I recently spent a lot of time in Assassin’s Creed Valhalla galloping east and southeast. There are some wonderful views around Kent and Dover and it is nice to sometimes go to the beach instead of going through the wet fertility of the more wooded areas of Mercia.
That means I picked up a few side missions (or local mysteries) in the area that I missed earlier, and one of them, although it lasted all three minutes, really made me laugh. It’s about a sea beast called the Terrible Aflanc, only it’s actually the most theatrical philicide attempt ever, and the NPC involved has my lasting respect.
There are many interesting NPCs in Valhalla, from serious business quests, such as the three pagan witch sisters of King Lear dotted in East England, to the most capricious ones, such as “the woman who lives in a sewer that requires snake entrails ”or“ the man who likes baseball very much, somehow ”. One of the funny things about the game is that you never know when you might run into one and if it will take place in a rather involved secondary quest.
When I saw these rocks, for example, I said to myself, “Wow, I wonder if I will go there, I will encounter a murder mystery, where two policemen will start, one depressed and another a mother who works without nonsense. in contradiction, but it creates respect and a loving friendship. “Is Broadchurch far too dark for an AC game set in Dorset, which is beyond the scope of the Valhalla map?” Yes. But still. It could have happened.
Anyway, here’s what happened (spoilers for this specific mission that I believed too much):
My crew (and cat) were sailing happily on the river when I heard, on the shore somewhere between Croindene and Guildford, a woman complaining loudly about her father (whose name I forgot, so I will refer to my father) for pushing her imminently into the river to drown. And somehow she was upset, but she looked exasperated; her tone was a bit appropriate because if she forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer in the morning, so now they couldn’t take the chicken to dinner, and she was looking forward to the chicken.
So obviously I jumped off the ship to investigate. Griseld, the young woman in question, was sacrificed because their farm was flooded by a satanic beast called the Terrible Aflanc. Griseld was meant to reassure Aflanc, who certainly existed because that’s what a guy named Godfrey said.
So, obviously, I went swimming and discovered that there is no monster, only a shipwreck that, from time to time, throws bubbles and floats. Griseld was upset by the news, and Dad said, “Wow, by no means, but is there a monster?” And then Godfrey ran and said he specifically told his father that there was no monster, and my father had just been looking for an excuse to kill Griseld because he annoyed him, for example, by saying he drank too much and told him he was a spy. Griseld responded by kicking Dad out.
So my thoughts were, in order, as follows:
- God, what a men’s champion. What an absolute hero. Become so upset about what is, at best, a petty upset that you invent a sincere belief in a giant monster as a reason to kill it. The great energy of the Old Testament.
- Everyone’s theater. He covered the river bank with petals to commit his crime. Why go so far? Given the historical context, he could have killed her and said a bandit did. Or he simply pushed her and said it was an accident. Or, in fact, he just killed her and it didn’t bother me to really hide her.
- For example, in The Witcher 3, every village you go to has a ghost that insists on haunting its hundred-year-old apple orchard, when even the most superficial investigation shows that it is the ghost of a teenage girl who disappeared three weeks ago, and whose blood is still visible on earth. Dad could probably kick dead leaves over Griseld’s body, and if anyone even bothered to ask, he said the bitch had come, she told me it was a “layabout.”
- Who is Godfrey? His relationship with any party here is not explained.
- Also, what the hell, Godfrey, why are you just showing up now that I’ve solved the problem? It’s not like it’s done in secret. This potential murder is an event. There is a small crowd. What were you doing, which was so important, Godfrey? Did you hide in the bushes to wait for the arrival of the most dramatic narrative moment and to reveal your father’s terrible secret?
- Griseld is very cool about this and I respect her for that, but I’m also worried.
- But seriously, this man worked so hard to drown his daughter. He pretended to believe fervently that there was a dangerous monster living in the river for an undisclosed period of time. He probably has a reputation.
- Imagine gathering carefully and then scattering all the petals everywhere.
- It is clear that he is not a layman.
- I’m on his side.
Unfortunately, I failed to take a screenshot of my father, but he, his indescribable coat and bald head, are with me forever. If there is any justice in the world, it will trigger a huge line of search in which I can install my father, thrown out of his daughter’s house, as a king somewhere. He is the leader needed by Valhalla’s troubled times: ready to be tough and wild in any proportion decisions.
What I am saying is that many of the side missions in Valhalla are absolutely absurd and I love them all the more for that.