The problem is, the styling of fantasy so often takes precedence over the point of fantasy. RPG gamers and game developers are both guilty of looking for the orcs and elves first. Got goblins? Get in. That’s the wrong approach.
Fantasy is at its best when it acts as allegory, when it uses the mystical to illustrate the real. Frankenstein isn’t a book about a zombie with a headache: it’s about man over-reaching himself at the dawn of the industrial age. Games, it seems, can find this difficult to grasp.
That’s why The Witcher has every chance of working. In this strange world, elven terrorists stand up for the rights of oppressed peoples by committing very bloody massacres. Vampiric bounty hunters named Witchers roam the landscape, dealing with supernatural threats. It’s a thankless job. They’re hated for their work. Hated for what they represent. And the human populace is downtrodden and scared, terrified of things that go bump in the night.