This isn&rsquo;t the same old end-of-the-world, hero-saves-us-all-from-the-apocalypse story that regularly passes for narrative in the game space. Even if the fate of the city Kirkwall is at stake, and I&rsquo;m not so sure that it is, most of <span style="font-style: italic;">Dragon Age II</span> is about the story of your character. The construction of that story does keep hinting at some greatness associated with The Champion, which presumably is you, but it&rsquo;s easy to forget that you are fated toward some imbued station of quality while kicking around in the dirty, underground politics of the city. Smaller stakes make the story that much more personal, and you care for what is happening not because the countless, anonymous multitudes are threatened, but because the consequences are so personal to the central story. That is a subtle art that few video games get right.
As I played <span style="font-style: italic;">Dragon Age II</span> last night, I came to yet another choice. It was a small moment in the middle of a side quest, one of countless little vignettes in the larger tapestry of events in Kirkwall, but I was frozen, indecisive in how to make my decision. Both sides of the argument at hand seemed so equally balanced, but there were consequences that I cared about, and I didn&rsquo;t know which way to proceed. As I finally made the call, I was already looking forward to going back through the game again to explore the impact of the road not taken.
That&rsquo;s just about the highest praise I can give a game.
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