Baldur’s Gate 3
| Developer: Larian Studios | Graphics: |
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| Publisher: Larian Studios | Sound: |
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| Year: 2023 | Difficulty: |
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| Genre: “Point & miss” RPG | Lastability: |
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| Number of players: 1 to 4 alternating | Rating: |
6/10 | |
Have you ever heard of “hype”? That unreasonable frenzy when a game is announced. We’ve all fallen victim to it, sometimes to the point of pre-ordering, only to bitterly regret it weeks later and swear to be more wary in future. The first time I succumbed to this affliction was during the release of APB: All Points Bulletin. This game had genuine potential but failed to realise it. Other times, it’s pure deception (we’ve lost count of the fraudulent Kickstarter campaigns). We could add contemporary titles like Dia*** 4 by Bli*** to this category, but such products don’t deserve publicity, even negative…
I would summarise the Baldur’s Gate 3 phenomenon as simply another iteration of the maxim: “in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king”. And the fact that it was developed by an independent studio undoubtedly contributed to this inflation. Personally, I judge a game for what it is and compare it with what exists, within the bounds of a certain standard. No, cold soup like Starfield isn’t part of my standard!
Warning: I’m critiquing the game at launch, without mods. I’m comparing it to Divinity: Original Sin 2, which I played years later in its “definitive” version, and Dragon Age: Origins, which I wouldn’t touch without attaching a dozen mods to it. It’s somewhat unfair, but I don’t claim to be objective. I feel very disappointed, misled, and I’m sharing an opinion, biased like the others… Bitter? Certainly that too!
The original sin:
Larian Studios made the bold double choice of acquiring the Dungeons & Dragons license, the popular tabletop role-playing game with complex and well-established rules, then adapting it as faithfully as possible to the video game medium. On one hand, this decision heightened curiosity and then enthusiasm around the game. On the other, it’s the cause of most of the clunkiness I reproach it for…
Baldur’s Gate 3 thus appeals more to D&D enthusiasts, who will enjoy reuniting with familiar mechanics (spells that need memorising with limited uses, the need to rest regularly to recharge them, and that blessed endless dice rolling to resolve absolutely every situation, both in combat and dialogue). I find these constraints needlessly rigid. The conspicuous dice rolls, in particular, completely break my immersion in a solo video game. I feel like I’m playing Monopoly alone against a computer. I especially perceive it as a clear regression after Divinity: Original Sin 2, which I praised for its streamlined interface, simple and intuitive combat rules, and above all, the creative way the developers had managed to reduce the chance factor, which, let’s remember, was the source of the main complaints against the original Divinity: Original Sin.
The story:
You wake up aboard a large vessel as a prisoner. An accident occurs, leaving you just enough time to rescue other unfortunates (optional task) before the ship, ablaze and strewn with debris and giant tentacles, sinks. A mysterious disembodied guardian angel saves you from certain death, and you regain consciousness on a beach. Soon, companions join you. A sense of urgency weighs upon you. A monster inhabits your mind, threatening to subjugate you at any moment, endangering your life and others’.
Thus, you set out to meet various healers of increasing renown, who one by one confess their inability to cure you. Later, you associate with a band of mystical refugees (expendable fools). Time passes, and you realise the danger might not be as immediate as you thought. During repeated visions in an ethereal, timeless world, you speak to your “guardian”, who advises you, rather than seeking a cure, to “embrace” your affliction, with the idea of increasing your new powers … to defeat a megalomaniacal tyrant, save the world … then subjugate it, if you fancy.
Blast, I’ve got the wrong notes. You’ve obviously recognised the plot of Divinity: Original Sin 2 (and Lohse’s personal quest). In Baldur’s Gate 3, the large vessel … flies! Terribly creative, isn’t it? And so respectful of players’ intelligence! Who dared say Larian Studios aren’t resting on their laurels?
The characters:
I’ll take the gloves off, if you don’t mind. You see the third image at the top of the page? I don’t think I’ve ever felt such strong personal involvement in a line of dialogue. The characters are recycled archetypes from other games, half composed of unsympathetic narcissists, and half of insipid simpletons. But I’ll grant them the talent of knowing how to make combinations: Gale is a narcissistic simpleton…
For example, they took Sebile (the elf from Divinity: Original Sin 2), detached her individualistic and defiant personality, which they assigned to Gamora Lae’zel. As for her backstory (a fugitive slave, marked with a scar, seeking revenge on her former master), they stuck it on Astarion.
I remember the pleasure I took in chatting with Leliana, Oghren, or Shale in Dragon Age: Origins; the subtle way in which the psychological cracks of Stein, Winn, or Zevran were introduced… Compare the rivalry between Allistair and Morrigan with that between Lae’zel and Shadowheart!
No, Baldur’s Gate 3 is not at all the new benchmark. Dragon Age remains comfortably seated on the throne. Perhaps it also lacks an interesting antagonist. Dragon Age had Loghain, a model in my eyes. Detestable, but endowed with a history, personality, and nuanced motivations that went beyond the desire to dominate the world, and which the player could understand.
Another notable difference from Bioware’s jewel, the romances with companions trigger without any prompting, abruptly, followed by sex scenes that I would describe as gratuitous and simultaneously prudish and vulgar. It’s very odd. I feel like I’m following fan fiction written by pre-teens. I feel embarrassed for the developers, and especially for the YouTubers who oversold me this game, praising its supposedly high-calibre writing.
The player and their choices:
I’ve read many praises about the advanced customisation during character creation. Let’s be charitable and call it a misunderstanding.
In statistical terms, maybe (multiclasses, choice of races with specific traits, in line with the D&D universe).
In a narrative context, regarding physical criteria, you get seven faces, non-customisable, and that’s it. You can’t even modify the eye shape, which is the most obvious way to communicate character. I can’t create a male human with a thuggish face, for example. Whatever I do, he looks like a teddy bear. Once again, Dragon Age offered notably more options … not to mention the customised prologue, for which I maintain a fervent nostalgia.
The only innovation worth noting is allowing the creation of a transgender character.
I’ve noted the dissociation between “physical model” and gender identification (male, female or “non-binary”) to conform to today’s political correctness. Such decisions invariably spark heated controversies in “well-informed” circles, particularly across the Atlantic. I don’t want to participate, but I wonder if this ideological colouring in our games (in our series, in our films…) will age well. How will viewers perceive these works in twenty years? Remind me to edit this page in 2043…
I struggled to continue playing due to lack of attachment to the characters, and particularly to mine. I started with a gnome rogue, I accidentally triggered a war in the goblin camp. One of them must have looked at me funny, or perhaps I clicked on a barrel while my crossbow was drawn… Anyway, I killed everyone, and when I returned to my camp, a village of dimwitted fools was waiting to feast in my honour. Wait, there’s been a mistake. I’m not defending widows and orphans!
Obviously, I started over, taking care to ally with the goblins. I validated the most immoral choices I was allowed … but again, I was disappointed. I became a B-movie villain, a Diet Coke of evil, the sort who never swears.
It’s amusing, actually, this striking selectivity in the crimes allowed by role-playing games. You’re allowed to steal or kill everyone, and that’s about it. But cleanly, mind you! And not the children … with the notable exception of goblin children. It creates a sanitised atmosphere which, personally, bores me. Heroic fantasy literature proves far less timid in depicting an “evil” character (Ramsay Bolton, for instance).
Moreover, critics have raved about how the player can approach a quest in different ways, and that their decisions influence the plot. Like in a role-playing game, you mean? You know what would be even more innovative? If these choices weren’t conditioned by dice rolls. I felt entirely directed, on the contrary.
The Staging:
This is the great strength of Baldur’s Gate 3 compared to its predecessors: it provides particularly well-crafted and numerous “cutscenes”. Some made me smile (the one with the squirrel, the ogress in the barn…). However, most of them simply show characters standing, talking whilst occasionally waving their arms. They clearly spent a lot of time on lip synchronisation (and choreographing sex scenes), but this can’t substitute for a credible and engaging story. And why should I care about camera tracking shots!
Generally, the world seemed artificial and inconsistent to me. There are no stakes. We’re told there’s urgency to cure ourselves, then finally, no. Anyway, death has no consequence, since from the start, we meet a chap who promises to resurrect whoever we want for a modest sum. I got bored very early on, as I didn’t understand the plot, being shuffled from one place to another, without ever feeling involved. Plus, I get the impression that all the characters I meet act and speak like children. It’s a sign that the dialogues aren’t well written. Just verbose.
An example of poor staging: when visiting the dwarven fortress, prominently displayed, there’s a lift. If you enter it, a cryptic window warns that “the adventure will continue”, without further explanation. Yes, fine. You go up, there’s a room, you go back down, and the entire fortress is deserted; all the dwarves have vanished, and some of the quests become forbidden.
I read that Act 3 was “not as good” as the first two, and riddled with bugs. I’ve no doubt they’ll be fixed in future updates (it’s so outdated to finish games before releasing them). For my part, I gave up midway through Act 2, despite the strong incentive to persevere, having shelled out 60 quid and replaced my PC specifically for this game.
I remember the first trailer, which suggested a Lovecraftian (dark) game. Alas, I’ll retain the image of a generic and sanitised universe.
Exploration:
The environment appears more “vertical” than in Divinity: Original Sin 2, but the game engine remains identical, such that the camera sometimes struggles to keep up, particularly inside multi-storey buildings.
Collecting objects by the hundreds is more tedious than ever, as is clicking on countless types of provisions, one by one, to magically send them to the camp chest. Why bother us with separate inventories and weight limits if we can teleport objects in two clicks? It drives me round the bend spending my time sorting through my gear, or searching jars and other empty containers like the obsessive-compulsive that I am!
In Divinity: Original Sin 2, there was a talent called “Lucky Charm”, which made looting containers a little less tedious, as you always had a chance to find something valuable inside anything.
Where Baldur’s Gate 3 innovates is by adding a second layer of clunkiness, forcing the player to regularly return to camp to recharge spells or change group composition, helping to chop up an already not-so-lightning pace. I thoroughly enjoyed, dozens and dozens of times, the two forced lines of dialogue every time I wanted to swap a character to retrieve an item from their inventory. Model of ergonomics, lads!
Finally, the “amusement park” syndrome, described in the Divinity: Original Sin 2 page, remains current, as do targeting issues. For example, some barrels can be searched by clicking on them, others are destroyed … just click on the second type and your character shoots an arrow into it, causing all the locals to jump on your back.
The Combat:
The messy interface, icons everywhere, the multitude of action types and spells require an adjustment period. Have no fear, I’ll help you. There’s the attack that misses at range, the one that misses in melee, and all the magical abilities that miss while emitting light in the colour of your choice. No, I’m exaggerating. You don’t just miss. Occasionally, you miss critically!
In combat, when my attacks miss too frequently, and I can only attack once per turn, I want to stop playing. It’s something I tolerated in old games, but it has no place today. The good news is that it at least convinced me to finish Divinity: Original Sin 2, which I had put aside for months.
Miscellaneous Points:
Compared to the two previous titles, the interface seemed so ghastly that I never felt “at home”. I understand that the decision to adapt the D&D licence as faithfully as possible requires several rows of icons. I understand it’s impossible to properly organise such a quantity of actions, subject to convoluted rules. One immediately notices that the licence is a ball and chain they’ve attached to their foot, to which we owe a large part of these deteriorations. When I was first presented with the dice pair animation, I knew immediately it would make me sick.
Worth noting, I encountered a recurring bug that didn’t restore the interface after dialogue (impossible to select a character or click on an action), leaving me no choice but to reload a save.
But wait, I’ve found something positive to say! You can now pause the game outside of combat. It only took three games! I still miss the teleportation pyramids, though…
Conclusion:
According to Ben Croshaw (Zeropunctuation), gaming enjoyment depends on three factors beginning with “C”: Context, Challenge and Catharsis. Personally, I’d add Convenience (ergonomics, inventory management, chance to miss, all that…).
He specifies that you don’t necessarily need to fulfil all three criteria at once, but the strong factor must compensate for any potential deficiency in the other two. He acknowledges that a game like Baldur’s Gate 3 will focus more on Context (the story). I didn’t connect with it. It was doomed for me.
Then there’s Catharsis, which refers to the game’s content, but implies an emotional release. So, yes, I have the power to interact with every cupboard, crate, jar … I can attack anyone. Splendid. I feel “occupied” but not stimulated. I went to find my catharsis in Warzone 2100. Whenever I’m distracted by another game midway through a session, it’s a clear sign that something isn’t working.
People often denounce the creative apathy of video game (and cinema) industrialists. I think the avid consumer is equally responsible. In the age of live services, video-on-demand platforms and social networks, the player seems content with things to do, a shopping list. If that’s your case, if you take this title as a puzzle, with situations to resolve, small quests, regions to explore piece by piece, cinematics, sex, dialogues in quantity; you’re likely to come away satisfied, because technically, it’s successful.
But aren’t we giving too much importance to technical considerations?
PS: Can we stop with the swords stuck to backs, please?
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