As a queer man myself, I wanted to talk to Newbon about what he meant towards the tail-end of his speech, where he said, “The community has reached out to so many of us at Larian, and said they were seen and they were represented by this game.” I’ve spoken with him in the past about playing through Astarion’s trauma as a survivor, and many of the same sentiments returned during our conversation here.

“That was the big thing about [Baldur’s Gate 3]: people felt seen and represented, but also, it feels ‘normal’, quote unquote,” he said, talking about how most of the game’s inclusion is almost casual and straightforward in nature, and I find myself agreeing with him.

As someone who, you know, likes men, Baldur’s Gate 3 never really felt like it was trying to pander to me or anything. That’s not to say I’d hold it up as a great work of queer literature either, but I can absolutely see why some members of my community felt seen or heard by the nonchalance with which it separated pronouns, body types, and genitalia, to name just one example.

But I’d feel remiss if I didn’t offer up another perspective. Back in September, contributor Noah Smith wrote for PC Gamer on how the game offered a lot in regards to representation, but still had some room to grow. “Thirteen years later with Baldur’s Gate 3, I believe there’s a genuine opportunity to tackle difficult subjects like gender and disability narratively and mechanically,” Noah wrote. “Even having the option to raise deep conversations about identity with a party … could allow for deeper narrative role playing, and incentivize players to step outside of the binary with their own character.”

…

But even if it’s not some subversive work of gay literature, I can still see how plenty of people playing Baldur’s Gate 3 felt seen, or allowed to be their authentic selves within the game. Newbon reflects on the humbling experience of being able to bring that sensation to players.