The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim gives players a great deal of freedom to pursue any number of paths, but there's one particular art that's denied them. Commenter Greg the Mad brings this pressing issue to light in today's Speak Up on Kotaku.

So, I've been on to this for a day now, but failed till now. Did any of you manage to play the flute (lute/drum) in Skyrim?

I mean you can use the mill, but not play flute on your travels? I've been to the bards college and made the quests that I've found, but still I can't play it.

If you really can't play it, than this needs to be patched!

Michael Fahey has now played Skyrim for more than 60 hours. Stephen Totilo has now played The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword for more than 40. Surely, these two have something to say about how these two games compare.

They do. They have discussed these two titanic games, tried to find common ground, took unwarranted shots at each other and, well, they forgot to make any Skylanders jokes.

What do Skyrim and Skyward Sword players have to say to each other? This:

Mr. Stephen Totilo, Kotaku deputy editor, irrepressible booster of The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask: I've played a ton of Skyward Sword. You've played a ton of Skyrim. We should compare notes!

Mr. Michael Fahey, Kotaku workhorse, lover of role-playing games: Notes? Like how none of my Skyrim characters are wearing funny green hats?

Stephen: There you go taking a shot at Zelda right away. Or at Link, specifically. I've been hip-deep in Zelda for the last couple of weeks (also in Asssassin's Creed, somehow), so it's been weird for me to see people losing their minds over Skyrim and calling it one of the best games of all time. I liked what I've played of it a lot, but I feel like I'm in some other universe where I might be playing the best RPG of November.

Mike: Another universe. That's an apt description. It's almost like you're playing the cartoon version of the epic live-action fantasy movie I've been exploring for the past few weeks (with a side trip to Middle-Earth).

Stephen: I must say that Skyward Sword is really pretty. I love the art direction and don't mind that it's not HD.

Mike: It certainly makes things easier. It's the difference between World of Warcraft and, say, EverQuest II. When you strive for realism you're more open for criticism. I think I prefer Skyrim because the places I go feel like actual spots I could visit. You can almost smell them.

Stephen: What do dragons smell like?

Mike: The back of a Petland, I'd imagine.

Stephen: I hear your game has bad combat. Mine doesn't. The motion controls work well. The swordplay is good. Imagine, if you will, Skyrim played with a Wii Remote. It could be better, yes?

Mike: That is a dream of mine, Stephen. I mentioned it in my Disappointments post last week. Skyrim played with a Wii remote or the PlayStation Move would be a sublime experience. Though...

After experimenting with some of the other forms of combat—shield and sword, straight magic—there are ways to enjoy combat. It's all in the way you choose to play. Is choice a big factor in Skyward Sword?

Stephen: It is. I started picking up on that when I was playing the game at preview events. This Zelda is more of an RPG than others. It's no Skyrim (by which I mean you can't change your class or your cranium), but you have to manage a stamina meter, can upgrade most of your items, craft with bugs to make better potions (that's what bugs are good for, yes?) and, well, there are some stats in this Zelda game. Not a ton. But I appreciate that you and I could finish Skyward Sword and our Links would be slightly different. That's not usually the case with Zelda games.

I guess you could stretch that and say Zelda is slightly Skyrim-esque in that sense. Is there anything Zelda-esque to Skyrim?

Any bottled fairies? Or brilliant dungeons? Or treasure chests that tell you how much a red rupee is worth EVERY TIME YOU OPEN ONE??

Mike: Any game is better with bottled fairies, but sadly no. There are some brilliant dungeons, littlered with traps and the sort of brain-twisting puzzles that make you wish you hadn't instituted a no-Gamefaqs rule when reviewing a title. I'd have to say the most Zelda-riffic thing about Skyrim is it delivers the same sense of adventure and wonder today as the original Legend of Zelda did way back in 1986.

Stephen: Oh, that's cool. Did you find yourself asking friends about their discovering and trading tips? I played Skyward Sword with my cell phone next to me and kept texting a friend about the things I was discovering in the game. He was texting me his discoveries. It was really nice, like a throwback to being a kid and sharing Zelda secrets.

I'm 41 hours into Zelda and trying to keep it from ending. I've done many of the sidequests, so I think I'll clock in under 50. That's a healthy amount of Zelda. I hear people like you talking about 80 hours of Skyrim and that, frankly, sounds like too much. It's scaring me off from going super-deep into the game. I played through Fallout 3, the team's last game. But this new one? Intimidating!

And I wind up being skeptical that the game can be consistently excellent for that many hours. That Zelda is as good as it is, for as long as it is, is a testament to the skill of Nintendo's designers who clearly hand-crafted the whole thing. Does Skyrim feel hand-crafted? Do you feel like you're getting 80 hours of planned excellence? Or is the joy in the wander and the accident?

Mike: For me the real joy of sharing didn't hit until Monday night, while waiting in line at GameStop for my copy of Assassin's Creed. Even though Ezio was the man of the hour, the conversations inevitably strayed to Skyrim, and the stories flowed like wine. Secret areas, interesting side quests, quirky occurrences, memorable scenes. Then the assassin came along and killed it, but if he hadn't shown up we would have kept swapping tales until the sun came up.

Stephen: (Go, Ezio!)

Mike: You can certainly spend a great deal of time in the province of Skyrim. Between the PC and the Xbox 360 versions I'm up to about 60 hours myself, and there's plenty more to do. The thing is, the main quest—the one with the dragons—can be finished rather quickly, certainly under 10 hours. After that, you're free to explore to your heart's content, discovering everything the world has to offer. I really like the way you put it. The joy is indeed in the wander and accident. The core story has its moments, but your personal journey is the one that matters.

I might put my own journey on pause come Sunday, and explore the colorful candy-coated world of Hyrule for a bit.

Stephen: Was that a shot at Zelda? There's nothing wrong with color, you know. Get out of your dreary Skyrim caves!

Does your game have a floating city, by the way?

Mike: Oh no, I love a good candy coating now and then. Sometimes I'm in the mood for a drama, and other times I want to watch cartoons.

There is a precariously-placed magic school, but you don't need to float when you've got this many mountains. Does Zelda have dragons?

Stephen: Of course! Dragon spirits, I believe they're called.

Mike: Do they drop down out of the sky at random intervals and interrupt anything else you were trying to do?

Stephen: No. Never. Do you guys have bomb plants? Bomb plants whose bombs you can put in your pocket?

Mike: No. Our plants just sit there, waiting to be made into potions. Though wait, I've found the correlation! You can collect bugs in Skyrim and make them into potions as well!

Stephen: Common ground! What about the sky? I think Skyward Sword delivers on the promise of its title. I mean, you often have to point your sword at the sky. And you live in a town called Skyloft that is, well, aloft in the sky. Does Skyrim deliver on whatever in the world Skyrimming is? (Do I want to know the answer to that?)

Mike: Depending on the difficulty level you're playing at it is indeed possible to get rimmed in the sky. Just ask the giants.

Stephen: So we're both happy, yes? Skyrim and Skyward Sword are both superb and can co-exist?

I think there's only one other aspect of these games we need to discuss: How's the multiplayer in your game?

Mike: Brilliantly nonexistent. Yours?

Stephen: Awesome.

The thing I always liked about the Morrowind games was trying to figure out ways to "break the game", and while you no longer can jump over and over again to level your character, I did find a funny exploit. You can level up your character (not to mention your one-handed attack) the moment you get your first sword, simply by attacking your guide over and over again.

The video above explains all.

Thanks to Chris Stevens for calling me at 3 A.M. with the hot tip.

It's the next -to-last day of our week-long celebration of the stories cultivated in the hearts and minds of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim players! Today's Khajiit tale and tail is brought you you by a reader named Jud.

Logan was something of a wizened Khajiit. Dark-furred, his pale blue eyes looked out from behind the horned iron helmet. He crouched-moving slowly through the narrow sewer tunnel.

The dank, algae-covered cobblestone made him glad he was wearing boots.

"By the gods, I wonder what diseases I could catch from here?" he thought, inhaling more unpleasant smells than he could describe.

Rounding the corner, he stumbled back before the Thalmor guard could see him. He drew the bow from his back, carefully taking aim at the wizard across the room. At the top floor of this hub room, his opponent would have a long distance to cover before he could reach him. His first arrow went high, drawing the guard's attention to his hiding spot. Logan ducked back and waited until the elf resumed his post.

His shot connected this time, but the corpse tumbled to the floor below. Two more elves charged up the hallways cursing whoever killed their companion. Logan hid in the entrance hallway, muttering a prayer that they wouldn't find him. As they came into the hallway and drew their weapons, Logan cursed. One charged forward with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. The other stayed back, firing his bow between the blows his partner inflicted. A few blows knocked Logan back, the pain preventing him from being able to draw his own sword and shield.

A moment is all I need, he thought. He bared his teeth in a grin when he realized the answer.

The two elves brought their weapons to bear, but didn't get the chance to connect.

"FUS RO DAH!" Logan shouted in the narrow corridor. A column of energy seized forward, knocking the archer against a wall. The swordsman received the full brunt of the impact. He flew back against the far wall of the room, then fell two stories to the floor below.

Before the archer could recover, Logan brought his own sword for the kill. Pausing, Logan listened for the swordsman's return. As he carefully made his way down the room's ancillary hallways, he paused, checking for the guard.

At the bottom floor, he saw the missing man. Sprawled on the floor, the man's lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. He still clutched his lit torch.

"Thanks," Logan said, grabbing the torch as he left the room.

You play through Skyrim as a mere mortal. Sure, you get to be really powerful but you're still bound by gravity for the most of the experience. The deity's-eye-view in this tilt-shift video—from YouTuber ElrosTt, the same guy who made yesterday's gorgeous reel—makes the world of Tamriel seem less dangerous and more quaint. The clip reminds me of Populous, From Dust or other god games and just goes to show that Bethesda's latest hit looks great from multiple angles.

Busy Little People - SKYRIM Tilt-Shift Video [YouTube]

The tantalizingly brief Skyrim teaser trailer debuted by Bethesda Softworks late last year filled my mind with visions of titanic battles between man and beast; of shining steel bathed in ancient flames; of a champion rising from humble origins, prepared to sacrifice everything for the fate of the world. After 60+ hours with the game those visions have been fully realized — and rendered largely inconsequential.

In the frigid northern province of the continent of Tamriel the legendary dragon god Alduin rises, bringing with him a plague of ferocious flying lizards and the promise of the end of the world of Nirn. Only one being stands between this malevolent force and the people of the eponymous province Skyrim: Dovahkiin, the Dragonborn, a figure blessed with the ability to absorb the very powers these terrible creatures seek to unleash upon the land.

It's the sort of tale that fuels ancient epics and trashy fantasy novel trilogies alike, certainly sufficient enough to serve as the plot for the average role-playing game.

This is not your average role-playing game. In The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, this titanic tale is merely a framing device for a much larger story.

My story.

Battling a dark dragon god is merely an excuse to plunge the player headfirst into this immense Nordic-themed fantasy sandbox, much like the murder of Emperor Uriel Septim VII served as a gateway into Cyrodiil in The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. In grand Elder Scrolls tradition the players begins the game as a prisoner, confined to an exciting but linear introduction before being set free from the cages imposed by more structured role-playing experiences. You can return to the cage at any time, but there's a whole wide world to be explored, and what the hell, it's not like Alduin set a date for the destruction of everything; overwhelming evil's flexible work schedule is one of my favorite aspects of the series.

Unhampered by a ticking doomsday clock, the player is free to reconnoiter the beauteous countryside of Skyrim to their heart's content. Far-removed from the alien landscapes of Morrowind, its neighbor to the east, Skyrim's rolling hills, frigid tundra, and towering mountains wouldn't be out of place in a real-world nature documentary. I could easily see myself climbing its peaks, delving its depths, and crossing its streams (sometimes that's okay), and when the dragons make their appearance this realism serves to make those encounters all the more terrifying.

But those dragons, so immense and impressive at first, soon became nothing more than an occasional interruption in my personal tale, dropping out of the sky just as I was about to enter a mysterious dig site at the behest of the Mage College or worse, bringing an early end to high-spirited games of Herd the Moose.

I never said my story made sense.

I'm not sure if it's a testament to Bethesda's open-ended game design or my own frivolity that in a world filled with thousands of built-in activities I spent several hours making up my own. I earned no skill points for relentlessly pursuing elk across the frozen wastes, cliff-diving into shallow pools, or attempting to cross entire towns using only rooftops, but I felt just as fulfilled as I did when I was swiping a valuable trinket for the Thieves Guild, deterring a rambunctious bard from pursuing an unwilling maiden, or battling Dark Elf racism with my bare fists. Skyrim is the ultimate OCD adventurer's playground, packed so full of entertaining new experiences that you can barely complete before the next appears on the horizon.

When all was said and done my 60+ hours of adventure consisted of perhaps seven hours with Alduin and company, ten hours of random exploring, and the rest of my time spent devouring just a small portion of the side quests—the real meat of the game. Ranging from short fetch missions to adventures so lengthy and memorable they rival the core story, it's almost insulting to call them side quests. They are the beating heart of Skyrim.

Traditionally a single-player game, Skyrim has spawned its own social multiplayer component. By stocking the game with so much content that only the most dedicated player (or those armed with strategy guides) could hope to see it all, Bethesda has created an ever-growing community of storytellers, each eager to hear the unique tales of others while sharing their own. It's happening on internet message boards. It's happening on Facebook and Twitter. It's even happening in game stores, where the mere mention of the game's name evokes spirited conversation between total strangers. As I write this I'm actively resisting launching into tales of my mage's exploits. He's really rather keen.

Skyrim is not a flawless game by any measure, but where fans of other titles might rise up against rampant glitches and shoddy programming, this impassioned community has embraced it. Thrown into the air by a giant's club? That's hilarious. A horse that mysteriously blinks in and out of existence? He's our legendary steed. An overall lack of proper combat targeting? Damn those stupid non-player characters for jumping in front of my fireball. I've seen accusations since the game's release that reviewers are giving Bethesda a pass because their games are always flawed, but it's not the reviewers. Hell, I'd take ten points off right now if a) we used a point system and b) I wasn't afraid of being trampled by an angry mob.

In the early hours of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim a single word is heard, echoing from the heavens. "Dovahkiin" exclaims a mysterious voice, urging you to embark on a heroic quest to save the world. "Dovahkiin" is also Bethesda's call to arms, beckoning any gamer that's ever dreamt of traversing a magical land armed with spell and steel to an unforgettable role-playing experience. Ignore it at your own peril.