So I’ve spent most of this week playing Skyrim.

And I’m going to tell you all about it, but first I must warn you, gentle reader, that much of my recount pertains to the explorations of an exquisitely detailed virtual world. I’ll probably go on at some length about the flora and rock formations, as though I’ve been out hiking. There is an observation which is likely to be made upon hearing such descriptions, which of course is “Well if you like nature so much, why not just put down the controller and go the hell outside?”.

Regardless of whether this question is asked in earnest or in trollery, the answer is the same: Because there is not a goddamned forest, mountain or valley on earth where I can set out for a romp only to find that by the end of it I’ve killed a flying, fire-breathing reptile the size of a mead hall, absorbed its sweet dragony soul, and taken its bones for a trophy.

So trolls are barely an appetizer at this point. In fact, I ate rendered troll fat out of a wooden bucket my very first hour in Skyrim. But more on that in a moment.

As I’ve probably mentioned previously, I’m not much of an RPG fan, in general. Although I love a good story as much as the next guy, I’ve always found things like companion and inventory management to be tedious. And frankly, sometimes the story isn’t all that good, anyway.

The Elder Scrolls series has always been ambitious in this respect, with general success, relative to the genre as a whole. There are those who will happily point out all kinds of flaws with various entries from the series, but to my eye, these flaws are often the result of designing such expansive, ambitious worlds, and simply not quite having the technology to perfect them.

In this respect, Skyrim is a definite leap forward. The environment is damn-near photorealistic, and though there are some Minecraft-ish moments when perhaps gazing through the window of the top floor of a tower that’s been besieged by and subsequently cleared of bandits, these are few and far between. Obviously, Skyrim is meant to be a fantastic realm (because you know, it has dragons, trolls and wizard school), but it was clear that some inspiration had been drawn from the landscapes of northern Europe. For the most part, moving from landmark to landmark actually felt like journeying across a natural terrain. Even insignificant environmental features were distinct from one another: Cairns marking the footpaths that diverged off the main roads, trees, boulders, hot springs, all unique, all beautiful to look at.

Beyond the environment, there were a lot of references to Norse folklore sprinkled throughout the game, but with liberal doses of fantasy to keep things interesting: Mages in the employ of Jarls, horned helmets (okay look, there is no actual evidence linking horned helmets to denizens of northern Europe during the viking age. That kind of thing is for Elmer Fudd and the NFL. Maybe Denmark in the late Germanic age, but that’s completely different), and plenty of draugr.

Draugr used to terrify me, to be completely honest. My mom told me the story of a fisherman who was out late one stormy night, and as he was trying to sail back to land, he spotted a boat out on the waves heading towards his own. As the boat came nearer and nearer, he was able to see that it had actually been chopped in half, and was captained by none other than the reanimated corpse of a dead man. It was said that draugr guarded their treasures fiercely, and any man killed by them was doomed to become one himself. Fun times!

To find myself set upon by draugr in various parts of the game was, to me, quite effective in its creepiness, and induced a lot of swearing. I can’t say if it was because of personal association, or simply because these monsters were done particularly well, but either way—mission afuckingcomplished.

And I’ve already mentioned the dragons, who we learn after some exploration, snooping, and a whole lot of mountain climbing, aren’t just randomly showing up, but have been awakened by someone or something. Apparently, dragons don’t really die unless a dragonborn kills them and sucks out their souls at the moment of death. And it just so happens that I’m dragonborn, as I find out after being summoned to the Throat of the World by the Greybeards. No, not the guys from Something Awful, but an order of monks so powerful that they are sworn to silence, because their voices will kill every living thing in a 100 foot radius. Try to talk to them and they simply shake their heads, that’s how serious this business is. And that is what you will be soon too, after some training, grave-robbing, stealth-doing and alchemy-learning.

By now you’ll have seen the brilliant skill tree, so I won’t even get too deeply into that. Suffice it to say that the design is breathtaking and functional in way that I previously thought impossible. It’s a complicated system, but one which works. My only real issue with it is that it’s quite easy to back one’s self out of the menu by accident, which is a mere annoyance in the face of such a vast improvement over Oblivion’s system.

One interesting quirk: in order to utilize any of the ingredients for alchemical recipes, one must taste them. So in addition to eating fruits, bread, cheese and various animals I hunted/caught, I also had to put things like spider eggs, butterfly wings and yes, troll fat (I told you we’d come back to that) right in my mouth. This was not simply because I was feeling experimental, but because this is how the properties of each ingredient are discovered. This has been discussed more eloquently and at much greater length here. Unless health is already very low, ingesting random plants and bugs is not dangerous, but the accompanying vomit noises are quite realistic.

And speaking of noises (it’s a segue! Oh come on, most of them were okay up until now), the audio design was magnificent. I’m definitely one who appreciates good foley work. If I’m watching a video of someone stomping on bubble wrap (don’t ask), I want to hear the snap-snap-snapping of it beneath their feet. To know that I was in for an entire game’s worth of snow-crunching footsteps and dragon battles was reason enough for me to yoink this title from the grasping hands of the writing staff and check it out myself (sorry guys). To say I had expectations for Skyrim’s audio is a bit of an understatement, but I was not disappointed.

Aside from my own footfalls, there were plenty of sound effects that added texture and depth to the surroundings, but were also important cues. Though many of these noises were but a notch above ambient levels, they provided just enough subtle guidance to be effective. For example, a faint pulsing sound became louder and then softer, indicating that I’d passed by whatever was making it. I turned back to investigate, and was able to “follow” the sound to a glowing plant, which I then ate. It damaged my health.

The volume and panning with regard to position and distance from the source of any given sound is spot-on. Even when standing in a conversation, I turned to look 90º, and the sound responded so perfectly that I barely noticed. Inconsistent audio is not always the most noticeable flaw to most, but for those who do notice such things, it can significantly detract from the overall experience. Of course Skyrim is not the first game to make use of such techniques, but it’s done so well here that it bears mentioning.

Something that’s not always done so well here are conversations with NPCs. The voice acting was generally pretty good as I engaged in purposeful, voluntary conversation, but if I happened to be standing in the vicinity of anyone, sometimes they’d just start spouting off lines arbitrarily. There was a military officer in particular who appeared more awkward at making small talk than the guys at the 3rd and Pike Metro stop. By contrast, the merchant at Warmaiden’s, Ulfberth War-Bear, seemed to speak largely in innuendo: “You look like you need a new weapon. Something BIGGER, perhaps?”, and in reference to Adrianne, the blacksmith and namesake of Warmaiden’s, “It was a childhood nickname. She was playing with swords even back then”. Maybe my mind is in the gutter, or maybe EW. But honestly, no big deal. I can walk away from annoying townsfolk mid-sentence because the world of Skyrim is not so finely-tuned that I’ll lose out by not using conventional social protocol.

Beyond the various townsfolk, I also acquired two companions. The first, a woman named Lydia, aligned herself with me after I did a favor for the Jarl. He also gave me a title, Thane of Whiterun, and a pretty badass weapon. Lydia is useful enough in a fight. She’s probably saved me a few times, even. And she’s generally quiet, which I appreciate. However, she has an attitude problem if ever I ask her to carry things, even if it’s to equip her with a better weapon. “I am sworn to carry your burdens”, she says, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the “sworn”. It was amusing the first few times, but by this point it just makes me want to tell her that she can either STFU or be unemployed, especially in light of the fact that she gets lost in water and rock formations fairly often, and is generally kind of slow to keep up when we’re not actually fighting.

My other companion has a much better story, which is one of the most well-designed encounters I’ve ever witnessed in a game. Lydia and I were on our way somewhere new, and we’d been walking the whole way. Once a map point has been discovered, it’s possible to “fast travel” between two points, but if you’re heading somewhere new, be prepared for a hike. We’d somehow gotten off track just a bit, but were on a path and headed back in the right direction, when suddenly we saw an animal on the road. It stood up and began to move, but seemed neither to attack us nor run away. Not really knowing what to expect, because it wasn’t exactly an obvious “FOLLOW ME, GUISE”, I turned off the path and went after it.

Shortly, I came upon a clearing with a small cottage. Inside, lying on a rug was the animal from the road, who turned out to be a dog. Beyond him, there was a body lying on a bed. After making sure it wasn’t going to turn draugr and make a surprise attack, I searched the body and found a note explaining that the owner of the cottage had accidentally eaten something poisonous, and knew he would die. He went on to say that it was probably just as well, since most of his friends were already dead aside from Meeko, the dog. When I turned back around, Meeko was looking at me, wagging his tail expectantly. All I had to do was talk to him, and joined me from that point forward. The entire event was so moving that when Meeko was killed in battle later on by some draugr, I reloaded a save, took Meeko to a safe area, and made him wait there so he wouldn’t get hurt.

And really, that anecdote actually summarizes my overall impression pretty nicely. Skryim is definitely attractive, but more than a pretty face. It’s not without flaws: There have been a few random bugs, floating objects and at one point I had an arrow stuck in my arm. Companion management kind of sucks. Don’t bother to spend your money on a horse (it’s not possible to fight on horseback, and Lydia has an even harder time keeping up when running. Though admittedly, Red Dead Redemption set the bar for horses pretty damn high).

However, the beauty of the world, and the experiences in it somehow feel more meaningful than any other game I’ve played this year. There is a level of emotional nuance and subtlety here the likes of which I haven’t ever seen applied to this genre. Skyrim does not rely on orphans, sexualized waifs and other cheap shots because it doesn’t have to. There are no heavy-handed, cutscene-dependent manipulations. The world is sufficiently amazing; I am moved to save it without actually having an obvious personal stake in the situation handed to me with a cheap narrative device. It’s simple: The dragons are back, now I’m going to end them. Somehow, that is intrinsic motivation. The world of Skyrim speaks for itself, and the graceful complexity of it far outweighs any of its flaws.

Now excuse me, I need to go ingest this sweet giant toe I just found.