Why
Daggerfall
is my
Favorite Elder Scrolls Game

As far as videogames go, Daggerfall is not the best.
It was the classic tale of a game that was too ambitious for its own good. Its lofty goals of a lifelike, breathing world where factions would go to war with one another and players could become property owners were too much for its budget and release schedule, leaving Bethesda to rush an atrociously buggy and feature-stripped product out the door before the impatient masses hungry for CRPG goodness could kick their doors down. Even the game's main musical theme was cut from the final release!

Tripping and falling through world geometry into the pitch-black void is commonplace. Some spell effects simply have no function whatsoever, and some sidequests are inherently unbeatable by sheer virtue of the game's procedural handling of non-story events.

In fact, as far as Elder Scrolls games go, Daggerfall may actually objectively be the worst of them all.

Arena, the game's precursor, littered the areas outside of towns and cities with pathways, buildings, cemeteries, lakes and more. Exploring beyond the boundaries of settlements had a purpose, and there was never a shortage of things to do and places to loot.
In Daggerfall this is not the case. Its massive world is an empty void of featureless plains stretching on for miles and miles.

Later entries make the world more compact, but more believable. Polished. They are more than barren backdrops for your adventures - they are an intrinsic part of them.

Arena, the game's precursor, featured claustrophobic dungeons and crypts that were samey, but small. They never overstayed their welcome, and were at least somewhat visually diverse.
In Daggerfall this is not the case. Its roughly 15,000 algorithmically-generated dungeons are a nightmare to traverse, becoming monotonous and tiring after mere minutes of play. They are long, sometimes nonsensical, and each draw from the same bank of rooms and textures.

Critics of later games in the series cite their simplified dungeon designs as one of the games' greatest shortcomings.
Spending one day with Daggerfall can quickly quell the idea that "dumbing down" the dungeons was a bad decision.

While Daggerfall is far more technically impressive than Arena and boasts significantly improved controls and game-feel over its predecessor, it simultaneously feels like little more than a hollowed-out husk of what came before.
It's almost impressive in its own way... Its primary selling points manage to be its weakest aspects by far.



...So why, then, is it the only Elder Scrolls game I've ever played through to the end?





It's difficult to put into words what's so great to me about Daggerfall... I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning.

For starters, Daggerfall is the only game in the main-line Elder Scrolls series that does not introduce your character as the chosen hero of destiny, nor does it start you off as an unfortunate prisoner breaking out of a dank cell and clawing your way to exceptional glory. Instead, you are essentially a simple courier. Granted, you are a courier who is close personal friends with the Emperor of Tamriel, but that's as special as you get.
You have a history. You're already a somebody, yet your character is still a blank slate for you to fill out as you desire.

And while your ultimate quest of finding out why the Ghost of King Lysandus is haunting the streets of his city sounds like quite the feat to undertake, coming back after playing any future installment of the series certainly undercuts the excitement of this prospect. Have you played The Elder Scrolls Online? Glenumbra is TEEMING with unruly spirits! Just absolutely infested with exorcist cases waiting to happen!
The Mysterious Case of King Lysandus isn't special because he's a ghost. It's because, by all accounts, he shouldn't be a vengeful spirit, and that means there's something very wrong about this whole situation.

On top of the general mundanity of paranormal activity in the High Rock region, the spectral sovereign is not even the Emperor's biggest concern. What's really on his mind is the fact that a very important letter he sent to the Queen of Daggerfall never seemed to have arrived, and he can't have it falling into the wrong hands. Honestly, the dead king could not have picked a better time to haunt the streets with his ectoplasmic horde in tow - You can safely travel to the Iliac Bay under the pretense of dealing with Lysandus, ensuring no one will question the purpose of your visit while you seek out the lost letter.

You were not born with the fate of the world on your shoulders.
You are not the reincarnated messiah.
You have not appeared in any prophetic dream visions.
You do not have the blood of dragons flowing through your veins.

Your death would simply mean they're going to have to send a new mailman.





As soon as you navigate your way out of the tutorial dungeon and make your way toward the more-or-less civilized world, you wind up being contacted by the Emperor's agent. Right off the bat you become embroiled in a web of intrigue spanned across the three major fiefdoms holding power over the Iliac Bay, being contacted by members of royal families and sent to perform covert tasks against one another. From your position as a lowly courier you find yourself rapidly becoming a triple-agent, delving into the kingdoms' darkest secrets just to get one little step closer to that letter... And perhaps something far more dangerous.

All of these take the same form as most any other quest in the game, of course, yet something about them is so gripping. Something about the way they're framed and written, the implications they carry for the state of the bay, the mistrust these people breed for one another... It's delicious, even if there honestly isn't that much of it in the grand scheme of things.

It all serves to add to Daggerfall's unmatched atmosphere. It is easy to feel like an unwanted presence in the Iliac Bay.





On the topic of the atmosphere, this is something that is ironically enhanced by the emptiness of Daggerfall's world and the lifeless nature of its inhabitants.

You see, what Daggerfall truly excels at is making you feel alone.

Not just alone in the sense of going into a dark spooky basement by yourself, but alone in the sense that no one will help you.
No one is going to fight by your side. The townspeople don't have a single adventurous spirit among them, and the guards won't even lift a finger when you find yourself taking arrows from somewhere in the fog at night.

You can no longer ask people about their occupations and such like you could in Arena. The little randomly-generated touches that made the townsfolk feel the tiniest bit more alive were removed, even as the dialogue system became far more complex and feature-complete. It leaves everyone feeling so standoffish, even when your reputation among the people of Hammerfel and High Rock improves.

Your closest companions are almost literally cardboard cutouts, paper-thin facades of allies that disappear backstage once their purpose is fulfilled. They will give you directions around town, provide you with a room at the inn or hit you with some of the latest gossip, but they're capable of making about as much of an impact on the world as you can make on that skeleton that's screaming in your face while you miss your fiftieth sledgehammer swing in a row.
(that is to say "not much of an impact at all")

Daggerfall makes it clear that when you are in trouble, the only one you can rely on is yourself.

All of these things come together in a way that make you feel like you are in danger at literally any moment of every given day.
And I love it.





It is this assured, inescapable loneliness that makes it all the more terrifying to know that you're not alone.
Every arrow whizzing by on the city streets, every distant creaking door in the darkest tunnels, every time you try to rest up and recover your strength... only to be told you cannot rest while enemies are nearby.

The winding corridors of the maddeningly samey crypts and tombs you are forced to explore time and time again are rife with intersections and crossroads, and sometimes it feels as though every time you look down one way, something invariably jumps you from the other.
Doors you approach will fly open in your face, revealing a screaming skeleton or moaning zombie shambling forth to cut you down to size... And backing away is just as scary, because something might have appeared behind you at the same time.

Not only that, but at certain points in the game you might find yourself being hunted by assassins at night. These can appear completely silently. This is made far, far worse by the fact that human enemies in Daggerfall do not make sound whatsoever.
They stalk you without giving away their position. They follow you into buildings. They come to your room while you sleep.
And there are no friendlies here to warn you that a shifty stranger is coming through the door.

You're not safe even in your own home. Buying a piece of property and spending the night there makes for an excellent simulation of how it feels to hear a burglar creeping around your house when that creaking door sound plays in this space that only you should be inhabiting, except worse because in Daggerfall your unwelcome guest might very well be a vampire.





Honestly, beyond all that, the game is just... fun. Something about it is tremendously easy to drop at any time and pick back up later, no matter how long ago you last played. I suppose that's the virtue of being predominantly computer-generated? I could never do something like that with Morrowind. I'd be hopelessly lost as to what was going on, who I was supposed to be talking to, or what I was doing in the story. Daggerfall doesn't have that "problem".

That's not to say it's somehow a bad thing to ask more of your player's attention, but it is undeniably more of a commitment for them to make.
Daggerfall's story structure is simply not that complex. There are not a lot of things for you to keep track of, but it can just as easily draw you into the world all the same - whether it's in small bursts or long sessions - and it's the simple joys, the feel of the gameplay and atmosphere, that keep you coming back for more.

Daggerfall is practically an arcade game compared to other Elder Scrolls games. A really complex arcade game with lots of dice rolls and an involved spellcrafting system, but still.

And oh, baby.
That final dungeon.
How could I forget that final dungeon?
What a wonderful reward after a game-long slog through the same chunks of repetitive brick cellars.
I won't be spoiling it in this essay, but it certainly shows the virtue and creativity of manmade level design over algorithmic world generation.





All in all, Daggerfall has provided me with a particular experience I can't get anywhere else.
Some of it is quantifiable, but some of it I just can't put my finger on.
The look, the sound, the feel... It's just right, at least to me.

It scares me, intrigues me, and soothes me.
And that's why Daggerfall is my favorite Elder Scrolls game.