While recent titles such as Baldur’s Gate 3 and Cyberpunk 2077 incorporate themes of sex and romance, Dragon Age: Origins intricately interwove these elements into its core narrative.
Grace Benfell
on November 3, 2024 at 6:00AM PST
Today marks the 15-year anniversary of Dragon Age: Origins. In this piece, we explore its bold, albeit clumsy, approach to intertwining sex within its storyline and gameplay mechanics.
Sex and video games have historically shared a complex and often uncomfortable relationship. Engaging with adult content on platforms like the Atari 2600 feels reminiscent of youthful doodles. Much of the explicit material available on Steam can be deemed uncomfortable and unattractive. Even popular contemporary games have showcased a conflicted stance on sexual themes. The relatively tame intimate scenes in Mass Effect sparked a nerve-wracking report by Fox News. More recently, some players of Baldur’s Gate 3 found themselves facing temporary bans from Xbox due to explicit content. Given these circumstances, envisioning a mainstream game that boldly portrays sex is a challenge. Nevertheless, 20 years ago, Dragon Age: Origins made a courageous, if imperfect, attempt at this representation.
Dragon Age: Origins stands as a peculiar blend of genres. The core narrative is reminiscent of Tolkien’s works, featuring a diverse group of heroes unified in their quest to combat “the blight,” a menacing swarm of demonic beings intent on obliterating all that is free and living. Yet, the game draws much of its dramatic influences from A Song of Ice and Fire (the novels, not the television adaptation). The treacherous nobleman Loghan betrays the young king Cailan, setting off a brutal struggle for power. In this world, magic is more prevalent than in Westeros, yet it remains stigmatized, feared, and heavily regulated. The blight itself parallels the threat posed by the white walkers, serving as an overarching existential peril from nature.
In essence, Dragon Age: Origins, while clinging to traditional high-fantasy elements such as ancient elves and subterranean dwarven cities, possesses a pronounced dark-fantasy tone. This mood also permeates its depiction of love and relationships. In a reflection of its narrative influences, DA:O predominantly emphasizes heterosexual interactions, with a focus on lineage, ancestry, and procreation. This is visible in relatively subdued scenarios, such as companion Templar Alistair’s aspirations to rule, contrasting sharply with the bizarre instance of the witch Morrigan urging the player to father a child with the essence of the archdemon, the blight’s leader. If you play as a male character, she makes her proposition directly, while a female character must, in a humorous twist, seek out another partner on her behalf.
In this context, sex emerges as a transactional aspect. It holds significance but often lacks the nuances of romance or affection. Morrigan seeks to engage with a male player character, even if she has left the party. She is willing to be with individuals she detests and finds unattractive. It serves a functional role. In many ways, this treatment of sexual encounters is not particularly unusual; numerous video games depict such interactions as rewards for virtuous actions, which are subsequently shown in endgame cinematic sequences. Here, romance acts as a reward for successful gameplay.
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Dragon Age: Origins exemplifies the pitfalls of shallow narrative design. Regardless of how much you antagonize or mistreat your party members, their affection can easily be won over with specific gifts. There are even downloadable content options that flood your inventory with items solely meant to maximize your party’s feelings towards you. It’s almost as if you can purchase their hearts.
Nonetheless, Dragon Age: Origins excels at situating its characters within a broader political and cultural framework. For instance, Morrigan’s use of sexuality as a means to gain power stems from her background as a mage who has been marginalized by a repressive church. The society she inhabits discourages mages from having offspring under the belief that an increase in mages would necessitate greater control over them. Morrigan’s ritual to contain the archdemon is a significant rebellion against this societal norm. In essence, choosing to participate in Morrigan’s ritual carries weight that transcends mere sexual interaction, encompassing deeper themes of consent and vulnerability.
Morrigan serves as the prime illustration of effective characterization in this respect, though she is not alone. Both queer romantic options—the bard Leliana and the assassin Zevran—are characters from distant lands where attitudes towards sexuality are more liberated. Despite her faith, Leliana defies the church’s expectations of celibacy, while Zevran’s upbringing among sex workers shapes his perspective on intimacy. Alistair’s virginity is openly discussed and often ridiculed. Each companion in Dragon Age: Origins brings their own sexual history, or notable absence of it, to their interactions, impacting how they relate to you and their overall views on sex. For instance, Zevran’s demeanor is laid-back and flirty, while Alistair’s character is marked by insecurity and sarcasm. Although none of these characters are solely defined by their sexual orientation or experiences, those elements strongly influence their characterization throughout the game.
That said, Dragon Age: Origins does not execute these themes flawlessly. It can be described as somewhat immature. In its more humorous moments, the game’s approach seems juvenile, using sex and violence as a rather gimmicky tactic for shock value. Characters emerge from battle scenarios covered in blood, rendering any genuine gore ineffective. The City Elf origin oversimplifies issues like sexual assault and racial violence, treating them as mere backdrops to the player character’s story. While jokes about sex abound, they often resemble the kind of humor one might encounter in a high school health class.
The meeting with the pirate Isabella serves as a prime example of both the strengths and weaknesses of the game. Successfully passing a persuasion check allows you to engage in a relationship with Isabella, unlocking a subclass (indeed, it’s all quite transactional). Other members of your party may also take part. While some major titles do include group sexual encounters—such as the possibility of a foursome with drow twins in Baldur’s Gate 3—fewer games allow the specific dynamics of such interactions to be shaped by the psychological profiles and choices of the characters involved. For instance, if Alistair and Leliana have undergone significant changes due to the outcomes of their own quests, they may choose to join in. Conversely, if their experiences have not altered them, they will abstain. Isabella will consistently invite Zevran to join, independent of his romantic involvement with the player. He is always eager to participate… unless Alistair is present, akin to a resentful bisexual turning down the advances of a couple at a bar. This situation is more compelling in theory than in execution, often funnier and odder to read about than to actually witness. Nevertheless, it reflects a significant consideration of each character’s sexual ethics and how these relate to one another.
However, there is a notable issue: Dragon Age: Origins lacks visual appeal. It embodies a dull brown aesthetic reminiscent of a Gears of War title, yet lacks the stark, brutal comic-book style of that series. While it aims for a sense of grounded grimness, it instead conveys a feeling of filth. The sexual encounters appear stilted and uncomfortable, surpassing even the usual discomfort of the uncanny valley. Characters in their underwear don’t come across as romantic or alluring; rather, they resemble a catalog’s intimate section—though with a rustic, medieval twist. While mods can enhance the visuals, they sometimes distort characters beyond recognition or deviate significantly from the artistic vision of DA:O’s creators.
Despite these flaws, DA:O addresses themes of sexuality in a manner that is uncommon for its scale and budget. Aside from a few scenes, Baldur’s Gate 3 tends to view sex and romance primarily as a means of developing character arcs (a positive approach!) while also serving as mere wish fulfillment (a negative aspect! Josh Sawyer echoes my thoughts). Although Cyberpunk 2077 features some remarkable moments—particularly Judy Alvarez’s side quests, which stand out as among the best romances in gaming overall—it still leans heavily towards juvenile themes. Night City is flooded with obnoxious and tasteless advertisements, appearing more silly than provocative.
Nonetheless, there are indeed bright spots. Games such as Disco Elysium and Pentiment don’t follow the conventional path of video game romance but are intricately connected to the sexual norms and practices of their respective universes. Even in its more crude aspects and lack of visual charm, Dragon Age: Origins took strides toward a more mature gaming landscape. It leaves me with the impression that AAA games have somewhat regressed since then.
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