Recently, while navigating the intricate streets of Skingrad in Oblivion Remastered, I found myself engaged in a rather peculiar side quest involving a character named Glarthir, whose paranoia had me tailing his neighbors. It struck me—this experience felt refreshingly new. Had Oblivion always been this rich in captivating side quests? My memories of playing the game back in 2006 seemed to fade in comparison.
Back then, I was just nine years old, grappling with a short attention span and newly acquired reading skills. My encounter with Oblivion was more of a fleeting moment than a deep dive into its expansive world. I recall the day my father brought home The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion Collector’s Edition, a beautifully crafted bi-fold case that housed two discs, an art book, a map, and a metal coin. Neither of us had any familiarity with The Elder Scrolls franchise; my father simply sought something fresh for our Xbox 360. Ironically, he never ventured beyond the sewers.
Our family tradition involved exploring the games my dad purchased but never played—titles like Crackdown, Kameo, and Rainbow Six Vegas. Oblivion piqued my interest, perhaps due to the allure of that shiny metal coin. However, as a newcomer to open-world gaming, I was oblivious to the term “RPG” and its implications.
The character creation process overwhelmed me. Faced with a myriad of sliders and options, I opted for a default character, a simple choice that reflected my limited understanding. The winding sewers of the Imperial City were a maze that tested my third-grade sense of direction. Did Bethesda streamline those tunnels in the remaster? I distinctly remember fumbling around for what felt like an eternity before emerging into the light.
As for the narrative, I was hardly engaged. The emperor’s assassination registered in my mind, but the gravity of the task he entrusted to me was lost on my young self. Fast forward to my recent return to Weynon House in Oblivion Remastered, and a wave of nostalgia washed over me. This was a familiar setting from my earlier playthrough, and I could almost feel the anxiety of my past mistakes creeping back.
I vividly recalled my first encounter in Weynon Priory, where I accidentally struck a priest—perhaps with a punch or a fireball. The ensuing chaos led to a panicked escape, as every NPC seemed intent on my demise. My lack of foresight in saving my progress left me with no option but to power down the console, convinced I had sealed my character’s fate in a cycle of violence. That singular experience defined my relationship with Oblivion for years.
Years later, I revisited the game on the PS3 after completing Skyrim, but my approach remained hasty. I rushed through the main quest, focusing solely on leveling up my acrobatics. At 15, my impatience overshadowed any desire to engage with the story.
Now, reflecting on my journey through Oblivion, I realize I had underestimated its depth. The remastered version has unveiled a treasure trove of side quests, each one a new discovery for me. It seems I missed the essence of the game during my earlier attempts. Yet, as they say, better late than never.
