One Last Dialogue Choice

And I need you to recover
Because I can’t make it on my own
―Faunts, M4 (Part II)

10/23/26

There are just certain names in the gaming industry that deserve the praise they get. There’s a pedigree that comes with the weight they carry, be it a Rockstar Games or a Kojima Productions. BioWare is absolutely no different, as the Edmonton-based developers have one of the most impressive back catalogues in the history of the medium. I mean, Baldur’s Gate, Dragon Age, Jade Empire and one of my favorites, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic are all worthy of the admiration they get. These are games full of imaginative worlds and hard-hitting narratives full of so much depth and choice, often regarded as some of the finest of all time.

All of that makes the events of October 21, 2026 so much more baffling and depressing. EA’s announcement that they were closing BioWare down felt like such a gut punch, one that felt like the end of an era I wish I had more time to experience. I was never a true obsessive or really dove into all of their games, but I can understand their place in gaming history.

Based on what I have played, however, BioWare is responsible for shaping my understanding of what video game storytelling could accomplish.

That moment was back in 2021.

I was unemployed and depressed, having all the time in the world to immerse myself in games as I kept applying to jobs. Mass Effect Legendary Edition’s launch felt like a huge deal, as it was the first time the famous RPG trilogy was available on modern platforms. Despite those close to me telling me to skip, I started with the first Mass Effect, planning to play through all of them.

I created my female Shepard, opting for the DPS-focused soldier class. I spent dozens of hours playing through Mass Effect, exploring different planets, getting into intense firefights and having so many conversations, all of which affected my in-game morality/reputation. I picked Paragon (good) options, trying my hardest to defuse tense situations and building a rapport with my crew, opting to solve problems through dialogue instead of combat when possible.

I was in love with the game, enamored by its gameplay, atmosphere and the strong writing on display. There were plenty of individual moments that took me back to when I first played Star Wars: Knights of Old Republic. That loop of exploring and talking to NPCs while keeping track of where my morality was felt very KOTOR-like, with the interface and menus reminding so much of it. I felt like a kid again, huddled over a boxy CRT on the floor of my room with an original XBOX plugged in and making Dark Side choices in KOTOR. It felt like the evolution of a game I was already in love with, improved for modern (I guess modern for the time as Mass Effect came out in 2007) sensibilities.

Part of that was also shaped by when I was playing it, as being unemployed meant I had a lot of time to sink my teeth into a game this big. I obsessed over every aspect of the story and I appreciated how much freedom I was being offered. I wasn’t simply discovering Mass Effect, I was rediscovering what made KOTOR special to me.

Sure, while I was reminded of a very special childhood game, there was a lot more to the writing and character work that really affected me.

Race and politics in a lot of AAA games is often represented in some troubling ways, as people of color are often used as canon fodder or as insensitive tokens. Wrex, one of Shepard’s squad mates, felt different.

A member of the Krogan species, Wrex’s worldview is shaped by atrocities committed by humans. Most dialogue sections with him are full of his rough-edged cynicism, as he worries for his people and professes his distrust of the human race. One notable sequence ended with him scolding my Shepard for a seemingly empty sympathetic conversation. He essentially told my Shepard that she would never truly understand what the Korgans have dealt with, and her privilege has shielded her from that.

In a few short seconds, the bulk of conversations I’ve had with white allies was on screen, speaking directly to me. Every single:

I’m one of the good white guys!

Things will be fine for you people.

I’m sorry that joke was out of line.

You can’t let those racists get to you!

And so much more, perfectly distilled through a virtual avatar that was scolding my protagonist. That very anger-inducing subset of white ritualism and constant stream of micro-agressions was presented in a way I had never seen in a video game and it affected me profoundly.

It hurt like hell when Wrex died in my playthrough at the hands of the racist Ashley Williams, a moment that can be avoided and one I royally messed up. In a way, that one death perfectly represented how powerful the writing had been, as I was mourning Wrex and eulogizing him all over Twitter at the time I was playing the game.

I never got around to Mass Effect 2 or 3, but I always planned to. Most of you will remember I started Star Wars: The Old Republic (initially developed by BioWare) a few months ago and it does scratch that Mass Effect/KOTOR itch pretty well, but nothing will be the first ME game. Even as I intend to start the other games in the trilogy, I feel compelled to replay the first one just so it feels more complete.

BioWare is obviously more than Mass Effect, but so many moments in that game perfectly represent why they were one of the best developers around. It’s a damn shame they’re not around anymore but so much of their DNA is still felt in other works. There's a very specific type of RPG I like playing, stuff like Cyberpunk 2077, The Outer Worlds or countless Bethesda games that all feature choice-driven stories and massive worlds to explore and live in. Hell, Exodus is out next year and is worked on by BioWare vets, including writer Drew Karpyshyn, whose Star Wars books are among my favorites.

Still, even though I have so much to dive into and will eventually return to SWTOR, nothing will ever truly compare to that time I spent on the Normandy five years ago.

My heart goes out to those affected by the layoffs and closures. Thank you for the memories.