The Banner Saga 3
PC, PS4, Switch, Xbox One
Throughout Stoic’s gruelling adventure, death has always been in close proximity. Until now, it’s been forever at our heroes’ backs, its looming shadow getting inexorably closer as they’ve desperately tried – and occasionally failed – to stay one step ahead of it. Now, in the besieged city of Arberrang, it’s all around them. Its walls are just about holding together under the assault of those trying to get inside as darkness threatens to engulf the land; instead, it’s collapsing from within, the dire circumstances forcing old animosities to resurface, prejudices to come spilling out, and lawlessness to reign. It’s a bold choice to confine half the game to a single location, even if the place is big enough to occasionally traipse back and forth across, as our caravan tries to find somewhere safe to stay. But then our party’s journey had to end somewhere, and this is its terminus in every sense.
Meanwhile, the second group also finds itself trapped inside an increasingly claustrophobic space, even as it remains on the move. The onerous task of driving back the encroaching darkness has fallen upon spellweavers Juno and Eyvind, whose magic is keeping them and the reluctant Ravens encased in a protective bubble. But the mercenaries have been misled: their new leader, shieldmaiden Folka, is under Juno’s control, and the time is fast approaching when she’ll have to drop the pretence and hope there are no reprisals for her trickery. Not least since their old boss Bolverk, now possessed, is not only in pursuit but gaining upon them.
As a result, the tension is even more stifling than before. There’s a constant air of menace, the sense that a single, minor disagreement could potentially be the tremor that brings down the entire house of cards. And yet at first, you’ll probably feel a certain absence. Over two games we’ve grown accustomed to the strange beauty of this handsomely desolate world. Now, its strikingly ravaged landscapes suffer a bit from Metroid Prime 2 syndrome: yes, it’s all very bleak and threatening, but does everything have to be quite so purple?
Slurping out of this poisonous murk is a new threat – or, rather, old ones given new form. The darkness has warped everything beyond recognition, from the golemlike dredge to axe-wielding soldiers, giving them new powers and passives, and the ability to blight you even beyond death: once defeated, they’ll leave behind toxic pools that sap your willpower. Others grow tendrils that snake across several squares, targeting units you thought were beyond melee range, while creepy, crawling beasts burrow underneath the battlefield, emerging to cause trouble. Outside the city you can’t blow your horn for a morale boost, though you can call upon a lightning spell that chains diagonally – yet there’s every chance the second fork might just hit one of your own. Stoic’s battle animations have always captured a sense of weight, but here you can almost feel the exhaustion of one-armed giant Iver in the effort it takes to bring his axe down on another of those pesky slingers.
If your opponents are tougher than ever, it’s only right that your own combat experience should have prepared you to deal with them. Your strongest units can be given new heroic titles, with additional perks to lean into their individual talents. You could make the sneaky Dytch even more stealthy, reducing his chance of aggroing enemy units and boosting his movement, or dub enigmatic spearman Tryggvi ‘The Foolish’, increasing his strength and critical-hit percentage at the cost of his armour. New wave-based battles, meanwhile, let you get your hands on powerful items should you defeat the boss at the end: with some of these boosting your talents to give you a high chance to pierce armour or dodge hits to your strength, they’re worth fighting for, though given the likelihood of leaving your units incapacitated for a day or two, you might feel like fleeing after the first wave is the smarter option. Either way, it’s a reminder that death isn’t going away anytime soon.
In fact, Arberrang gets its own doomsday clock after a while, as your accumulated decisions so far buy you a certain amount of time to get things fixed. Should it hit zero, you’ll return to the city, where the dangers have increased, and you’re forced to make tough choices to minimise casualties. By our second return visit, an entire district was ablaze; other players may witness a wall tumbling down, but either way there’s tangible visual evidence of the human cost of your decisions. It’s grim stuff, but it makes for consistently absorbing drama, to the point that you won’t miss being on your travels so much. Besides, it’s only right that the focus should fall on the world within Arberrang’s walls: the land beyond, after all, has been lost, but there’s a chance that its inhabitants can yet be saved. They won’t all make it, that’s for sure, with Stoic setting up a series of brutal surprises that show just about all bets are off, as unlikely saviours emerge, and cracks show in formerly robust alliances. It’s elevated by marvellous sound design – the low chime that accompanies each passing day sounds like a clock sounding out a death knell – while there’s more than a hint of madness in Austin Wintory’s formidable score, which encapsulates the swirling chaos that threatens to engulf everyone.
Even with that thick streak of tar-black humour occasionally filtering through the cracks, the story’s relentlessness can sometimes seem overwhelming. But this closing chapter offers something rare and powerful. Plenty of games examine what life is like after an apocalypse; for once we’re seeing what happens while it’s all going down, letting us bear witness to the very best and worst of humanity. Ferocious and heartbreaking, this is storytelling with serious clout: against the odds, Stoic has stuck the landing.
The tension is even more stifling than before. There’s a constant air of menace