The Bard's Tale is told by the Commodore 64 in November 1986


This scrivener, having voyaged through countless dungeons and chronicled myriad heroic deeds, now turns his discerning gaze to a noteworthy event of November in the Year of our Lord 1986. For it was in that month, through the wondrous conduits of silicon and phosphor, that a grand saga made its perilous transition to the ubiquitous Commodore 64—a testament to its enduring power and allure: The Bard's Tale. Verily, a robust electronic contrivance, this "C64," though humble in its plastic casing, did prove itself a most potent arcane artifact. And in '86, it was graced by a creation most deserving of a bard's epic verse.

Imagine, if you will, the mist-shrouded city of Skara Brae, gripped in the icy clutches of eternal winter by the vile archmage Mangar the Dark. Monsters prowling the fog-choked streets, taverns echoing with desperate pleas, and only your band of valiant heroes—up to six stout souls, plus perchance a summoned ally—stands betwixt the realm and utter ruin. This is no mere skirmish, nay! 'Tis a grand campaign of dungeon-delving, where graph paper becomes your most trusted squire, and cunning strategy your shining paladin's plate.

From the Adventurer's Guild you muster your party. Fighters of muscle and steel, Rogues of cunning and shadow, Practitioners of the mystic arts (Magicians and Conjurers, whose spells could rend flesh or mend bone), and, of course, the Bard himself—the very heart of the tale, whose melodies could inspire courage or lull dread beasts to slumber. Each choice, a thread woven into the tapestry of fate.

The world itself was a marvel. One navigated its streets and dungeons through the first-person perspective, a most immersive technique that placed the player directly into the boots of the lead adventurer. Each turn of the digital page revealed new vistas—or, more often, new threats. From the murky depths of the Catacombs beneath the city, teeming with skeletal guardians and monstrous rats, to the perplexing corridors of the Tower of the Archmage, filled with bewildering traps and powerful wards, every locale was a testament to meticulous design.

Yet beware, ye neophytes and veterans alike! The sewers beneath Skara Brae twist like the entrails of a slain beholder, the Catacombs demand maps etched with the precision of a dwarf's chisel, and deeper still lurk the haunts of Mangar—teleporters flinging you into abyssal voids, hordes of barbarians and mad monks assailing without mercy. Four grand dungeons await, each more perilous than the last, replete with puzzles that would tax the wits of Merlin himself. And the overworld? A sprawling city of eight streets, each alive with shops, temples, and casinos where fortune favors the bold (or the lucky roll of the dice!). 

Scribes possessed of wisdom beyond mine have declared The Bard's Tale as the greatest role-playing game ever released for the Commodore 64. It solidified the Commodore 64's reputation not merely as a home computer, but as a portal to realms of high adventure. 

The November of 1986 shall be remembered as the moment the Commodore 64 users took up the cause of Skara Brae, their digital swords at the ready. Many a hearth-lit chamber echoed with its calls: "Attack!", "Cast!", "Flee!"—and the triumphant strains of bardic song. It bound companions in shared peril, forged legendary paths upon graph paper, and kindled the undying fire of role-playing in countless bosoms.

Even now, in these latter days, as the wheels of time turn inexorably onward, the echoes linger. The faithful yet tread the streets of Skara Brae, sword, spellbook, or lute at the ready. For in the tales of the Bard, as in the great chronicles of old, valor endures, and the shadow of Mangar may yet be defied by those bold enough to heed the call four decades hence.

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