The Politics of Imperial Power in Arkane’s Dishonored Franchise
Produced by Arkane Studios and published by Bethesda Softworks in 2012, Dishonored was a smash hit at launch and has set the groundwork for an entire franchise. The writing throughout the series has some notable flaws (misogyny, among others) and questionable points. One of the more interesting points are its politics of power, as in, how does the narrative decide who is just and right to have power, and who isn’t? For a franchise that builds a lot on the theme of abuse of power, it only does so halfheartedly.
Set within the Empire of the Isles, the world is composed of a collection of isles whose relationships with said empire vary broadly: Gristol (from which the Empire is ruled, utilizes a constitutional monarchy, complete with a hereditary parliament), Morley (which has a history of insurrectionary attitudes towards the Empire), Tyvia (has some independence and has formed a bizarre government that comes across as anti-communist propaganda), and Serkonos (loyal to the Empire up until the events preceding Dishonored 2).
Perhaps unintentionally, the writing of the entire franchise creates a specific dichotomy of power, between the Just and Righteous Empress and the Corrupt Aristocrats Poisoning the Empire. Within both Dishonored and Dishonored 2, the player fights aristocrats and oligarchs to take down two oppressive regimes (held up Hiram Burrows and then Delilah Copperspoon) and restore a rightful monarch to the throne. Nowhere in these games is the question asked, “Wouldn’t the existence of a monarchy be oppressive to the working class of the setting too?”
Starting in Dishonored, the player’s enemies are an entire menagerie of power-hungry ghouls: a totalitarian proto-fascist, members of parliament, heads of church, aristocrats, and a retired naval admiral. The working class of Dunwall suffer under their rule, and your goal is to rescue Emily Kaldwin, heir to the throne. However, the ending of Dishonored falls flat, when you, Corvo Attano, who has witnessed the plethora of abuse that oligarchs and autocrats can wield against the working class, restore the monarchy. There is no questioning at any point whether a monarchy, due to its undemocratic, tyrannical nature, might work against the best interests of the working class.
Before moving onto Dishonored 2, it’s very much worth mentioning the trainwreck of a tie-in novel, The Corroded Man. Taking some part in Tyvia, we’re shown for the first time the government of Tyvia: a fantasy Soviet state that replicates the Soviet Union under Stalin (with particular attention toward mass incarceration), and reads more like Cold War-era propaganda than anything else. The executive heads of Tyvia are literally called the “Secretaries for the People of Tyvia.” Obviously and over-ironically, the Secretaries for the People of Tyvia don’t truly serve the people of Tyvia, they just send them to prisons in a Siberia analogue as punishment for dissent.
Tyvia, though still ruled by the Empire, is treated with lax regard and retains a larger level of autonomy than say, Morley. It’s freedom and autonomy are, however, treated as an awful mistake. Tyvia, while wearing the guise of a democracy, is very much an authoritarian, undemocratic state that cares nothing for its people (you could say the same of America, but thats for a different medium.com essay), and according the logic of the world, Tyvia could’ve only become a tyrannical state as a result of the Empire’s lax attitude. The narrative frames imperial rule as good and independence as bad. This kind of logic is important when regarding Dishonored 2, which runs into the same pitfall. As a side note, the peasants of Tyvia long for the return of the Tyvian princes, their former hereditary rulers (an analogue to the Russian Czars, but without the pogroms, perhaps?).
Dishonored 2 opens with a coup against the sitting empress, Emily, by Delilah Copperspoon and the Duke of Serkonos. As Emily or Corvo, you have the option to help or harm the working people of Serkonos through your choices, but there is an theme that runs through the game. Serkonos had been given a little more autonomy from the Empire, and again, autonomy and independence are treated as a mistake within the narrative: Serkonos is ruled by a tyrannical autocrat. The narrative will go as far as to have the Outsider, the all-knowing demi-god of the setting, chide Emily for letting conditions in Serkonos get this bad and for not keeping tighter reins on her responsibility as an Empress.
You’d think that after a coup, where Delilah seizes the monarchy and uses it to disastrous effect, the player character would realize that maybe a monarchy is the wrong way to go. Instead, in every ending, the monarchy remains intact in some form, be it held up by Emily or Corvo. If you play your cards right, Corvo can even take the title of Duke of Serkonos, installing a new loyalist hereditary line. Again, as was the case in Dishonored, in Dishonored 2 the power of the monarchy isn’t actually questioned — only evil aristocrats and this time, an evil monarch who can be optionally supplanted by a good one (if you decide to play that way).
Perhaps most frustrating and telling is the tie-in graphic novel, The Peeress and the Price. Within the graphic novel, a revolutionary named Archibald Wainright pushes for democracy and free elections in the Empire. He’s simply treated as a thorn in Emily and Corvo’s sides. Towards the end of the plot, after Emily has defeated our antagonists (a gang that isn’t worth remembering), Archibald Wainright recants, effectively saying that he doesn’t need democracy with an empress like Emily on the throne, which is shockingly awful writing and just generally all around terrible.
The cut and dry of the Dishonored franchise’s politics of power as justified by its overall narrative is that the imperial empire is ultimately justifiable, as are its two empresses (Jessamine, who was portrayed as trying her best, and Emily, who learns to care for her working class of the Empire (if the player decides to play Emily that way, but even a low chaos Emily doesn’t justify a monarchy)), and the true poison of the Empire is the aristocracy. Keeping in mind the sham democracy in Tyvia and Archibald Wainright’s change of heart, it’s clear that the larger narrative treats democracy as an utter pipedream. There isn’t anything wrong with the franchise giving the player the option to maintain a monarchy, it’s a video game — but when the narrative frames a just and righteous monarchy as the only way the world can function? That’s poor storytelling.
Edit, September 24, 2020: I thought it fit to append a reply I had written back in 2018 to an initial comment to this essay.
… It seems to me that the working class of the world is caught in a bizarre transitional stage between feudalism and capitalism, in a tug of war between the aristocracy and anti-union capitalist tycoons. People are going to feel alienated and desperate, and will sometimes rely on ways to survive and earn capital outside the norm (for example, some in Dunwall and Karnaca join gangs). To add, the Abbey of the Everyman, as given license by the Empire, is extremely militant and has created a culture of fear and paranoia (added with the rat plague) where the working class doesn’t trust each other, and so they’ll turn on one another. I think the dialogue the heart gives you is more a reflection of the material conditions of the world than a damnation of everyone.
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Playing as Corvo in Dishonored and Emily/Corvo in Dishonored 2, after seeing first-hand, in person, the brutality that nondemocratic/hereditary/autocratic positions can perform, I would think that the characters would, more than just giving a damn, think twice about the legitimacy of positions like “duke” or “empress,” and of the “right to rule”. Archibald Wainwright legitimately challenges the status quo in The Peeress and the Price — though his diehard dedication to democracy is thrown aside like trash for Emily’s monarchy. The tie-in media, The Corroded Man and The Peeress and the Price play a lot into an overall unfortunate image and interpretation, I’m sure unintentional, that the rule of a monarch is for the best.
The tagline of Dishonored 2 is “Take back what’s yours,” and, lessons on caring for populace aside, I wish the game would’ve questioned “Why is the Empire Emily’s? Was it hers to begin with?” Before the Empire of the Isles was an empire, it was just four separate nations, and then conquered through an imperialist war (that’s why I take issue with the Outsider telling Emily, “You should’ve kept a tighter rein on this nation whose populace you control and have power over.” Something doesn’t sit right with me about that, Emily having power over others simply by birth and the Outsider, the being born out of abuse by the powerful, bothering to legitimize her).
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