There's a curse which exists in those that keep themselves perpetually in tune with the hum of gaming's pulse. Very little comes as a surprise. Counting myself among them, I too revel in frame-by-frame breakdowns, rumor mills, or vastly over-reported speculation. Perhaps that's why I was so wonderfully proven imperfect when rolling credits on "Pentiment," albeit three years too late. Not for lack of compelling style, the title (like many) was relegated to my gargantuan backlog. Simply put, it was likely because I didn't actually know much about what the game was. Looking back I'm not entirely certain as to why, because, as I've made clear, that isn't my typical practice. Yet something beckoned me. Something that kept it waiting patiently, wading above that playable purgatory. Of course, I didn't understand it at the time, but this something was faith.
This essay contains spoilers for "Pentiment"
developed by Obsidian Entertainment.
Now, I definitely saw trailers for this game, in fact, I recall watching the announcement of the title live. The immediate standout, especially when taking it in as a complete unknown, were the medieval manuscripts brought to life amongst other showings such as "Starfield," "Diablo IV," and "Forza Motorsport." Past that, I'm not sure I had the capacity to remember much else, but allow me to speak plainly when I say, embarrassingly, I didn't know there was any murder. Imagine my mouth agape when I'd spent a few days reveling in the relationships, the religious commentary, the region itself, and suddenly the baron is dead. Real dead. Then came the revelation; how silly of me to think this would be just a romp of artistic expression! It's about solving a dastardly case of criminal activity, and all this melancholy is simple set dressing. Ah, yes, lest I forget, this is a video game. Fool me once, Obsidian, shame on you.
with stylistic flames in place of their head on a dark background.
With only so much time to investigate the killing, and more than enough suspects of probable cause, I started to feel the pressure of uncovering the truth. As details continued to spiral out, it was only ever more apparent that with every pulled thread was another hanging fray. However, as Andreas Mahler, I unraveled with confidence. Well, perhaps that's a bit of a misnomer. Bravado is likely more apt, as every decision of "Pentiment" was weighing more heavily than the last. I willingly relinquished more information to my curiosity than I felt I had gathered, but look, Prior Ferenc was guilty and that's all that mattered. Was there a sinking suspicion that perhaps he wasn't? Okay, yes, sure, but what I definitely knew for certain was that Brother Piero didn't do anything wrong.
I might as well have walked shady Ferenc to the grave myself, but I kept Sister Matilda's secrets, and I didn't put Lucky or Ottilia through too many interrogations, so hey, no harm no foul. Well, deserved harm, little foul. Eh, no time for regrets, we're moving on to act two, and guess what? Another murder has struck Tassing. The video game's established its premise, now it continues its loop. That's what we've been taught as players, so what else would we expect? With probably a couple more twists, a fair many turns, and if we're lucky, something brand new, "Pentiment" was commiting to its formula. As immersed as I wanted this all to be, the veil had fallen. As such, my second investigation would be conducted with much more nonchalance. Fool me twice, Obsidian, shame on me.
the murdered Baron Lorenz Rothvogel.
The peasants are revolting. The abbey is burning. I never found the author of those cryptic notes, and I came close to causing Caspar's demise. The duke's soldiers are raising their arms, and all those books are up in flames. Andres Mahler is dead. I am dead, and I'm not the only one. Did I do this? Where did it all go wrong? What could I have done instead? Stunned, to all these questions, my only honest answer was "I don't know."
I continued on to the third act so enthralled with "Pentiment" that my behavior could only be described as insatiable. It was now undeniable that since my time as an illuminator, ages had passed in Tassing. The characters I loved, hated, or barely knew, had changed. Or more accurately, they lived. As Brother Piero had said, before his eventual expiration, "time passes for us all, things change, the future will write over the present. You need not fear it, so long as you remain true to yourself and God." I looked back upon my decisions now from a new perspective, and with a bit of my own pessimism infecting the printer's daughter, Magdalene. Whereas I, as Andreas, presented myself as courteous, knowledgeable, and forthright, I couldn't help but bring to life a bit of retribution. Full of snarky remarks, stubborn, and having absolutely nothing to do with Otz, I marched on trying to prove Obsidian couldn't pull the proverbial wool over my eyes again. Fool me... well, you know.
This is the point where, if you're still reading, you must be wondering if all these very particular details actually matter. In the grand scheme of things, no, of course not. There is most certainly a much more concise fashion to illustrate my point, but let's also be fair. There are countless conversations, poignant moments, and solemn reflections I've chosen to omit. Even if I could perfectly paint my experience, "it is not the way November is." Another Brother Piero quote, if you recall. That's to say, there is no ideal way to exemplify my time with "Pentiment," which was quite honestly a healthy dose of just trying to do what felt right, and hoping it is. Having faith that it is. The game never tells you who actually killed Baron Rothvogel or Otto. Despite various opinions prior, the game never shows the impact of Tassing's rathaus mural, no matter how you paint it. There are no story deviations or chapter selections to be found past the credits, as Andreas simply sits alone, ablaze with an unrequited penance. Branches of history's tree grow unwavering, as the game never presents what could have been.
The Duke of Bavaria's soldiers descend on the revolting
inhabitants of Tassing, as Kiersau Abbey burns around them.
This is the point where, if you're still reading, you must be wondering if all these very particular details actually matter. In the grand scheme of things, no, of course not. There is most certainly a much more concise fashion to illustrate my point, but let's also be fair. There are countless conversations, poignant moments, and solemn reflections I've chosen to omit. Even if I could perfectly paint my experience, "it is not the way November is." Another Brother Piero quote, if you recall. That's to say, there is no ideal way to exemplify my time with "Pentiment," which was quite honestly a healthy dose of just trying to do what felt right, and hoping it is. Having faith that it is. The game never tells you who actually killed Baron Rothvogel or Otto. Despite various opinions prior, the game never shows the impact of Tassing's rathaus mural, no matter how you paint it. There are no story deviations or chapter selections to be found past the credits, as Andreas simply sits alone, ablaze with an unrequited penance. Branches of history's tree grow unwavering, as the game never presents what could have been.
What I witnessed, just as anyone has, is not what if, only what is. For all the doubt that brings, before, during, and after, I turn a blind eye to the possibilities I know I gave up. For all the blurry futures I could have once called present, I look upon the fine details of reality's past. As both Andreas and Magdalene, I was true to myself, reflecting the impact of the world's condition back onto it, shaping it as it shaped me. Hours become days, by supper and slumber, just as days to months, months to years, by manuscript and murder. Time passed, things changed, and while wavering, what else would I call my reason to carry on but faith?