The nights and mornings have turned cooler, and I’ve been having thoughts of fall. I dragged Beau and Yasha (from Critical Role’s Mighty Nein campaign) into chunky sweaters for some cozy, homey vibes. No spoilers here; I don’t know if Exandria has invented chunky sweaters.
WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CAMPAIGN 1 OF CRITICAL ROLE (VOX MACHINA) ABOUND IN THE FOLLOWING just in case you care about that….
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About a year ago, I started listening to the podcast of the D&D actual-play show Critical Role. If anyone is unfamiliar, actual-plays are where groups of people record themselves…actually playing. It isn’t scripted or staged; the game unfolds in weird and unpredictable ways at times. In the case of Critical Role, every member of the cast is also a professional voice actor, which means that they are excellent at becoming their characters, expressing and reacting as though they themselves were in the same situation, and knowing the intricacies of their character’s motivations so deeply that they can respond to the twists of the game in character. The show has been running for something like seven years now (they started recording in 2015 although the campaign had already been running for sometime. Their first episode has 20.5 million views, as of writing), covering two and a half campaigns. I’ve currently finished one and a half campaigns, which at my best guesstimate, is upwards of 600 hours of listening content.
Although I’m fifty-nine episodes into the second campaign, and although the characters and story is excellent, it’s the first campaign that truly won my affection. I remember enjoying it through the first twenty or thirty episodes of the Vox Machina campaign without feeling much personal stake. It was fun, the storytelling was excellent, the players sounded like they were having the best of times together. I liked it. But then I reached the Whitestone arc, and I suddenly felt for the characters. Events mattered.
And from that point on, I became a loyal Critter.
After that point, I began to resonate with the characters more – their struggle with themselves, each other, and the complexities of being in a tightly-knit group where individuals often rub each other the wrong way. It’s very reminiscent of the show Firefly in how unlikely companions are thrown together in a wobbly, awkward, unbreakable found family. One of the characters who compelled me the most was Keyleth. A half-elf druid, Keyleth was raised in a tribe away from “regular” society (aka homeschooled), and knew from the beginning that she was destined to become the leader of her people when she completed her trials. She was sometimes socially awkward, anxious, nervous, inexperienced, and clumsy (how many times did she get arrested?), but she was sweet, genuine, compassionate, and hopeful. In contrast to Percy’s intelligent cynicism, Keyleth was the warm-hearted optimist of the group.
What I loved most was Keyleth’s relationship with Vax.In the beginning, both of them were awkward, terrible communicators, and extremely shy. Although Vax knew he loved Keyleth, Keyleth had no idea what she felt for Vax, and it was so relatable. There wasn’t a “moment” when they became a couple – there was a long stretch of episodes where they talked, spent time together, backed off, worried, talked to other friends, and came back together. Keyleth had never been in a relationship before, and she expressed to Vax that she was nervous, that she had feelings for him but was afraid to pursue them. It took her a long time to open up to him, but he was patient and thoughtful with her, allowing her to take her time without rushing her, manipulating her, or giving up on her. It was lovely and sweet. When they finally became a couple, they were committed to each other, gentle with each other, protective of each other, and devoted to each other. Despite the madness of the world being set on fire (literally) all around them every day, they made time to connect.
And for that beautiful example of a stable relationship, Critical Role, thank you. Thank you in to Liam O’Brien (Vax) and Marisha Ray (Keyleth), and Matt Mercer as the DM for allowing his players to play real, deeply nuanced people.
When Keyleth opened herself up to trusting and relying on Vax, she found a new stability in her life that she had wanted but had been afraid to pursue. As the future leader of her people, as a druid, she knew that she would most likely live much longer than half-elves usually do, much longer than even full-blooded elves. One day, inevitably, all her friends would die and she would be left. Even knowing this, knowing that she would have to endure the devastating pain of separation someday, she let Vax into her life.
The image above is from the year Keyleth and Vax spent at her home in Zephrah, between episodes 94 and 95 before the final arc of the campaign. I wanted to represent that sweetness of a moment between lovers, savoring the day before it begins, and a life together before it ends. The image below is from the last episode, in the moment when Vax is called to fulfill his debt to the Raven Queen…and leave the mortal plane to be with the goddess. Even though Vox Machina “won” and saved the world, they still lost Vax.
There’s a terrible pathos to Keyleth, having struggled to learn to trust and risk herself in a relationship, to finding the sweetness of love in a stable partnership, to suddenly losing her partner just as they saved the world, only to then have to live for a thousand years.
I don’t know if Keyleth ever found someone to love again. I hope, for her sake, that she did, and that love wasn’t always equal to heartbreak.
Keyleth is a golden goddess.
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*In case anyone who isn’t familiar with Vox Machina is reading this and thinking, “Vax looks really gray in the second picture…” it’s because he’s undead at this point. See “Revenant” in the Monster Manual.
Someone very thoughtfully gave me the new D&D starter set for my birthday, and despite never having actually played D&D (barring one short and not-terribly-enjoyable stint with Pathfinder), it seems as though I’m in the process of turning into a DM. In theory, the starter set contains enough information that even brand-new players can open the box and start to play, but listening to Critical Role for something like the past ten months will be hugely helpful. For one, I can draw slightly on Matt Mercer’s abundant wealth of NPCs when I have no idea what a character’s voice should sound like.
The plan is to run the game for one player, so I’ve been mulling over the adventure book, considering how to scale the encounters and whether to add more than one sidekick in addition to the character I’ll be playing. I’ve also been redesigning some of the locations, drawing maps, making notes on additional background lore (who can resist building a backstory for dragons?), and trying not to wade too deeply into the bog of “Oh gosh, I need to know what’s in every drawer in every cabinet, and the title and author of every book in the library, and what wood was used to make the bookshelves because it might be significant.” Even Matt Mercer had to start somewhere (presumably).
It helps that neither I nor my player have actually played before, and we’re learning together how to create characters, how to fall into backstories, how to play and world-build and explore together. It helps that we’re both epic nerds who have been accumulating knowledge of lore and fantasy for years. It helps knowing that this is the first time, so it’s alright if it’s clunky and exploratory and awkward. What matters most, as it says in the adventure book, is that everyone has fun.
