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I know this because he’s told me multiple times, after I’ve made him slurpily drain a rodent like it’s a furry Frube (other brands of tubed yoghurt are available). Sometimes he shudders a bit and makes noises of disgust. Other times he straight up says things like "This is not a nice thing to do". I know it’s not, farmboy whose family needs saving, but what’s the alternative?

I’m a long-time pescetarian in real life, and thus I’m trying to make sure his vampiric diet is at least a bit kind on the conscience. That means no going around getting his sanguine fix from friendly people. He still needs said fix though, otherwise he’ll have next to no health with which to survive fights. So, I’ve ended up having him wander off into the wilderness to find animals he can drain during breaks in the action, while also taking cheeky nibbles out of foes mid-scrap.

I appreciate that, from a food ethics perspective, this is basically akin to letting someone commit murder provided they don’t use a nuke to do it. Still, I feel I’ve got to draw the line somewhere in order to remain more hero than villain in a fashion that’ll mean Coen can still look at himself in the mirror. Well, look at himself in the mirror during daytime, at night I’d assume he might not show up on account of the whole vampire business.

The game itself doesn’t judge me regardless of how I get Coen the gulps of red juice he needs, and perhaps a bit counterintuitively, that’s made it a stronger RPG. Rather than having a Red Dead Redemption-style honour notification cartoonishly pop up whenever Coen does something morally questionable, or having a meter stashed in the menus grind closer to the end which says ‘evil bastard’, each transgression is met with silence beyond the likes of Coen’s occasional outbursts about rats and the panicked squeal of a deer or goat as he plunges his fangs into it. I’m left to wonder if the modus operandi I’ve devised in order to be the least evil vamp possible are actually any better than mindlessly feeding on whatever, whenever.

Does this poor lad from Laslea, once wholly human and devoted to helping his family get through the days, still have that valiant soul despite the dark sickness that’s been thrust upon him? In a lot of games, I feel like I wouldn’t so much be asking this question as much as the game would be telling me the answer. There’s undeniable RPG choice and consequence in doing something you know’s a bit dodgy or downright evil and watching a number of gauges on the great machine surrounding your character start to tick closer towards ‘utter bellend, this one’. However, it can be just as effective sometimes if the only stewing over your actions is left to take place in your own head.

Am I a bad person for forcing poor Coen to crack open plague-ridden critters like they’re cans of beer? Am I any better a person for making sure he’s well-satiated before he heads into town, lest he drain someone mid-chat? Should I be letting him feed on the poor fools he’s fighting against, who’re often human soldiers that call the valley home just as Coen does? Is it right to walk up the sides of buildings and warp onto their rooftops when that’s likely putting a perfectly good staircase out of work?

Meanwhile, embracing Coen’s vampiric powers is most certainly a boon in terms of making a more effective tool to fight the other vrakhir oppressing his home and holding his family hostage. His vampire form’s far more powerful than his human one, especially early on. Teamed with the 30-day ultimatum Dawnwalker puts on Coen’s quest, that power’s seriously seductive in a way it wouldn’t be if human Coen wasn’t a bit useless or his vampire form came with more built-in downsides. Unless you get careless, there aren’t many practical drawbacks to exploiting being a bloodsucking blight on the Earth. So, rather than being slapped about the face with condemnations, you’re left with only the gentle, but regular, prodding of the narrative to remind you that you’re often leading Coen deeper and deeper into similar habits the creatures he’s fighting against have.

You can do as I’ve generally done and try to find some moral boundaries you won’t cross, throwing away vrahkir blood that can grant new abilities and simply killing Brencis’ Boyars rather than sapping their power. You can stick to the wilderness as much as possible while in your beastly form, obscuring your hideous nature from civilisation by retreating behind a wall of tree cover or rocky gorges. You’ll still be reminded of what you’re doing to Coen, what you’re making him do, and just how horribly unnatural some of it is.

Every rat drained with a grimace is one step closer to salvation for those Coen loves. But all that’s staring him in the face immediately after doing it is a limp corpse flopping to the ground, where it’ll be left to attract more flies than it already has buzzing around it. Most RPGs serve their final triumph atop a mountain of dead bodies, but Dawnwalker’s done a more haunting job of making me confront that on a minute to minute basis than a lot of its peers.