Does the good of the many outweigh that of the few? It's a question I hadn't yet asked myself while playing Avowed until reaching the end of its third act. As the Aedyran envoy sent to the Living Lands, trusted with cleansing it of a mysterious soul plague, I told myself it wasn't my place to do more than act in my empire's best interests. Or at least, that's how I saw things at first.
Until reaching Naku Kubel and learning more about my godlike Envoy's maker, I'd actually thought I was turning a little bit evil. Sympathy for the devil is a common trap I find myself in while playing games like Baldur's Gate 3 and Hogwarts Legacy – and sometimes, I choose that path for myself. But Avowed threw me for a loop with an excellent bit of narrative subterfuge. Having to make one painful choice humbled me so much that it finally made me read between the black and white morality lines I'd painted for myself.
Warning: Spoilers for Avowed's Shatterscarp and Galawain's Tusks regions ahead
Playing the field
At face value, whether you're good or evil feels like a simple role playing choice in Avowed. Sticking to your Aedyran orders and siding with its allies – a religious zealot and her band of crusaders, no less – feels like the "bad guy" choice, given how said allies' approach is to beat, burn, and bleed the Dreamscourge out of the island. Alternatively, you can go against them as the de facto champion of the free people of the Living Lands and be a tried-and-true goodie goodie.
To be honest, that kind of stringent morality system is a little bit too Fable for my liking. As a Noble Scion with a heart of gold, I largely try to play it safe. My modus operandi involves placating everyone as best I can, resulting in being a bit of a two-faced snake at times while playing the charm field. My goal is to stand up for the best parts of Aedyr – growth, justice, opportunity – while putting some reputational distance between it and the actions of Lödwyn and the Steel Garrote.
Discovering that Sapadal, my godlike's maker, is tied to the Dreamscourge itself gave me pause. Was trying to free the imprisoned deity, named The Gardener by its ancient worshippers, actually the wrong thing to do? Did that make the Steel Garrote… good? I'd like to say definitely not, but after choosing to murder hundreds of innocents rather than side with the crusaders, I'm not so sure.
Toward the end of Avowed's Shatterscarp main mission chain, I'm sent to an old ruin to investigate the supposed source of the Dreamscourge in the region. It's crawling with Dreamthralls, possessed entities throwing themselves at the giant adra pillar nestled at the core of the ruins, drawn to the vital essence it possesses.
But it also seems drawn to Sapadal, who appears to have so much empathy for these mindless creatures and speaks of them lovingly. They are seedlings in their garden, disparate parts of an ecosystem, but Sapadal doesn't see the wickedness they commit. Does that make the god innocent, or have they been using me all along?
Split allegiance
The question still weighs upon me as I leave ruins. Upon regrouping with the archmage Ryngrim, I find her locked in a bitter dispute with Inquisitor Lödwyn. She and the Steel Garrote have come to Naku Kubel with heavy-duty firepower, cannons pointed at the ruins, ready to demolish them. Here, I'm given a choice: defy Sapadal and destroy the area in a rallying against my birthright – something that, Lödwyn fairly reminds me, I never chose for myself – or trust Ryngrim to seal the adra pillar off, cutting off the Dreamscourse in Shatterscarp for good.
The price is high, though. Dozens, potentially hundreds of random people will die across the region, their essence fuelling the archmage's spell. Their deaths would mean that no other people would contract the plague in the region – even though the currently infected wouldn't be cured – but Lödwyn insists that her method is the best solution, given the lack of immediate human casualties and the deaths of enough Dreamthralls to give the people of Thirdborn at least some time to recalibrate their defences. It's a perfect example of a damned if you do or don't moment as seen in all the best RPGs, and I agonize over it for the better part of an hour.
For once, Lödwyn's plan seems actually humane – if not a bandaid fix for a much larger problem. Things aren't made easier for me when Kai, a former resident of Scatterscarp, pleads for the innocent lives that would be spared if I were to side with Ryngrim. I put my roleplaying hat on for a moment and realize that I just cannot bring my Envoy to align with the Steel Garrote, especially when Lödwyn accuses me of dual allegiance while revealing her true intentions are with her liege god Woedica and her centuries-long feud with Sapadal.
I make the horrible decision to seal the adra pillar off from all others in the region, and immediately, handfuls of the Steel Garrote lie dead all around me. The same sight greets me upon returning to Thirdborn with the bittersweet news. The result is one I could see coming; even though my actions were carried out with the best intentions, I'm ordered to leave by Thirdborn's leader, Temerti. Now firmly in the lava-encrusted depths of Galawain's Tusks, I still don't know if what I did was right. The only solace I have is in the lore of the universe itself – if Woedica is my god's enemy, and said god has proved no more than a confused, imprisoned child, I owe it to my heritage to at least see where the road takes me.
So, is doing harm for the sake of good inherently evil, or is it just the nature of life? Ryngrim had commended my sage logic, warning me not to think with my heart so much. That, in a nutshell, seems to be the lesson in morality that Avowed is trying to teach – and I'm doing my best to take notes.
