(Credit: René Ramos; Bethesda Game Studios, Virtuos)
Have you ever forced yourself to play each entry in a popular video game series, hoping that the newest release would be the one to swing your opinion from negative to positive? My colleague, Jordan Minor, experienced that with Monster Hunter before Monster Hunter Rise delivered the winning formula. For me, it was Bethesda's Elder Scrolls titles.
The go-anywhere, do-anything RPG series is one I appreciated on a technical level. There were obstacles to my enjoyment, however. I'm a father of two in my late 30s; I don't have a ton of free time, so I gravitate toward games that immediately hook me. But that's not really what the Elder Scrolls games do. They're less about the moment-to-moment gameplay and more about stringing those moments together into a grand, open-ended adventure. That sounds fun on paper, but in execution? Directionless and too much like homework.
The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered—a middle ground between The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind's tilt toward role-playing die-hards and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim's more mainstream appeal—initially felt like more of the same. But then my character accidentally became a vampire. Now, I can't put the game down.
My History With the Elder Scrolls Games
I sunk more than 100 hours into Skyrim on the Nintendo Switch, yet it still didn't make me an Elder Scrolls fan. It's hard to separate playtime from my mental state during those days, when I was unemployed, unmedicated, and very depressed. Energy that should have gone toward writing translated to a plodding journey through the fantasy land of Tamriel. Knocking off quests became just as important as paying the bills. I got stuff done, but I wasn't having fun.
Once I beat the main quest and found a job (hello, PCMag!), I dropped the many side and DLC questlines I hadn't finished. Skyrim gave me the structure I needed to get through a hard time. But a game dedicated to keeping a list of tasks, marking down accomplishments, and managing workflows? That wasn't the type of thing I wanted to play anymore.
Since then, I've heard chatter that Skyrim lacked a special something the previous games had; a magic that would convince me to finally love this series. So, in 2023, I fired up Morrowind via Xbox Game Pass—and actually enjoyed it! That is, until the port's limitations (no quest tracking?) ultimately proved too much.
That's why I took a chance and bought Oblivion Remastered. I had just finished Avowed, Obsidian's take on the Bethesda formula, and wanted something new for my (refurbished) Steam Deck. I felt it could win me over if it had modernized graphics, tighter controls, and Morrowind's charm. But after a dozen hours of gameplay, I hated it! I was bored, and it looked like mud on the handheld gaming PC. I thought of giving up, but was too afraid to admit I'd wasted $50.
(Credit: Bethesda Softworks/PCMag)How I Became a Vampire in Oblivion Remastered
My unwavering focus on the main questline proved to be a mistake. I decided to wander off the path, since that was my favorite part of Avowed, just to see what would happen. I soon came upon vampires inside of mountain ruins. They weren't particularly hard to kill, so I thought nothing of it. However, my character managed to contract a mysterious disease in the attack. I barely noticed.
Soon enough, NPCs were commenting on my avatar's sickly and ugly appearance. Then I started taking passive damage in sunlight. Once, I dropped dead in the middle of town. After a quick web search, I confirmed what I had feared: I was now a vampire.
Seasoned Elder Scrolls players are probably wondering how I missed this. In my defense, I blame developer Bethesda. Oblivion is fairly impenetrable, and an esoteric UI doesn't help. The pen-and-paper character sheet is barely parseable without extended study, and magic effects are rarely explained, if ever. There was little warning that a bomb was about to go off and upend my entire playthrough.
At first, it was a minor nuisance, but it quickly grew worse. My character couldn't go outside in the daylight, so he had to sleep or wait until nightfall. However, each timeskip made the condition worse. Soon, NPCs refused to talk to me. Minor sunlight became a death sentence within seconds. I was shut out from entire questlines. I envisioned a crazed storyline in my head, where my now-undead character ran through the streets, desperate for help, and no respite came. I had no idea what to do. I was hooked.
(Credit: Bethesda Softworks/PCMag)At first, I was angry. How could a developer make a game where you could accidentally ruin your entire playthrough? Sure, my character gained new strengths and magical abilities to charm people, but being a vampire sucked (no pun intended) because it was so inconvenient. I briefly considered rolling back to an old save file, but that seemed too easy. Instead, I decided to commit to the bit, try something new, and make my $50 worthwhile.
I researched how to cure vampirism, because the game offered no help whatsoever. What I thought would be a day's detour ultimately turned into a multi-week adventure. I found a long and complicated questline to free myself from the blight, where I'd need to gather ingredients to make a cure for my condition. Some I found in ruins, others I stole because no one would sell me their wares. Searching for a cure was a surprisingly good time.
I Loved Sinking My Teeth Into Oblivion's Unpredictable Gameplay
The rote checklists and workflows that I had unconsciously carried over from Skyrim were now totally blown away. I was free to make up new rules. Navigating Oblivion as a vampire felt exhilarating, especially since I had chosen to roleplay as a person who didn't want to be a vampire. As a result, I avoided feeding on or charming others, even if it might have made my (undead) life easier.
I have no idea how long I'll stick with Oblivion Remastered once I manage to cure myself, and I don't really care. I think at this point, I've gotten my $50 worth. Sometimes, as they say, the journey is the destination.