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Daemon Age: Inquisition

Blackwall & Leojeanne AKA Thom Rainier & Marta

Wire-haired Dachshund (C. l. familiaris)

When Thom Rainier settled, his father did not say anything of note, and his sister could not, for she was dead. The first comments on Marta’s form were made by the dog-hangers, and they said, “Fitting that your daemon would be a little bitch, Rainier!” Thom and Marta both wanted to beat the living daylights out of them. They chose not to. They chose to do nothing.

Blackwall, the real Blackwall, had a black bird. Small, and unnoticed most of the time. The imposter Blackwall could lie and say, “No, no, I have a black dog, not a black bird.” No one did anything. How could someone have the audacity to imitate another man and his daemon?

Blackwall is often covered in bites of unknown origin. Well, he knows. They come from Marta, who delivers the punishments she believes are deserved. She bites and growls and hisses insults at him. Nobody loves you. They all hate you. Thom believes her.

what is the walls of darkrown made of? wood?

𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑠; 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑖𝑛 🌻 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑅𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑠ℎ 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑐𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝐸𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑄𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑖 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑀𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒. 8𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠 / 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑏𝑒

Rhythm and Breath in Dragon Age: Inquisition

Inquisition plays around with a couple recurring rhythms:

iambic pentameter (dagger skill tree, Maryden)

trochaic tetrameter (Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe)

the cadence from the song Hallelujah (Solas)

Many folks have already written technical comparisons of these different rhythms, but I specifically wanted to talk about how they handle breath.

Without even paying attention to the word content of these rhythms, the breath patterns help set the mood. Are my breaths regularly spaced? Am I gulping for air? Am I breathing slowly and calmly?

As we go through the different rhythms, try reading them aloud to see where your breath lands.

Iambic Pentameter

Iambic pentameter is a five (penta-) foot meter, where each foot is an iamb. An iamb is a two-syllable “da-DUM” sound, an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable. So each line has 10 syllables total.

Here’s an example from the dagger skill tree, with the feet color-coded:

You leap through shadows to attack your foe

With deadly strikes that hit them from behind.

Before your target turns to face your blow,

You move to stealth, impossible to find.

If we read this aloud, we find that 10 syllables is a lot! There are very few mid-line commas, so we naturally want to breathe between lines. But each of those breaths needs to last for ten syllables. If we don’t want to pass out, we’re reading the lines a bit faster than we normally would.

The iambs add even more forward momentum. Since we need to save more breath for the second syllable in each pair, we hurry slightly faster over the unstressed syllables.

Because we keep repeating that same syllable count and stress pattern, the overall effect is one of speed and precision. This is a rogue rapidly making blow after blow after blow with their daggers, hitting every single time. This is Maryden rattling off each sentence with perfect poise and musical training. There’s no time here for thinking; no room for mistakes. The next line is going to be ten syllables too. And the next. And the next.

Trochaic Tetrameter

By contrast, the Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe only has 4 (tetra-) trochees (DUM-da) per line. On every other line, the final unstressed syllable is dropped (catalexis).

That’s a lot of jargon, let’s color code the feet:

Tell the tale of Tyrdda Bright-Axe

mountain maker, spirit’s bride:

Free, her people, forged in fastness

made in mountains, hardy hide.

This is a classic meter, often found in nursery rhymes and folk songs. Because there’s only 8 syllables per line (plus lots of mid-line commas), we can read each line at a casual pace, without speeding up. The catalexis adds extra emphasis to the rhyming lines, since we get to the last (7th) syllable with more breath to spend. And even within each foot, we don’t have to manage our breath as much, because the stressed syllable comes first.

This creates a comfortable rhythm that lends itself to memorization and recitation. We can easily imagine this saga being passed down beside a campfire.

Hallelujah

Since the Hallelujah cadence comes from music rather than poetry, it has an additional kind of stress, the mid-measure secondary stress.*

We don’t exactly have feet, but we can color code each measure:

I lay in dark and dreaming sleep

while countless wars and ages passed.

I woke still weak a year before I joined you.

For the first two lines, each measure is 4 syllables long, so we get 8 syllables in each line, similar to the Tyrdda poem. If we read it aloud, it’s easy to do it slowly and thoughtfully. The secondary, quieter stresses also create an echoing effect, which emphasizes that Solas is thinking about the past.

Then the last line goes absolutely bananas. It abandons the unstressed-stressed repetition and gets much longer, flying up to 11 syllables — even longer than the 10-syllable lines in iambic pentameter.

Additionally, Solas tends to glue the first two lines together, which is SIXTEEN syllables, so they sound closer to an octameter** than the tetrameter(ish) sound of the original song.

The overall effect is of someone trying to be measured and thoughtful, but partway through he gets hit with nostalgia and the lines spill out in a long breathless rush. Bro has to speak quietly so he doesn’t totally run out of air.

*Music theory sidebar: Leonard Cohen’s original version is in 12/8 time, so the secondary stress isn’t as prominent. It shows up in one or two verses, but not all. A lot of the subsequent covers, including k.d. lang’s, sound more like 6/8. That means every measure has a 2-beat count: 1-2-3 4-5-6. I think the 6/8 version fits Solas’ speech pattern a bit more. But he’s not singing, and secondary stresses are harder to place. Syllables don’t have to align 1:1 with melody notes (in fact, in Hallelujah there are several places where the syllable alignment changes from verse to verse). So someone else could easily hear a slightly different stress pattern.

**This implies a cursed version of Solas where the last line is omitted and he’s actually syncing his speech to Modern Major-General.

Now THIS is the biggest glow-up in Dragon Age history

One of the craziest things about Dragon Age (and this might help those of you who don’t go here kind of understand what people are yelling about in the coming months) is its lore. But I don’t mean that in the way you’re probably thinking.

I mean, quite literally, the way it presents its lore to you. In picking up notes and books as you go along and sifting through the codex, the game effectively asks you to act as an anthropologist. You’re met with a host of primary and secondary sources, some many hundreds of years apart from one another, written by anyone from the highest Chantry scholar to John Farmer, and you’re meant to constantly be questioning every piece of information you’re given. What biases are present in what I’m reading? What is fact and what is complete fabrication and what is, potentially, a slightly twisted version of a fact? How does one source potentially contradict another? The lore is one giant mystery-puzzle that you get to piece together across three games, and what conclusions you draw are going to be entirely different from someone else’s, and so on.

And yet, the series still does something even cooler than any of that. You realize, at a certain point, that this idea you have been engaging with on a meta-level — this idea that history is biased and fallible, that it’s written by colonizers and conquerers, genocidal racists and religious zealots, that the ability to control historical narrative is the prize you win for spilling the most blood — that idea is one of, if not perhaps THE most important, overarching theme of the series. The way that we remember history — what we remember and what we don’t, and why — and the impact that has on people on a sociological, political, cultural and psychological level, on both a macro and micro scale. It’s the entire thesis of the series’ main villain’s whole motivation.

And there’s gonna be a lot of people that don’t care about all that but me personally it makes me want to gnaw on a cinder block and scratch at my walls

Daemon Age: Inquisition

Dorian’s Loved Ones

Gereon Alexius & Pteriidum - Emperor penguin (Aptenodytes forsteri) Like Alexius, emperor penguins go to extreme lengths for their children, of which each season they only have one. If they lose their child, they will even steal one from another penguin. Penguins care deeply for others (see Alexius wanting to fight corruption in Tevinter), but the love for their child trumps all. After the magister’s run with the Venatori, Pteriidum manifests Gereon’s deteriorating mental health as catastrophic molt.

Felix & Melzar - Yellow-winged bat (Lavia frons) Bats are symbols of vigilance, and Felix will dutifully watch his father in order to help him and others. Bats are also known as holders of disease, similar to how Felix suffers from the Blight. Yellow-winged bats are social animals and will search for their fellows if they are lost. They are also especially vigilant; during the day, one of a mated pair will stay awake to guard their territory. And they’re yellow.

Halward Pavus & Aplites - Largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides) A bass is no trogon or felid, but it is a carnivore, and its mouth is full of teeth. It will eat anything in its path, and will not change course in its ascension. While not feared, it is formidable. Aplites is kept wet by enchanted jewelry and “swims” through the air in a bubble of water following her other half. Halward and Aplites had great things planned for their son, but if it takes too long for the fry to leave, the parent bass will not hesitate to eat them.

David Gaider: "It occurs to me, after reading posts getting it spectacularly wrong, that there are a lot of misconceptions over how game studios organize and, in particular, who makes the actual decisions about what ends up in your game. Much of it is by folks who don't *try* to get it... but not all, surely. I'll explain it a bit, but a big caveat: I'm going to talk in generalities and roles. Actual titles vary (a lot) from studio and studio, and the bigger a studio is the more segmented their departments (and thus management) is going to be. Even so, most studios, big and small, kind of work the same. To start, you're going to break your devs up into at least three groups: design (what is the game? how does it work?), art (what will it look like?), and engineering (making it go). There can be a lot of cross-over and some departments that don't fit into a project structure (QA, Marketing, etc.)"

Rest of post under cut due to length.

"There's going to be someone in charge of these groups - these are usually called "leads" or "senior leads". The actual title varies. The Design Lead could be a Lead Designer, for instance, or it could be a Creative Director and a Lead Designer is what they call someone further down the chain."

"These leads all report to a Project Director, someone who's job it is to manage the project as a whole. Now, this part gets a little dicey. Depending on the studio, this role can be anything from more production-oriented (they control the schedule) to an outright auteur who micro-manages everything."

"More importantly, it's the PD who hands down the project goals to the Leads: the strategic goals, the needed features, the shape of it all, etc. The Leads then figure out how their department is going to tackle those, and work with each other. If the Leads conflict, it's the PD's role to solve it. How much autonomy or ownership those Leads have is, like I said, really up to the individual PD and that studio's culture. Even in the case of a PD who has a lot of authority over the project, however, they still report to the studio leadership (unless it's the same person, like in a small studio)."

"The studio leadership is going to be giving the PD their marching orders, often in the form of those strategic goals. If there's a publisher involved, that's where the studio leadership is likely getting those goals. The PD, then, ends up being the person who has to negotiate with everyone above."

"What does this mean? If the studio or publisher has concerns about the project, they're calling in the PD to explain. If the project needs more time or resources, it's on the PD to explain to them why and how and when. If there are a lot of layers above the PD... yes, it's a looot of meetings. So while the PD is managing up, the Leads are managing down. With big projects, that means managing the "sub-leads"... those in charge of the individual sections of their department. It'd be unmanageable otherwise, and the bigger the project the more of these there are going to be."

"What does this mean? Well, let's look at the way BioWare broke up Design (as of 8 years ago, anyhow). Design consisted of Narrative Design, Level Design, Systems Design, Gameplay Design, and Cinematic Design (who worked in tandem with Cinematic Animation, which actually fell under the Art Lead)."

"The sub-leads are handed their goals by the lead, and work out how they're going to produce their particular corner of the game and also, more importantly, how they're going to work with each other. Conflicts between sub-leads are handled by the lead, as are ANY conflicts with other departments. What conflicts could there be, you ask? Dependencies, for one. "I can't do X until Y is done, but Y is someone else's job". Or scope. "We need 20 doodads but the sub-lead said they only have time to make 10, what now?". Even outright differences in vision. Big projects means room for a LOT of egos. If you think this is easier with a smaller (or indie) project, the answer is "yes, but not really". The roles are still necessary but often get combined into one person. Or outsourced, and someone still needs to manage the outsourcing. Things fall off over-full plates. It's a different kind of hard. Anyhow, the point of all this is: the further you go down the chain, the smaller the box you can play in is. The less you have actual say over, and even then that say is subject to being overridden by ANYONE above... and must still play nicely with the needs and goals of the other departments. You also need to keep in mind that projects are constantly in flux. Problems that were thought solved need re-solving. The team falls behind schedule and scope needs to change. You are constantly in a dance, within your tiny box, trying to figure out sub-optimal solutions that cause the least pain. And there will be pain. Shit rolls downhill, as they say, and when the project encounters big issues that means those high up have the sad job of figuring out how to spread it out and who can afford to take the hardest hit. If you're that one, you take it on the chin and you deal. This is the job. Lastly, I'll re-iterate: not every studio works this way, exactly. The roles exist, sure, but are not divided up so neatly or as easily identifiable. Even so, this should give you an idea what "lead" and "sub-lead" mean... and perhaps help you imagine what it's like existing further down the chain."

[source thread]

Part 4: On logistical concerns and dread anticipation.

Hello!

This is part 4 of a series of posts in which I closely examine the letters my character received from the Inquisitor across Veilguard, and talk about the strategic and political implications of what we see within them.

I strongly suggest reading parts 1 and 2 and 3 before proceeding with this one, they contain vital context!

Part 1 can be found here!

Part 2 can be found here!

Part 3 can be found here!

This part is going to be much shorter than the others, because there's not a lot of strategic intel in it. Instead, it sets a tone for what we are currently dealing with, and on a design level functions as a heads up to players that this is a window in which we can attend to unfinished business without worrying so much that everything is burning to the ground actively.

As I will go into further in Part 5, this letter marks a turning point in the Inquisitor's relationship with Rook. They now regard Rook as an equal and peer, and I cannot state emphatically enough that that is terrible news for Rook as a person who lives in Thedas.

That's a big, "Sorry buddy, you're one of us now! RIP to your personhood, you have to be the one who keeps everyone together and can ill afford to show doubt to your allies lest it have devastating consequences on the outcomes of this fight."

The tone of the letters gets much more personal now. The Inquisitor is comfortable talking about the struggles they are dealing with - like needing to herd cats in keeping the alliance together, and the work that needs to be done to fix any issues that arise.

What we DO get here is alarming: where are the Darkspawn? In the last part I talked about the concerns I had surrounding the consequence of Ghilan'nain's morale collapse, and this little fragment heightened those to a fever pitch. "[Seeing] very little of the Darkspawn" means that they are being gathered, likely underground. That takes time, and is horrifyingly concerning. It indicates that when we next see them, it will be in far greater numbers than were previously being dealt with.

I'm no longer accepting the notes being handed to me it's fine. Everything is fine. [Everything is not fine.]

We also get confirmation that the Antaam are almost entirely gone from the mouth of the Waking Sea, which will be freeing up trade and troop movement pathways.

Mention of fighting the Venatori in the west rather than Darkspawn means that we can anticipate that these fights are happening in Orlais or on/along the border.

Using the map with its marks from part 3, I've circled the outermost areas I expect those victories to have taken place in the green lines, bearing in mind the previously stated lack of cooperation between the Orlesian forces and the Ferelden-based alliance. Any space cleared provides opportunities to stockpile supplies, to salvage and hunt. It's a deeply needed opportunity.

However.

This is a dangerous time, even as it grants us some breathing room to operate as Rook and to relax a little as players. As I expect most are familiar with, the time before an uncertain but known to be extremely stressful event is often the worst. Anxiety can rise, imagination can wreak havoc on mental health, and irritability can also shoot up. It is little wonder that this is the letter where the Inquisitor talks about some friction in the alliance.

And no matter how much you prepare for it and indeed the longer you have before disaster, when shit does hit the fan, the worse it will feel.

Could haves, would haves, should haves will all run rampant. It's a time in which we can expect to see acts of desperation, desertion.

We'll get into that in Part 5.

the basics of tevinter politics and social classes, as laid out in world of thedas and a little elsewhere

the archon is the supreme ruler of the imperium. their authority and magical power is believed to be divinely granted. they choose their successors before they die, so they are usually the sons, nephews, brothers, cousins, or apprentices of previous archons. (this phrasing implies that, like the black divine, the archon is always a man, and certainly the several named ones we know all are, but i’m not sure if this is necessarily always true.) if an archon does not choose his heir before he dies, the magisterium elects the next; these candidates cannot be magisters or hold rank in the chantry. technically the archon can overrule the laws passed by the magisterium, but he rarely does this. his power mostly stems from families vying for his favour, as he has the unique power to appoint magisters at will. a man named radonis is the current archon; he’s appeared in comics and a war table mission.

the magisterium are the mage elites who regularly gather to govern the imperium and pass laws. magisters become magisters in several ways:

one is chosen from each of tevinter’s seven circles of magi. it cannot be that circle’s first enchanter

the imperial divine and every grand cleric of the imperial chantry gets a seat

magisters can inherit seats

as i mentioned, the archon has the right to appoint any new magister if he chooses

tevinter society breaks down into four major social classes.

the first mage class is the altus class. these are descended from the original “Dreamers”, through ancient and wealthy magical bloodlines. most magisters come from altus families. characters like dorian and danarius belong to this class.

other mages belong to the laetan class. these are mages who cannot trace their ancestry to the dreamers, and may belong to families with no history of magic at all. many vie for power despite their origins, and one third of the imperium’s archons have been laetans. (the first laetan to rise to archon was such an outrage it caused a seventy year civil war, but that was, like, 1500 years ago-ish. they’re more chill about it now.) it feels safe to assume that neve gallus, who says in tevinter nights that she doesn’t feel at home in a wealthy estate because she has more templars in her family than mages, probably belongs to this class.

the soporati are non-mages who are still full tevinter citizens. they are allowed to own property and serve in the military, but they cannot have a direct say in government or rise above the rank of mother/father in the chantry. they can however be civil servants and merchants. a mage born to a soporati family is instantly a laetan.

slaves are not allowed to own property, or to hold military rank even when armed and serving as a personal soldier or bodyguard. they have become a more even mix of humans and elves since andraste’s time. mages can be slaves. if a slave is set free, either by their living owner before a judge or by their owner’s will upon their death, they are considered liberati. liberati are still not citizens and cannot have political say or hold military rank, but they can join a circle of magi, get an apprenticeship in a trade, take apprentices themselves, and own property. fenris was a slave, while his sister varania was implied to have become one of the liberati.

there is also a large surface dwarf population in tevinter. they are not considered citizens, but instead regarded as foreign dignitaries however many generations their families have lived in tevinter. they have large embassies in every major tevinter city, which at least in minrathous, neromenian, and qarinus are completely subterranean, meaning residents can retain their dwarven caste and may never come above ground all their lives. minrathous’ close ties to the dwarves mean it even has a massive proving grounds, as well as enormous stone golems known as juggernauts to guard the city gates. more than anywhere else in thedas, the dwarves do get a political say, with an elected body of representatives called the ambassadoria who advise the archon and the magisterium. it’s the imperium’s reliance on lyrium which gives them this kind of sway.