The Witcher III: Storm's End

WARNING: Heavy spoilers for the main narrative arc of The Witcher III throughout. If you haven't yet finished The Witcher, or are considering playing it in the future, DO NOT read this post.

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As the two-hundredth and final of my wonderfully enjoyable hours within the world of the Witcher III came to a close, the games protagonist, Geralt of Rivia, is left standing alone within the ruins of a crumbling fortress.

For just over a day ago, this was the site of one of the Witcher’s most tumultuous battles, a climactic last-stand against the Wild Hunt in which Geralt’s collective allies and cohorts would fight together for one final time. In the lead up to the battle, it becomes plainly evident that this stronghold, a one-time bastion of the Witcher order, has seen better days. Rather than being home to the next crop of genetically engineered monster hunters, the castle of Kaer Morhen is a lifeless wreck, its only stewards now being an ageing Vesemir and an otherwise preoccupied Geralt.

It’s a fitting visual metaphor for the remnants of the Witcher caste, and a wonderfully apt location for which to bring together some of the games most notable characters for one last time. This is, after all, the final chapter in the story of Geralt, and one which, depending on how you reacted to some salient choices, will end in either tragedy or triumph. At least that’s how the core narrative will play out, anyway. For if you choose to carry on roaming the Northern Realm even after the author has closed the book, you’ll find that the world is far bleaker than you ever remembered it.

Every RPG I can lay claim to having finished has suffered with a similar issue. In the Elder Scroll’s V SKYRIM, I had effectively moulded the living world in my own image. I was Thane in all holds, Arch Mage at Winterhold College, Chief Assassin with the Dark Brotherhood, leader of the Thieves Guild and honorary Imperial brigadier. I had slew the Stormcloak leader, fought on the frontline during the civil war and even assassinated the Emperor of the land within his own bedchamber. Interspersed with these pursuits was the games main narrative arc, which I had completed around about the same time as I had sufficiently ground down my backlog of other quests and responsibilities. Murdering Tamriel’s divine Emperor was the last thing I remember doing before the lights of SKYRIM had begun to dim, the lively, vibrant land I had spent days of my life within having rapidly degenerated into something of a vacuous, desolate waste.

The gradual darkening of the Witcher’s borders begins to set in within the epilogue. Wrought by the sadness of one of the greatest games I have ever played finally reaching its end, I begrudgingly took control of Geralt for one final time, aiming to delay the inevitable dropping of the curtain by measuring each and every step taken across the snow-covered fields of White Orchard. And it was here, for the first time throughout all of the other countless hours I had spent playing the Witcher, that Geralt and Ciri were free to roam, having finally been untangled from each of their inextricable burdens. Here they were, frolicking in the brilliantly white woodland and regaling each other with fond memories and forgotten tales. An endgame devoted to journeying forth alongside Ciri would be the most welcome detraction from a lifetime spent wading through rivers of monster blood without the company of another. But both in terms of the narrative I had moulded and the Witcher’s abrupt continuation following the credits, this simply wasn’t to be.

“I am to become Empress” proclaims Ciri at the borders of the White Orchard township. “Don’t do this to me” utters the usually stoic Geralt, knowing exactly what this entails. And so Ciri unfastens her sword, turns away and rides off into the distance, a Nilfgaardian battalion proudly flying flags at her back. And as the ashen-haired woman for which this entire crusade was for slowly fades out of view, Geralt is left with unwelcome solitude once again, warmed by the notion of Ciri’s purity rubbing off on an empire of liars and cheats, but frozen by the bite of the dull breeze at his back. Thus ends the quest to save Ciri’s life.

At the point that I had completed my written review of The Witcher III, I had logged 100 hours with the game. And by the time that its final act had played out, that number had effortlessly doubled. It was evident when merely halfway through my adventure that CD Projekt Red had made something uniquely special, but in the wake of my reflection now that the pages of the Witcher’s story have stopped turning, I can say with no hesitance that The Witcher III Wild Hunt is one of the most wonderful videogames that I have ever played.

The Witcher III masterfully melds together the integral elements of traditional RPG’s, but emboldens them in such a way so as to produce an experience as refreshing as it is refined. A strong, overarching narrative is woven delicately between many other stories and fables, all told within a world that’s as believable as it is unfathomable. The games characters, appalling and affable alike, each provide a window into the dark heart of a horribly blighted land, whilst never ceasing to remind you of a broken humanity still fighting for its existence.

And it’s why the games end is so beautifully horrific. For despite the ever-encroaching apocalypse, despite the hate and vitriol of those opposed to his existence and despite fate throwing monster after deathly monster at him, Geralt has survived, and he too has ensured that the one he cares about most has survived along with him. Ultimately though, Geralt and Ciri walk two different paths. And so as Ciri meets the horizon at the Witcher’s end, Geralt’s loneliness is compounded, his life within the narrative one of joy and love, his existence outside of it a harrowing, desolate purgatory.

The pre-credit sequence may have told how Geralt and Triss journeyed to Kovir to see out their days together, living out a tranquil life in each others embrace, but Geralt’s true fate was very different. For in my world, Geralt stands still beneath the decaying ceiling of Kaer Morhen, alone, waiting for her. For this is the conclusion that every player arrives at, and this is the ending that we all must suffer together. This is the reality of the victor, and the final damnable scene of a spectacular game that will stay with me forever.