Alright, let's get real for a second. If you've never played Baldur's Gate 3, that's cool, but we probably don't have much to talk about. But if you have plunged into Larian's masterpiece, you know it's supposed to be the ultimate sandbox of RPG freedom. We're talking endless character combos, wild multiclassing experiments, and stories that change based on whether you sneeze left or right. So, for the love of the Absolute, why is it that in 2026, after all these years, I am physically, mentally, and spiritually incapable of playing as anyone other than my painfully generic human Bard, Cassian Cassidy? I've tried, folks. I've stared at the character creator for hours, promising myself this time I'll be a burly Half-Orc Monk or a sassy Tiefling Sorcerer. But it always ends the same way: back to Cassian. It's a problem. Let me break down this glorious, self-inflicted curse.

The Bard Is Simply Built Different, No Cap

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Before Baldur's Gate 3, I never gave Bards the time of day. In my mind, they were just guys with lutes who told bad jokes. Man, was I wrong. Choosing the College of Swords was my 'aha!' moment. It's the ultimate 'have your cake and eat it too' class. Need to talk your way out of a fight with a devil? Persuasion check, nailed it. That same devil decides to throw hands anyway? No sweat, my dude, I've got a sword and I'm not afraid to use it.

Here’s the thing about the Bard life:

  • Jack of All Trades, Master of 'Enough': You're decent at everything. Combat? Solid. Spellcasting? Got a surprisingly nasty toolkit. Skill checks? With my expertise and gear, I'm rolling persuasion and deception checks that would make a god blush. I'm basically the Swiss Army knife of Faerûn.

  • The Chaos Catalyst: The fun isn't just in winning; it's in how you win. Casting Confusion in a crowded room and watching a perfectly planned enemy ambush turn into a slap fight? Priceless. Using Vicious Mockery to emotionally devastate a goblin before Karlach turns him into paste? Chef's kiss. It’s the ultimate support class that somehow also becomes the main character.

  • The Power Fantasy: You feel like a Wizard-Lite, a Rogue-Lite, and a Fighter-Lite all rolled into one charismatic package. The versatility is downright addictive. Why specialize when you can do a little bit of everything, and look fabulous doing it?

Gale Hijacked My Vibe, So I Had to Rebrand

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This is where it gets personal. My OG D&D character archetype was always 'Rilvus the Average': your standard-issue magic-loving, wisecracking human dude. Then I recruited Gale of Waterdeep in my first playthrough. My guy... he was Rilvus. The magical appetite, the wit, the whole 'charming nerd' energy. It was a full-blown identity crisis. My companion had become the main character I wanted to be. Major oof.

So, back to the drawing board. After what felt like an eternity in the character creator (we've all been there, don't lie), Cassian Cassidy was born. Was he groundbreaking? Absolutely not. He was, essentially, Rilvus 2.0—but with a lute and a College of Swords diploma. The key difference was the class. Giving Bard a shot was my act of rebellion against Gale stealing my thunder. And you know what? It worked. Cassian wasn't just a character; he became my protagonist. His journey from a slightly pompous performer to the guy who saved Baldur's Gate felt uniquely personal. He was the underdog who shouldn't have made it but did, mostly by talking circles around everyone and stabbing the rest.

The Cassian-Shaped Prison of My Own Making

And now, here's the rub. Cassian is so cemented as the hero of this story in my mind that anyone else feels like an imposter. Starting a new game feels less like a fresh adventure and more like fanfiction. I see that Nautiloid ship, and my brain goes, 'Cassian should be here, not this weird Drow I just made.'

This creates a bizarre paradox:

  1. The Comfort Zone Trap: Playing as Cassian is like slipping into a perfectly worn-in pair of shoes. I know his voice, his reactions, his limits. Trying a stoic Paladin or a bloodthirsty Barbarian feels like I'm forcing a square peg into a round hole. The choices that feel 'right' are the Bard choices, the Cassian choices.

  2. The Illusion of Replayability: Baldur's Gate 3 is famously replayable, with different origins, choices, and endings. But if I'm always playing the same guy making largely the same charismatic, chaotic-good-adjacent choices... am I really replaying it? Or am I just watching the same awesome movie for the tenth time? It starts to feel like deja vu all over again.

  3. The Dark Urge Dilemma: I thought, 'Aha! I'll do a Dark Urge run as Cassian! That'll be different!' Big mistake. It was unsettling, like watching your best friend slowly turn into a psychopath. It was different, sure, but it also corrupted the very essence of the character I loved. It wasn't a solution; it was a nightmare scenario.

So here I am in 2026, stuck in a loop of my own design. I love Baldur's Gate 3 with every fiber of my being, but my relationship with it is monogamous to a fault. Cassian Cassidy, the most underwhelming-looking hero to ever wield a rapier and a cutting remark, owns my Faerûn experience. He's my ride-or-die. The idea of going through the epic saga of the Netherbrain without him just feels... empty. But playing through it with him again feels like retreading old ground. It's the ultimate gaming paradox: I've found my perfect way to play, and in doing so, I might have ruined my ability to play any other way. Maybe I need to wait for Baldur's Gate 4 to break the spell. Or maybe, just maybe, Cassian's story is simply the only one I'm meant to tell. Until then, the character creator remains a taunting monument to paths not taken.