Why Avowed's Decision to Skip Romance Lets Its Story Breathe

I have played enough RPGs to know that romance can be the most luminous chamber in a game's heart, and also the draftiest corridor in its design. Liara, Leliana, Karlach, Josephine, Dorothea, Aerith, Makoto, Judy—these names still flicker like candles when I recall them. But I have also watched romance systems curdle into obligation: companions reduced to eligible beaus, dialogue stretched thin like melted cheese over too much bread. That is why I remain glad Avowed chose to swear off romance entirely.

When a game opens the door to romance, it often closes several quieter doors behind the scenes. Unless a studio is exceptionally brave, romance options get wrapped in narrative Kevlar—thick plot armour that makes their survival or softenability nearly guaranteed. This is not freedom; it is a gravitational lens. Every plot event bends around the romantic sun until the central story becomes a warm smear of fan-friendly safety. Developers also need to balance gender options and sexualities while preserving realism, and then double the dialogue so unromanced characters still have something to say. That is not just hard work; it is a script's slow leak.

Romance can make a world messier in a parasocial sense, too. Baldur's Gate 3 gave us Astarion, whose story of surviving abuse and sexual guilt was initially sharp as a shard of ice. Over time, however, updates and fan appetite warmed that ice into a different shape—less a trauma survivor reclaiming his agency and more a vampiric fantasy of kneeling and lust. It might have been spicier in a fanfiction register, but the original emotional value dissolved like salt in warm water. The sugar added to a reduction sauce can caramelize the flavour, or it can quietly drown it.

Then there are the games where romance simply adds dead air. Not every companion needs to become a beau, and trying to force that can flatten believable people into romanceable silhouettes. Obsidian has already shown another path. The Outer Worlds skipped romance but still delivered its most memorable storyline about love: helping Parvati, one of the few canonically asexual characters in games, ask out the cute mechanic and survive a wonderfully awkward date. I doubt that story would bloom if fans were busy complaining they could not romance Parvati themselves. Sometimes pruning away the tempting branches lets the trunk narrative thicken.

Of course, romance has real benefits. It can raise emotional investment and give replays a magnetic pull. I still think about The Witcher 3's climactic kiss between Yennefer and Geralt, and I still want to chase down Harding, Bellara, and even Emmrich in The Veilguard after my first run with Taash. I was disappointed when Metaphor: ReFantazio announced it would skip romance, even though I adored Persona 5's options—despite the fact that several adults showing interest in a high school protagonist made the whole thing feel like a beautifully upholstered contradiction.

But trimming romance can focus the central narrative and the gameplay loop. Every hour spent scripting flirtatious branches is an hour not spent on combat tuning, environmental storytelling, or companion arcs that do not require a bedroom scene. Obsidian's decision saved hundreds of developer hours, and it cuts against the grain of modern RPG trends, where romance is often treated as a back-of-box bullet point. In 2026, with so many RPGs bloated by systems that pull in opposite directions, that precision feels like a kind of courage.

• 🛡️ No plot armor demanded by romance availability

• 🎭 More attention for central narrative

• 💬 No doubled dialogue branches just to satisfy optional flirtation

• 🌱 Space for non-romantic bonds like Parvati's story

Romance is not the only kind of love a game can offer. Over a year after Avowed arrived, the decision looks less like a missing feature and more like a philosophy. I cannot fall in love in Avowed, but if the time that could have been spent on seduction was instead spent on sharper edges and deeper choices, maybe I can fall in love with Avowed itself—which is a rarer, more honest thing.