This edition of Games We Loved is contributed by our friend and gaming junkie Alexander Liss

There are certain things an RPG needs to do in order to qualify as “epic.” These things include: engrossing storyline, engaging game dynamics, open-world gameplay structure, lots of sidequests, replayability, and hidden goodies to reward the player who spent more time adventuring than was probably advisable. The classic PC RPG Baldur’s Gate had all of those things, yet went above and beyond in such a way that it lives to this day as one of the greatest of all time.

But more than any of that, what really made Baldur’s Gate special was the way it broke down the Fourth Wall. Usually when games take a step away from immersion, it does so at the expense of the player’s enjoyment. But Baldur’s Gate consistently added an extra element to the experience by breaking the tension with moments of sheer lunacy.

To fully understand, you have to go back to PC games of the late 90′s. Imagine a top-down, 3D view of the playing field, with your party as a series of miniature but endearing sprites that you clicked on in order to command. (If you ever played StarCraft or WarCraft you know where this is going.) Each time you clicked on a party member, you got a short but satisfying soundbite to let you know that you had selected the unit. There were other soundbites you got for issuing commands, such as attacking, defending, casting a spell, and so on.

In Baldur’s Gate, it was the soundbites you got from clicking on party members that provided the most sustained, satisfying, and enjoyable reminder that you were playing a game. The more colorful NPC’s were matched with soundbites that matched their outsized personalities. Some the best included: “Click on someone your own size,” from the well-meaning but cowardly Khalid, “I never loved you!” from the menacing rogue Montaron, and my personal favorite, “Stop touching me!” from the unbalanced mage Xzar. Hearing these soundbites come up at random intervals, often in the midst of a battle, was a treat that never got old.

Matching these soundbites were your companions’ personalities. In one of the best implementation of the Dungeons & Dragons ruleset of any videogame ever made, the alignments and goals of your party members interacted with that of your main character in dynamic and unpredictable ways. For example, bringing Good characters into the party and committing Evil deeds would lead to these characters to come into conflict with you. There were dialogue prompts, threats to leave, and eventually, that character would unilaterally leave the party or even attack you.

From a gameplay standpoint, one of the most endearing aspects of the adventure was its low-level focus. You started at level 1 and were capped at level 7. This added a real sense of danger to your quest. You were never head-and-shoulders above your enemies — you had to watch yourself at all times because it was easy to wind up dead. But that made the thrill of victory, and especially of finding new treasure, all the more satisfying. Getting a modestly powerful item, for example a sword +3, meant an order of magnitude increase in your combat skills. The smallest advantage was enough to make the difference between victory and defeat.
And of course there was all that “conventional” stuff that makes a classic RPG: a mysterious plot that unfolded in large set-piece confrontations, travelling from one area of the map to the other on a free exploration for quests and treasure, and the satisfying final confrontation with your estranged half-brother Sarevok in the ruined Temple of Bhaal below the city of Baldur’s Gate.

Games have come so far technologically that the definition of “classic” continues to get pushed higher and higher. But Baldur’s Gate provides a comprehensive experience so satisfying that it remains playable and enjoyable even to this day.