Shall we analyze a little more critically?

Let’s start with my first point above. The poorer classes and ethnic minorities are always adversely affected in times of crises, be it a war, an economic depression, or a plague. If you don’t want to look at what’s happening right now, then look to the years past. During the Depression, African-Americans dealt with the highest unemployment rates - “last hired, first fired” sums it up perfectly. Way back in the days of the Black Death, the nobility supposedly reacted to the scourge by fleeing the afflicted cities and towns to their countryside estates, hoping to just ride it out in blissful denial rather than give aid to their rapidly dying peasantry. Yes, the plague did strike the rich-folk with equal malice, nor was there much they could’ve done with the scant medicinal wisdom they had at the time. But their initial reaction - or inaction, really - still carried a heavy consequence.

All that and more shows up in Dishonored. Heck, the Plague was brought into Dunwall specifically to kill the poor! But don’t take it from me; let the Lord Regent tell you himself.

Transcript of above audio (courtesy of dishonored.fandom.com):

“If I explain, then you will see, I am not at fault. My Poverty Eradication Plan was meant to bring prosperity to the City, to rid us of those scoundrels who waste their days in filth and drink, without homes or occupations other than to beg for the coin for which the rest of us toil.

And it was a simple plan – bring the disease bearing rats from the Pandyssian Continent, and let them take care of the poor for us. The plan worked perfectly. At first. But the rats – it was as if they sought to undo me. They hid from the catchers, and bred at a sickening rate. Soon it didn’t matter, rich, poor, all were falling sick.

And then people began to ask questions. The Empress assigned me to investigate whether the rats had been imported by a foreign power. I knew the truth would come out eventually. So there was no other way than to be rid of her, and take power myself. She had to die, you see. SHE HAD TO DIE.

Bringing about the death of an Empress is not an easy thing, but it gave me the chance to attack the plague with some real authority. Quarantines! Deportation of the sick! But there’s always some idiot woman searching for her wretched lost babe, or some sniveling workman searching for his missing wife. And then quarantine is broken!

But you can see how my plan should have worked? Would have worked! If everyone had just followed orders.”

Now, am I saying that the current real-world situation was all an ill-inspired scheme of the upper class to completely eradicate the poor and different once and for all?

No. I haven’t the evidence for that.

What I am saying is that Dishonored is a story with enough literary balls to point out how the rich and powerful can, and will, distort disasters to meet their own ends at the common people’s expense, and that we as a culture should listen to what it’s saying.

And how do the politicians and tyrants in Dishonored pull that off, exactly?

By following the examples made by real-world politicians and tyrants, of course!

The main power-hungry bastard scheming away in Dunwall is the once-Spymaster-now-Lord Regent Hiram Burrows. His resentment of Empress Jessamine was certainly seeded long before the events of the game, but it probably was the terrible backfiring of his “Poverty Eradication Plan” that drove him and his allies to consider straight-up assassinating her. As always, an immediate threat to their current power - and the enticing prospect of gaining exponentially more - is what motivates totalitarian a-holes towards a coup d’etat. They pull it off seamlessly too, with the one hiccup in their plan actually working in their favor as they frame Corvo, back from overseas two days early, for Jessamine’s murder and little Emily’s abduction.

Which is incredibly tragic for oh so, so many reasons that I’ll spare you from right now. If you’ve played the game you know damn well what I’m talking about, and if you haven’t… just, just play it. It’s only ten bucks on Steam, get it.

Where was I? Oh, right. Real-world coups!

Frankly, a straight-up single assassination to make way for a new ruler isn’t the most common method of seizing power. Burrows had the number of a warlock-assassin in his back pocket; real-world tyrants typically don’t have that sort of contact. And once that assassination was carried out, Burrows and his co-conspirators were able to enjoy a relatively comfy six months in their new seats thanks to their swift action and long reach.

“Bringing about the death of an Empress is not an easy thing.” Damn right it isn’t, Lord Regent, but you sure made it look like it is. Usually this sort of thing involves a lot more people and backfires in really nasty ways.

But the Loyalist Conspiracy that Corvo becomes part of… that’s more founded in reality, and much more interesting.

Like most in the real world, and the fictional one immediately before it, the Loyalist Movement is mounted from within the Empire’s current government, spearheaded by veteran military and political figures and put into action by willing, usually angry soldiers or civilians. In Dishonored, those spear-headers are Admiral Farley Havelock (navy guy, no-nonsense, arrogant but reflective), Overseer Teague Martin (Abbey tactician, zealous but not overly so) and Lord Trevor Pendleton (noble influence, polite but deep down just as icky as his brothers). The ones who put it into action are Samuel Beechworth (best boatman ever), Piero Joplin (awkward but adorable inventor) and, well… you, Corvo Attano (no description needed).

And, sort of like how the French Revolution had a nasty second round in 1792, the Loyalist Conspiracy too boils down to more disagreement and violence. Havelock, Martin and Pendleton fall prey to the same paranoia that had eaten away at Hiram Burrows, and decide to cover their shady footprints by poisoning Corvo and still squaring the blame for everything right on him.

Scapegoats are so unoriginal, but they tend to work, so people tend to keep using them. And you can really cover your tracks with them if you do it well, especially if you pick someone with a fragile reputation already.

Trouble is, the Loyalist Conspirators picked the wrong guy to ‘goat.

Regardless of how chaotic a Corvo you are (although the final showdown is drastically different depending), the Conspirators are no match for you, and their attempt at complete imperial power is made short-lived. Either by the bloody edge of a sword or the subtle touch of poison, Martin, Pendleton and Havelock all meet suitable ends for men of such traitorous dispositions.

Which doesn’t always happen in the real world, no, but it has more often than not. The folks who started French Revolution 2.0, guys like Robespierre and Desmoulins, caused a lot more death and damage before they were finally tried and executed - by guillotine, no less - for doing so not for the good of the country, but for personal gain. That of course took place over several months, if not years. In Dishonored, Corvo manages to pull off judge, jury and executioner in under an hour. Which I do give it a pass for; fiction always simplifies things for dramatic effect.

But Dishonored deserves more credit than just a “pass.”

Because of the effort it puts into fleshing out all its characters. Into adding real dynamics to its world. Into taking inspiration from both the worst and best of real history - real humanity - and using it to, despite taking a couple shortcuts here and there, create an amazing and relevant multiple-choice story that really sticks in your head long after you’ve played through it.

Dishonored is a cautionary tale meant to remind us of what we must watch for in our society, and in ourselves. It is of course not the only one out there - oh, not by a long shot - but we need more stories like it. Stories that champion the importance of being compassionate, understanding, and steady of hand in times of catastrophe. Especially in an era where we’re experiencing one ourselves.

So here’s hoping we get the Low Chaos ending this time ‘round.

Sources:

“Last Hired, First Fired: How the Great Depression Affected African Americans”

“How the rich reacted to the bubonic plague has eerie similarities to today’s pandemic”

“Dishonored Wiki: Hiram Burrows”

“The Not-So-Secret Ingredients of Military Coups”

“French Revolution: Timeline, Causes and Summary”

Images:
CGM Magazine Online
Dishonored Wiki: “Weeper”
“Havelock and Orchids”
“Dishonored”