BioWare was shuttered by Electronic Arts earlier this week, resulting in 50 or so people losing their jobs and the upcoming Mass Effect 5 being cancelled. While the studio’s last decade of struggles have been frequently documented as games like Mass Effect Andromeda, Anthem, and Dragon Age: The Veilguard failed to live up to expectations, there nevertheless existed an optimism among fans that the magic would return. Much of this fainthearted hope rested on Mass Effect 5, a game many believed would right the studio's wrongs and pull this architect of modern RPGs away from the brink of oblivion. But I was wrong. Now BioWare is no more, and it breaks my heart.
Like millions of others, I grew up with Mass Effect and Dragon Age: Origins and view them as magnificent achievements, the likes of which we might never see in video games again. They were a selection of bold and ambitious adventures that introduced us to larger-than-life worlds and extraordinary characters that would quickly cement themselves into legend. They each gave players the freedom to be themselves by creating avatars who represented who they wanted to be in reality. While there were several obstacles to conquer along the way, BioWare spearheaded LGBTQ+ representation in video games like few others before it as bigotry was pushed aside in favor of progress.
As BioWare is lowered into the grave, I have already seen countless people share how this beloved studio helped not only shape their tastes in art and storytelling, but also gave them the building blocks required to assemble their own identities. When I first created a female version of Commander Shepard and fell in love with Liara T'Soni aboard the Normandy as a closeted kid, I had no idea it might be the first sign of who I truly was. But now that decades have passed and I find myself on that queer journey--I can’t thank BioWare enough for paving the way.
Before Mass Effect released in 2007, the studio was already exploring LGBTQ+ characters and relationships, albeit in less explicit fashion. 2003's Knights of the Old Republic introduced us to Juhani, a female Cuthar Jedi and the first canonical queer character in Star Wars history. It was a remarkable step forward to see a character who was never afraid to hide their lesbian identity and was only attracted to a female version of your avatar. Her romance arc is sadly more obfuscated than the game’s heterosexual options, but in the context of a AAA RPG released over two decades ago, it remained a momentous step forward.
2005's Jade Empire--an underrated BioWare gem well worth checking out--continued this fruity trajectory as players were given the freedom to romance characters like Silk Fox or Sky regardless of gender. There were few barriers to queerness, and accidentally stumbling headfirst into these fictional relationships as a younger gamer was one of the first times queerness was presented to me as something to be welcomed and celebrated, not shamefully hidden away as something disgustingly abnormal. Love is love, no matter if the world wasn’t quite ready for it to be presented in this form.
If Knights of the Old Republic and Jade Empire left the metaphorical closet door slightly ajar, Mass Effect came along and kicked the door violently off its hinges and left naysayers pulling splinters from their fingers. Even if it would soon invite controversy that caused it to change course throughout the trilogy. Liara was the sole queer romance option in the original Mass Effect, with the Asari being an all-female presenting species. It’s not explicitly sapphic from a human perspective, but provided enough substance for a profound queer reading of things.
The sequel, unfortunately, abandoned plans to make troubled biotic Jack a pansexual character thanks to pressure from Fox News, whose sensational coverage of the original game put BioWare on the map in all the wrong ways. The first game's sex scenes were little more than softcore intercourse that wouldn’t be out of place in a Hallmark movie, but this was more than enough to set conservative alarm bells ringing. Mass Effect 2 also featured bisexual romance paths for both Shepard genders, but it consistently felt like the outside world was stopping BioWare from pushing things further.
As the trilogy reached its climactic end, BioWare went all the way by offering fully featured gay and lesbian romance options with characters who weren’t simply bisexual for the sake of the player, but had their own identities that bled into the narrative. Samantha Traynor was purely sapphic, while Steve Cortez offered a gay partner for male Shepard. Each character boasted an authored same-sex romance with distinct narrative dynamics that playersexual companions couldn’t measure up to. Neither character was defined by their sexuality, with meaningful arcs that rewarded our emotional investment again and again.
Dragon Age followed a similar trajectory in its queer representation, with the initial entry making bisexuality a core part of its vast fantasy world. Leliana and Zevran could both be romanced by either a male or female Warden, while Alistair and Morrigan acted as heterosexual options. What made the storytelling so effective is how the romantic intentions of vital characters like Leliana and Zevran were baked into their experiences long before meeting the player.
Leliana’s ingrained faith and consistent idealism makes forming new romantic bonds a struggle, while Zevran’s flirtatious nature allows his sexuality to fold into almost everything he does. You weren’t just building a relationship and eventually being offered random sex scenes, but rather feeling the formation of a bond that would endure long after the credits roll.
The sequel allowed Hawke to pursue romantic companions regardless of gender, which was a polarizing playersexual approach that didn’t allow queer relationships to feel layered even if the representation was still meaningful on the surface. Dragon Age 2 was developed in just 16 months and takes place within a single city, so I imagine this direction was taken because there simply wasn’t enough time to delve any deeper. But over the years, fans have formed an appreciation for the flawed Dragon Age 2 because of these limitations, using its foundations as a means of developing headcanons with characters that reach far beyond the source material.
Inquisition marked a new level of maturity for BioWare’s queer storytelling as each character was not just a symbol of eventual romance, but fully formed individuals with their own flaws, motivations, and romantic preferences. Dorian Pavus was a gay man dealing with a history of familial rejection, Sera was lesbian who battled with harsh societal pressures of her elvish heritage, and Krem is a trans man working for Iron Bull’s mercenary company who is never treated as an outsider because of the person he chose to become. The representation isn’t perfect, but players could see their own trials and tribulations reflected in this cast and watch their own character grow alongside them.
While not nearly as beloved, I’d be remiss not to mention the queer inclusion of Mass Effect Andromeda and Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Andromeda initially received a little flack as it failed to deliver a same-sex romance option for male Ryder, only for BioWare to address such feedback with a patch that made Jaal a potential suitor. There was also supporting character Hainly Abrams, whose original dialogue clumsily disclosed her transgender identity to the player despite feeling incredibly unrealistic given the context. This disclosure touched on a problem that can often surface with modern representation and how it can be included without thinking about how it reflects the world and characters. A queer character or story being present is not evidence of good representation just because they merely exist. Their inclusion needs to go beyond good intentions and show that people are more than just their identity.
The Veilguard was BioWare’s last hurrah. Unfortunately, its queer representation was caught up in an ongoing culture war where the existence of LGBTQ+ characters and themes are put under a prejudiced microscope and derided purely because they dare to exist. It’s depressing how far we’ve regressed when Mass Effect and Dragon Age introduced a potentially gay main character and companions with fewer complaints over 20 years ago. But when removed from this cultural context, I’ve plenty of admiration for the ways in which Veilguard allows the player character’s gender identity to be reflected in dialogue, its many queer romance options, and companions like Taash whose non-binary identity becomes a huge part of their personal arc.
You couldn’t romance anybody in Anthem, and your character was largely a vacuum for all of your sick loot to stick onto, but BioWare still made sure to include meaningful queer rep. The narrative wasn’t deep nor particularly memorable, but characters unafraid to be themselves in a diverse yet hostile world still rang true. It makes me wonder what stories this game may have told if it emerged in a different, more player-driven form where you had the freedom to build relationships with characters rather than passively accept quests from them.
Despite an inconsistent history thanks to the harsh realities of game development and the pressures of media scrutiny, it’s always felt like BioWare had the interests of LGBTQ+ players at heart. For decades, the studio strove to tell groundbreaking and authentic queer stories the medium had rarely seen before, even if there were a few hiccups along the way. But imperfect representation is consistently the most interesting because of how it sparks discussion, speaks to people from all walks of life, and tries to find the right route forward into the future.
Mass Effect and Dragon Age not only influenced how western RPGs would play and look for the next several decades, but also how they approached dialogue, romance, and queer representation. Whether it be brief side quests or Ciri making playful comments about her sexuality in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt or the multi-faceted cast and romances of Baldur’s Gate 3, all of them built upon the framework BioWare helped assemble.
Now that the studio has been shuttered and its upcoming space opera cancelled, we might never see another game in the worlds of Mass Effect or Dragon Age, but their legacies will live on. There are myriad creators who carry its valiant ideas into the future through indie games, books, comics, films, shows, and so much more. I can’t overestimate how seminal BioWare was in the early stages of my queer identity, and I am not alone in mourning the loss of a studio that changed everything.