Baldur’s Gate 3 thrives on its character moments. From the quiet pauses that make nights around the campfire feel less lonely to those explosive bursts of catharsis that reshape the story, the game is overflowing with reasons to fall in love with its extensive cast. Even side characters and NPCs get their chance to shine, making every encounter feel meaningful.
But if there’s one thing that makes the long hours of Baldur’s Gate 3 unforgettable, it’s the companions who walk beside you through every trial. From the very first ally recruited from the burning wreckage of the nautiloid to the unexpected recruitment in the middle of Act 3, there’s no shortage of stories to invest in. After more than a hundred hours, everyone finds a favorite.
Mine didn’t earn that title solely through charm or combat usefulness thanks to an optimized BG3 Rogue build. He earned it through a perfect storm of late-night banter, devastating backstory, and a profound potential for growth. And still, the reason Astarion remains my favorite comes down to one single moment; a moment that continues to rattle my brain even over a year after I saw the credits roll for the first time.
Baldur’s Gate 3’s Astarion: A Pale Elf’s Story of Revenge
Astarion lies through his perfect little fangs and cunning smile the moment you ask about his life. He spins a story about being a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate, a dull life, unworthy of explanation. The smug elitist undertone is deliberate in that first conversation with Tav: a jab meant to keep strangers from prying too deeply. But, of course, Baldur’s Gate 3 is not a game where the surface ever holds for long. His truth unravels slowly in Act 1. Yes, he once was a magistrate in the Upper City, but that life was shattered the moment he crossed paths with a vampire lord named Cazador.
Cazador didn’t just kill him. He cursed him into a half-life as a vampire spawn, shackled to servitude and used as nothing more than a tool—often a seduction piece in Cazador’s endless hunt for victims. What’s so jarring isn’t just the cruelty of Astarion’s transformation, but how casually he slips into lies about it. There’s a desperation to his deceit, a frantic need to make himself untouchable before you ever get close. Baldur’s Gate 3 refuses to let the mask stay on.
Astarion’s Background Makes Even The Most Stone-Faced Player Cringe
During Baldur’s Gate 3’s Early Access period and upon the release of Artwork of Baldur’s Gate 3, the scope of Astarion’s corruption was more bluntly outlined. Only the broad strokes remain now, but thankfully, the darker details were never retconned. Astarion was not simply a victim. He was also complicit. As a magistrate in the Upper City, he funneled countless innocents into Cazador’s grasp. He was sentencing people negligently, perhaps callously, and earned the wrath of the Gur. Eventually, it was the Gur who murdered him, a death that Cazador twisted into his rebirth.
The extended story paints a chilling portrait: Astarion is both victim and victimizer, sinner and sinned against. And here lies the brilliance of Baldur’s Gate 3: it refuses to let you take him at face value. This isn’t the tale of an arrogant prince-turned-monster; this is a story of a trafficker who met the suffering he helped cause. This isn’t the story of a meek survivor humbled by suffering. It’s the story of someone who clings to cruelty as armor for an entire life—no matter what that life looks like. The game looks the player in the eye and asks them brilliantly repulsive questions about Astarion:
- Why would Astarion want to be good if he never was in the first place?
- Why would he let go of his anger when vengeance is so much sweeter?
- Why should a player even debate for or against Astarion’s ascension if he clearly wants the power that was taken from him back?
Astarion’s backstory isn’t just scaffolding for his vampiric trauma. It’s a foundation that explains every jagged edge of his character—the arrogance, the vulgarity, the hunger for power. His hatred isn’t only for Cazador, but for the loss of the version of himself that once thrived in comfort, privilege, and corruption. When the time comes to confront his master, his choices are laced with that history: victory as reclamation, cruelty as survival, and no mercy as the only justice he knows. And Baldur’s Gate 3 dares us to watch without flinching.
The Moment That Hit Me Like a Truck: The Aftermath of Confronting Cazador with Astarion in Baldur’s Gate 3
After speaking his revenge into existence for the better part of three Acts, the moment finally arrived: Astarion versus his master. I’d heard the boasts, the sharp quips laced with bitterness, and the promises that he would not be powerless. But I’ll admit I was afraid. Baldur’s Gate 3 risked revealing him as too far gone into cruelty and vengeance to step away. Yet, tucked into that fear was a sliver of hope, nurtured by the vulnerable moments I’d seen when my Tav romanced Astarion. The jokes that broke his walls down, the quiet concern for his fellow companions, the glimpses of humanity clawing through his armor—those tiny shards made me wonder if he could, in fact, choose a different ending for himself.
The fight itself was chaos incarnate. I had to reload four separate times before clawing my way through to victory. At last, Cazador, beaten and desperate, retreated into his coffin. What came next was not relief, but a new kind of dread. Astarion, seething, dragged his master out and turned to us for complicity. This was his plea: to end his torment by embracing it fully, to take Cazador’s ritual for himself and become the Vampire Ascendant.
The cost? The lives of 7,000 vampire spawn who would be sacrificed to fuel his rise, cementing him as the predator he had once despised. In that moment, my Tavla refused. She reminded him of something simple yet devastating: he could never be proud of this. Astarion froze, the weight of the decision finally crushing down on him. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I can be better than him.” And then, with a fury that was anything but elegant, he tore Cazador apart. It wasn’t triumphant. It was ragged. He stabbed, he screamed, he let years of torment out through every jagged movement.
And then came the silence. The music swelled, the room stilled, and Astarion collapsed to his knees. His body folded, stripped of poise and polish, as guttural sobs ripped through him. There was no victory lap. No companion rushing to hold him. No Tav, no player comfort. There was only a man shattered, grieving everything he had lost and everything he had blossomed since. I’ve been gaming for twenty-three years, and few RPGs have left me so breathless.
A Masterclass in Acting – Neil Newbon’s Performance
What makes this scene so unbearable, in the best way, is Neil Newbon’s performance in Baldur’s Gate 3. Newbon draws inspiration from the Arlecchino archetype in comedia dell’arte, as well as from Giles Foreman, Leendert Van Nimwegen, Reuben Kaye, and even a stray cat that visits his garden. It’s a no-brainer that Astarion is all posh wit, feline grace, and theatrical arrogance.
He’s playful, cutting, self-possessed, every inch the aristocrat he once was. But the moment that Cazador’s boss fight concludes, that veneer is obliterated. His back hunches, his practiced face is twisted, and his sobs are wild and unrestrained. The physicality of his collapse is a direct rebuke to the performance he’s put on for the player all game. He doesn’t just cry, he crumbles. Watching that contrast unfold felt like witnessing a man finally let himself exist without the armor, and it left me absolutely drained.
What Got Me In My Feels
This moment didn’t just make me feel for Astarion—it made me grieve for and with him. I grieved the truth that survival doesn’t equal healing. Baldur’s Gate 3‘s saddest moments don’t let you bask in a victory, and this one was no exception. It demands you sit with Astarion’s pain, his emptiness, and his brokenness. I still think about the rawness of that scene, how my whole room went silent, how no one watching had a dry eye.
It hit me like a truck, yes. But it also reminded me why Baldur’s Gate 3’s player numbers thrive. Because its most powerful moments are not just about slaying gods or toppling armies, but about watching a character who could have been a monster unravel, right before your eyes, in a way that feels achingly, devastatingly human.
Baldur’s Gate 3
9/10
- Released
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August 3, 2023
- ESRB
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M for Mature: Blood and Gore, Partial Nudity, Sexual Content, Strong Language, Violence
- Engine
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Divinity 4.0
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