Bitchless in Faerûn

On my first playthrough of Baldur’s Gate 3, I entered the eponymous city with Gale, Astarion, and Karlach in my party, all of whom had a Very High estimation of my prowess (and Gale even thought I was Exceptional) and none of whom had been smooched, cuddled, or made love to. It was literally at this point during the beginning of Act 3, nearly 120 hours into the game, where I realized… I may have fucked this one up. 

I was playing as Israfil, a Lolth-sworn Drow Oathbreaker Paladin and I was very, very radiant—thank God, as I hadn’t realized just how many undead were in Act 2 before I was in the thick of it. Smite reactions saved my ass on more than one occasion. (Israfil had started life as a rogue before I realized how hard it was to play a rogue in Baldur’s Gate 3 as a first-time CRPG player.) While rebuilding Israfil as a Paladin at level three, I decided on some clear roleplaying character choices: they were a little closed off and needed others to trust them to make the right decisions, even if they seemed like the bad decisions. They were a good boy (nonbinary), if a little… misguided. And they would never come out swinging if they could sweet talk their way out of a problem instead—a trait that meant they were willing to bargain with anyone, even the less savory characters of BG3.

But I’m not here to tell you about my Tav. I’m here to tell you about how, through an incalculable mess of gameplay decisions, I ended up astronomically, utterly, absurdly bitchless in Faerûn, nearly a hundred hours into a game that I was only just starting to understand.