I thought I was going evil in Avowed, but one quest changed everything I thought I knew about morality in this RPG

In the course of playing Avowed, I found myself pondering over whether the welfare of the many is more important than that of a few. This question didn’t cross my mind until I reached the third act and assumed the role of an Aedyran envoy tasked with ridding the Living Lands of a strange soul affliction. At first, I convinced myself that I should only act in the best interests of my empire. However, as the story unfolded, I began to question whether there might be more to consider than just the welfare of my own people.

Before arriving at Naku Kubel and discovering more about my divine Envoy’s creator, I had begun to question if I was subtly becoming corrupt. Empathy for villainous characters is a frequent predicament I find myself in while playing games such as Baldur’s Gate 3 and Hogwarts Legacy; at times, I even opt for the malevolent path. However, Avowed caught me off guard with a clever twist of storytelling. Faced with an agonizing decision, I was brought back down to earth so significantly that it forced me to see past the rigid moral boundaries I had set for myself.

Warning: Spoilers for Avowed’s Shatterscarp and Galawain’s Tusks regions ahead

Playing the field

Initially, it seems that in Avowed, deciding between being good or evil is similar to choosing a character role. Following Aedyran orders and aligning with their allies, who are a religious zealot and her crusaders, might appear as the villainous choice due to their aggressive methods of eradicating the Dreamscourge from the island – tactics that involve beating, burning, and bleeding them out. On the other hand, you could opt to defy them, standing up for the free people of the Living Lands and embodying a classic hero with good intentions.

Frankly, such a rigid moral code seems a tad idealistic to me. As a benevolent ruler, I tend to prioritize diplomacy over confrontation. My approach is often one of appeasement, trying to find common ground with all parties, which occasionally makes me appear duplicitous and manipulative, like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings. However, my ultimate aim is to champion the virtues of Aedyr – progress, fairness, and potential – while subtly distancing it from the questionable deeds of Lödwyn and the Steel Garrote.

Pondering over the revelation that Sapadal, the creator of my godlike, is bound to the Dreamscourge itself, left me questioning. If what I was trying to accomplish by freeing the imprisoned deity, whom ancient followers called The Gardener, was indeed the wrong course of action, then does that make the Steel Garrote… right? It’s hard for me to assert confidently that it isn’t, given my decision to take the lives of numerous innocents instead of joining forces with the crusaders.

Near the culmination of the primary mission chain in Shatterscarp by Avowed, I’m tasked to explore an ancient ruin, rumored to be the origin of the Dreamscourge plaguing the area. The place is teeming with Dreamthralls, ghostly entities violently attracted to a massive adra pillar situated at the heart of the ruins, driven by the life-force it contains.

However, it appears Sapadal holds a deep affection for these seemingly mindless beings, viewing them as tender seedlings in their garden. Yet, despite being diverse elements of an ecosystem, these creatures perform acts of wickedness which Sapadal overlooks. This leads one to wonder: Does this indifference on the part of Sapadal absolve them of any guilt, or have they been manipulating me unbeknownst to me?

Split allegiance

As I depart the shattered remnants of a once-great place, a heavy burden remains with me. Reuniting with Archmage Ryngrim, I discover her embroiled in a fierce disagreement with Inquisitor Lödwyn. Armed with formidable weaponry, including cannons aimed at the ruins, they stand ready to obliterate them. The situation leaves me with a difficult decision: disobey Sapadal and level the area, joining forces against my ancestral claim – an action Lödwyn gently reminds me, was never a choice I made for myself. Alternatively, I can place faith in Ryngrim’s abilities to seal the adra pillar, forever ending the Dreamscourse in Shatterscarp.

The cost is steep, indeed. Many lives, perhaps dozens to hundreds, might perish throughout the region, serving as fuel for the archmage’s spell. This tragedy would prevent the spread of the plague in the area, though it wouldn’t heal the already infected. Lödwyn maintains that this approach is the optimal solution due to minimal immediate human losses and the sacrifice of enough Dreamthralls to provide Thirdborn’s people with some time to adjust their defenses. It’s a classic dilemma where choosing either option seems disastrous, reminiscent of challenging scenarios often found in role-playing games, and I grapple with it for nearly an hour.

In a rare instance, Lödwyn’s proposal appears to have a compassionate edge – though it may only be a temporary solution for a much more profound issue. Matters become even more challenging when Kai, an ex-inhabitant of Scatterscarp, implores me on behalf of the lives that would be saved if I were to support Ryngrim. For a brief moment, I don my roleplaying cap and understand that it’s impossible for my character to join forces with the Steel Garrote, especially given Lödwyn’s allegations of my divided loyalties while she exposes her true objectives: her devotion to her deity Woedica and her prolonged conflict with Sapadal.

In my poor judgment, I isolated the Adra Pillar from all others in the region, leading to a massacre of Steel Garrotes around me almost instantly. Upon returning to Thirdborn with the mixed emotions of this news, I find the same gruesome scene awaiting me. This outcome, though anticipated, leaves me no choice but to be expelled by Thirdborn’s ruler, Temerti. Now residing deep within Galawain’s Tusks, I continue to question whether my actions were justified. The only comfort I find lies in the universe’s lore – if Woedica opposes my god, and this god appears more as a bewildered captive than a powerful deity, I feel obligated to follow where my heritage leads me.

Is it always wrong to cause harm for the greater good, or is such a situation just an unavoidable aspect of life? Ryngrim praised my wisdom while cautioning me against relying too heavily on emotions. In essence, Avowed appears to be imparting a moral lesson – one that I’m making every effort to understand.

2025-03-12 16:11

Playing the field

Split allegiance

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