How Avowed Changed My RPG Standards Forever

I still remember the winter of 2025, when I almost let Avowed slip by. A first-person fantasy RPG from Obsidian? After The Outer Worlds felt like a warm-up, I worried they'd lean too hard on nostalgia. But here I am in 2026, and I've logged more hours in the Living Lands than in any other single-player world since Skyrim. So, what hooked me so completely?

From the moment I stepped onto the shores of Dawnshore, I realized Obsidian had done something quietly radical. The game wasn't trying to drown me in numbers. Instead of throwing a hundred side quests at my face or demanding I study a sprawling skill tree for hours, it offered clarity. How many times have you opened a character menu in a modern RPG and immediately felt exhausted? Avowed answered that with a simple, beautiful decision: three class trees—Fighter, Ranger, Wizard—and total freedom to mix them. I could start a fight by freezing a lizard with a spell from a grimoire, then switch to my pistol and finish it off with a headshot. No hidden penalties. No class locks. Just pure, playful experimentation.

That streamlined philosophy seeped into the world itself. I've grown tired of open-world games that spread themselves thin, offering hundreds of copy-pasted camps of bandits. Instead, Avowed guides you through distinct, handcrafted zones. Each area felt like a painting I could walk through, filled with secrets that rewarded my curiosity without punishing my schedule. Dawnshore's lush forests, Emerald Stair's fungal glow, Shatterscarp's desert ruins—they never overstayed their welcome. I could do a loop, finish all the quests in my log, and return to camp in a single play session. But would the combat keep me awake?

Oh, it woke me up like a lightning bolt. Combat here isn't just about swinging a sword while walking backward. It's a dance. I'd dodge a leaping xaurip, charge my greatsword's power attack to stagger an approaching skeleton, then let Kai, my stalwart tank companion, taunt a whole group while Giatta, the animancer healer, mended our wounds. And when I unlocked the ability to freeze enemies solid and shatter them with a pistol whip? I was grinning like a godling discovering their first divine power. The stun meter, which builds until you can trigger a devastating combo, made every skirmish feel cinematic. I found myself hunting down every optional beast just to test new spell-and-blade combinations. Pistols and daggers, wand and shield, arquebus and two-handed axe—everything felt overpowered in the best way.

But what about the story? I admit, the main quest revolves around a MacGuffin—a mysterious plague called the Dreamscourge. I chased it, I fought its guardians, but if I'm honest, my heart was never fully in saving Eora. Why? Because the companions captured my soul. Kai, voiced by the legendary Brandon Keener, carries the weight of a soldier's regret and a quiet humor that reminded me of a certain turian from the stars. Giatta struggles against a world that distrusts animancers, and Yatzli… well, I won't spoil her riddles. The campfire conversations had me laughing out loud and, once, even shedding a tear. I'd rush through the main story beats just to get back to camp and hear what Kai thought about my latest morally grey decision. Who needs world-saving stakes when you have characters this well-written?

However, not everything felt effortless. The upgrade system, while letting me keep my beloved unique weapons, became a grind I could have lived without. Enemies scale to equipment tiers, so facing a Tier IV skeleton with a Tier II sword meant my blades bounced off bones. Gathering adra and other materials demanded I scour every corner, often turning exploration into a shopping list. Did I really want to slaughter a dozen bears just to upgrade my cuirass? That friction pulled me out of the fantasy more times than I'd like.

Yet, whenever frustration flickered, the art pulled me back. The Living Lands explode with color—sunsets that paint temples in gold, coral forests that glow in the dark, and skies peppered with floating islands. It's one of the most vibrant games I've ever played, and the dynamic score knows when to whisper and when to roar. The cast, including Mara Junot and Anjali Bhimani, breathes so much life into the dialogue that I often forgot I was hearing a script.

In 2026, after multiple playthroughs, Avowed has become my gold standard for what an RPG can be: focused, heartfelt, and mechanically tight. It proves that bigger isn't always better—sometimes, it's just noise. Obsidian built a game that respects my time while making me care deeply about its world. And honestly? It ruined older Elder Scrolls titles for me. Will I ever go back to Oblivion? Maybe for nostalgia's sake, but my heart will always miss the fluid combat and companions who felt like friends. This is the experience I've been craving on my Xbox, and I can't wait to see where the Living Lands take me next.