Sigils & Scamps |02| The Elder Scrolls: Battlespire [GOG]
0That damned blue light…
It called to me. It still does, even tonight. Like a lover you know is wrong for you, but you keep coming back anyway, because maybe—just maybe—there's treasure hidden in the madness. Or at the very least, something expensive. I've been staring at too many dead battlemages, and let me tell you, it starts to make a life of looting corpses look respectable.
Besides, I had nothing to do with the state of this place. It was broken when I got here. Why should I lift a finger to tidy it up?
The Scamps greeted me kindly this time. Polite little horrors, really. But their manners didn’t save them. A horde of Vermai poured through the halls like green, hissing sewage. More than I remembered. Many more. But something was different this time.
I didn’t panic. I didn’t flail. My blade moved cleanly, as if it knew the rhythm of Daedric blood before I did. The Vermai fell like wheat to a sickle. Ten, twelve, twenty—by the time I started counting, I had lost track. Their claws chipped stone. My sword chipped bone.
Even the Dremora, proud and pompous, wouldn’t face me directly. They hurled spells from afar like cowards in gilded armor. It only made the hunt more satisfying. Every time their incantations fizzled against my guard, I stepped closer. Each strike sang with purpose. The sword wasn’t metal anymore—it was memory, vengeance, and wrath bound in steel.
And then one of them—one of those horned, snarling Dremora—had the gall to surrender. Held up his hands, voice all honey and honeyed lies. “We can come to a bargain,” he said.
I bargained with his spine.
He never finished his offer. His head is probably still bouncing down that chasm of lava, whispering regrets to the fire.
That’s what this place does to you. You think you’re surviving it, but it’s changing you. I used to be a soldier, maybe even a hero. Now? I’m a shadow with a heartbeat.
But that’s a story for another time.
Now pour me something strong. I want to remember less.
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Welcome to The Elder Scrolls: Battlespire—a game so cursed, even the Nine Divines pretend it never happened.
Gone are the bustling cities, the open fields, the illusion of freedom. What remains is a floating death trap built for battle-mages and converted into a Daedric frat house. The developers took the engine from Daggerfall, stripped out the towns, and said, “What if pain… but vertical?”
Here, your inventory is a spreadsheet, your enemies are philosophical kink demons, and your only friend is the quicksave button. This isn’t an RPG—it’s a slow-motion plane crash with dialogue trees. Want shops? Too bad. Want rest? Hope you find a soul anchor. Want to understand what’s happening? Hold my tankard, I'm laughing too hard...
Each level is a Kafkaesque fever dream, stitched together by lore so deep and deranged it makes Morrowind look like Skyrim for Dummies. And just when you start to think, “Hey, I’m getting the hang of this,” a seducer offers you riddles, a flesh atronach eats your legs, and you fall into space.
We’re not playing Battlespire to win. We’re playing it to bear witness. To stare into the mind of Mehrunes Dagon and mutter, “...You okay, buddy?” Grab your spellbook, steel your soul, and embrace the suffering. The doom of Battlespire has come.
Nostalgia is a hell of a drug. Let’s overdose.
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🧠 #ThinkFastDieFaster
🌀 #BattlespireBound
🧌 #DaedraHRNightmare
⚔️ #CombatCursed
🔒 #PuzzlePurgatory
📉 #ImmersionBreaksBack
🎭 #VoiceActingVortex
🌫️ #LoreInLavaForm
🩸 #BloodForSkillPoints
🏚️ #OneDungeonToRuleThemAll
🧙 #ScrollsBeforeStability
🖱️ #ClickToPerish
🪞 #SigilKeepSyndromephoen
🫠 #GeometryHatesYou
🔗 #UnstablePortalsClub
🔥 #SpellcraftOrDieTrying
📜 #CanonicallyQuestionable
🍷 #DunmerDoomposting
🐐 #GoatsOfOblivion