Warning: spoilers for the midgame of Starfield, including some companion details.
The first game I can remember playing where I cared about a player-centered romance storyline was Bioware’s Baldur’s Gate 2: Shadows of Amn. The romanceable companions each had a deep storyline that ran in parallel with the main plot. Though there were a few cringe-inducing moments (looking at you, Aerie storyline) the romance subplots added substantial depth and character to a game that was already brimming with it.
In later years, Bioware continued to include romance elements in their games. Other studios followed suit. CD Projekt Red gave fans genuinely sexy and adult romances in games like Witcher 3 and Cyberpunk 2077 while improving on the strong character-building elements in Bioware games. More recently, Larian’s Baldur’s Gate 3 gave us multiple compelling and highly diverse companion romance storylines to explore.
Then there’s Bethesda. Skyrim and Fallout 4 both included romance options for the player – thin on the content side, even when compared to what Bioware first achieved in Baldur’s Gate 2, but at least the facsimile of a love story adding to the emergent, endlessly replayable mix of features that Bethesda does so well.
One of the great things about Bethesda games is how they’re built from the ground up to be modded. Post-ship, fans built far more complex and detailed romances within Bethesda games (including some genuinely disturbing stuff – it’s best not to Google in this case.)
So how does Starfield, Bethesda’s latest major title, measure up in the romance department – at least before the modders get busy?
Purely in the interest of science, I decided to find out.
Shallow Dating Pool
It quickly became clear that my romance options were thin in Starfield – only four primary companions from the Constellation organization are date-able. (Modders take note: it’s a tragedy you can’t date the snarky robot.)
Sarah Morgan – one of the very first companions you meet – is pleasant, inoffensive, and smart, an accomplished ex-military science geek who only wants to explore the universe. I had her tag along on a few missions; she seemed perfectly happy lugging all the microscopes and spacesuits I collected in our travels. A match made in heaven!
But over time, Sarah became more and more of a wet blanket. She complained about looting every container I found. She complained about me murdering random civilians. It was like adventuring with my mom!
Then I met Andreja: mysterious, stealthy, with a tragic past. (I can help her!) Most importantly, Andreja didn’t mind a bit of looting and thievery. Once Andreja appeared, I immediately kicked Sarah to the curb.
I was all-in on the Andreja romance. Every time I saw the [FLIRT] option in dialogue, I couldn’t select it fast enough. On missions, Andreja and I worked well together. It was a true partnership in petty crime.
But then, tragedy.
The Grieving Time
See, there’s a “plot thing” that happens about midway through the main storyline of Starfield. I’m not going to get into details, but after a particular mission, one of your companions kicks the bucket.
You can probably guess where this is going.
I only have myself to blame. I had a choice. I left the highly capable, independent Andreja to fend for herself while I flew off to save the rest of Constellation’s members – only to return and find my favorite companion dead.
My finger hovered over the “reload” button for a full minute. But no – this type of gameplay was what I wanted, right? Choice and consequence, like Baldur’s Gate 3. Roleplaying, even! My character created this situation. I was going to play it out.
Besides, I had a rebound romance option waiting in the wings. I could pick up with Sarah right where I’d left off – couldn’t I?
True, things got more than a little awkward. I liked Andreja’s outfit, so when we recovered her possessions the first thing I did was make Sarah wear it.
Unfortunately, Starfield doesn’t let you customize your companion’s hairstyle or hair color, so I couldn’t fully transform Sarah into a physical facsimile of my dead love. Oh well… the modders will surely fix that up for me soon!
You’re Smothering Meeee!
I’ve got to be honest – my heart wasn’t in the Sarah Morgan romance. I could not stop thinking about Andreja’s tragic demise.
Sarah went right back to her old ways, berating me for filling my spaceship’s hold with digital photo frames and plushies. Still, I kept plugging away at the rebound romance, dutifully hitting the [FLIRT] option in Sarah’s dialogue trees whenever I saw it.
In a Bethesda romance, if you [FLIRT] enough with a character, it inexorably leads to wedding bells. Soon enough, my conversations with Sarah revolved around wedding planning (a small wedding at least) and guest lists (her mother, but not any of our other friends).
This is my science fiction fantasy? This is how my character lives out his adventurer’s life among the stars? I felt trapped. Sarah’s demands were frankly exhausting.
During the ceremony – on a crowded beach on a planet where the futuristic hotel had the look of a run-down Florida tourist trap – every single one of my dialogue response options was saccharine to the extreme. Pledging my character’s eternal love to dull ol’ Sarah Morgan – one of the most vanilla romance options I’ve seen in a game – I suddenly realized I did not want this. I could not think of anything my character wanted less.
But there was no backing out now – that is, not until immediately after the ceremony when I interacted with Sarah again and had the option to “discuss our relationship.”
Yes, I’m a jerk – not ten seconds after our wedding, I broke it off. Sarah angrily stormed off. Her mother still stood there, beaming at me. “I think you’re going to be so happy together.”
The Sad Denouement
It took a long time for Sarah to forget that I had dumped her right after our wedding, but she eventually did. She even agreed to tag along on missions again, though she still complained about my loot-hoovering tendencies.
On one of the outposts I’d set up, a benzene mining operation on an out-of-the-way moon, I placed Andreja’s funeral portrait in the bedroom. It seemed like the least I could do to pay tribute – a shrine to lost love and a life cut tragically short.
At the same outpost, in the hallway leading to the storeroom, I hung up the commitment gift that Sarah had given me at our wedding – which, typical of Sarah’s tastes, was an impersonal, boring, and nearly featureless wall plaque. I didn’t like its initial location, but it promptly clipped into the outpost wall during placement and I couldn’t get it back out again – symbolic, really, of the whole miserable affair.
So there you have it – romance in the world of Starfield. My journey to find love in Bethesda’s latest epic didn’t have the tenderness, depth, or excellent writing of the romantic subplots in Baldur’s Gate 3, but I can’t say it was without pathos – albeit perhaps pathos more in the tone of Mr. Bean than Romeo and Juliet.
My apologies to whoever wrote the romances in Starfield. Overall, I was highly entertained by the whole ridiculous journey – and I felt like I got to do some silly role-playing along the way. Back with another blog next week.