Intelligent Weapons Part 1: Affinity Weapons

Talking swords: a clumsy way of breathing life and magic into a fantasy world?

Sir Gudgai: "Egad! It seems the bandits have taken the whole village! What do you have to say about it, Reggie?"

Reggie the Sword: "Oh, I've got a few... cutting remarks for them..."

Sir Gudgai: "Ho! Ho! Oh, Reggie you rascal! Now, on with the slaughter!"

Or perhaps they are a useful mythic archetype that offers interesting opportunities in fiction and games? Let's investigate...

Affinity Weapons

We'll start off our list with the most unintelligent of varieties. Here we are looking at those kinds of weapons that reflect or embody the spirit of their owner in some fashion. It has been suggested by cognitive research that humans operating familiar tools perceive them as being an extension of the body in some way, so it should perhaps not be surprising that both myth and fiction are replete with such examples.

Gram: Sword of the Völsungs

This sword is spoken of in the Völsunga Saga. Originally driven into the great tree Barnstokk by Odin, only Sigmund the Völsung was capable of drawing it from the bark. When the blade was later used by Sigmund against a disguised Odin, the sword shattered, and the warrior was slain by his enemies. It was later reclaimed by his son Sigurd, who had it reforged by Reginn the dwarf. Naming the sword "Gram" (wrath), he immediately used it to slay Fafnir the Dragon and, shortly thereafter, Reginn himself. It would later play a pivotal role in his downward spiral into self-destruction.

“Why does Sigurd not strike off that traitor
Reginn’s head and keep Andvari’s Hoard
for himself?”
“Why not indeed!” Sigurd shouted

and leaped to his feet.

At first, the idea that Gram has any kind of latent "intelligence" is not immediately obvious. However, I would argue that by defining the sword as an instrument of revenge and destruction, Sigurd sets into action a kind of positive feedback loop in which anger begets violence which begets more anger. This is a case of the person not just having an emotion, but the emotion having the person. Sigurd remakes Gram and re purposes it. Gram is then only used in acts of violent, prideful revenge. He has taken on an archetype and has become willfully possessed by it. The sword has been defined as an instrument of anger as much as Sigurd. Both of them are equally instruments of a higher power: wrath itself.

The Blades of Sengo Muramasa

While there is a very interesting real historical background to the Muramasa school and its relationship to the Tokugawa Shogunate, the most important aspect of this for the mythology that followed is that Tokugawa Ieyasu banned all swords forged by these smith under the pretext that too many of his folk had perished on these blades. Thus, the swords themselves became simultaneously reviled by his allies and prized by his enemies.

Pictured: Not Muramasa

They featured in a lot of Japanese drama and fiction in the years since, most famously with a legend that Muramasa was a student of the renowned sword-smith Masamune (and legend it is as the two smiths were separated by around 150 years). The apprentice was so hell-bent on being greater than the master, he forged weapons with deadly, blood-thirsty auras. Muramasa's swords could cause warriors to cut themselves merely by inspecting them, inspire violence when drawn and "demanded" that blood be shed before they could be sheathed.

Here we again have an example of a human's actions "rubbing off" on the sword. In contrast to the legend of Gram, the pride and ambition of Muramasa becomes a curse that affects not only people in his family but anyone who uses his creations. This legend takes a step further by implying that those who choose a Muramasa blade are doing so because they are walking a path similar to the sword's creator. If you are in the market for one of these weapons, it's obviously because you are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve your goals and eliminate your enemies. It's a Faustian bargain, dealing with demonic powers and being unable to bring about anything but the works of hell.

Gurthang: The Black Sword of Túrin Turambar

Sindarin for "iron of death", in Tolkien's fiction we have the clearest example of a blade becoming so tainted with violence that it begins to manifest an intellect both separate from and reflective of, its wielder. Here, Túrin Turambar takes up the most devastating sword he can find in a hopeless campaign of vengeance against, what amounts to be, the Tolkien version of the anti-God. Fighting evil becomes Túrin’s sole ambition, and so prolific and profound are is his violence that he comes to be identified with his weapon. He is given the moniker Mormegil, meaning "black sword", rather than referred to by his real name.

In end, Túrin is left alone and friendless, his whole family slain, and it's mostly due to his own choices and actions. Despite perceiving himself as a one-man army, this is a delusion in the face of the inherent inter-connectedness between humans and their kin, and it is his friends and relations that end up paying for his life of anger. Finally, at the end of his frayed rope, he starts talking to his sole companion:

" 'Hail Gurthang! No lord or loyalty dost thou know, save the hand that wieldeth thee. From no blood wilt thou shrink. Wilt thou therefore take Túrin Turambar, wilt thou slay me swiftly?' "

"And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: 'Yea, I will drink thy blood gladly, that so I may forget the blood of Beleg my master, and the blood of Brandir slain unjustly. I will slay thee swiftly.' "

Psychological implications

There are several implications the weapons in these tales represent. Firstly, they describes a world in which the manner in which one frames the world can have profound consequences for the self. Because of the fact that Sigurd chose to define his weapons a tool of anger, he created an externalisation which came to control and destroy him. Because the legendary Muramasa approached his creations from the framework of personal pride at the expense of the work of others, his works were only capable of destruction. Since Túrin chose to value violence more than any other activity, he manifested a phantasm of blood-lust as his only companion.


If it is true that tools become extensions of the self, and that the nature of these tools can be defined by the will, it thus follows that the self can be constructed to a degree. If we extend our investigation to later media, we can see such concepts toyed with in cybernetics in the film Ghost in the Shell. If the body can be altered for a purpose, what effect does this purpose have on the meaning of the self?

Affinity Weapons in Gaming

Here, we will turn to an investigation of how have these concepts been evoked in the design of video games. A seemingly obvious example of how games could evoke such a concept would be implementing a crafting system. I imagine the logic would be that any game that allows you to create your own spin on a given weapon would allow you to dole out your own personal brand of violence. However, I'm not sure if such systems really achieve the effect that the aforementioned myths and stories get across. Again, we are looking for a system whereby there is a loop between the player controlling the weapon and the weapon controlling the player. The idea is that both weapon and wielder are involved in a relationship that neither has complete control of, and the only way to opt-out would be to cast the sword aside. Games that have a fully-customisable crafting system or some such put the player firmly in the driver's seat. The player gets everything they want and there is no consequence or limitation imposed by making a particular weapon. Indeed, such systems are predicated on wish-fulfillment and the idea that you get to be the "author" of your own experience. This is precisely the opposite of what we see happen with these myths where the protagonist does not have control over the results of their actions.

Vagrant Story

So far, I think a good example of a system that invokes a vicious relationship would be that presented in this PlayStation classic from 2000.

While it does have a crafting system, therein lies a single mechanic that makes all the difference. In the game there are a variety of different kinds of creatures. Beast, human, dragon, undead, phantom and evil are all enemy types that have various strengths and weaknesses, and whenever you deal damage to a creature, you slightly increase the damage that the weapon will deal to that enemy type in the future. The upshot of this is that after hours of play, you have created a weapon that is "designed" to kill a certain creature type. However, this was brought about by the player's actions and not their whim or decree. When you come up against a powerful undead, it doesn't matter how strong other weapons might be, the weapon you have "trained" to kill undead will likely be the best to combat it. The player is held responsible for the past decisions they have made in combat, and while the weapons can be reforged and upgraded, the core of the experience remains the same. The only problem with Vagrant Story is that it didn't really combine this amazing system with its brilliant narrative in any meaningful way. While there was a causal relationship between Ashely Riot gaining spells upon recovering lost memories, the weapons system wasn't employed to express any themes or concepts.

Affinity Weapons in Conscientia

The main example of such a weapon our game is not that of Luin, a being with its own independent personality, but that of Eidos herself. Eidos is the apparatus through which the player can interact with the world of Conscientia and in this sense, she is a tool. However, Eidos' ability to effect the world is entirely decided by the player's choices of where they go and what they do. It is demonstrated in the dialogue system where a tyrannical statement cannot be followed up by a statement of intellectual curiosity. At this point, the player has chosen to present Eidos as a forceful instrument of will, a person not interested in absorbing new information. Such choices will ultimately effect the manner of abilities that she will gain access to, and access to these new abilities will remove other options.

A good example of this would be the following scenario: the player has presented themselves in the world in such a way so that they have manifested a means to do violence: whether this be through techne or possessing the Luin blade. Now when encountering a strange or ambiguous situation, the player will have the option of combat. However, they will no longer be capable of retreat. Eidos has been shaped into an active force. While resolution of situations through dialogue or non-violent techne may still be possible, inaction is a choice Eidos is no longer capable of making.

The Mesopotamian goddess Ianna. Her depiction represents

her descent into the underworld and existence between

two realities. Eidos, her counterpart in Conscientia,

also stands at the crossroads of the player's choices.

Tune in next time on part two, when we discuss Weapons with Constructed Intelligence!