It would have been a major anticlimax if this was the universal experience of the game: its longevity had been one of the most fundamental factors in the long, protracted hype-mongering process, but thankfully, the nine-hour claim is not an entirely accurate representation. Thanks to its toybox nature, the player isn't supposed to race through an RPG like this at top speed.
So those people that have chosen to reach a final ending as quickly as humanly possible are not only missing out on large chunks of the game’s sub-quests, but they are also looking for hidden depths that simply aren’t there unless you take the time build them yourself.
Unlike many one-player adventure games of late, Fable plays best when little or no attention is paid to actually progressing along the main storyline. It’s not quite on the same plane as Harvest Moon or Animal Crossing (although you can do the whole fishing rod and spade thing), but it is a game happiest when being played with, rather than being played through.
Forget the claims that this is an enormous RPG of hitherto unforeseen proportions, in reality it's easily comparable to many other console RPGs (like FFX or Zelda: WW), both in terms of scale, ‘explorability’ and content; but if approached as an opportunity to footle, then you're in for a real treat. Footling, as defined by the dictionary, is ‘1. to act aimlessly: to waste time doing unnecessary or unimportant things,
or 2. to act or talk pointlessly: to talk nonsense or behave in a pointless way.’ Yes, ladies and germs, Fable is the ultimate footle ‘em up. To extract the most entertainment from this piece of software, it must be approached with a distinct lack of ambition and an indecisive vagueness.
Completing individual quests can be entertaining, but these are, for the most part, akin to the missions of any other action RPG you may have played. It’s when you lay down your sword, your axe, your crossbow, and your absolutely enormous sledgehammer that you can begin to appreciate the aspects to Fable that make it something different. All the NPCs have been given their own lives to live, and with different personalities, they each respond differently to the hero’s presence in their vicinity.
If your character has become a massive hulking demon, with glowering red eyes and protruding horns, passers by will tremble, cower, even run away and hide. If, on the other hand, your hero has evolved into a jauntily dressed, bronzed Adonis clad in shiny plate armour, Albion’s populace will take to you much more kindly, singing your praise as you amble by. With the right moves, your cocky swagger will have young wenches swooning, married ladies gazing on in admiration, with even burly sailors and dandy hairdressers giving you the eye as you wander by the quayside.