CD Projekt Red didn't just make a game. They built a messy, violent, strangely beautiful family. Honestly, if you strip away the drowners, the politics, and the endless search for Ciri, you’re left with the real reason people are still obsessed with The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt nearly a decade later. It's the people. The Witcher game characters aren't just quest-givers or stat-blocks with voice acting. They feel like people you’ve actually let down or protected.
Most RPGs give you a hero's journey. Geralt of Rivia isn't really a hero, though. He’s a guy trying to pay rent while his daughter is being hunted by interdimensional ghosts. It’s personal.
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The Geralt Problem: Why He Isn't Your Typical Protagonist
Geralt is dry. He's cynical. He sounds like he’s been smoking gravel for forty years. But the genius of his character design lies in what he doesn't say. In the books by Andrzej Sapkowski, Geralt is a philosopher who won’t shut up. In the games, Doug Cockle’s performance turned him into a man of few words and deep sighs.
You’ve probably noticed how Geralt’s "neutrality" is a total lie. He claims witchers don’t have feelings, but then he spends the entire game helping a grieving father or risking his life for a friend who clearly doesn't deserve it. This contradiction makes him human. He’s a mutant who’s more empathetic than the "normal" humans he protects.
The games handle his aging brilliantly. He's tired. You can feel the weight of his swords in the way he moves. He’s a relic of a dying profession, and that vulnerability makes his relationship with the supporting cast feel high-stakes. If he dies, the knowledge of witchers dies with him. That's a lot of pressure for a guy who just wants a bath and a round of Gwent.
Yennefer vs. Triss: It’s Not Just About Romance
The "waifu wars" are annoying. Let's just be real about that. But the reason the debate between Yennefer of Vengerberg and Triss Merigold is so heated is that they represent two completely different paths for Geralt’s soul.
Yennefer is complicated. She’s abrasive, demanding, and smells like lilac and gooseberries. She’s also Geralt’s equal in every way. Their relationship is toxic, passionate, and deeply rooted in destiny. When you’re at the top of a mountain in Skellige, looking for a djinn to break a magic bond, you realize their love isn't "nice." It’s an obsession.
Then there’s Triss. She’s the "easier" choice, or so it seems. She’s kind, she’s supportive, and she doesn't treat Geralt like a subordinate. But fans often forget her history from the first two games. She manipulated Geralt when he had amnesia. That’s dark. Choosing Triss isn’t just choosing the "nice girl"; it’s choosing a fresh start over a messy history.
CD Projekt Red didn't write these women to be prizes. They have their own agendas. Yennefer will burn down a sacred grove to find Ciri because she’s a mother who doesn't care about the rules. Triss will lead an underground railroad for mages in Novigrad because she’s a leader. They exist whether Geralt is in the room or not. That’s the secret sauce.
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Ciri: The Center of the Universe
Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. Ciri.
She could have been a "MacGuffin." You know, the shiny object the hero has to find to win. Instead, she’s the most powerful being in existence who just wants to be a normal person. The way the game tracks your interactions with her is subtle. It’s not about grand speeches. It’s about whether you had a snowball fight with her or let her trash an elf’s laboratory to vent her anger.
These small choices determine her fate. It’s a masterclass in narrative design. If you're a helicopter parent, Ciri fails. If you trust her to be her own person, she thrives. It turns the entire game into a 100-hour lesson on fatherhood.
The Monsters Aren't Always the Ones with Claws
Gaunter O'Dimm. The Bloody Baron. These aren't just The Witcher game characters; they're psychological portraits.
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The Bloody Baron (Phillip Strenger) is perhaps the best-written character in RPG history. He’s an abusive alcoholic. He’s a wife-beater. He’s also a man who genuinely loves his daughter and is crippled by his own failures. The game doesn't ask you to forgive him. It just asks you to deal with him. There is no "perfect" ending to his questline. Someone always loses. That nuance is why people still talk about the Crones of Crookback Bog. Those hags are terrifying because they represent the predatory nature of "deals" and the desperation of the poor.
And then there's Dandelion. Or Jaskier, if you're a book purist. He’s the comic relief, sure. But he’s also Geralt’s biographer. Without Dandelion, Geralt is just a freak in the woods. Dandelion gives him a legacy. He turns a monster hunter into a legend. Their friendship is the most consistent thing in a world that’s constantly falling apart.
Minor Characters Who Stole the Show
- Letho of Gulet: The antagonist of the second game who can become an ally in the third. He’s a mirror to Geralt—what happens when a witcher gets involved in the "great game" of kings.
- Regis: A higher vampire who’s also a recovering addict and a philosopher. His friendship with Geralt in the Blood and Wine expansion is arguably the most touching relationship in the entire series.
- Zoltan Chivay: Because every hero needs a dwarf friend who likes gambling and hates injustice.
- Vesemir: The father figure. His death at Kaer Morhen isn't just a plot point; it’s the moment the childhood of every remaining witcher officially ends.
Why the Writing Works (And Most Games Fail)
It’s the dialogue. It sounds like people talking, not actors reading a script. There’s slang. There’s swearing. There are long silences.
The characters also remember things. If you help a random NPC in Velen, they might show up later in a completely different context. This creates a sense of a "living" world. You aren't the center of the universe; you’re just a guy passing through.
The ambiguity is key. Most games have a "Good/Evil" meter. The Witcher has a "Lesser Evil" meter. Sometimes, doing the "right" thing leads to a massacre. When Geralt helps the Godling Sarah in Novigrad, is he being kind, or is he just being lazy? The game doesn't tell you. You have to live with it.
The Impact of Local Folklore
The developers at CDPR pulled heavily from Slavic mythology, which gives the characters a flavor that Western audiences hadn't really seen before. These aren't Tolkien elves. They’re oppressed, bitter, and racist. The dwarves aren't just miners; they’re bankers and mercenaries. This grounded reality makes the characters feel like they have a culture behind them.
When you meet the Unseen Elder or the Lady of the Woods, you aren't just meeting a "boss." You’re meeting a piece of a world that existed long before humans arrived. This sense of deep time gives every interaction more weight.
Actionable Steps for Exploring the Lore
If you really want to understand the depth of these characters, don't just rush the main quest. You’ll miss the soul of the game.
- Read the Bestiary and Character Journal: Dandelion writes the character entries. They change as the story progresses. It’s the best way to see how the world perceives your actions.
- Play the Expansions: Hearts of Stone and Blood and Wine have better character writing than most standalone games. Shani and Olgierd von Everec are incredibly tragic figures that add layers to Geralt’s history.
- Pay Attention to the Environment: You can learn more about a character by looking at their bookshelf or the letters on their desk than through twenty minutes of dialogue.
- Talk to Everyone Twice: Characters often have new dialogue after major events. Returning to Keira Metz or Vernon Roche after a big mission often reveals small, humanizing details.
The enduring legacy of these characters is simple: they are allowed to be wrong. They make mistakes. They get angry. They fail. By making them flawed, the developers made them immortal. You don't just play The Witcher; you live among its people.
To fully grasp the complexity of the world, go back and play the "Carnal Sins" quest in Novigrad. It’s a microcosm of everything the series does right—mixing high-stakes mystery with the personal failings of the city's inhabitants. Pay close attention to how your dialogue choices with Dandelion during that quest reveal his growth from a simple bard to a man truly worried about his friend's safety. Proceed by checking the notice boards in smaller villages like Honorton or Blackbough; the "lesser" characters there often provide the most poignant reflections on the war's toll.