Appendix N(ext): Baldur's Gate (1998)

     

       APPENDIX N(EXT):

INSPIRATIONAL AND EDUCATION GAMING

 Baldur’s Gate (1998)

South of Nashkel, you stray from Jaheira’s stern directions toward the iron mine and wave off Khalid’s cowardly protests. Minsc claps you on the shoulder far too hard, ever eager for adventure, while Imoen trails behind, spinning a mysterious wand you dug from a hollowed tree. The Amnian heat swelters through your armor when an odd scaffold catches your eye.  You draw steel.

Not an ambush, but a wonder: the massive stone visage of a maiden, haunting in her beauty, nearly complete. The artist, gaunt and wild-eyed, begs for time to finish. You glance back at your companions, who wait on your word. You grant it. Then, hell arrives.

Greywolf the Manhunter steps from the brush, drawn by bounty and blood. You disagree over Prism’s fate. His magnificent blade gleams, his roar splits the air, and the veteran fighter charges straight for you…

My Connection 

It was just before New Year’s, 1998, and I was ten years old. I had the AD&D starter set, but couldn’t yet convince my friends to play. So I did what any lonely would-be dungeon master does: I pored over guides, memorized arcane tables, rolled endless characters, and puzzled over the strange dice that came in the box.

Then the stars aligned. I walked into Babbage’s with a fistful of Christmas money and saw Baldur’s Gate. Right there on the cover: “Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.”

I snatched it up, raced home, ripped it open—five disks, a thick manual filled with Elminster and Volo’s quibbles, gorgeous fold-out maps—and dove in. I agonized over my first portrait, fussed over attribute points, and conjured the mightiest fantasy name my ten-year-old brain could imagine (likely Broor).

Soon I was wandering Candlekeep, marveling at the Sword Coast. Then I saw Gorion fall. I set out on my great adventure… and was immediately devoured by a wolf.

Love at first bite.

That was the beginning of my love affair with Baldur’s Gate, and the CRPG genre.  Beyond nostalgia, this game has tremendous staying power that makes it worth revisiting decades later, and as worthy an entry in the Appendix N pantheon as any novel.  Let’s look at why it still matters:  the experience of playing it, why it endures, and how it connects back to the tabletop as a hexcrawl goldmine of ideas, encounters, characters, and lessons in atmosphere and design. 

Why It Endures 

BioWare released Baldur’s Gate in 1998, a state-of-the-art CRPG with an isometric perspective, the now-legendary “real-time with pause” combat, and a snappy interface. Hand-painted 2D backgrounds made the world feel alive, and customizable character sprites gave players freedom to inhabit it. For many of us, that would have been enough.  But in 2012 Beamdog’s Enhanced Edition modernized the game with updated UI, display options,  and even new quests, companions, and items. The game looked good in 1998, and it looks good now.

What truly lives on, though, is its faithful translation of AD&D 2nd Edition mechanics. It remains one of the best ways for modern players to experience that ruleset. The game taught me volumes simply by letting me experiment with characters — knowledge I carried to the tabletop when helping my players. Its eccentricities are part of the charm: percentile Strength that makes fighters shine, the famously inverted logic of THAC0 and armor class, permadeath for companions, rogues’ percentile skill system, and stealth tied to shadows and the day/night cycle. The mechanics may feel arcane, but learning them is part of the adventure.

Most enduring of all is the freedom it grants. After a short prologue in Candlekeep, the Sword Coast opens wide. You are free to wander, often into danger, as the game sparingly telegraphs which areas are deadly and which are safe. That sense of risk, of carving a path through a living wilderness, captures AD&D’s hexcrawl spirit. It remains one of the most exhilarating expressions of player agency in CRPG history.

 

In that gameplay loop of freedom, danger, and discovery, Baldur’s Gate mirrors the tabletop. What lessons can we draw from its design to enrich our own campaigns?

Connection to the Tabletop 

Immediately when the game sets you free after the tutorial’s kick in the arse (sorry about your step-dad, now go adventure), you are dropped onto a forested road.  After Imoen approaches, you hesitate, you hear the birds chirping around you, and Michael Hoenig’s ambient score pulls you into wanderlust.  The only constraints are the connecting puzzle pieces of the region’s area maps, otherwise you are instantly free to wander wherever you like (though the titular city must wait).

As game masters, this is the feeling we want hex-crawl players to have.  Consider ambient soundscapes: environmental sounds, (A Soft Murmur), light organ for Curse of Strahd, chant for Temple of Elemental Evil, and for classic Appendix N adventures, try Baldur’s Gate’s own soundtrack.  Set the environmental sounds, then layer soft music.  Organize tracks into playlists for the feeling or setting, and shuffle them at the table to surprise yourself.

As to the feeling of freedom; how can we build interesting hexes?  We can use the principles that Baldur’s Gate adheres to:  each hex represents a PC level range (say 1-3), and each hex should contain at least 1-4 contrasting encounters as a base.  Take the area most players encounter second:  

(1) A mysterious wizard NPC offers lore and directions to safety.  

(2) A bizarre rock formation hides a magic ring.  

(3) A hunter warns of dangers off the road and points toward the Friendly Arm Iinn  

(4) A massive ogre lurks among the trees, rewarding victory with two magic belts—one cursed.  

  Baldur’s Gate is an absolute treasure trove of such encounters, reflavor them and they can fit in any setting.

Once we’ve designed a few of these hexes, we need to learn to accept that players will choose a different route through them than we imagined.  Follow Baldur’s Gate’s design; populate level 1-3 hexes in a cluster first, then layer higher-level areas beyond, with NPCS or atmospheric warnings of danger.  Starting simple, we can fill hexes with interesting encounters, and fill a region with detailed hexes.

   

For players, this game is an excellent tutorial in mechanics, and ‘character 

sheet crunch’.   Every spell cast teaches them how it could manifest at the table (Lightning Bolt chainsawing your own party down in a tight encounter!); everu enchanted item shows the value of a modifier.  Players learn fragility at level 1, sturdiness at level 3, godhood at level 7, and these feelings inform their decisions in risky encounters at the table.  The joys of buff stacking before a boss fight?  Baldur’s Gate makes it second nature, encouraging characters to prompt their friends to combine spells and abilities in live play.

The freedom to experiment with classes and races builds the muscle of character creation.  In Baldur’s Gate, it feels very different to waltz into an encounter as a Half-Orc Fighter/Cleric versus an Elven Sorcerer.  Those feelings translate to the tabletop, and players will have a better honed sense of what they want after enjoying Baldur’s Gate.  

This game also highlights different modalities of play.  An hour spent crawling through the traps and snares of Durlag’s Tower feels very different than strolling through Beregost’s streets, or adventuring across the wilderness.  Players will develop preferences and appreciation for each, preparing them for any campaign style.

Adventure Hooks

As game masters in a hexcrawl, how can we seed adventures in players’ minds, offering choices for what comes next?  As players, how can we roleplay with our game master and get more information as to where a dungeon might be, or what troubles the realm?  Grab a barstool, order a Shadowdark Ale, and listen. 

Baldur’s Gate’s slightly undercooked hint system lies in its cozy inns and taverns, where  rumors come with every other drink you buy for Minsc and Boo.   A pint in Beregost may reveal that the Mayor seeks adventurers to hunt Bassilus.  An ale in Ulgoth’s Beard may drop hints of a sea-faring expedition.  Evermead at the Elfsong Tavern may lead you to an adventure in the city’s sewers.  End each session with a rumor at the tavern, and seed player’s next adventure with a hooks.  To give you an idea, let’s organize some of my favorite BG adventure hooks by level:

Low Level Hooks:

• Strange lights flare up from the ruined school of wizardry outside of town.  A drunk nearby leans in, “I ‘eard it, a frightful cry from beyond, and I saw the ghostly visage of some dread sorcerer…”  (Ulcaster Ruins)

• Caravan travel is no longer recommended near the ruins of Firewine Bridge, it has been inhabited by troublesome creatures.  Nearby, Gullykin reports missing persons.  (Firewine Ruins)

• “The Iron from Nashkel’s Mine has gone brittle as glass!  Can’t trust a southerner…”  Nashkel reports tainted ore, and seeks adventurers to address the issue; find Berrun Ghastkill for more information.  (Nashkel Mines)

• An evoker has gone missing from Nashkel, a mad swordsman (and his beast) seek adventurers to aid in her return.  A buzzed regular leans in, “He’s barmy as all hell, and a Red Wizard haunts his every move…”  (Gnoll Stronghold)

Mid Level Hooks

• Beregost’s gravedigger enters the bar looking shocked.  “I heard a shout, and half the bodies jus’ up and left…”  Children report hearing strange sermons coming from the valley west of town, and packs of the dead following a mad-looking preacher.  (Bassilus)

• The Captain of the Guard in Nashkel has committed an unthinkable crime against his family.  An old man chimes in from across the room, “I saw ‘im wanderin’ west out of town, a look of pure madness in his eyes…”  (Brage)

• A man with a bandaged arm settles down at the bar, “No more caravan runnin’ for me, boys.  Hobgobs and men, neck in neck, raiding the roads?  No sir, not worth the coin for me.  They got us just south of the Gate…”  (Bandit Camp)

High Level Hooks

• An old sailor with a peg leg stomps across the bar and sets down.  “Ye want to be rich, do ye?  Me ol’ Captain said that Black Alaric himself left a treasure horde on the Coastline south from Candlekeep, he did.  If I were young and strong like ye, I might try for it…”  (Black Alaric’s Sea Cave)

• A halfling enjoys a full pint of dark stout next to you.  “Want to know somethin’ strange, wanderer?  I got lost, last run from Gullykin, summat east of Beregost, and I saw a group of the strangest statues I ever laid eyes on.  I moved closer, and a massive beast seemed to shift in the brush.  I ran for it, scared for me life.”  (Mutamin’s Garden)

• A dwarf strolls in and settles down beside you, fresh from the road.  After enjoying a pint, he turns to you.  “Ye look like the adventuring sort.  I met an unusual dwarf in Ulgoth’s Beard, something noble about him.  He has work for someone like you, something about a treasure-filled tower?”  (Durlag’s Tower)

Conclusion

Baldur’s Gate remains my favorite game because it captures the feel of tabletop: danger, discovery, and the freedom to forge your own path. For players, it’s a living tutorial in AD&D mechanics, archetypes, and modes of play. For game masters, it’s a treasure horde of encounters, items, and hooks ready to be lifted straight to your table.

That’s why it deserves to be the first entry in Appendix N(ext). Baldur’s Gate isn’t just a nostalgic CRPG, but a wellspring of ideas for today’s players and referees. Whether you’re wandering the Sword Coast with Minsc and Boo or mapping a homebrewed hex crawl, it reminds us that the heart of adventure lies in choice, consequence, and the stories we carve from a dangerous world of Sword & Sorcery.