Kingdom Come: Deliverance II kicks off with an act of disempowerment. The main controllable character, Henry of Skalitz, royal page to the young prince Hans Capon, is, along with Hans and the rest of his group, attacked by bandits, rebuffed by the local lord, and finally, imprisoned for getting into a bar fight. In a blink, Henry drops from his regal, empowered position, delivering an important message from one lord to another, to utter insignificance; stripped down and naked, covered in mud and locked in a pillory.

In order to complete his original task, Henry must build himself back up. He can take multiple avenues toward this goal. He can help out local townsfolk with their various problems and dilemmas and gain a sparkling, chivalrous reputation, or he can simply rob them blind and enrich himself on their pilfered valuables.

The Kingdom of Bohemia is Henry’s to conquer, his to crack open, however he sees fit. Even though the early hours of Deliverance II are punishingly difficult, full of unfair skirmishes pitting a lone Henry, armed only with a rusty hunting knife, against bigger bands of roadside bandits, or failing easy charisma checks against judgemental NPCs, there remains an individualistic power fantasy baked into the game’s structure. It follows the libertarian ideology endemic to most videogames, that anyone can improve their lot with enough willpower and gumption. Nevermind that you’re the main character of a world built entirely to cater specifically to you. Instead it’s easy, by way of Henry’s original bad luck, to believe yourself a victim, a survivor who must inevitably overcome the odds in order to restore yourself and your allies to their rightful position of privilege.

Avowed, another fantasy role-playing game released this year, has received some criticism for its cartoonish simplicity and the shallowness of its simulated systems. There’s no such thing as theft in Avowed’s universe. You can pick up any item you see and pocket it without a thought. Unlike Deliverance II, Avowed doesn’t have hunger or stamina bars, its villagers don’t follow a strict day and night routine, closing up shop at sunset and forcing you to wait ‘til the next morning to peruse their wares. Instead, it brings its nuance and complexity to the relationship its characters have with power.

Like Henry, Avowed’s main character is the envoy to a king. But your envoy never loses that power, aside from a brief near-death experience, where you are revived by a god. (Talk about an exception that proves the rule!) Instead, you move through the events of Avowed fully empowered, serving as a representative of imperial hegemony. You are someone who is tasked with making big, sweeping decisions about the world, solving numerous trolley problems, often throwing human bodies at the feet of your chosen solution.

In taking away Henry’s political power, Deliverance II works to launder and depoliticize its message. Playing as a diligent underdog makes Henry’s quest a lot more relatable, even righteous. His broad intent may be to restore the rule of an idle and undeserving king, but his immediate goals are simply his own survival. Shunned and disrespected on all sides, Henry must use his wits to fight his way back into a position where he can influence events. He’s nothing like his vaguely ridiculous master, Hans, who acts ever the spoiled brat and believes he deserves his place and position without having to do any work to maintain it. 

You can easily play Avowed from the perspective of a royal like Hans. You’ll have plenty of opportunities within the game to side with the powerful and push aside and neglect the common folk. But a more interesting approach is to try and do good in spite of your position. It’s distinct to the convention-laden approaches Deliverance II offers: either the populist righteousness of Henry or the spoiled elitism of Hans. Avowed offers a way to operate with a mix of both positions in mind.

These are videogames, after all. The interactivity embedded in the experience requires you to be the immortal focus of whatever narrative gets cooked up, no matter how revolutionary or conservative the writing may be. Isn’t it more honest, then, to play as a god king than as a disenfranchised foot soldier? Why not let the player/interlocutor control someone with limitless power, who has the option to use that power in an ethical way?

It seems like a better option than creating superficial limitations which are quickly overturned, like when your character in a game is briefly enfeebled for plot reasons, walking slowly and with a limp, before the screen’s colors return back to normal and you can continue to infinitely sprint everywhere. By forcing you to sit with and own the power which you effectively wield, Avowed works toward a better understanding of power itself; who it helps and who it hurts. It encourages players to think about the ways we can use what little privilege we have toward constructive and progressive ends. Marx’s “From each according to his ability” only works when you’re honest about what your abilities actually are.

Though Henry does eventually regain his rightful status in Deliverance II, there’s never mistaking the wide gulf between his position and the supremely powerful kings and lords who send him around Bohemia with the snap of their velvet gloved fingers, while they hide within their castles and forts. Henry is forced to venture out into the wild and chaotic world beyond the battlements of these safe havens, and must use his strength and intellect to survive, to manipulate others, trick them, lie to them, and cut them down if need be. And why not? In Bohemia’s unjust feudal society, no one truly cares about what you do. Bounties will eventually lift, and everything will return back to an inevitable, lawless default.

So if you have to lighten a few coin purses along the way to achieving Henry’s regal mission, it’s a sad necessity toward achieving his goals. After all, you need those groschen more than the poor sap you’re stealing them from. It’s dog against dog, and the “Stronger dog gets the bitches,” as Istvan Toth tells Henry before he is gutted by him. There’s no way to shift the great levers of power that control Bohemia, so what does it matter what you do in the muddy, shit-filled streets of its towns and villages?

And yet this world still revolves around and reacts to you, like it or not. You can avoid that truth, play the victim even as you inevitably establish your dominance over every supposed obstacle set before you, by hook or crook or scummy save. But it’s only by accepting the mantle of your power that you will ever hope to learn from it.

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Yussef Cole, one of Bullet Points’ editors, is a writer and motion graphic designer. His writing on games stems from an appreciation of the medium tied with a desire to tear it all down so that something better might be built. Find him on Bluesky as @youmeyou.