Larian Studios is basically the king of the RPG world right now. Thanks to Baldur’s Gate 3, everyone knows their name. But before they were the industry darlings sweeping every award show, they were the scrappy Belgian team making some of the most ambitious, janky, and fascinating games you’ve ever played. Case in point: Divinity II: Ego Draconis. It came out in 2009, and honestly, it’s a miracle it exists at all. While most people today associate the series with isometric, turn-based combat, this was a third-person action RPG that let you turn into a literal dragon. It wasn't just a gimmick. It was the whole point.
It’s easy to look back at 2009 and see it as the year of Dragon Age: Origins. That game was polished. It was cinematic. It had the BioWare seal of approval. Meanwhile, Divinity II: Ego Draconis arrived with a stuttering frame rate on the Xbox 360 and a physics engine that felt like it was held together by prayer and duct tape. But here's the thing: it had more soul than almost anything else on the shelf. It was weird. It was funny. It punished you for being stupid.
Why Divinity II: Ego Draconis Was Ahead of Its Time
The game starts you off as a Dragon Slayer. You're training to hunt down the very creatures you’ll eventually become. It's a classic trope, but Larian handles it with this cynical, tongue-in-cheek humor that has become their trademark. You don't just "get" dragon powers. You inherit them from a dying Dragon Knight, and suddenly, the people you were training with want you dead.
The world of Rivellon in this game isn't just a backdrop. It's vertical. Because the developers knew you’d eventually be flying, the level design had to account for both a guy running on the ground and a massive fire-breathing lizard soaring through the air. This created a weird sense of scale that most RPGs still struggle with. You’d see a fortress on a distant cliff and realize, "Oh, I can actually go there." Not by walking up a path, but by shifting forms and dodging anti-dragon magical turrets.
The Mind-Reading Mechanic No One Mentions
One of the coolest features in Divinity II: Ego Draconis is the mind-reading. It’s not a cutscene thing. It’s a gameplay mechanic. You can spend your experience points to peer into the thoughts of almost any NPC. Sometimes it’s useless fluff. Other times, it reveals the location of a hidden key, lowers the price of a merchant’s goods, or opens up a quest line you would have missed entirely.
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It was a gamble. You were literally trading your ability to level up your combat stats for information. It made every conversation a risk-reward calculation. Do I want to hit harder with my sword, or do I want to know why this guard is acting so twitchy? Most modern RPGs just give you the "Persuasion" check for free if you have the right stat. Divinity made you pay for it in blood (or at least, in XP).
The Battle Tower: Real Estate for Necromancers
About halfway through the game, you get a home base. But it’s not just a house. It’s the Battle Tower. This is where the game’s complexity really starts to show. You have to choose your own staff. You go out into the world, find candidates for roles like your Alchemist, Necromancer, and Enchanter, and you decide who stays and who goes.
Each choice mattered. If you picked one Alchemist over another, you got access to different types of potions. It gave the player a sense of agency that felt massive at the time. You weren't just a hero; you were a landlord with a private army of crafters. And the Necromancer? He let you build your own "Creature." You’d collect body parts—arms, legs, heads—from fallen enemies and stitch them together into a custom summon. It was gross. It was awesome. It was peak Larian.
Dealing with the "Ego Draconis" Jank
Look, we have to be honest. The original release of Divinity II: Ego Draconis was a bit of a mess. The combat felt floaty. The difficulty spikes were like hitting a brick wall at 60 miles per hour. If you wandered into the wrong part of the Broken Valley too early, you were basically fish food.
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The game didn't scale with you. If an enemy was level 15 and you were level 8, you died. Period. There was no "balanced encounter" logic here. It forced you to actually explore and engage with the world to find ways to get stronger. Later, Larian released the Dragon Knight Saga, which fixed a lot of the technical issues and bundled in the Flames of Vengeance expansion. If you're going to play it today, that's the version you want. It turns a 6/10 technical disaster into a 9/10 RPG masterpiece.
The Writing and the "Larian Humour"
If you’ve played Divinity: Original Sin 2, you know Larian loves a good joke, usually at the expense of the player. Divinity II: Ego Draconis is where that voice really solidified. You’ll find skeletons having philosophical debates. You’ll find a guy who thinks he’s a chicken. You’ll find quests that subvert every fantasy trope you've ever learned.
Rivellon is a dark place, sure. There’s a world-ending threat and ancient betrayals. But it never takes itself too seriously. This tonal balance is hard to strike. If you go too dark, it’s edgy. Too funny, and there are no stakes. Larian found that sweet spot where the world feels lived-in and slightly ridiculous, which honestly makes it feel more "human" than the grim-dark seriousness of something like The Witcher.
Music that Hits Different
We can’t talk about this game without mentioning Kirill Pokrovsky. The late composer for the Divinity series was a genius. The soundtrack for Divinity II: Ego Draconis is haunting. It uses these strange, ethereal vocals and heavy orchestral swells that make flying over the Fjords feel genuinely epic. It’s not just generic "fantasy tavern" music. It’s distinct. It stays with you long after you’ve shut the game off.
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Why It Still Matters for RPG Fans
So, why should anyone care about a 15-year-old game in 2026? Because Divinity II: Ego Draconis represents a fork in the road for RPG design. It came from an era where developers were still trying to figure out how to make "big" games without the massive budgets of today. It’s experimental in ways that modern AAA games aren't allowed to be.
It also provides the DNA for what Larian became. You can see the seeds of the Original Sin interaction systems here. You can see the beginnings of their "play your way" philosophy. It’s a historical document for one of the best studios in the world, but more importantly, it’s still a blast to play. Transforming from a knight into a dragon mid-air to blast a fortress with fireballs is a power trip that hasn't aged a day.
Actionable Steps for New Players
If you’re looking to dive into this piece of RPG history, don't just jump in blind. You'll get frustrated. Start by hunting down the Divinity II: Developer's Cut on Steam or GOG. It’s the most stable version and includes a "Developer Mode" that lets you mess with the engine if you get stuck on some of the more dated platforming sections.
When you start, don't ignore the Mind Read ability just because it costs XP. Use it on named NPCs. The secrets you unlock usually lead to gear that makes up for the lost experience points anyway. Also, focus on a specific build early on. Whether you're going full Mage, Ranger, or Warrior, "jack-of-all-trades" characters tend to get slaughtered in the mid-game.
Finally, save often. Rivellon is a beautiful place, but it’s full of things that want to kill you, and the auto-save system is from 2009. You’ve been warned. Go turn into a dragon and see where it all started.