Ever since Obsidian Entertainment dropped Avowed onto the scene in February 2025, players have been traipsing through the Living Lands, grappling with a nasty supernatural plague called the Dreamscourge, and butting heads with all sorts of political drama. Set in the same universe as the studio's beloved Pillars of Eternity series, this action-RPG shifts perspectives—literally and figuratively—by putting you into the boots of an Envoy from the mighty Aedyr Empire. What has kept the community buzzing well into 2026, though, isn't just the flashy spell-slinging combat or the jaw-dropping vistas of Eora. It's the game’s downright deliciously evil possibilities. That’s right, being a complete jerk in Avowed is not only viable—it's a masterstroke that makes every heroic deed feel like it actually matters.
Obsidian has long been the darling of RPG fans who crave meaningful choice, and they’ve never shied away from letting players go full villain. Remember Tyranny from 2016? That game let you serve as a high-ranking officer in an already-victorious evil empire, and it’s still a benchmark for morally bankrupt playthroughs. Avowed takes that pedigree and weaves it into a more expansive, first-person action RPG framework. In a chat with Game Rant back before launch, Senior Narrative Designer Kate Dollarhyde spilled some tea on why the team invests so much effort into paths that, statistically speaking, only a handful of players actually walk. She said, “Though evil routes can be time-consuming to plan for and implement (particularly considering how few people actually play them!), we design them because we believe they’re a vital element of player freedom.” That quote has aged like fine wine. In the year since release, the game’s discussion boards are stuffed with diabolical confessionals from players who, on a whim, decided to double-cross an ally or doom an entire settlement just to see what would happen. The fact that you can be the worst is precisely what makes the game’s world feel alive and reactive.
Now, let's chew on the “why” a bit. Why would a studio spend precious development time on content most people might never see? Dollarhyde nailed it when she pointed to the psychology of choice. “Personally, I feel that heroic options don’t mean much if the player isn’t tempted to also be a villain. An evil route gives the heroic one weight,” she explained. That right there is the philosophical core of Avowed’s moral landscape. Without the genuine temptation to pocket that fat bribe, to betray a faction for personal gain, or to solve a problem with cruelty rather than compassion, the act of doing the right thing becomes hollow. It’s like a diet soda—sure, it looks the part, but the flavor is all wrong. When you resist the darker impulses, you’re actively choosing to be good, not just following a scripted moral railroad. That’s the secret sauce that keeps Avowed’s narrative fresh a year later.
Think about it in practical terms within the Living Lands. As the Envoy, you’ve got the full weight of the Aedyr Empire behind you, and the locals are caught between your authority and the chaos of the Dreamscourge. You might be tempted to exploit their desperation. Maybe you extort a merchant for rare resources because you can’t be bothered to hunt them down. Perhaps you let a village burn because their leader insulted your imperial pride. Heck, you can even play both sides of a conflict, feeding information to opposing factions until you can sweep in and claim the spoils for yourself. The game responds with narrative consequences that can be truly devastating by the endgame. Dollarhyde warned, “If you choose to go [the evil] path, it can result in some devastating outcomes at the end of the game.” Players who’ve done the dastardly deed have ended up staring at endings that are bleak, lonely, or outright horrific—and they absolutely love posting about it on social media with a mix of shame and glee.
But here’s the real kicker: it’s those dark possibilities that make the sunshine feel so darn good. When you decide to protect the innocent, to negotiate peace, or to sacrifice a powerful artifact for the greater good, you know exactly what you’re giving up. You know the easy, selfish route existed, and you deliberately said “nope.” That’s a powerful emotional beat. It’s like the old saying goes—you can’t have the light without the dark. In Avowed, darkness isn’t just a theoretical threat; it’s an option that sits right there in the dialogue wheel or the quest log, daring you to click it. Even if you never take the bait, its mere presence casts a shadow that makes your heroism shine brighter.
The design philosophy extends into the game’s famous branching dialogue trees, too. Obsidian’s scribes have woven moral nuance into every other conversation, often blurring the line between righteous pragmatism and outright villainy. Is it evil to execute a traitor, or is it justice? If you spare them for information, are you being merciful or just self-serving? These shades of gray keep the role-playing vibrant. Plus, replayability has gone through the roof—two years on, players are still discovering new grimdark outcomes they’d missed on their first saintly run.
Ultimately, Avowed stands as a testament to the idea that giving players the freedom to be monstrous is what elevates a good RPG into a great one. It’s not about encouraging cruelty; it’s about respecting the player enough to let them make their own bed, no matter how full of nails it ends up. So if you’ve been sitting on the fence about rolling a character who’d sell their own grandmother for a copper piece, take the plunge. The game’s been out since 2025, but the possibilities for heartbreak and horror are as fresh as ever. After all, you can’t truly appreciate the hero’s journey until you’ve stared into the abyss and winked back.