Embrace save scumming for optimal RPG gameplay.

Embrace save scumming for optimal RPG gameplay.

Embracing My Inner Scummer: The Art of Save Scumming in Baldur’s Gate 3

Baldur’s Gate 3

Image: Larian Studios

In the realm of Baldur’s Gate 3, I unabashedly declare that I will not hold myself accountable for my actions. My gaming adventures in this world are filled with countless save scums, where I shamelessly reload my progress at every unfavorable outcome. And guess what? I’m not alone! After delving into the game’s subreddit, I realized just how many fellow players embrace this playstyle. Save scumming is not just a crutch; it’s an essential tool for undoing bad rolls, correcting mistakes, or reliving battles gone awry. So let’s dive into the humorous, chaotic, and oddly satisfying world of save scumming.

I confess that I am a sore loser, particularly when it comes to games of luck. I prefer the realm of management and strategy, where I can control the outcome. In RPGs, I meticulously plan my party composition to tackle any challenge that comes my way. It irks me to no end when my character fails a seemingly simple dice roll they are proficient in. If Karlach can’t turn a wheel because of a failed strength check, or if Shadowheart’s persuasive words fall on deaf ears, or even if my Druid, with outstanding nature and animal handling skills, can’t win over an Owlbear seeking refuge, it feels like a personal offense!

One might argue that being skilled doesn’t guarantee desired outcomes in life, let alone in games. But who needs maturity and acceptance when you can just reload your save? After all, I don’t play games for their realism; I play to unleash strategic chaos and witness epic victories. If I designed my character to be a master lockpick like Astarion, then damn it, he better succeed. And if he doesn’t, well, time to hit that trusty F5 key and try again!

Disco Elysium

Image: ZA/UM

This save scumming obsession isn’t limited to Baldur’s Gate 3. Oh no! I’ve shamelessly exploited this tactic in other narrative-driven RPGs as well. Disco Elysium was not exempt from my relentless save-reload cycle. Why wait for another playthrough to explore different story options when I can just F5 my way through? Each reload gave me new insights into the characters and a deeper understanding of Revachol’s rich history. It’s like uncovering hidden secrets, peeling back the layers of the game’s world one save at a time.

Ironically, save scumming doesn’t take away from the thrill of pulling off something difficult. Just because I reload doesn’t mean I backtrack on my previous successes. Take Baldur’s Gate 3, for example. Yes, I shamelessly hit that F5 key in the House of Healing, and yes, I even discovered online that talking my way out of the confrontation was possible. But you know what? The battle that ensued was so satisfying, so beautifully chaotic, that there was no other way I could imagine moving forward. The save scumming didn’t diminish the sheer euphoria of nailing that play.

So here’s to save scumming, my fellow adventurers! Let us embrace the chaos, the reloads, and the countless retries. We may not be the most mature players, but we sure know how to have a good time. After all, who needs real-life consequences when you have a trusty F5 key at your disposal?

“I absolutely will not take accountability for my actions.”

“My time playing Baldur’s Gate 3 looks like this: Move my player character toward a quest point, have Shadowheart cast Guidance, hit F5 to save, then try the conversation. Other times I’ll take Astarion to a door, hit F5, then have him pick the lock. Who knows if there will be danger within?”

“I’ve always been an ardent believer in save scumming — that is, saving right before major decision points and restarting after an unfavorable outcome — through playing role-playing games. And after poring over the game’s subreddit, it’s become clear to me how many other Baldur’s Gate 3 fans approach the game in the same way. It’s key for undoing a bad-luck die roll, correcting a passive perception check, or redoing a battle with a bad outcome. But I’ve long save scummed through RPGs of all stripes — immersion be damned — and I’m finally ready to not only admit it, but advocate for it.”

“I’ll own up to it. I’ve always been a sore loser in games of luck; I typically prefer management or strategy games where I have more control over what happens. In RPGs especially, I meticulously plan party composition to be able to tackle a range of challenges. It absolutely grinds my gears anytime I fail a die roll that my character has proficiency in — like if Karlach fails to turn a wheel because she fails a strength check, or if Shadowheart fails to persuade a follower of Shar, or if my Druid character (with great nature and animal handling stats) fails to win over an Owlbear looking for refuge.”

“A more level-headed player might gracefully accept that being skilled at something doesn’t mean you always get the desired outcome. Of course we all have “bad days” where things don’t go our way, despite our talents. But I have not reached that level of maturity — if I designed my character to be proficient, then they better achieve their one goal (especially Astarion, a walking lock pick). I do not play games for their fidelity to real life. I play games to cause strategic chaos, and I will simply save and try time and time again until I get that outcome.”

“This has been a staple of the way I’ve played RPGs. I save scummed my way through stealing armor off guards in Skyrim and hit F5 before just about every pickpocket attempt — because I’m a thief, goddamnit, and it’s important for me to steal without repercussions. I did this throughout Disco Elysium, too, because I didn’t want to have to deal with Cuno hating me, for example (though it’s debatable whether that truly panned out). In Disco, it proved particularly useful, given the game’s extensive wardrobe and each clothing item’s passive debuff. Sometimes passing a conceptualization roll came down to wearing the right lounge jacket. Saving allowed me to reload, put on the right clothing, then try again.”

“But my tendency to save scum in narrative-driven RPGs is also about feeding my curiosity. I F5-ed my way through Disco Elysium to see what direction the story headed in, and to figure out if I’d like that one better. I could have waited to do another playthrough, to see other story options — but save scumming gave me more information about the game’s characters, and more dirt about Revachol’s history. I ended up spending more time in the game’s world, intent on turning over every stone to reveal its many secrets.”

“Ironically, it also makes me more confident in the plays to which I fully commit. Just because I saved doesn’t mean I go back to old files if I nailed a play — nor does it take away from the thrill of pulling off something difficult. Sure, I hit F5 in Baldur’s Gate 3’s House of Healing, and I even Googled and found out that you could talk your way out of the confrontation. But the way the battle shook out was so satisfying, I couldn’t imagine moving forward in any other way.”