There is something to be said for loot. When you defeat your enemy and they leave you a nice little package of goods on their corpse that you can take from their still warm body and then go and sell to the nearest stranger in order to buy more crap you don’t need, that is power. It really drives the moment-to-moment progression, right? Well, there is no better way to prove this fundamental drive than to force yourself to not do it at all. On this “pilgrimage” of pacifism through Oblivion I have vowed not to loot. It is a feeling so foreign to me that when I was presented with that very situation I literally had a physical reaction when standing at the first dead body.
In the beginning of the game, unfortunately, I am forced to kill a few goblins and assassins to escape the typical opening of any Elder Scrolls game which is a linear dungeon setting you must escape from after being imprisoned. My vow of pacifism would have to reluctantly be put aside (a first failing of the game’s messaging of “play the way you want to play?”) in order to get to the main world so that I can actually start my pilgrimage at all. Consider it my character’s dark past, a monk fighting for self-defense and forever changed, asking himself how the gods could have put him in this situation. Was it a test? Did he fail? Regardless, I did what was necessary and escaped from my captors. Of course, despite wanting to lead a simple life, I was forced to participate in some sort of royal conspiracy where the king of the land was convinced I was some sort of savior (imagine that), a chosen one, and I must admit I had no idea what he was talking about. So I played along, nodded my head and moved on. When the assassins came for the king I had to kill them too (another act of self-defense), but gave them a pilgrim’s farewell. When all is said and done, yes, I knew how to play the game (because they forced me to for tutorial purposes) but in the process I also temporarily lost my way. I am a pilgrim (I keep telling myself). This means I should not be killing and I should not loot. So I don’t. I stand there, looking at all the dead bodies, questioning my path and the knot in my stomach as I leave the free loot on the corpses for some thankless rogue to pick through. Quite possibly the first time in my RPG career where I want to loot but can’t. Though it sounds small it actually had a bigger impact on me than I had anticipated. There was a sort of release. A transition happened and I thought to myself, “Maybe this can work after all.”
Though the Pilgrimage has only begun as I walk out of the dungeon, blinded by the fake sun and overwhelmed by the “open” world in front of me, it seems that maybe the hardest part is behind me. As terribly cheesy as it sounds, the simple act of not looting a corpse for the first time ever, by choice, gives me a feeling that this Pilgrimage may have more to offer than just a ridiculous idea. Dropping my bloody sword and taking the first step toward the nearest city, I run for my life from the local man-eating fauna and leave my killing days behind me.
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