A Normal Person, With Reasonable Levels of Intellect Reviews: Baldur’s Gate 3

⏳ Hours Played: 194
🏆 Platinum?: oh we’re halfway there ?
🎭 Spoiler Level: Yes. Turn back now or forever hold your peace

So... I Accidentally Fell in Love With a Bear

There are games you play, and there are games that move in, raid your fridge, eat your last biscuit and leave a toothbrush on the sink. Baldur’s Gate 3 is the latter. I didn’t so much play it as live inside it for 194 hours, crawling through every crate, ogling every NPC, and becoming emotionally reliant on computer generated characters.

The thing is, I didn’t even mean to play it. I was lured there—like most great mistakes in life—by the internet. Sexy little video clips, a flirtatious vampire, and a suspiciously charming ginger man in leather gloves. I knew next to nothing about Dungeons & Dragons and even less about Baldur’s Gate (my only D&D experience was one little online campaign where I roleplayed a sarcastic teifling who had trust issues and a sneaky hand). But these characters? This cast of broken fucking weirdos? I wanted in.

And boy, did I get in.

From “Oh No, I’ve Got a Worm” to “Oh No, I Have Feelings”

You start off confused, violated by a … squishy? cutscene, and—surprise!—you now have a brain parasite. Classic first date, really. But this isn't just shock value. It's a hook that pulls you straight into one of the most densely packed RPGs I’ve ever played.  Side quests, world-building, books, ambient NPCs with actual things to say—it's excessive, in the most delicious way.

Even creating my character felt personal. And not just because I modelled my Guardian angel after someone I care for (no, you have trust issues). I was invested before the game even loaded. I wanted these people to like me. I wanted me to like me.

And naturally, I flirted with the problematic vampire within 30 minutes of opening the game. What did you expect? I’m a creature of habit.

Combat, Camera Angles & Cantrips I Still Don’t Understand

I’ll say this: Baldur’s Gate 3 gives you options. Want to sneak, snipe, charm, fireball, or just slap a man with your wizard staff? Be my guest. The game has an entire tactical system ready to welcome you with open arms and immediately punish you for misjudging your action economy. The combat system is technically turn-based, which makes it feel thoughtful and considered — until your barbarian sprints into battle, rages in the wrong direction, and wastes their entire turn because you clicked half an inch to the left.

Now, I’ll admit I didn’t know my cantrips from my concentration spells at the beginning, and honestly, after 194 hours, I still feel like I’m winging it with a polite smile. The levelling system did that charming Dungeons & Dragons thing of throwing dozens of vaguely ominous names at me — Misty Step, Eldritch Blast, Guiding Bolt — as if I’m meant to instinctively know whether they’re going to heal me or explode in my own face. But I did eventually get the hang of it… mostly by trial, error, and accidentally setting things on fire.

Camera-wise, the game wins points for flexibility. If you want to roleplay your fantasy experience up close, it obliges with an over-the-shoulder view. Want to channel your inner dungeon master with a tactical top-down? You can do that too. It’s genuinely one of the best things about the game — the freedom to play your way, even if that way is repeatedly walking into traps and shouting "where the fuck is Gale now?" into the void.

And the takedowns? Chef’s kiss. They’re just cool. Even when I was playing badly (which was often), I still looked impressive. There’s something really validating about watching your character spin through the air like a sexy murder ballerina and then land gracefully in a pile of goblin corpses.

Dialogue, Companions & The Computer Generated Boyfriend

Here’s the thing: I was not emotionally prepared for this game. I thought I was. But I was wrong.

The companions are ridiculously well written. They react, grow, disagree. They feel real—(not you Wyll, you're just a damp sock with dialogue) . Shadowheart’s trauma was deliciously twisted. Astarion was the kind of problematic I find deeply attractive (Yes, I am in therapy) . And Halsin? Now that’s a Man vs bear choice I had absolutely no problems making and this bear is now the yardstick by which I will measure every romantic encounter for the rest of my life. Sorry to any future lovers—unless you’re 7ft tall, obsessed with me and say things like “the world pales in comparison to you,” you're out.

SPOILER ALERT: Then there's your Guardian. A figure you create. Trust. Bond with. And eventually discover is... not who they say they are. Not even close. Mine turned out to be a manipulative control freak with a god complex and no respect for boundaries. The betrayal hit a little closer to home than I’d like to admit. (My therapist will be hearing about that too).

The World Is Too Big. I Love It.

Each act opens up the map and says, “Here’s a thousand ways to get distracted—go nuts.” And I did. I missed so much and still felt overwhelmed by how much I did find. The game is packed with secrets and side quests. I became Lord of the Fish People, which is now on my CV. The environments are stunning—rich in lore, dripping in atmosphere, and fully capable of emotionally compromising you.

I was emotionally compromised by a hallway once. A hallway.

Soundtrack & Voice Acting: The Drama You Deserve

My favourite part ? Raphael sings his own boss theme. Let me just get that out of the way again. The devil—literal or metaphorical, depending on your alignment—serenades you with operatic flair while trying to kill you. It’s narcissism at its finest, and I was entirely here for it. If I were a villain, I too would score my own fight scene. Why leave that kind of poetry to chance?

The rest of the soundtrack? Equally immaculate. It never overstays its welcome. It creeps in when you’re making moral decisions you’ll regret later. It soars when you land a high-damage crit and feel like a god. And it softens—beautifully, heartbreakingly—when you’re in quiet, reflective moments. It manages to hold your hand and punch you in the face all at once. A rare skill indeed.

And the voice acting? Everyone absolutely devoured their lines like rent was due. Karlach radiates chaotic good with her unfiltered energy. Astarion drips with wounded charm and veiled threats. Shadowheart makes sarcasm feel like a coping mechanism you suddenly relate to. Even the side characters—those little nobodies you expect to forget—often leave a mark because someone decided they were worth writing well.

It’s like the casting director said, “Give me the Shakespearean rejects who feel too much,” and then every actor walked into the booth with full-body method acting and trauma in their throats. And I thank them for it.

The Ending: A Surprisingly Existential Gut Punch

Let’s be honest: video game endings can be hit-or-miss. Sometimes they tie everything up in a neat little bow, and sometimes they slap you with an existential crisis and a loading screen. Baldur’s Gate 3 went for the latter — and it hit harder than I expected.

What got me most wasn’t just the high-stakes battle, or the consequences of the choices I’d made, but the weight of those quiet, personal moments that preceded it. The feeling that everything—every lie, every campfire, every snarky little comment from Astarion—had brought me to this. The ending wasn’t just a “game over”; it was a gentle, reflective kind of heartbreak. Like watching someone you love walk away.

Walking off into the woods with Halsin? Top ten moments of my relatively boring life. Almost losing Karlach? Devastating, there were tears in my eyes. Finding out the handsome man with a nose ring I trusted with my fictional life was a tentacle-faced liar? It broke something inside me.

And then… it’s done. You’re dropped back into the real world, and suddenly there’s no one to share spell slots with. No one reminding you that you’re infected with a worm and still somehow hot. No bear-druid making you feel safe in the chaos. It was, in short, a beautifully existential sucker punch. And I’ll absolutely be lining up for another one. I’ve got this dark urge to play things a little differently this time. 

Final Thoughts: A Game So Good It Ruined Me A Little

Baldur’s Gate 3 wasn't just a game for me—it was a whole bloody experience. A sprawling, unreasonably well-written, emotionally ruinous and wonderful experience. If you’ve ever wanted to know what it feels like to simultaneously ride a bear, commit arson, and fall in love with some random weirdo, this is the game for you.

Would I recommend it? Yes. To everyone. With the caveat that you’ll probably develop an emotional dependency on your companions and start looking at real-life people thinking “pathetic ... you wouldn’t even survive Act 2.”

Rating: 11/10

(Certified by my feelings™)