Fable III Review

The world of Albion is brimming with a vibrant personality that few imaginary worlds are able to match. While strolling down cheery forest lanes with a soothing melody permeating the air, it's easy to lose yourself in the fantastical atmosphere that encompasses this adventure. The quirky citizens you meet along the way are all too willing to make jokes at their own expense or send you on a ridiculous side quest that will leave you laughing at your given duties while admiring the stunning sights along the way. And it is these elements that make Fable III such an enjoyable adventure, even though the other aspects of your journey are not nearly as interesting. Subtle changes have further simplified the already uncomplicated gameplay mechanics of Fable II leaving an adventure that hardly requires any thought to complete. Streamlined combat and limited morality options make the life of an adventurer somewhat predictable, and a lack of emotional connection to any of the characters--including your dog--makes your entire journey feel slight. But even with some stumbles along this golden road, Fable III's enticing aesthetics make it a pleasure to traipse through this fairy tale land.

Whether you were a noble dignitary or colossal jerk in Fable II doesn't matter one bit in this sequel. The hero who saved Albion in the last adventure went on to become a beloved monarch, siring two children who would eventually look over the kingdom when their time came. Not all members of royalty can be blessed with a strong vision of how to lead their people into peace and prosperity, though. The oldest son of the former ruler has a case of the evils, and he is using his power as the new king to oppress the poor peasants who fall under his rule. As the younger sibling (you can choose to be a prince or princess), you flee from the castle under off-putting circumstances and must build up your own army to overthrow your power-hungry brother. There's a stronger emphasis on the story in Fable III than in previous games in the series, and there is a certain charm in meeting the various leaders throughout the city to gain allies. But the quests are structured more for a good hero than one with evil leanings; you are forced to do all sorts of nice things during your rise to power, which limits your chances to be an uncaring meanie.

The lack of choice in how the main quest plays out is disappointing, although it's possible to excuse this story conceit when you consider how it matches reality. To gain power, you must make concessions and convince people you're truly on their side; it's only after you take the throne for yourself that you can turn your back on the nice folks who supported you. That may make sense, but the lack of consequences for the vast majority of your actions makes it difficult to become invested in your choices. For instance, you can slay an entire town, murdering every adult you can find if you feel a bit bloodthirsty. But mere moments after committing such an atrocity, you can continue on with the main quests where people trust you and consider you a good person. It doesn't make any sense. Even choosing the bad option in side quests has few repercussions. In one early mission, you can choose to either kill a brood of chickens or let them live. If you spare their lives, you can bet on chicken races later. But even if you kill them all, the races are still available. The game goes so far out of its way to make sure you don't paint yourself into a corner that you rarely suffer any setback for your choices.

This lack of emotional connection seeps throughout the rest of the story. Character interaction has actually been dumbed down even from the fart-or-dance options that defined Fable II. As in the previous game, you have the choice to perform a nice or nasty greeting to any character you meet. If you're courteous, you can befriend and eventually marry that character. If you're obnoxious, though, you create many enemies. But when conversations with your date just have you whistling a song or playing patty-cake until she gives you a gift, it's hard to care one iota when she accidentally gets torn to shreds by a pack of balverines. Expressing your emotions is one of many places in which simplified mechanics have removed some of the fun from Fable II. Previously, you could perform any learned gesture at any time. Now? You're limited to a couple options, and you have to wait for the choices to cycle through after every move. This aspect of the game has the same emotional impact as what you would find in Fable II (read: none), but it's hard to even care about your dog this time around. There is never a bonding moment and you can't even heal him after battle (he never gets hurt), so he's more of a furry metal detector than a lovable friend.

Nothing like strolling through the forest with a dog by your side.

It's a shame that Fable III can't conjure any deep feelings for its funny-though-forgettable characters, but that's not to say you won't be emotionally invested at all. This is a gorgeous game. The exaggerated, almost eye-popping visuals of Fable II have been subdued somewhat in the latest adventure, and it's a change for the better. Every place you travel to has its own unique look and feel, and it's an undeniable joy to scour the lands for no other reason than to take in the beautiful sights. It is the breathtaking vistas and enchanting forests that pull you in; the smog-filled sky in Bowerstone or the sandy dunes of Aurora keep you engaged. Though your heart may not twinge for the characters you meet, the stirring score does an great job of making it flutter in your chest. Fable III is happy or somber, scary or uplifting, and it pulls off these emotional changes through careful artistic design and empowering music. Walking through Albion is to walk through the pages of a fairy tale. This meticulously constructed world is so enticing to look at and so pleasing to the ear that it makes up for the lack of depth in the other areas.

Unfortunately, the technical aspects are not nearly as refined as the artistic side of things. The most glaring problem is the pathfinding. Your dog, helpful treasure hunter that he is, is awful at pointing you in the right direction. He gets stuck on rocks and trees, or he sometimes just stands near you barking instead of running off to show you where to dig. This pathfinding stretches to humans as well. When you hold a companion's hand, you would expect him to dutifully walk alongside you. But your companions also get stuck on any obstacle in their path, and these quirks can quickly pull you out of the experience. The technical issues go further than characters not being able to find their way. Textures pop in, lessening the impact of the pristine view, and slowdown crops up at inopportune times. The worst instance of frame rate drop occurs during the banal minigames. Lute Hero, pie making, and blacksmithing give you a chance to make a quick buck by tapping buttons in sequence, but it's hard to hit that blue button at the perfect moment when the game is inexplicably chugging. Characters get stuck in the ground, you get caught on ledges, and everything just feels rough around the edges. This is a beautiful game that is continually let down by the uneven framework under the hood.