When I first fired up The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered, I didn’t expect to get sucked in. I’d never played the original 2006 version, and while all the chatter surrounding the remaster piqued my interest, I didn’t see That One Game With The Horrifying NPC Faces becoming a favorite of mine. It was just something on Game Pass I thought I’d try. I certainly didn’t expect it to challenge the great and mighty Skyrim in a battle for my heart.
Yet here I am, trapped in a Twilight-esque love triangle with two fantasy RPGs. Am I team Skyrim, or team Oblivion? After 55 hours spent in Cyrodiil, the truth of where my allegiance lies is becoming undeniably clear: Oblivion Remastered has ruined me for Skyrim.
I wasn’t concerned with any of this when I took my first steps in Cyrodiil. Yes, the game looked nice, the voice acting was great, and (most of) the NPC faces were far less cursed-looking than I’d expected. The character creator even allowed me to build a Dunmer who looked intimidating instead of downright horrifying. But, I assumed, there was no way Oblivion would ever measure up to Skyrim. After all, how could it even compare? I have a wife and children in Skyrim. I own multiple homesteads. I’m the freaking Dohvakiin, man. I talk to (and slay) dragons! The Hero of Kvatch could never. Right?
Well, it’s complicated.
I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’ve never actually finished Skyrim’s main quest. Every year — usually around the winter holidays or the lazy days of summer — I fire up the game and tell myself, “This is it. This time, you’re going to finish the main quest.” But time after time, I find myself distracted (and often, overwhelmed) by the neverending onslaught of dragon attacks, radiant quests, and the titanic size of the game’s utterly enormous map.
To me, Oblivion’s best quality is its size. Sure, I love me a good RPG with a ginormous map and seemingly endless activities to take part in. But size matters when it comes to game design, and not in the way some people might expect. Starfield is a perfect example of why bigger does not necessarily mean better. I’d rather a game leave me itching for more than leave me burned out and ready to throw in the towel. As I’ve worked my way through the main quest, Cyrodiil has become a world I look forward to returning to, while Skyrim has become a place I have to drag myself back into. I rarely finish a Skyrim gameplay session feeling satisfied, but every hour I spend in Cyrodiil leaves me wanting more.
Skyrim catches the player’s attention right out of the gate with an excellent narrative hook (you’re scheduled for execution) and an equally excellent “Holy crap” moment to follow that hook (said execution is interrupted by a dragon). But Oblivion starts things off a bit more subtly: You just so happen to be occupying a cell connected to a secret passage that Emperor Uriel Septim VII is using to escape an assassination plot. Your cell is unlocked, the Emperor and his security detail wander through the secret passage, and nobody seems to actually care whether you come with or stay behind. It’s enough to make you feel like an NPC. The entire experience contrasts heavily with Skyrim’s opening, which sees various NPCs effectively hold the player’s hand until they’re safely out of Helgen, after which just about everyone starts falling all over themselves to compliment the glorious Dragonborn.
Oblivion’s first big “Holy crap” moment is, arguably, the player’s first encounter with the Oblivion Gate in Kvatch, but my personal “Holy crap” moment occurred the second I exited the Imperial City’s sewer system and laid eyes on Cyrodiil’s overworld for the first time. My jaw dropped. The environment wasn’t just pretty, it was utterly breathtaking. The night sky was dotted with stars, and aurora borealis shimmered around them. Various harvestable alchemy ingredients sprouted from the ground beneath my feet, and a curious Ayleid ruin called Vilverin stood in front of me, its bright blue door beckoning me forth. A strange, orange-red portal loomed in the distance. Color me impressed, literally. I hadn’t expected Cyrodiil to be so beautiful, especially at night.
Now, don’t get me wrong — Skyrim absolutely has its moments of environmental beauty, and I am certainly not suggesting that Bethesda should re-re-re-remaster the game to make it prettier. But over the years, I’ve noticed a distinct lack of color in many of Bethesda’s games. Every title seems to be set in a world that’s a desaturated, heavily color-graded shade of Bethesda Beige™ (Fallout), Bethesda Blue™ (Starfield), or Bethesda Brown With Some Snow™ (Skyrim). Of course, not every game needs a heavily saturated, rainbow environment. It makes perfect sense for Fallout’s nuclear wasteland to be desolate and sepia-toned, for example. But I’ve always found the studio’s aversion to color a bit perplexing when it comes to sci-fi titles like Starfield and fantasy franchises like The Elder Scrolls. By the time I bought my adorable home in the gorgeous city of Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil’s beauty had me aching for a more colorful version of Skyrim.
But there are plenty of mods out there to give Skyrim a dose of color, and pretty environments do not necessarily make a good game. What about gameplay? Clearly, Skyrim would be the winner on that front.
Skyrim has undeniably fantastic gameplay, as evidenced by the fact that it’s still immensely popular 14 years after its initial launch. But frankly, I’m having way more fun with Oblivion than I ever had with Skyrim. Sure, I miss fighting dragons. I do not, however, miss my horse constantly dying because it decided to “help” me fight said dragons. Yes, I occasionally get the urge to Fus-Ro-Dah all of the painstakingly placed plates and food items off of every dining table I encounter in Oblivion. But beyond Dragon Shout-based mischief, I can’t say I really miss Skyrim’s gameplay all that much. On paper, Oblivion doesn’t have nearly as many things to do in-game as Skyrim does, but honestly, I think that’s a good thing. I don’t miss tedious tasks like smithing, I don’t miss collecting loads of supplies to upgrade my homesteads, and as fun as cooking can be in Skyrim, I much prefer the way Oblivion does it. Having cooking and alchemy effectively be the same skill in Oblivion makes sense, and saves time.
Oblivion isn’t perfect, of course. Lockpicking is a nightmare (though it can easily be avoided via certain spells or a special Daedric artifact). The persuasion mini-game drove me nuts at first, but now that I’ve gotten the hang of it, I find it a lot more interesting than the standard RPG skill-check that locks you out of dialogue options with no recourse if you haven’t leveled up your social stats enough. I certainly like it better than Starfield’s bizarre take on persuasion checks.
But what really caught me by surprise about Oblivion Remastered is the fact that — when it comes to gameplay mechanics that both titles share — Oblivion does so many things better than Skyrim. Yes, I can swim in Skyrim, but it’s not especially fun, easy, or rewarding. The controls are clunky, and I rarely find much of interest floating in Skyrim’s waterways. Meanwhile I frequently find myself casting Starlight before diving headfirst into any and every body of water I can find in Cyrodiil, because not only is swimming fun in Oblivion, it’s also rewarding. Hidden chests, special alchemy ingredients, even loose magical jewelry can be found in the bottom of Cyrodiil’s lakes, streams, and rivers.
Another area in which Oblivion beats Skyrim at its own game is, surprisingly, combat. I’d say that the first-person combat experience is fairly similar in both games, but third-person combat is an entirely different story. Sure, Skyrim will let you play in third-person, but god help you if you want to engage in combat. It’s doable, but it isn’t enjoyable. Meanwhile, I find myself frequently switching to third-person mode in Oblivion, even for combat encounters. The controls are smooth and seamless, whether you’re flinging fireballs, swinging a sword, or aiming an arrow at your foes.
When it comes to Oblivion-exclusive gameplay mechanics like the Acrobatics skill and spellcrafting mechanic, I find myself wondering why on Earth the developers at Bethesda chose not to implement them in Skyrim. Jumping off the side of a cliff and taking next to no damage due to my high Acrobatics skill makes escaping unwanted combat encounters both easy and amusing. Spell-making is another incredibly cool, extremely entertaining feature that has me hooked and has made it hard to go back to Skyrim. After the fun I’ve had in Cyrodiil, returning to Skyrim fills me with a profound sense of boredom.
Yes, I miss my lovely wife Lydia and our sweet adopted daughters, Britte and Sissel. I miss our quaint home in Whiterun. I’ll return to them again someday, once I’ve gotten my fill of Oblivion.
…or maybe I’ll be the type of parent who goes out to grab a bottle of Skooma and never comes home. With how engaging Oblivion Remastered is, it’s a definite possibility.
