HAVE YOU GOT THE BHAALS?
With the release of Baldur’s Gate II: Shadows of Amn in 2000, BioWare proved that the first Baldur’s Gate was no fluke. The sequel not only cemented the revival of the CRPG, but also established what would become the classic BioWare formula: epic yet intimate stories, meaningful player choice, and a strong sense of authorship over your character’s personality and moral compass.
The companion system, already strong in the first game, evolved dramatically here. Party members now arrive with their own desires, quests, histories, and unique abilities. Some outright despise each other and will force you to choose sides. Characters like Jaheira, Yoshimo, and Haer’Dalis engage in constant banter, revealing wildly different personalities through excellent writing. Many carry serious flaws—ones you may help them overcome, or ruthlessly exploit.
Compared to the first game, Shadows of Amn feels less exploratory, but far more focused. The more intimate structure and weightier story choices lead to a consistently engaging experience. This is no longer an open-ended journey across a wilderness, but a branching narrative driven by characters and consequence. Dialogue carries almost the entire story, and through it you’re constantly reminded of your place in the world: a pawn in the schemes of powerful figures, all eager to exploit your divine heritage. To them, you are never more than a means to an end.
Character creation mirrors Baldur’s Gate: Enhanced Edition, offering a wealth of options across race, class, attributes, and spells. While some builds are easier than others, all are viable on “Core Rules” difficulty or below. The Enhanced Edition adds a handful of new subclasses—dwarven defender, blackguard, dragon disciple—but for this playthrough I chose the shadowdancer, a rogue archetype built around stealth and devastating backstabs. It proved immensely satisfying.
Whether you import your Bhaalspawn from earlier entries or start fresh, the game opens with imprisonment in a dark dungeon. Jon Irenicus—the game’s main antagonist, superbly voiced by David Warner—appears to taunt and torment you, performing cruel experiments before leaving you broken on the floor. Salvation comes in the form of your sister Imoen, who frees you and reunites you with Jaheira and Minsc. Together, you must escape.
This opening chapter serves as a microcosm of the entire game. It introduces the isometric perspective and the pausable, RTS-inspired combat system: pause, issue orders, unpause, and watch chaos unfold. Starting at level 8–10, you already command a formidable arsenal of spells and abilities. Learning how to use them—positioning tanks up front, archers and spellcasters in the rear, or exploiting openings for thieves to slip through and strike—is deeply rewarding.
Combat can be brutal, especially for newcomers. Even as a veteran, I found myself in dire straits more than once. My main frustration lies with certain late-game enemy spells—charm, confusion, chaos, domination—that are difficult to counter reliably. They frequently remove characters from your control, sometimes turning them against the party. With so many enemy casters relying on these effects, the lack of a consistent, party-wide countermeasure can feel unfair.
Chapter two, following your escape, is infamous for its sheer density of content. You arrive in the Persian-inspired city of Athkatla, where a confrontation with Irenicus leads to both him and Imoen being arrested by the Cowled Wizards, the city’s arcane enforcers. The central goal becomes rescuing Imoen—but first, you need gold. A lot of it. That means diving headfirst into Athkatla’s sprawling web of side quests across its eight districts.
This chapter divides players. Some see it as a narrative detour; I see it as one of the game’s greatest strengths. Athkatla is a treasure trove of superbly written side stories. You can barely walk a street without someone begging for help, and before reaching one objective you’ll likely stumble into several more.
A serial killer stalks the city. A circus tent swallows visitors whole. A cult terrorizes the sewers. A noble girl seeks help against trolls overrunning her keep. Old companions resurface with new troubles. The list goes on. There are no level recommendations, and some quests won’t let you back out once begun—a serious flaw when you accidentally wander into something you’re not prepared for.
Many of these quests introduce recruitable companions, each with their own agendas and conflicts. They speak up regularly, interact with one another, and occasionally pursue romance—BioWare’s first full implementation of the infamous system, contingent on race, gender, and your responses to their advances.
The sheer quality of these quests is remarkable. Some reward you with class-specific strongholds. Chapters two and three feel like a sprawling tabletop campaign—individual adventures forming a coherent whole. Your party grows stronger, more confident, and more morally tested, all in preparation for the darkness ahead. Once Imoen is rescued, however, the structure tightens and the game becomes more linear.
From chapter four onward, Baldur’s Gate II leans more heavily into dungeon crawling. It remains excellent, but loses some of its earlier freedom. A mandatory detour feels poorly motivated from a story perspective, and overall enjoyment dips slightly. This stretch also introduces some brutally difficult, classic D&D monsters that can devastate the unprepared. Clever players can cheese certain encounters—but only if they had the foresight to buy very specific items earlier, with no chance to return and prepare.
Hunting for special loot is one of the game’s quiet joys. Potions, scrolls, and wands offer powerful, situational advantages. Item descriptions hint at transformative properties: a helmet that creates a duplicate of its wearer once per day, a sentient sword that initiates conversations, a shield that reflects arrows. Many items include brief historical notes, grounding them in the world’s lore.
The Enhanced Edition adds welcome quality-of-life improvements: higher resolutions, camera zoom, easier item pickup, larger stack sizes, and smoother compatibility with modern systems. It makes returning to the game painless.
Unfortunately, it also introduces a few missteps. New companions written by Beamdog feel markedly inferior to the original cast. Their quests are skippable—and should be. I sampled portions of Neera’s and Hexxat’s storylines, and both were low points, plagued by poor map design, excessive traps, and grating dialogue.
Still, the base game’s atmosphere is impeccable. Athkatla buzzes with life: shouting merchants, hammering blacksmiths, murmuring crowds. Forests creak ominously, dungeons drip and echo, and darkness permeates everything. Music is understated, letting ambient sound and muted visuals carry the tone. This is a grim world befitting a story about divine blood and moral consequence. You are the child of a god of murder. What will you become?
The game evokes smoky taverns, pipe smoke and ale, wary glances from shadowed corners. Some recognize your heritage and distrust you. Traveling between districts risks ambush by slavers or muggers. In dungeons, silence becomes oppressive, broken only by the snap of a trap or the war cry of a drow raiding party.
Comments
Post a Comment