Dragon Age: The Veilguard (2024), the fourth major installment in BioWare’s ambitious fantasy RPG series, is a fun journey. However, the predictability of its characters kept me from getting attached to the story.
Veilguard follows the customizable player character, Rook, who must team up with six companions to defeat two ancient elven mages determined to rule the world as gods. Like other BioWare games, Veilguard features player choices and dialogue options that shape the story’s outcomes.
With its complex environments, enjoyable combat, and solid voice acting, I expected Veilguard to resonate with me emotionally, much like other large-scale fantasy RPGs such as Elden Ring, Skyrim, or The Witcher 3. While the game was enjoyable, I never felt fully immersed in its world or deeply invested in the fates of its characters.
What kept me from falling in love with the game was that my expectations—and emotions—were never challenged. In over 60 hours of gameplay, I never felt that I had been “wrong” about a character. The rug was never pulled out from under me, and I wish it had been.
The characters in Veilguard are likable and, in some respects, relatable. Emmrich, a necromancer and scholar, lost both of his parent at a young age and wrestles deeply with fears about his own mortality. Taash, a fire-breathing Qunari warrior, struggles with their mother’s expectations and disappointment regarding their identity and choices.
The characters in Veilguard are kind, funny, and have interesting backstories, with their personalities clearly established in the player’s early encounters. However, despite a variety of companion-centric side quests, I felt like their personalities remained static throughout the game.
Take, for example, your companion Davrin. A Grey Warden and stoic warrior, Davrin is dedicated to protecting the world from monsters called darkspawn while also caring for an adorable, endangered griffin. The game harps on the idea that there is tension between these elements—how can a hardened warrior care for a fluffy baby griffin? However, it’s evident early on that Davrin is both a kind-hearted person and a resolute fighter. He’s a stoic softy from the start, and that never really changes.
For me, the pleasant but predictable nature of Veilguard’s characters made the story less moving and less memorable. This disappointment left me thinking about moments when video game characters have surprised me, as in the beloved Bloody Baron quest line early in The Witcher 3 (2015).
In The Witcher 3, you play as Geralt, a monster hunter for hire, who is desperately searching for his adopted daughter, Ciri. Early in the game, you encounter the Bloody Baron, who is also frantically searching for his missing wife and daughter. The Baron agrees to provide information about Ciri in exchange for your help in finding his family.
Initially, the Baron is presented as a sympathetic character. However, you later discover that the alcoholic Baron physically abused his wife, causing her to have a miscarriage. The player, and by extension Geralt, can respond in different ways, ranging from empathy to condemnation
The Bloody Baron quest is sad, disturbing, and memorable, not only because of the horrific violence it depicts but because the game subverts the player’s expectations. By flipping the script, it forces the player to ask: How do I incorporate new information about these characters? How do I feel about these characters? How do I want my player character to feel about them? Answering these questions is a core part of role-playing.
This type of narrative shift doesn’t always rely on horrific events, nor does it always turn a sympathetic character into a monster. In Stardew Valley (2016), the seemingly vain and shallow mean-girl Haley gradually reveals herself to be a more caring and complex person. This change is unexpected and encourages players to reflect on whether their initial assessment of Haley was fair or accurate.
In gaming, developers aim to give players what they want—especially in a beloved series like Dragon Age, where meeting player expectations is a priority. However, games are at their strongest when they prompt us to question our judgments. Being disoriented, and proven wrong, can increase our attachments to characters and worlds, because we have to reflect on our relationship with what we are playing. Personally, I would have liked to see more of this kind of reflection encouraged in Veilguard.
