Don't expect to be given a break just because you've had a run of bad luck. Dialogue choices are best made as judgement calls rather than trying to second-guess the game's intentions. It's a game in which a character can survive the 20-plus hours to the adventure's end or die minutes after they're introduced, and where well-meaning attempts to save an imperilled few can call down greater suffering on the heads of many.
The Banner Saga is a game of choice, and the fact that I can outline my mishaps here without fear of spoiling your own sense of discovery is testament to the myriad scenarios it presents, and the permutations of outcomes that can play out. You too may come to rue these misfortunes or, by exercising better judgement than I, you might avoid them entirely. The crushing guilt of losing people to starvation because I purchased a trinket to protect a favoured archer in battle, rather than ensure a surplus of supplies for the journey ahead, acts as its own damning indictment of my leadership. I'm haunted by the disheartening discovery of spoiled supplies that dented the morale of a beleaguered caravan, and the foolish gambit that saw a decorated warrior lost to the ignominy of freak accident. Its epic tale tells of a sun that no longer sets, the death of the old gods and a land on the brink of war - but it is the more mundane burdens of leadership that weigh most heavily on my mind. The Banner Saga is a tactical RPG that's been pushing its way into my thoughts even when I'm occupied with other things.
The Banner Saga's strong mechanics are enhanced by a compelling storyline and characters as colourful as its visual palette.
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