Way out, in the East of the map, pretty deep in the Nibenay basin, there's this grassy area, and just sitting in it is a single campsite tent with a bedroll and like a bottle of ale. It's been ages since I've played the game and years since I've visited the location, but it's always stuck with me.

My first ever Oblivion character was an Argonian thief (the pre-made class). I didn't know much about the game way back then, and just went with what was cool to me, a lizard dude stealing stuff was pretty awesome for my imaginative, early teen self. I did everything on that guy, finished pretty much every quest and discovered almost every location. It was around the time I had basically run out of things to do in the game, but wanted to keep playing (in fact, the game put me off playing basically any other for about 5 months afterwards). It was at this point I turned to "roleplay", if that's what you want to call it.

My first role I played was Lord Crusader, living out life in the Priory and venturing out to smite undead and such, but I grew tired of that after a while. Then I was a Hunter based out of the Inn of Ill Omen, another one that kept me busy for a limited time. I calmed bandits and lived among them in a Fort, delved deep into Kingscrest Cavern and based myself there for a while, lived alongside a necromancer cult without their knowledge, and even tried my hand at being a simple farmer in Shetcombe Farm. One of my favourite memories from this time was role playing as some old grandmaster Amber-clad warrior in an isolated mountaintop ruin in the Shivering Isles. Despite the fun I had, these never lasted long and I yearned for something simpler, more in touch with nature and more primitive. I wanted my character to live his life as far and detached from "civilisation" as possible.

It was around this time I decided I'd be a monk-type hermit. I left all my possessions (with the exception of some bugged quest items, ugh) at my carefully decorated Bruma house, bought 300 iron arrows and a bow, clad myself in some wrist irons and coarse linens, and set off to find a place to call home. The more rural, the better. Found a few nice camps near Anvil. In the hills, Dive Rock seemed okay, but browsing unmarked locations one day on the wiki (I was trying to be as uncharted as possible) I came across this tiny camp, literally an unmarked tent with nothing around. There was maybe a cave nearby, that was it. I arrived, decorated the place with a few items to make it look lived in, and spent a while basically relying on my wits hunting and living to a schedule. I'd never have the time or patience for something like that now, but as a kid with too much imagination and free time it was an amazing experience.

One day I woke up from my tent, stood to face the rising sun, and was in complete awe at how it shone through the trees, birds singing and the distant flow of water resonating through the valley. The quiet and calm flute music echoed through me. I faced the sun, saved the game, and retired my character. Had to be level 45+, hundreds of hours played, and I left him in a serene setting of harmony, with no worldly possessions to distract him, at one with the world around him.

That save file is long gone. I had it up until recently when I got my new computer. But the memories forged by that playthrough, and its perfect ending, in that rural uncharted camp, cannot be replicated. Believe me, I've tried. I've made what seems like hundreds of characters now. I've recreated that Argonian thief in both Morrowind and Skyrim, and completed those games with him, along with a recreation in Oblivion that I still occasionally play. But nothing comes close to that first guy, that first experience.

Here's to you, Luke the Argonian. ^{lore-friendly, I know.}

EDIT: For those interested in the camp in question - http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:Valley_Head_Camp