Hello folks, and welcome on back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m eager to check back in on The Mighty Nein, our loose assemblage of rebels, rogues, and ne’er-do-wells transposed from the tabletop ramblings of Critical Role to the more focused format of animated adventuring. After several episodes spent introducing the various members of our crew, the conclusion of our last installment saw them at last assembled, as they are collectively accused of engineering a massacre that only some of them were even partially responsible for.
It’s frankly a great way to bring a group together, in my estimation. “You all meet at a tavern” offers neither a collective goal to accomplish nor a reason to act as a unit – “you’re all prisoners who must collectively prove your innocence” provides both, giving your players a strong mechanical incentive to both follow the plot and try to get along while doing it. And though you might think such an approach narrows your players’ range of agency, it’s closer to the opposite; because such a conceit removes your players’ need to follow a specific path purely because the plot demands it, they’re actually more free to react honestly within those limitations, and do exactly what they think their characters would do. Greater degrees of narrative freedom can at times just force the players to do the DM’s work for them, and subordinate their characters’ personalities to the needs of the plot; unless you’re going for an absolutely narrative-free sandbox, it’s generally a smart choice to provide a firm narrative lead rather than force the players to invent one.
Anyway, as you might have guessed from the suddenly craft-oriented nature of my coverage, we have indeed reached the point where The Mighty Nein’s tabletop adventures actually began. Let’s see how they handle this impromptu call to action as the saga continues!
Episode 4
Welp, there’s Mercer again playing the guard interrogating them. Having him fill in about half of the background voices must have really helped the production budget
Fun opening conceit of them each being interviewed individually, as a manner of introducing our roster of heroes in the most unflattering possible way. You can theoretically do something like this for a tabletop setting, but it’s really intended for a secondary audience rather than the players themselves – hence its prominent inclusion in the more deliberately audience-minded Campaign Four. Nonetheless, having the rest of your table leave for a moment so you can convey hidden information to just one player can be a fun way to both provoke suspicious character interactions and provide a greater sense of authorship to your players
Jester unsurprisingly takes this interrogation in a very Horny Crime Novel direction. “How horny are we going” is a very real question to consider when it comes to newly assembled tables; you won’t make it an hour if one player hits on everything that moves and another player isn’t comfortable with that
As usual, Nott gets some of the most expressive character acting, her face readily evoking the parched, dried-out sensation of a brutal hangover
And her condition offers a fine opportunity for Caleb to show his protective side, as he negotiates with Beau and assures Nott they’ll get out of this. As I’ve said, their bond was one of the best things about the tabletop campaign, and the show is smart to lean into it – that dynamic of two broken people shouldering each other’s weight is incredibly resonant, and their very different personalities bounce convincingly off each other
“Oh Fjord! Do you want to be my bitch?” Incredible line read by Laura Bailey. Feels like she’s having a fantastic time getting to embrace Jester’s irrepressible Jesterness again
Nice beat of both Beau and Nott recognizing that Fjord is too scrawny and uncalloused to be a convincing sea captain. Makes sense that their rough roads would lead them to that realization, and it also plays into this story’s general focus on “becoming what others believe us to be” – like how Jester makes Fjord stronger, and how Nott and Caleb build each other up
Mollymauk is the one who eventually brings the group to order, chastising them for their petty squabbles while reflecting on his own genuine losses. This production is going to have to do a lot of work to make Mollymauk more than the superficial, inconsistent man of mystery he was in the original game, and it seems like they’re starting on that task immediately
“The guards took our weapons.” “Not all of them.” And Fjord once again summons his sword. A very natural execution of a good general DM policy: engineering situations where one of your players gets to take the lead, using their particular specialties to overcome an otherwise impassable challenge. This is one reason why DnD tends to be at its best in the early-mid levels (perhaps up through level twelve) – go beyond that, and you start reaching the point where any character can handle any obstacle, offering less opportunities for your players to meaningfully express and differentiate themselves
We then cut to Essek explaining the Kryn Dynasty’s process of soul recursion. It’s an interesting take on identity and immortality; they’re not “long-lived” in the way of Tolkien’s elves, but each prior life still informs their path forward
We reach a swift point of disagreement between Essek and Trent, who is happy to toss as many sacrifices at their project as necessary. Feels like one goal of this adaptation is to somewhat soften Essek’s character, by both illustrating his ostensibly sympathetic motivation and contrasting him against far more brutal alternatives
More preposterous Nott faces as Fjord impersonates one of the guards. As I’ve mentioned before, Fjord is inherently limited by the fact that, well, warlocks just aren’t really well-designed in DnD. The only way they can make up for their lack of actual spell slots is by leaning on a shortlist of Eldritch Invocations that can potentially allow access to particular individual spells more consistently – and among these, Disguise Self is likely the most flavorful, facilitating all manner of deceptions and infiltrations. Little surprise Travis took that one as soon as possible
And we get another fun flourish of reagent-based casting, as Caleb scoops up some chicken feathers to facilitate a spell that mends the wall. I like how this prison sequence necessitates more scrappiness from the cast, given they don’t have access to their usual tools – though of course, as this sequence is already demonstrating, such a constraint falls much more harshly upon those who rely on weapons over magic. It’s always important to be mindful of what your players have access to, and what forms of restriction would actually be meaningful to them
Trent continues to play Essek like a fiddle, using both his exhaustion and his mother’s sickness against him. I can see the need to make Essek more likable, but it does also have the side effect of making him seem pretty stupid
Classic establishing shot bringing us back to the carnival, with a bird in the foreground poking at the remains of one of the beetles, a reminder of the recent chaos, before we rack focus back to the approaching party. We’ve come a long way from the flat, almost animated sitcom-reminiscent layouts of Vox Machina’s early days
An efficient beat with Jester and Nott, demonstrating Jester’s emotional intelligence through her swift linking of Nott’s drinking to her bleak self-image. I am sadly pretty sure the narrative sabotage of Nott’s character arc is too baked into the original campaign to be rewritten for this adaptation, but they’re at least setting up reasonable scaffolding for an alternative
Jester and Nott are yet another of this campaign’s many excellent duos, with Jester unlocking a more whimsical side to Nott’s character. Their bond reflects the importance of players building unique dynamics with their various partymates – we all have different faces we put on or aspects of ourselves we emphasize among distinct company, and embracing that in your party dynamics will make your character feel significantly more rich and multifaceted. Within my house’s current ongoing campaign, the three other members of my party tend to bring out my own character’s harsh world-weariness, childlike sense of whimsy, and scientific curiosity respectively
Their dynamic makes for a nice contrast against Fjord and Jester’s relationship so far. Jester’s force of personality is strong enough to actually change Fjord’s mindset, but here she is faced with a challenge that optimism and confidence can’t possibly fix
Mollymauk stops to pick up his old friend’s dual blades. Smart shift here, making his weapons a character beat with some on-table emotional resonance, rather than just a flourish of weightless backstory. You can try your best to craft an evocative backstory for your starting equipment, but nothing really beats the emotional value-add of wielding tools that you and your fellow players earned the hard way
Of course, that doesn’t lessen the importance of tailoring your offered loot to your party’s needs – you just need to figure out (or simply ask about) those needs beforehand, and then ensure the challenges ahead are well-stocked with exactly what they desire
Another smart immediate source of connection here, as Fjord asks Caleb for tips on controlling his magic. Even with the party now together, I appreciate how they’re all still clearly individuals with their own unique goals, not just adventurers bound by authorial fiat
Beau once again demonstrates her high perception and generally keen investigation skills, discovering one of the quills left by the murder toad
Normally you want to avoid spilling your personal history as immediate exposition, particularly if there’s some dangerous truth you’re attempting to hide, but it feels humorously appropriate that Beau of all people would immediately announce herself as a monk of the Cobalt Soul
“The Cobalt Soul aren’t big on people skills, are they?” Fjord obliquely references another of the Mighty Nein’s excellent individual dynamics: Fjord teaching Beau not to be such a dick all the time
“How exactly did you do that?” “I have no idea.” Amnesia is generally a much less exciting form of mysterious characterization than a secret you’re actively hiding. A known secret can inform your current characterization or inspire conflict within the group – amnesia hiding a secret is just purely hidden information, and as I always say, concealed information isn’t inherently interesting
Back at the lab, Essek has now taught Trent to control the beacon, and therefore successfully squandered all of his remaining leverage. Great going, Essek!
The gang’s pursuit of the devil toad eventually leads them to a foggy, marsh-like forest
As Beau urges them to push forward, Fjord is perfectly placed to question their credentials; his lack of faith in his own strength naturally extends to a lack of faith in this group’s collective abilities. Someone’s gotta voice their collective anxieties
Upon seeing Tohya at the mouth of a cave, it’s actually Nott of all people who says they need to help a child in need. A pointed flourish of characterization, made all the more noteworthy by Nott’s usual “fuck ‘em” attitude towards strangers. A key lesson in that – to consider what your characters’ passions or “emotional weaknesses” might be, the things that resonate with them strongly enough to make them diverge from their standard behavior patterns
I appreciate Jester popping in a fresh lollypop as her contribution to their “getting battle-ready” montage. She performs key work as both comic relief and emotional binding agent
Sadly, it appears Tohya has become a sort of anglerfish lure for the devil toad. Creepy stuff!
Mollymauk is flung directly into a spell-prepping Caleb. One party member being used as a projectile against another: perhaps the most classic visual shorthand for “this party has no coordination” there is
Jester attacks the beast with a swarm of tiny unicorn hamsters. I assume this is the show’s interpretation of Spirit Guardians, an utterly bonkers spell that basically creates a floating, persistent nova of death around its caster. I’ve largely designed my current cleric around casting and maintaining the spell, then hiding under an armored rock so no one can hurt me
Mollymauk slashes his own chest to empower his weapons. He’s playing a “Bloodhunter,” a class that he and Mercer designed specifically for this campaign, and which could have undoubtedly used a couple more revisions
Jester actually attempts to heal Tohya, something I’m pretty sure she forgot clerics could do in the original campaign
“If I skip steps it won’t end well!” I like how they’re playing into the prep-based inconvenience of Caleb’s component-based magic by making even casting his spells an awkward, laborious ritual. Not really how spellcasting works in DnD (unless you’re casting ritual magic, which takes ten minutes, making it useless for combat), but a flavorful switch for this adaptation, and also one that helps to emphasize the difference between his scrappy spellcasting and the Volstruckers’ built-in faculties
Also appreciate how they’re embracing more complex character art for the still profile shots, adding details beyond the relatively simplified moving character models
Our team demonstrate their growing coordination through a combo play, with Beau snagging Caleb’s vial and Fjord protecting its flight
The production is generally marshaling its resources quite well, often using slow motion to add a sense of visual impact that it can’t achieve through continuous fluid action choreography
The team defeats their foe, but it’s too late for Tohya. I probably wouldn’t have a fresh player group’s first quest end in the inevitable death of the child they were seeking to protect, but for more seasoned players, failure tends to offer far more opportunities for growth than victory
Mollymauk then discovers a rift in reality, another opportunity to demonstrate that amnesia is a generally unsatisfying backstory. I can see why you’d embrace it as a new player who doesn’t want to be pinned down in how they actively characterize themselves, but it’s otherwise a big blank wall where your motivation and worldbuilding connections should go
Beau and Caleb share a nice moment concerning their mutual love of books. Backstory! Kinda important!
Attempting to light Tohya’s pyre prompts a flashback to screams and a burning building from Caleb. Once again, his traumatic history informs his current actions, offering “mysteries” to the other players that are actually based in fundamental characterization choices. As such, the process of “solving” such a mystery will double as character bonding between Caleb and the others
Mollymauk offers our eulogy, hitting on some key beats: how each of them are defined by their scars, and how they’re also stronger together
We then jump to Essek, who returns home to learn his friend Verrat has discovered his mother’s secret. Verrat is headed off to war, and without the beacon, any deaths will be permanent
The town guards at last give Jester a chance to introduce their “Mighty Nein” team name, a joke that definitely feels a bit strained in adaptation. Originally, the name was not just a reflection of Caleb’s dialect, but also the fact that their party just kept fucking rolling nine on everything. Of course, that’s not something you can in any way adapt into an animated drama
Unfortunately, our volstrucker buddy has beaten them home
And Done
Well gang, you certainly completed your first adventure! Granted, you ended up failing to save the girl you were pursuing, and also all the people you were trying to prove your innocence to are dead, but they can’t all be perfect adventures. It’s in fact the messy, brutally disappointing ones that tend to make a party’s bonds shine all the brighter, and this episode certainly did efficient work in bonding a ramshackle group of strangers and quasi-enemies into something resembling a team. Friction, intimacy, shared fears, shared sorrows; all these tools offer chances for characters to find shelter in one another, and demonstrate the simple yet crucial labor of learning you’re not quite so alone as you believed. Congratulations Mighty Nein, now try not to die!
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