Veilguard’s Companion Fiasco: A 2026 Rant After BG3 Perfection

Holy moly, gang – it’s 2026, and I’m still utterly gobsmacked by the sheer audacity of some game design decisions from two years ago. I fired up Dragon Age: The Veilguard again last weekend (call it a “blast from the past” or digital self-flagellation, you choose), and wow, talk about a rude awakening. After logging another hundred hours in Baldur’s Gate 3 this year—because Larian’s masterpiece is basically the gaming equivalent of a fine wine that keeps getting better—revisiting BioWare’s 2024 misfire felt like swapping a gourmet steak for a sad, microwaved hot dog. The companion mechanics? Total nightmare fuel. Let me scream into the void about why Veilguard’s companions are about as deep as a puddle after a light drizzle.

The “Rook Knows Best” Train Wreck

Picture this: I’m Rook, a supposed nobody who just waltzed into this crew’s lives, and suddenly I’m the ultimate puppet master pulling every single string of their destinies. Excuse me, but what the hell, BioWare? In The Veilguard, companion quests aren’t character arcs—they’re obedience tests. Right near the climax of every personal storyline, you get to play god and tell your pals exactly how to live their lives, and they just... roll over and take it. No pushback, no “screw you, I’m doing my own thing,” not even a gritted-teeth negotiation. It’s like they’ve all been replaced by sycophantic golden retrievers who’ll fetch whatever bone you toss.

I remember Emmrich’s quest vividly—the man’s entire existential crisis about lichdom versus mortality, and there I am, with zero build-up, telling him “hey, stay mortal, buddy,” and poof, his deeply philosophical struggle evaporates faster than dew on a summer morning. Absurd doesn’t begin to cover it. Back in the golden days of RPGs, we’d at least have some hidden approval meter or trust score that would make a companion go “You know what, champ? I value your opinion, but this is my afterlife we’re messing with.” Instead, Veilguard treats companion autonomy like a bad rumor it wants to squash. Spoiler alert: it squashed my immersion into a fine paste.

Cue the Baldur’s Gate 3 Mic Drop

Then there’s BG3, which in 2026 still reigns supreme as the undisputed king of “your choices matter, but so do theirs.” Larian built a companion system so nuanced that I half-expected a companion to invite me for tea just to politely inform me that my advice is garbage. Companions in that game have actual backbones, complete with approval ratings that don’t just unlock a “yes-man mode” but determine whether they’ll listen, defy you, or maybe even storm off in a glorious huff. I once told Shadowheart to reconsider her Sharran path, and she gave me the most delicious side-eye and told me to mind my own beeswax. That, my friends, is realism that makes my gamer heart sing.

In BG3, you can literally stand back, fold your arms, and whisper “you do you, boo.” Watching a companion choose their own fate based on everything you’ve experienced together? Chef’s kiss. Not once did I feel like a tyrannical director barking orders at cardboard cutouts. Compare that to Veilguard, where companions are about as opinionated as a houseplant. It’s the difference between a living, breathing friend group and a bunch of NPCs waiting for the player-shaped cursor to click “decide for me.”

Game Devs, Take a Bloody Note

Now, I get it. Back in 2024, some suit at EA probably waved a chart screaming “players want control!” and BioWare dutifully turned every companion finale into a “Press X to overwrite personality” button. But it’s 2026, baby, and we’ve evolved. Larian’s magnum opus showed the entire industry that RPG companions can have agency without making players feel powerless—it’s called mutual respect, and it’s magnificent. What stings worse is that Veilguard had all the ingredients: fascinating lore, a charismatic crew, and a world begging for moral complexity. Then it fumbled the bag so hard it landed in another dimension.

The original Reddit thread that raked this mess over the coals back in December 2024 nailed it: the lack of a “third option” to let companions figure out their own problems is jarring in a modern RPG. No hidden approval tracking? No “for every nice moment with Manfred, Emmrich leans +1 toward mortality”? It’s as if BioWare forgot that subtlety is a thing, and instead handed players a loudspeaker titled “Your Wish Is My Command.” Even for a game released two years ago, that feels ancient.

The Unforgivable Sin of Undoing Character Growth

And don’t even get me started on the big finale choice that can completely undo all the growth a character has experienced. Imagine weaving a beautiful tapestry of development, only for the player to waltz in and say “LOL, actually, become a lich after all.” No consequences, no emotional fallout—just a clean, sanitized U-turn that makes the whole journey feel like a waste of pixels. In 2026, I’m still pulling my hair out thinking about it. Real people don’t work that way, last I checked. If I told my bestie to abandon everything they’d learned over 40 hours of therapy, they’d throw a shoe at my head, not nod solemnly and rewrite their soul.

This is where the rubber meets the road: an RPG is only as good as its characters, and characters are only as good as their ability to resist the player’s whims when it matters. Veilguard turned that truth into a soggy joke. Meanwhile, BG3’s radiating “how it’s done” energy has set a platinum standard that makes retro playthroughs of less inspired titles feel like digital archaeology.

The Takeaway, Fam

In the grand 2026 hindsight, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a cautionary tale. It’s proof that letting players rampage through companion lives like a bull in a china shop doesn’t create immersion—it shatters it into a million glimmering shards of “meh.” For all its beautiful Frostbite vistas and voice acting, the game’s soul vanishes the second you realize you’re not building relationships; you’re filling out a deposit slip. BioWare darling, you deserved better. We deserved better.

Next time you hear someone wax poetic about RPG depth, do yourself a favor: boot up Baldur’s Gate 3 in 2026 and watch how companions laugh, cry, disobey, and grow on their own terms. Then maybe, just maybe, pour one out for the companions who never got a say in their own stories. This player’s heart? Still broken. But hey, at least Karlach exists. ✨