How Fable 3 Ruined Me as a Person

I consider myself a decent fellow. I honestly, truly believe in the sanctity of people and the potential for good in all situations. Given a choice between an easy but morally-shaky option and a difficult but morally-sound one, I will attempt to do the latter every time. This personality trait extends even to the realm of video games. I have played several games that give the option of choosing between two definitive good and evil options. Never once have I chosen the evil option, even though it is typically the easier of the two.

That is, until I played Fable 3.

In saying this, I am not suggesting that I chose to be a tyrant. Fable 3 is the sort of game that allows its players literally hundreds of times to choose good over evil, or visa versa. This becomes even more apparent towards the end of the game, when you become either the king or queen of the mythical realm known as Albion. You are given the choice to rule fairly over your subjects at the cost of their physical safety or make their lives miserable in exchange for saving them from impending doom. At least, this is what the game tells you.

However, if you look closely at the list of Xbox 360 achievements for Fable 3, there are two that may catch your attention. One is to rule fairly over your subjects in every instance. The other is to save every person in Albion (a feat that costs no fewer than 6,500,000 gold pieces). It is possible to get both achievements in a single playthrough. I would know. I did it the first time around. However, doing so cost me about 40 hours of my precious life amassing enough gold, all while ruling fairly over my subjects to keep my morality at an optimum level.

Impressive, right? I personally spent hours of my life pouring my soul into a character whose morality held about as much weight as hydrogen in reality. And I did it all for the achievements, for that one chance to say that I went the extra mile and accomplished something.

Now, some of you reading this understand what it means to have those few extra, precious achievement points. For anyone who has ever logged onto achievementhunter.com or spent hours watching youtube videos on where to find elusive collectibles, you’ll know what I mean. Others of you may scoff and disregard me as a wastrel who needs to get his life in order. But hold off your negative stereotypes and comments until the end of this article, because this is where it gets really bad.

Even though I had succeeded in obtaining both aforementioned achievements, there was something still bothering me. There was one achievement I didn’t have. I still needed to obtain every article of clothing in the game in order to receive an achievement worth a paltry 20 points. Not exactly worth it in the long run and certainly not comparable to the 39,000 achievement points I already possessed. But this was an achievement I didn’t have and I was determined to get it, dammit!

With this determination in mind, I started a new character (a female this time) and began expanding my virtual wardrobe. In just under 20 hours, I had once again saved Albion from impending doom, ruled fairly over my subjects as their beloved queen, and kept my morality high and free of guilt (thank you, thank you). On top of this, I collected every article of clothing in Albion.

All but one, that is.

See, as some kind of sick joke on Lionhead’s part, the producers of Fable 3 thought it would be fun to make one article of clothing more difficult to obtain than the Shroud of Turin. In fact, I think more people have claimed to possess the Shroud of Turin than this fictional article of clothing. The article in question is a white cook’s hat. It doesn’t match any other article of clothing contained within the game and it certainly doesn’t have anything to do with the story or one’s ability to complete the game. In fact, the only way to get it is to befriend one of the four or so cooks in the entirety of Albion and convince them to give you presents, one of which will ultimately be the cook’s hat.

After reading up online on how to obtain the cook’s hat, I began the process of befriending every cook in Albion (all of which, strangely enough, live in the same 20′ x 30′ room in the castle). After all, I was the queen of Albion, for crying out loud! How hard could it be to convince one of my adoring subjects to hand over the hat off their head? And yes, every cook in Albion wears the exact same cook’s hat I so desperately needed.

After befriending four different cooks, a process which took about 30 minutes, the presents started rolling in. As the sun rose and set on Albion day after day, the cooks  began lining up to give me their most prized possessions, some of which appeared to be their weekly salary or family heirlooms. Yet, despite the incalculable riches they heaped upon me, none took the appearance of the coveted cook’s hat.

After 2 hours or so of this routine, I began to get a little discouraged. The cooks stopped looking like friends and began looking more and more like everyone I’ve ever hated….wearing white cook’s hats. I decided to take a different route. I had heard that marrying (yes, you can marry) one of the NPCs in Fable 3 caused them to loosen their wallets even further, presumably from all the awesome sex they expected to be getting from your character. Fine, I said, I’ll deal. Within the next hour, I had wooed and married one of the cooks in the most elaborate wedding ceremony Albion could offer, the cost of which was several thousand pieces of gold. My cook husband wore his hat to the wedding, I might add.

With the wedding out of the way, I was given the option to set an upkeep for my new family. Upkeep is money you give to your NPC spouse to keep them happy and in a giving mood. I set my upkeep to 1,000 gold per day, which is the maximum amount you can give without admitting to the world that you’re completely insane.

“Excellent!” I said. “At this rate, I should be receiving golden carriages full of cook’s hats in no time!” Yet, as hours continued to pass, my greedy cook husband became steadily more tight-fisted. It seemed as though he realized he could get whatever he wanted from me by withholding the one trinket I so desperately desired.

The real-world implications of this whole process should start becoming clear any moment now.

I finally came to an utterly dark realization: my cook husband wanted sex. Maybe it was the subtle hints he kept dropping at my character. Hints like, “You’re looking good tonight” or “You know, the one thing missing from this marriage is your body” or “How about a special midday nap?” After exhausting every other possible option, I finally acquiesced. Taking my cook husband up to the royal suite in the royal castle, I gave him the royal night of his life. I should also mention that he wore his hat to bed.

Come morning, my cook husband had a gift for me. I unwrapped it faster and with more anticipation than a child on Christmas morning. Upon opening his elaborately wrapped present, I found…

A chessboard.

I stared at it with more confusion than a child on Christmas morning who just opened his present to find socks (or accidentally opened the present meant “For Daddy’s Eyes Only”). Baffled, I spoke with my cook husband to try and nail down the reason for this obvious mistake.

“Isn’t it great to live in a castle?” he responded. “We have everything we could possibly need right here.”

He was mocking me! All the while, his cook’s hat sat proudly on his head adding insult to injury. After running through every possible reason as to why my cook husband was being such a scrooge, the only explanation I could muster was that last night’s activities weren’t enough to satiate his cook appetite. I petitioned him for another romp in the royal hay, telling myself that no one could possibly resist free sex from someone who lived in a castle, restarted an ailing economy, and saved the world by shooting fire at werewolves.

His response? “I have a bit of a headache…I’m afraid it will last awhile.”

Now I was  pissed. My cook husband was refusing sex with a monarch under the guise of having the world’s most inexplicable and sudden migraine. “Fine,” I thought, “I’ll do something else for a few days and come back later.” I departed back into the Albion wilderness and set a few more werewolves on fire. A couple days passed and I returned to the castle to find my cook husband at his cutting board preparing vegetables for stir fry. Since he obviously had enough energy to prepare lunch for an entire castle’s worth of people, I figured he could use a break in the royal bedroom. I led him by the hand to my luxurious accommodations and petitioned him once again.

His response? “I have a bit of a headache…I’m afraid it will last awhile.”

You can imagine that my response to this latest bit of information was not pleasant. I considered using my werewolf-burning powers to ignite the entire castle in eternal hellfire, but I realized that doing so would probably ruin my perfect morality and destroy all the cook’s hats in the process. So, I took a quick breather and repeated the whole leave-castle-burn-werewolves-petition-for-sex cycle anew.

I’ll skip over the twenty or so times I returned to the castle only to have my cook husband give me the same damn excuse again. By the time he was finally ready to do the dirty a second time, I had put in a good 3 hours trying to get the hat off his head and into my inventory. But every good effort deserves a reward. Sure enough, my cook husband had a gift for me the following morning. I don’t exactly remember what this one was (something like a wash bowl), suffice to say that it was not a cook’s hat.

Fortunately, I had by this point accepted that this was going to be the most difficult, infuriating process in the history of video games. Unfortunately, I realized that I had become what was essentially the video game version of a prostitute. Unlike a prostitute, however, I was paying money to have sex with someone in the vain hope that he would find the compassion to give me clothes.

Through the tears of bitter realization at the monster I’d become, I managed to repeat this hellish process again and again and again. Time after time I’d wake up to discover a present at my side. Time after time it would turn out to be something completely unrelated to a cook’s hat: a chair, a mirror, a magic potion that summons spirits from the netherworld, etc. I had no idea where my cook husband was getting these nonsensical items. Considering I owned everything in Albion, the only explanation I could muster was that he was sneaking off during sex to steal things from my castle and wrap them under the cover of night.

It was about the time I realized that I was involved in what was potentially the most dysfunctional relationship ever crafted that my cook husband finally gave me a cook’s hat. I raised my arms in triumph only to discover that my cook husband was still wearing his hat!

The sniveling cheat had one in his pocket the whole time! Here he stood, thousands of pieces of gold richer, having received more action than utterly necessary, and he couldn’t find the heart to spare a hat that he obviously wasn’t using. At this point, I considered using my queenly influence to decree cooking an illegal profession and have all four chefs in Albion deported. Unfortunately, Fable 3 doesn’t allow for such rash decisions. You can slaughter towns full of innocent civilians and break wind in the face of homeless people, but God forbid you deport your selfish cook husband.

Despite this whole ordeal, I now had my cook’s hat and my 20 achievement points. I logged off my Xbox 360 and onto Facebook. It was then I realized I had lost 20 friends due to lack of social interaction.

I wonder if there’s a way to trade my other 421 friends for 421 achievement points.