Review: Tainted Grail: The Fall of Avalon (10h in)

You wake up in a prison, are freed, and learn you are the proud owner a world-changing destiny. You’re playing a first-person free-roaming RPG set in a lavish world full of side quests and monsters. What is the name of this game?
The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim? Wrong.
Oblivion? Wrong.
Morrowind? Wrong.
One thing’s for sure, right from the character creation screen: you can’t say Tainted Grail: The Fall of Avalon is hiding its influences. Starting the game as a prisoner feels like a deliberate homage. But this is not Elder Scrolls, not Bethesda. This is a different developer with a new story. So what is the background here? As this loading screen explains, we are in a darker sequel to Arthurian legend, where Camelot was destroyed by a plague called the Red Death.

All images in this post are screenshots taken via Steam from Tainted Grail: The Fall of Avalon (dev Questline, pub Awaken Realms)

So Arthur and co fled to the mystical isle of Avalon, but that turned out to be even worse. A few hundred years on, the kingdom of Avalon is falling apart. That’s where the player character comes in.

Skyrim was the first thing I thought of, and the similarities still strike me sometimes. But as I played Tainted Grail I started to see more and more of what makes it distinct. I’m aware that it’s got a suite of smaller open worlds rather than one big Elder Scrolls monster map; so far, I’ve only been roaming in the first one, so this has not been a factor in my experience yet. No, the first thing to jump out at me was a difference in spirit. Without taking a moment to Wikipedia it, I’m going to guess that the developers are British. There’s something of the dark cheekiness of 2000AD. For example, slain enemies sometimes carry erotic fiction – a joyous anachronism given it’s written on parchment. Did monks copy it by hand in scriptoria? It’s a little moment of ‘Don’t worry, we can have a laugh here too.’

A terrifying grotesque giant, deep underground, pushing a lever as you do

That’s welcome because on the other hand Tainted Grail ramps up the ruin and slaughter. The dungeon where you begin is a refuge run by an order of priests who are trying to cure the Red Death. But things have gone horribly wrong. There aren’t just a few corpses here and there – there are bodies in cells, bodies on racks, bodies in cages, parts of bodies in cages and parts outside, and many, many torture chambers and blood-drenched laboratories. At one stage you fall through a hole in the floor into a cavern beneath, and you land on a gigantic heap of corpses.

When you go on out of the cave to a rocky beach there’s three shipwrecks. And a little way on, two or three more. Around the corner, five or six more shipwrecks. It’s not aiming for subtlety. But it goes deeper than tone: the combat feels less rudimentary than in Elder Scrolls, but not in that action-adventure console-port way that I often find annoying. It’s very intuitive. UI and inventory are noticeably easier to use.

Two men in a pub chatting about the issues of the day. Every detail of this moment could be happening in Sean’s Bar in Athlone

By this point in the game we have also encountered some terrifying grotesque giants, majestic statues, a strange, intense cutscene and a sojourn in a parallel universe of impossible topography and towers suspended at the moment of collapse. We also find ourselves in a blood-filled chamber where the emaciated body of King Arthur lies in a gothic sarcophagus, and we have been kinda-possessed by his spirit.

To be clear, all this in the starter area – the ‘Helgen’ of Tainted Grail.

The strange otherworld/ afterlife into which we wander to explore the dark history of Avalon

After that, I sail to the first open-world area. I have been told I have to steal Excalibur (by two different characters with different agendas), but I am free to roam at will, trade, loot, chat, do side-quests, and fight monsters and bandits. Here I started enjoying myself even more. The open world stuff strikes a good balance between freedom and direction.

The world is Celtic and Arthurian in its influences. The first merchant I met was coy about his true nature, but would not buy or sell anything made of iron. Demons roar at you in modern Irish. Cyclopean sword-in-stone monuments seem to float on the misty horizon. The characters often have Irish-language names, whose pronunciation the voice actors blithely butcher. But no matter.

‘May you die screaming!’ translated correctly into Irish and, in this case, pronounced correctly too

The world is smaller and tighter than in many open world games. You can still pick a direction and walk and see what you find, but you won’t go thirty seconds without finding something that an artist had some fun designing and that will try to kill you. This is a trade-off; we have a pacier experience, but less of the Skyrim or Red Dead Redemption sense of being in a real landscape. On the contrary, this place seems more like the magical kingdom it is, with everything amped up to the extreme. Everywhere, marred spectacle and broken monuments pose implicit riddles. 

The side-quests sometimes leave you with some bleak humour at the end. A necromancer has been raising the troublesome dead at a local graveyard, as they are wont to do in games like this. The solution is to convince the necromancer that the only way he can make a breakthrough in his research is by experiencing death himself.

Other times it’s just grim. The red priests tried to cure a plague only to turn their haven into a vast cave complex of death. There’s a strong sense, underlined by the melancholy theme music, that King Arthur, too, tried to build something great and noble but has only wrought ruin and madness. 

Ten hours in, I’ve explored three-quarters of this first zone, which is called the Shadow of the Horns. I’m starting to itch for the next area but I’m not ready to leave this one behind. I could probably walk to the main quest marker at this point, though I don’t know what kind of horrors and villains I’ll find on that road. There are a few side-quests I want to do but I will have to either level up or fight smart before I can tackle them.

Playing to your build is encouraged. For a long time I carried a sword because that’s what I’m used to doing from other games. It took me an embarrassing length of time to figure out how to read the stats fully, and to realise that I was carrying a weapon that was too heavy for me, and suffering huge penalties because of it. I switched to a kind of magical staff called an essence channeler, and because I have assigned my level-up points to Spirituality, I can use this weapon to full effect. I am now dealing several times more damage than before. Still, if I approach a fight lazily I’m going to end up dead.

Maybe I like Tainted Grail so much because it’s a welcome contrast to some of my recent gaming. In my search for an open-world experience I have strayed into the consoley realms of action-adventure. I’m thinking especially of Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla. I really liked many aspects of it, but it frontloaded some terrible sins so that I never got through to the parts of the game I really wanted to play. The player spends the first 30-40 minutes in cutscenes (or thinly-disguised cutscenes). It does not let me save and load the game. I have to play through the same challenges again and again from the same checkpoint.

I don’t know how developers think they can reconcile checkpoints with open worlds. Is it a file size issue? This is especially bad when it comes to boss fights or other challenges that you might have to play through five or ten times. It’s not repeating the challenge that I mind. It’s repeating the five tedious minutes of filler between the checkpoint and the challenge.

Another recent one was Red Dead Redemption 2. I’ve played a lot more of RDR2 than I have of Valhalla and will definitely go back to it. I liked it. But I didn’t love it, because there were some of the same problems. You start the game wintering in the mountains and robbing a train. For me, in more than one sense, it was glacial and I was on rails. There were hours of linear hand-holding prologue. Hours! After that you have more freedom, but the missions maintain the same pace as the prologue. You have to commit to sitting down and playing for a long time if you want to make progress. And again, if developers want player freedom, they should let the player save their game.

How nice to pick up Tainted Grail and find a game that has depth and breadth but that gives me freedom. There’s a shorter prologue, within which you can design your character, hone your play style, explore a non-linear space, and make some consequential choices (as opposed to, shuffle around and listen to dialogue). Then you’re off the leash and wandering free within the hour. Of course, I’m not entirely comparing like with like. These are all free-roaming more-or-less open-world games. Assassins’ Creed is its own thing and Red Dead is its own thing, and maybe it comes across here like I’m criticising them for not being something they were never intended to be. I’m not, though – I’m just giving my own reaction to approaching Tainted Grail after playing them.

That’s my reaction after clocking up ten hours of play time, anyway: this is fun, this is engrossing, and I’m definitely going to give it another ten, at least.

Games that warped my young mind: Tiberian Sun (1: Setting and Story)

When I was 11 or 12 – or maybe it was some older and more embarrassing age – there was a field near my house that me and my friend called the Tiberium Field. You had to dash across it in twenty seconds flat, otherwise Tiberium poisoning would kill you and turn your body into a visceroid, an aggressive and indestructible blob of human tissues. In our heads, we were in Command and Conquer: Tiberian Sun.

So far, so nostalgic. This is a post where I talk about a 1999 strategy game, maybe to recapture the remembered leisure and innocence of the childhood that surrounded it.

But I never got past a few missions of Tiberian Sun, never owned my own copy, and I like it a lot more now than I did back then. If we’re talking nostalgia, I was always more of a Red Alert guy (who could have guessed?). At the time I thought Tiberian Sun was, in comparison to Red Alert 2, drab and self-serious, with a clumsy interface and confusing missions. Earlier this year when I bought the whole Command and Conquer back catalogue for a tenner, I didn’t expect that this would be the game I spent the most time on, the one where I actually finished both campaigns, the one that would haunt my imagination.

So this is not all nostalgia. Something else is going on here, and I’m going to try and find out what. And even within the nostaglia, there’s the question of how this game worked its way into my imagination in such a way as to turn the grass of that neighbourhood field into an expanse of deadly and valuable green crystals.

So how did this game warp my young (and not-so-young) mind?

This screenshot is from the expansion pack, Firestorm

The Tiberium-haunted world

The first point in favour of Tiberian Sun (henceforth TS) is its setting. The world of the original Command and Conquer was sort of improvised. The developers said, let’s have something like the spice from Dune 2 – it works so well as a resource-gathering feature – but transplanted to another setting. The result is Tiberium, a strange green crystal native to some alien world which has begun to spread over Earth’s surface. There are two factions: the Global Defence Initiative (GDI), a one-world military defending the status quo, and the Brotherhood of Nod, which is part-Tesla, part-ISIS, part Comintern, and obsessed with using the Tiberium for obscure ends. My impression, having played only a little of the original C&C, is that whatever worldbuilding there is starts to peter out around there. The setting is just an excuse to have a war game on the Dune 2 formula. (I’ve talked about the Red Alert spin-off elsewhere.)

Tiberian Sun takes the worldbuilding more seriously. A couple of decades after the first game, the Tiberium infestation has advanced, and Planet Earth is now terminally sick. GDI and Nod are still fighting over ruined cities and land choked with alien crystals and alien weeds, skies torn by ion storms, poisoned air, mutated genetics. For more on the setting and its applicability as a prophecy for our times, I recommend this article from Eurogamer by Robert Whitaker.

Tiberian Sun captured that late-1990s sense of some vague impending doom. But in 2024 it offers a strange kind of relief. You can retreat into the barren comfort of a world that is already destroyed, where there is little to save. There are unexpected inheritances from Dune: like in Herbert’s book, the ground beneath your feet is more than a setting, it’s an actor with powers of life and death over the fragile humans and machines crawling on its surface.

The applicability to climate change and global warming (which we all absolutely knew about in the 1990s even though those in power did nothing) are obvious. It’s a metaphor for our times in another way too. GDI are coded as “good” but we never see them actually doing, or even promising, anything good. They never help anybody or change anything, until the Forgotten twist their arms. We side with GDI only because Nod are obviously and extravagantly worse. Yes, GDI is Harris and Nod is Trump. Neither side offers a way out of war and ecological destruction. But Nod at least offers its supporters the shallow pantomime of its rituals and chanting and bloody spectacles.

Mutants, ruins and the glow of Tiberium. It’s a vibe

The setting itself tells a story: when we move our little men across the map, we see ruined high-rise buildings, contrasted with space-age-looking new settlements with solar panels and bunkers and greenhouses: the civilian world has retrenched into smaller and more resilient communities. Meanwhile war has advanced as a science. It’s all laser guns and visored helmets, giant walking battle mechs, cyborgs, explosive throwing discs, orbiting battle stations. Humanity is spending and innovating to fight more effectively, even as we have less and less to fight for. While the Red Alert setting just pits an evil faction against a good faction, Tiberian Sun (TS) takes place in a world that is messier and more ambiguous. In Red Alert, we don’t know why the Soviets are attacking the status quo. In TS, we don’t know why GDI are defending it.

Videogames then were violent, militaristic, imperialist – not in a the conscious and blatant way that Call of Duty is now, but as it were by default, by reflex. C&C is no exception. The GDI versus Nod struggle is at base the same old Imperialism versus Third World struggle, with the legitimate struggles of the global majority (“disenfranchised nations” seduced by Nod) packaged as evil fanaticism. In TS it is less explicit, filtered through layers of deniability in the worldbuilding, but we get signals, such as that the villains in Tiberian Sun have names that are Arabic, Latin and Slavic (he’s literally called ‘Slavik’). The Latino baddie is a drug smuggler who menaces the southwestern United States, playing into racist tropes. We see one South Asian guy in the ‘Global’ Defence Initiative, but the rest of the goodies are Americans.

The Forgotten

The music is not as conspicuously brilliant as that of Red Alert 2 but it has a greater range. There are moments of foreboding (‘Valves’) and loss (‘Approach’). If Red Alert 2 is a violent cartoon, Tib is a 1980s-90s action sci-fi movie – the vibe, to me, is sort of like Terminator 2, Aliens and Paul Verhoeven.

The melancholy themes probably belong to the third faction in Tib – unplayable and lightly sketched, but essential to the story (I suppose if GDI is Harris and Nod is Trump, they are Jill Stein or Cornel West). This is a loose confederation of clans who call themselves The Forgotten. They are people mutated by Tiberium exposure – insulted and belittled as ‘shiners’ by GDI and Nod alike, distrustful of GDI due to past atrocities, persecuted and imprisoned by Nod. They are few but they are pretty lethal in a fight.

The Forgotten are the conscience of this story. In the GDI campaign, it is only by overcoming prejudices and working with the mutants that GDI can defeat Nod. In the Nod campaign, you prevent any possibility of an alliance between GDI and mutants through a nasty trick. There’s more going on here than is usually the case in this series.

An actual Tiberium field

Tiberium Wars

In Part Two of this review I’m going to be looking at two other strengths of Tiberian Sun – the cutscenes (you heard me) and the gameplay. But before I move on I want to comment on the 2007 sequel, Tiberium Wars and its expansion Kane’s Wrath (I haven’t played Tiberium Twilight). What I have to say about Tiberium Wars (TW) underlines what I’ve just said about TS.

I’ve played a lot of TW and enjoyed it, but it doesn’t have the same grip on me as its 1999 predecessor. And I don’t think it’s just nostalgia.

The graphics and the smoother interface are a huge upgrade on TS, marking a rapid development in just 8 years. The story is solid, far less silly, and it’s all in all a lot of fun to play. But the setting doesn’t feel as real to me, and I think I know why.

Tiberium Wars leans with dispiriting heaviness into a ‘Global War on Terror’ framing. Magazine ads for the game talked about fighting terrorism. Technologically, GDI has been downgraded – no more stomping robots. This is explained in-game as being due to budget cutbacks, but the effect of it (and probably the intention) is to make everything look a few-score degrees more like Iraq or Afghanistan, or some near-future 9/11. The expansion Kane’s Wrath thankfully leans back the other way, and was clearly crafted by people who loved TS.

From a 2013 EA press conference about a new C&C title. If you have eyes, you can see the vibe they’re going for. And it’s not ‘morally dubious 1990s action sci-fi movie’

TW’s setting is retconned so that the Tiberium-infested world is divided up into uninhabitable Red Zones, Yellow Zones which are in a state of social collapse, and Blue Zones which are stable and prosperous. This is a marked contrast to Tiberian Sun, in which everywhere – Egypt, the USA, Norway, Germany, Britain, Mexico – was one of two things: a Yellow Zone or a snowy Yellow Zone. In TW, the Blue Zones we see are all either in the USA or in Germany. We always see them menaced and under assault. The first few missions are a bizarrely close remake of Red Alert 2, with the baddies invading hallowed American landmarks like the White House and the Pentagon (No! Please don’t destroy the White House or the Pentagon! Anything but them!). The Imperialism vs Third World framing is much more obvious and open. It’s no accident that the Forgotten are left out of the story of TW – they appear only as an Easter egg and they talk like super mutants from Fallout.

At base the reasons I don’t like it as much are political; I think it’s a shitty way to portray the majority of the human race, as if they have nothing better to be doing than besieging and menacing whatever dull place you live. But you don’t have to agree with that to see that these are two very different types of story and setting. Tiberium Wars is the same old C&C story about protecting the status quo. Tiberian Sun has more depth and ambition.

Home Page/ Archives

To receive an email when Part 2 of this article goes live, type in your email below: