Honestly, most modern RPGs feel like they're afraid of the player. They hold your hand, they guide you down narrow hallways, and they make sure you never, ever break the game. Then there is Divinity: Original Sin 2. Larian Studios didn't just build a game; they built a chemistry set disguised as a fantasy epic, and they basically told us, "Go ahead, blow it up."
It’s been years since it first dropped, and yet, nothing else quite captures that same chaotic magic. It’s a game where you can talk to a squirrel, get insulted by a ghost, and accidentally wipe out your entire party because you forgot that teleporting a bloated corpse onto a fire surface creates a massive explosion. It’s messy. It’s brilliant. And if you haven't played it lately, you're missing out on the blueprint for what Baldur’s Gate 3 eventually became.
The Freedom to Break Everything
Most games give you a key to a locked door. In Divinity: Original Sin 2, you can just pick the lock. Or you can smash the door down with a giant hammer. Or, if you’re feeling particularly creative, you can use a teleportation spell to move a party member behind the door, or simply use a "Pyramid" to warp past the obstacle entirely. This isn't just "multiple paths" in a marketing sense. It is systemic freedom.
The game runs on a tag system. If you’re playing as an Undead character like Fane, you have to wear a bucket or a helmet at all times. Why? Because NPCs will literally scream and run away if they see your bony face. That’s a level of commitment to world-building you just don't see in "Triple-A" titles that want to appeal to everyone at once. You heal from poison but die from regular potions. It flips the entire logic of the genre on its head.
Larian uses an engine that tracks surfaces and elements. Water conducts electricity. Oil slows you down and burns. Blood can be frozen into ice, making enemies slip and fall. It sounds simple, but when you’re in a high-stakes fight in the Blackpits and the entire screen is covered in Necrofire—a cursed fire that regular water can’t put out—you realize just how deep the rabbit hole goes.
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Why Origin Characters Beat Custom Heroes
I know, everyone loves making their own character. I get it. But in Divinity: Original Sin 2, the Origin characters are where the real meat is. If you play as Lohse, there is literally a demon living inside your head that might try to kill your friends during a dialogue scene. If you play as Sebille, you’re an escaped slave with a needle and a very long list of people who need to die.
When you pick a custom character, you're an observer. When you pick an Origin, you're the catalyst.
The brilliance is that whoever you don't pick becomes a companion. You get to see their stories from the outside. You might think the Red Prince is just an arrogant jerk (and he is), but as you follow his quest to reclaim his empire, you start to see the nuance. You start to care. It’s a masterclass in writing that avoids the "chosen one" trope by making everyone a potential god—and only one of you can actually take the throne.
The Divinity: Original Sin 2 Combat Learning Curve
Let’s talk about the armor system. People hate it. Or they love it. There isn't much middle ground.
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In this game, characters have Physical Armor and Magical Armor. You have to strip one of those down to zero before you can apply status effects like Knocked Down or Stunned. It changes the way you build a team. If you have three mages and one warrior, that warrior is going to feel useless because they’re attacking physical armor while everyone else is targeting magic.
- Pro Tip: Stick to a 2/2 split or go all-in on one damage type.
- Crowd Control is King: In the late game, whoever goes first usually wins.
- High Ground: It's not just a meme. The damage bonus from standing on a stump or a tower is often the difference between a win and a reload.
The difficulty doesn't come from enemies having more health. It comes from the AI being smarter than you. On Tactician Mode, enemies will actively target your glass cannons, they will use the environment against you, and they will absolutely teleport your healer into a pool of acid. It’s brutal. It’s also incredibly rewarding when you finally outsmart them.
The Narrative Stakes of Reaper’s Coast
Once you leave Fort Joy—the game's massive "tutorial" island—you land in Reaper's Coast. This is where the game opens up. You’re looking for Source Masters to increase your power. Some are "good" people. Some are absolute monsters who want you to sacrifice souls for a power boost.
The game doesn't judge you. It just shows you the consequences.
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There’s a quest involving a chicken named Big Marge. There’s a quest involving a philosopher ghost who wants to debate the meaning of existence. There’s a quest where you have to decide the fate of an entire race. The tonal shifts are wild, but they work because the world feels lived-in. Every NPC has a name, a voice, and a reason for being there. It’s not just filler.
What Most People Get Wrong About the End-Game
There is a common complaint that the final act, Arx, feels rushed. I used to think that too. But after a few playthroughs, I realized Arx isn't rushed; it’s just dense. It’s a city packed with secrets that require you to actually pay attention to the lore you've been collecting for 60 hours.
If you’ve been skipping dialogue, you’re going to be lost. If you haven’t been reading the books, you’re going to miss the clues for the puzzles in the Lucian's crypt. The game expects you to be an expert by the time you reach the finish line. It’s a final exam for everything you’ve learned about the mechanics and the story.
The ending isn't a simple "Good" or "Bad" choice. It’s a philosophical debate about whether the world is better off with a god or if everyone should have power. Or if no one should. Depending on who is in your party, your companions might actually turn on you at the very last second because they disagree with your choice. That is bold game design.
Actionable Steps for Your Next Playthrough
If you’re planning to jump back in or play for the first time, don't play it like a standard RPG. Play it like a sandbox.
- Get the Pet Pal talent immediately. Seriously. The best writing in the game is hidden behind conversations with dogs, rats, and crabs. You are missing half the game without it.
- Abuse the "Teleport" spell. It is the most powerful tool in your arsenal, both in and out of combat. Use it to drop enemies off cliffs or pull chests from unreachable ledges.
- Combine Skill Books. Did you know if you combine a Fire skill book with a Necromancy skill book, you get a completely new spell? Experiment with the crafting system. It’s not explained well, but it’s where the most broken builds are found.
- Respec is free. Once you reach Act 2, you can change your stats at any time on the ship (The Lady Vengeance). Don’t feel locked into a bad build. If you find a cool sword, go ahead and turn your mage into a paladin.
- Don't kill everyone. It’s tempting to "murder-hobo" your way through for XP, but many NPCs have roles to play in later acts that you’ll miss out on.
Divinity: Original Sin 2 succeeds because it respects the player's intelligence. It assumes you can handle complex systems and that you want a story that reacts to your failures just as much as your successes. It’s a landmark achievement in the genre, and frankly, we're still feeling its ripples across the industry today. If you want a game that stays with you long after the credits roll, this is it. No questions asked.