After 8 hours of being hunted by a murderous unicorn in Oblivion Remastered, I'm torn between "we're so back" and "please save me"

Earlier in the week, I wrote about how Oblivion Remastered is the best remaster I could have asked for. Besides waxing lyrical about how faithful it is to the original game's feverish charm, and how wonderful it is to see its quirks – yeah, lets call it that – survive a modern makeover, I briefly mentioned finding a unicorn that saved me from several angry minotaurs. The unicorn was a miracle, delivered in my time of need. So I thought.

It's been eight hours since that fateful encounter, and so much has changed. How could I have known my stallion in shining armor was evil incarnate, that I was looking a gift horse directly in the mouth? It's too late now: my save file is now plagued by a murderous, nigh-invincible horned beast that haunts my every step through Cyrodiil, and there's no end in sight.

It is in our house now

When I launched The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion Remastered, I was dead set on doing things differently. In this brave new world, my usual plan of attack – bee-lining from the tutorial to the arena, becoming the Grand Champion before diving into the Dark Brotherhood – wouldn't cut it. Instead, I dashed into the wilderness with no plan, content with tackling whatever dungeons and quests awaited.

These travels took me through Harcane Grove, a lush meadow south of Imperial City. That's as much description as you'll get from me, as I couldn't stick around to explore: within seconds of arriving, I was set upon by three minotaurs. Still level one and wearing the same Mythic Dawn robes I left the tutorial in, I had no hope of fighting them – so when I spotted a rideable unicorn standing between myself and the angry cow-men, I gratefully hopped on and asked no questions.

I rode the unicorn all the way to the nearest city, Bravil, and left it outside the gate while I went inside. When I came out, there was a dead minotaur (thank you, Bravil guard) – but no unicorn. That should have been the end of it, a chance encounter and prime example of Oblivion's unrivaled randomness. Right?

Not long after that, I noticed the unicorn would reappear at random moments. Sometimes I'd leave a city, and it would be waiting for me at the gates, or milling around a stable's pasture. Occasionally, it would be in the middle of a pitched battle outside of whatever dungeon I'd just emerged from, kicking wolves and imps to death with scary efficiency.

Mess with the horn

I grew fond of the unicorn – if a little unsettled by how unpredictably it would turn up. Having a free horse that could kick ass was, in all honesty, quite handy. But unicorns aren't picky about what they use their horns and hooves on. After a routine fight with bandits near Cheydinhal, I wrapped up looting their bodies – six gold, don't spend it all in one place – only to realize my horse was rearing up to mulch me. Assuming I'd accidentally hit my steed, I ran into a nearby ruin to wait until it stopped being aggressive. When I left, it had once again disappeared. All of a sudden, it felt like I was being hunted.

This has continued for, er, eight hours and counting. Given I've only played for 10 hours total, the majority of my time in Oblivion Remastered has been spent looking over my shoulder. Sometimes I'll spot it careening over a hilltop, a red dot on my compass telling me everything I need to know about its intentions. I once found the unicorn casually milling over two dead necromancers, deep within the Great Forest. Before visiting Anvil for the first time, I tried to wait until morning, wanting its grand reveal to be as sunlit and summery as I remembered it being. "You cannot wait when enemies are nearby." Fuck–

Because the unicorn can outrun me, I've taken to hiding in random interiors and waiting for it to disappear. I've tried to kill it, but it doesn't take any damage from my swords and arrows. By mounting it to escape minotaurs, Oblivion has decided the equestrian terror is my horse – which would presumably be fixed by purchasing a permanent steed, if only I could afford one. I'm trying to roll through the Oblivion Remastered Dark Brotherhood quest line to unlock Shadowmere, but travelling between contracts is proving difficult with an unpredictable myth on my tail. I've since learned that it only gets mad if I draw my weapon, but given how dangerous Cyrodiil is, that's a very hard trigger to avoid.

So, until Shadowmere arrives to kick the arch-evil's ass (or quietly replace it – either's fine), I'll continue looking over my shoulder. I'll admit: praying for Oblivion Remastered to keep the original game's quirks, only for it to manifest as a killer unicorn, feels like the curling of a Daedric monkey's paw. I'd love to explore Cyrodiil without feeling so vulnerable, but right now, that seems a long way off. Behold: I have seen the pale horse, yet it has no rider. It doesn't need one.

Oblivion Remastered has learned one big thing from Skyrim's 14-year RPG reign: stealth archers are back, and I'm convinced they're better than ever