Witcher 3 Help Anisse And Berthold Or Not
So, there I was, knee-deep in swamp water, battling a particularly grumpy Foglet that was not happy I’d disturbed its mud bath. Geralt, bless his grunting, stoic heart, was doing his usual monster-slaying thang, but my brain was doing that thing it does when it’s faced with a million tiny decisions: what’s the optimal build for this exact moment? And then, BAM, a different kind of swamp: the moral kind.
You know the one. It’s not about hacking and slashing your way through undead or drowner nests. It’s about those little quests, the ones that pop up when you’re just trying to get from point A to point B, usually with a side of “oh, look, a pretty flower!” or “ooh, a treasure chest!” And then you stumble upon… Anisse and Berthold.
These two lovebirds. Oh, bless their hearts. They’re like a little beacon of… well, something. Happiness? Misery? Let’s just say they’re there, trying to make their way in a world that’s actively trying to eat them, or at least tax them into oblivion. And you, dear reader, as the ever-so-slightly-less-grumpy Witcher, have to decide if you’re going to help them or just… walk away. And that, my friends, is where the real monster hunt begins. Not the kind with claws and teeth, but the kind that digs deep into your own murky conscience.
I remember the first time I encountered them. I was probably on my way to chase down a contract, or maybe just exploring because, hey, who doesn't love a good unexplored ruin? And there they were, huddled together, looking about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. Berthold, all gangly and earnest, and Anisse, with that determined, slightly harried look of someone who’s constantly trying to keep a runaway cart on the rails.
They’ve got this whole deal going on, right? This little shop they’re trying to set up, this dream of a little slice of normalcy in the absolute chaos that is Novigrad. And, naturally, the world, being the wonderfully cruel mistress it is, decides to throw every possible obstacle in their path. Bandits, monsters, bureaucratic nightmares, you name it. It’s like the universe decided to play a particularly twisted game of “The Sims: Apocalypse Edition” with these two.
And here’s the kicker: you’re the Witcher. You’re the one with the swords, the signs, the potion-brewing skills. You’re the guy who can actually do something. You can clear out that bandit camp that’s been hounding them. You can escort them safely through a dangerous forest. You can even… well, you can make them disappear if you’re feeling particularly grim. But the question remains: should you?
It’s a classic Witcher dilemma, isn’t it? You’re not a hero in the traditional sense. You’re a professional. You kill monsters for coin. You don’t usually get involved in the… human element. But then you see Anisse’s hopeful gaze, or Berthold’s nervous fidgeting, and it tugs at something. A tiny, almost forgotten string in the heart of a man who’s seen too much blood and betrayal.
Let’s break it down, shall we? Because, like I said, this isn’t just about a quick sword swing. This is about choices, consequences, and the slippery slope of ‘what if.’
The Case for Helping Anisse and Berthold
Okay, so, option one: you’re a good egg. You’re feeling particularly altruistic. Or maybe you’re just bored and this sounds more interesting than chasing a ghoul. Whatever your motivation, you decide to lend a hand.
First off, it’s… nice. For about five minutes. You deal with whatever immediate threat is plaguing them – a group of ruffians, a pack of wolves, whatever the game throws at you. You get that little dopamine hit of accomplishment. You saved them! You’re a hero! Yay!
And then, the rewards. Oh, the sweet, sweet rewards. Sometimes, it’s a decent chunk of coin. Sometimes, it’s a useful item. And sometimes, it’s just the satisfaction of knowing you’ve made someone’s life a tiny bit less awful. In a world that’s perpetually trying to grind people down, that’s worth something, right?
Plus, let’s be honest, your Geralt is probably overloaded with loot anyway. What’s a few more gold pieces or a slightly better dagger going to hurt? It’s like finding an extra potion when you’re already at full strength. A nice little bonus.
There’s also the narrative angle. By helping them, you’re weaving yourself more deeply into the fabric of this world. You’re not just a detached observer, a killing machine passing through. You’re a force for good, however small. You’re adding a little bit of light to the darkness. And in the Witcher universe, light is a rare and precious commodity.
Think about it: they might become regulars. They might offer you unique goods later on. They might even be involved in other quests down the line where your earlier kindness pays off. It’s like investing in a good relationship, but with pixels. You never know when that shopkeeper you helped out will have that one rare ingredient you desperately need for that endgame potion.
And let’s not forget the emotional impact. While Geralt is stoic, the player often isn't. Seeing these ordinary people, trying their best against overwhelming odds, can be genuinely touching. Helping them is a way to inject a bit of that humanity back into the grim reality of monster hunting.
So, yeah, helping them is often the path of least resistance, both morally and, in terms of immediate gameplay, it can be beneficial. It’s the ‘good guy’ option, the one that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. And who doesn’t need a little warm and fuzzy in their life, even if it’s just between contracts?
The Case for Not Helping Anisse and Berthold
Now, for the contrarian view. The path of the cynic. The one that whispers, “Geralt doesn’t do charity work, he does contracts.”
This is where it gets interesting. Because the Witcher world isn’t black and white. It’s a hundred shades of grey, often splattered with blood. And sometimes, the ‘right’ thing to do isn’t the easiest thing, or even the most immediately rewarding thing.
Let’s consider the consequences of not intervening. If you ignore Anisse and Berthold, they might… well, they might get eaten. Or robbed. Or just generally have a terrible time. Is that on you? Not directly. You didn’t put them in that situation. You’re just a passerby. A very well-armed, highly trained passerby, but still. You’ve got your own problems. A powerful monster contract waiting. A whole continent to explore. A backlog of alchemy recipes to master.
And here’s a thought: what if their entire setup is a trap? What if this whole ‘harassed shopkeepers’ thing is just a ruse? In the Witcher world, you learn to be suspicious. Everyone has an angle. Everyone is looking out for themselves. Why should these two be any different?
By not helping, you maintain a certain detachment. You’re the professional. You’re focused on the bigger picture, the real threats. You don’t get bogged down in the trivialities of everyday life for every Tom, Dick, and Harry who happens to cross your path.
This approach also mirrors Geralt’s own often-stated philosophy: he’s not a hero, he’s a Witcher. He takes jobs, he completes them, he moves on. He’s not a knight in shining armor. He’s a pragmatist.
Furthermore, sometimes the game presents you with choices that have unexpected, far-reaching consequences. By not helping Anisse and Berthold, you might be avoiding a future entanglement that could be far more dangerous or costly. You’re choosing to preserve your resources, your time, and potentially your life, for more critical missions.
Think of it as prioritizing. You can’t save everyone. You can’t fix every problem. Sometimes, you have to make hard choices about where your efforts are best spent. And if Anisse and Berthold are just one small, ultimately insignificant problem in the grand scheme of things, then letting them fend for themselves might be the ‘logical’, albeit cold, decision.
It also speaks to the emergent storytelling of the game. The world is dynamic. People live and die. Businesses fail. Not every storyline needs a happy ending, or even a resolution that involves Geralt’s direct intervention. Sometimes, the most powerful stories are those that are left to unfold on their own, with or without your involvement.
It’s about self-preservation, in a way. Not just physical self-preservation, but the preservation of your purpose. You are a Witcher. Your job is to hunt monsters. Anything that deviates too far from that core purpose, however noble it might seem, could be seen as a distraction. A dangerous one, at that.
The Nuance: It’s Not Always Black and White
Okay, so we’ve explored the extremes. Help them, feel good, get rewarded. Or don’t, stay detached, focus on the ‘real’ job.
But here’s the thing about The Witcher 3: it rarely gives you a straightforward ‘good’ or ‘bad’ choice. It’s all about context. And the context surrounding Anisse and Berthold can shift.
Sometimes, the bandits are particularly nasty. Sometimes, there’s a genuine monster threat that’s making their lives impossible. In those cases, helping them feels less like a favor and more like a necessity, a preemptive strike against future problems. If those bandits decide to expand and start raiding villages you care about, well, then you’ve indirectly helped yourself by dealing with them early.
And sometimes, the game presents you with an option that seems like helping, but has a nasty twist. Or, conversely, a choice that seems dismissive, but ultimately leads to a better outcome for everyone involved in the long run.
What if you help them, but their business still fails because they’re just not cut out for it? What if your intervention inadvertently makes them a target for bigger, nastier things? These are the questions that keep you up at night, even when you’re not facing down a Griffin.
The beauty, and the terror, of The Witcher 3 is its commitment to showing you the messy, complicated reality of its world. There are no easy answers. You’re constantly weighing the immediate benefit against the potential long-term fallout. You’re playing a game where the ‘best’ decision might be the one that leaves you feeling the most conflicted.
Consider this: even if you choose to help them, you might still have to make difficult choices within that questline. Do you take the more dangerous route to ensure their safety, or the quicker one that might put them at slight risk? Do you confront the bandits head-on, or try to find a more diplomatic, albeit less satisfying, solution?
Ultimately, the decision of whether to help Anisse and Berthold, or to let them navigate their own perilous path, is a reflection of your own playstyle and your interpretation of Geralt’s character. Are you the pragmatic Witcher who sticks to contracts? Or are you the one who occasionally, and perhaps reluctantly, dips his toes into the murky waters of human affairs?
There’s no single ‘right’ answer. The game encourages you to explore both possibilities, to see how your choices ripple outwards. And that, my friends, is why we keep coming back to this incredible, infuriating, and utterly brilliant world. Because it makes us think. It makes us feel. And it makes us wonder, even long after the screen has faded to black, if we made the right choice. So, what’s it going to be? A helping hand, or a stoic stride away?