THE BANNER SAGA 2 ENDING CRACKED
Rook and his caravan-consisting of Clansmen, Fighters, and Varl-have seen the depths of the Earth cracked open by an enormous Serpent, apt to devour the world to its end. I found myself oscillating between two minds existing at the same time: that of the Hunter, Rook, and the Berserker Varl, Bolverk. I was perfectly content living my life as a hunter, with my beautiful daughter, her long, orange-flamed braided hair, beside me…īut maybe it’s time for me to move on, for us to move on. The Gods knew I did my best to lead, but maybe I’m truly unfit for this role. No matter what decision was made, it seemed like I could never win. Contrarily, when I made choices that painted me as the “austere leader,” fights, betrayals, and the stench of death was more prevalent. As much as I wanted to be the “just leader,” fairness often times lead to unruly behavior and unnecessary bloodshed. In the approximately 15 hour campaign, much like the beginning of the journey, I found myself torn at every decision presented to me. Whether that’s choosing to aid or ignore disheveled folks on the side of the road during travel, or to charge headfirst into battle or form your troops to defend as many lives as possible, every decision yields a consequence. But, why me? Why follow me, when I can’t even make a clear path to follow? How am I to take care of these people when I can barely take care of myself, let alone the daughter I couldn’t save? The Banner Saga 2 continues from where The Banner Saga left off, with more melancholy and bleakness than before, leaving you bereft of hope and impetus and tenacity as the Dredge-and something more sinister, The Darkness-nip at your heels.Ĭhoices matter. I’ve lost so much, and so have these people perhaps I’m all they have left to hold on to, perhaps I’m their only flickering hope in a world engulfed by The Darkness.
Am I really fit to be the leader of this caravan, of these people? There are individuals amongst us primed for leading, like the lighthearted varl, Hakon, or the century-old Scrivener, Ubin.
I cannot forget that nigh impossible battle, the grueling nature of it I know everyone else didn’t forget it either, the supplies we wasted, the lives we lost. I wasn’t the one who deserved this praise, but everyone looks to me for guidance. I wasn’t the one who “slayed” the red-armored Dredge. My daughter, Alette, sacrificed herself to save my caravan, but everyone touts me as “Sundr-Slayer.” I wasn’t the one who fired the arrow. The immortal Sundr Bellower has been slain, but at the cost of a life.
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