Fifth Annual Symposium on Pop Culture and International Law: Playing the Genocidaire? The Erasure of the Reachfolk in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

[Laurence Atkin-Teillet is a lecturer in international criminal and humanitarian law at Nottingham Law School]

There are no innocent onlookers in this struggle. Just the guilty, and the dead.

Braig in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

The Elder Scrolls is a long-standing gaming franchise published by Bethesda Softworks, with its first instalment released in 1994. Set in a richly imagined fictional universe, the series takes place on the continent of Tamriel, blending medieval and high fantasy elements. Tamriel’s provinces host diverse peoples: human groups like Nords, Bretons, and Imperials, alongside Elves, Orcs, Argonians, and Khajiits. Its appeal lies in the depth of lore: thousands of in-game years of history, fully written and organised, create a remarkably detailed alternative universe.

This post focuses on the fifth instalment, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (2011), arguably the most famous of the series. Set in the eponymous province, the player enters a region caught in political, cultural, and supernatural upheaval. Skyrim is divided between two factions: the Empire, seeking to maintain authority and peace across Tamriel, and the Stormcloaks, a rebellion led by Ulfric Stormcloak to defend Nordic traditions and the independence of the Skyrim province.

What fascinates me most is Skyrim’s political complexity. The Empire-Stormcloak clash is rich and multilayered, with no easy answers. Yet my focus here is another indigenous population, far more precarious: the Reachfolk, or Reachmen, struggling to survive in their ancestral lands of the Reach.

The Reachfolk 

Let us journey to the Reach, one of Skyrim’s nine holds – a harsh, mountainous expanse in the far west, bordering High Rock and Hammerfell, with Markarth as its capital.

The origins of the Reachfolk are contested, but they clearly predate the Nords. Texts such as Holdings of Jarl Gjalund describe them as the “natives” of the region as early as the late Merethic Era, long before the First Era conquests.

From the start, the Reachfolk resisted conquest. Their most celebrated hero, the Red Eagle, rallied them against Imperial expansion, but High King Olaf One-Eye eventually subdued the Reach, absorbing it into Skyrim and consolidating Imperial control.

Centuries later, on the eve of Skyrim’s events in the Fourth Era, the Empire was embroiled in war with the Aldmeri Dominion. The Reachfolk seized the moment, rising in rebellion. They expelled the Nords, reclaimed Markarth, and for two years governed themselves, seeking recognition and autonomy long denied.

Their brief independence ended in the Markarth Incident. The Empire, intent on reclaiming dominance and appeasing Nord nationalists, struck a bargain with Ulfric Stormcloak. In return for retaking Markarth, Ulfric would be granted the right to openly worship Talos, a god whose veneration had been outlawed. Ulfric agreed, and with his militia, stormed the city.

What followed was not battle but massacre. Reachfolk leaders were executed after surrender; women were tortured for fugitives’ whereabouts; civilians were slaughtered, including Nords who had not sided with Ulfric’s forces. The purge was indiscriminate, aimed at an entire people. The Reachfolk were branded Forsworn – their history erased, their legitimacy denied, driven into the mountains as outlaws, insurgents, and savages.

The Genocide of the Reachfolk 

With this historical background in mind, I suggest that at the opening of The Elder Scrolls V, players witness the beginnings of a genocidal campaign against the Reachfolk – marked by systematic, state-sanctioned violence and long-term persecution. More troubling still, the game positions the player in such a way that they may choose – if they do not question the dominant narrative around them – to participate in this process.

To frame this argument, it is necessary to recall the legal definition of genocide. Under Article II of the Genocide Convention, genocide comprises acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group, including:

• Killing members of the group;
• Causing serious bodily or mental harm;
• Deliberately inflicting conditions of life calculated to bring about physical destruction;
• Imposing measures to prevent births;
• Forcibly transferring children to another group.

The first three actus reus elements are readily identifiable in The Bear of Markarth lore book: the killing of members, the infliction of serious harm, and the creation of destructive living conditions. I will therefore focus on the chapeau requirement of genocide. In what follows, I explore how Skyrim’s treatment of the Reachfolk – through mechanics, quests, and lore – confronts players, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly, with the unsettling possibility of “playing the genocidaire”.

A Protected Group 

To consider genocide, we must first ask whether the Reachfolk qualify as a protected group under international law – a distinct national, ethnical, racial, or religious community. The answer is clear: they are identifiable ethnically, racially, and religiously.

Racially, the Reachfolk share traits with many Tamrielic peoples – Breton ancestry in their blood, Nordic stature in some clans, even Elven or Orcish traces in others. Some resemble the pale, slight Bretons, others the tall and muscular Nords, and a few even show features common in the Empire. Yet despite these overlaps, they belong fully to none. No other people claim them as kin, and they themselves assert a distinct identity – echoing the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia’s (ICTY) view, in Jelisić, that what defines a racial group is not bloodlines alone, but the way a community is stigmatised and set apart.

Ethnically, the Reachfolk live in clan-based communities, often in caves, ruins, or remote settlements. Their animistic and shamanistic traditions, together with a shared language, distinguish them within Skyrim. As the Akayesu judgment explains, such shared cultural practices and community bonds are what define a group as ethnically distinct.

Religiously, however, the divide is most evident. The Reachfolk reject the Imperial-Nordic pantheon, following instead their own practices, including veneration of Daedric Princes. They also honour the “Old Ways” – animistic spirits and deities largely ignored by outsiders. 

Taken together, these factors leave little doubt: the Reachfolk constitute a protected group under international law. They are an identifiable ethnic community with distinct cultural practices, a racial group marked as separate by themselves and others, and a religious group united by beliefs diverging from the dominant Imperial-Nordic pantheon.

Intent to Destroy 

The treatment of the Reachfolk during and after the Markarth Incident reveals a clear, systematic intent to destroy the group. Ulfric Stormcloak’s assurances of safe passage for non-combatants were quickly broken, signalling that the population would not be spared. Suspected sympathisers – often without evidence – were sent to Cidhna Mine, where forced labour amounted to a death sentence. Reachfolk were punished for crimes they did not commit, while crimes by Nords were frequently blamed on them, demonstrating deliberate targeting for political ends rather than justice.

Violence extended beyond individuals. Cultural and religious practices were suppressed: sacred sites destroyed, practitioners executed, and the Reachfolk religion outlawed. Economic and social restrictions, including prohibitions on certain jobs and exclusion from positions of authority, erased their presence from civic life. Linguistic suppression and dehumanising rhetoric – branding them “madmen”, “beasts”, or “savages” – legitimised violence and undermined their very existence.

Taken together, these actions go far beyond persecution. The systematic killings, cultural destruction, social and economic exclusion, and dehumanisation reveal a coordinated campaign to eradicate the Reachfolk as a distinct ethnic, racial, and religious group. This is not collateral damage; it demonstrates deliberate intent to destroy the group, fulfilling a key element of genocide under Article 2 of the Genocide Convention.

In Whole or In Part 

Genocide requires that the intent to destroy be directed at a group “in whole or in part”, as clarified in Krstić, considering factors such as the size of the targeted part, its prominence, its symbolic significance, and the perpetrator’s capacity.

In the Reachfolk’s case, these criteria are clearly met. Numerically, the Markarth Reachfolk population fell by 60% in the first weeks of the assault, and the Reachfolk’s devastated state at the opening of The Elder Scrolls V suggests the decline continued. Prominence and symbolism are equally clear: Markarth was the capital and political centre of the short-lived Reachfolk kingdom, representing the heart of their autonomy. By targeting it, Ulfric and his forces struck not only at a population centre but at the symbolic heart of Reachfolk identity and governance, sending a powerful message of illegitimacy and repression to all other settlements.

Finally, the perpetrators had both the means and the intent to execute this destruction. Ulfric commanded 500 seasoned veterans, wielded the Thu’um – a magical and devastating power of the voice – and, importantly, acted with the support of the Empire, one of the strongest authorities in Tamriel. The attack was therefore not only feasible but virtually guaranteed to succeed.

Taken together, these factors show that the legal threshold of “in whole or in part” was met and exceeded. The Markarth Incident alone reflects a deliberate attempt to eradicate a substantial, emblematic portion of the Reachfolk, amounting to clear genocidal intent.

The above demonstrates that there was a clear intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a protected group, and that concrete acts of destruction were carried out. On this basis, it can be concluded that the Reachfolk were not merely persecuted or displaced, but subjected to an ongoing genocide.

Player’s Complicity: The Forsworn Conspiracy 

The final part of this analysis examines the player’s potential role in the ongoing genocide. Skyrim offers few quests involving the Reachfolk and their radicalised movement, the Forsworn. The most significant is The Forsworn Conspiracy, which begins the moment the player enters Markarth.

The quest opens with a shocking act: Weylin, a Forsworn agent, publicly murders a woman named Margret, shouting, “The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!” This violence draws the player into an investigation led by Eltrys, a citizen of Reachfolk descent, who suspects a deeper conspiracy. The trail leads to Madanach, the imprisoned “King in Rags”, who once ruled Markarth before Ulfric’s massacre and now directs the rebellion from within Cidhna Mine. His cause is cynically manipulated by Thonar Silver-Blood, a Nord noble who exploits Forsworn violence to eliminate rivals while keeping the Reachfolk crushed beneath the city’s power structures.

The player is caught in this web, witnessing corruption and encountering Forsworn sympathisers. The conspiracy culminates when the Silver-Bloods silence the investigation: the player is framed, arrested, and thrown into Cidhna Mine. There, face-to-face with Madanach, they must either aid his escape and reignite rebellion or kill him, flee, and report back to the authorities, reinforcing oppression.

For many players, sympathy for the Forsworn does not come easily. Their Daedric worship, Hagraven alliances, ritual scarifications, and hostile encounters in the wilderness present them as grotesque and irredeemable. Siding with the Silver-Bloods is thus framed as the “safer” and more profitable choice, especially as supporting the Forsworn permanently alienates the player from Markarth.

What is most striking is how the game demonstrates the banalisation of evil. Out of convenience, because the political situation is complex, and because resisting oppression is rarely the easier path, many players side with Nordic and Imperial domination without questioning the Reachfolk’s plight. This is not to excuse Forsworn excesses, but to stress that most Reachfolk are ordinary people who wish only to live in peace, yet are persistently denied that right. Killing Madanach severs one of the last lifelines for both the Forsworn and their people.

Whether the player “commits” genocide is debatable in strict legal terms. International tribunals distinguish perpetration from complicity: General Radislav Krstić, for instance, was convicted not of committing genocide at Srebrenica but of aiding and abetting it, since the genocide “was not his”, though he knowingly helped bring it about. A similar logic may apply here. Yet even if the player’s role is better seen as complicity than commission, the moral consequence remains the same: siding with the Silver-Bloods helps perpetuate the Reachfolk’s destruction rather than challenging it.

In this sense, The Forsworn Conspiracy does not cast the player as the genocide’s instigator, but as an active participant in its continuation. The quest provides every chance to recognise the Reachfolk’s plight – if the player is willing to listen. Choosing to murder Madanach is not merely eliminating a rebel leader, but silencing one of the last voices of resistance and hope, allowing the player to step directly into the role of genocidaire.

Author’s note: Many thanks to Dr Mark Chadwick for his thoughtful feedback on this piece, which greatly helped refine and clarify the analysis.