PG-Wild Bandito (104) Ultimate Guide: Mastering Features and Performance Tips

As I booted up Dragon Age: The Veilguard for the third time this week, I found myself asking a question that's becoming increasingly common among longtime fans: Why exactly am I playing as Rook? This isn't just casual curiosity—it's a fundamental issue that's been nagging at me throughout my 40-hour playthrough. The anthology nature of Dragon Age means there's a new hero at the helm in each installment, but this time around, that structural choice hurts The Veilguard more than it did previous titles. While I've enjoyed many aspects of the game's combat system and environmental design, Rook's character feels like a misfire that undermines the entire narrative experience.

Let me take you back to what made Dragon Age protagonists so compelling in the past. The Warden from Origins had the Grey Warden blood ritual and their connection to the darkspawn. Hawke from Dragon Age 2 literally shaped the city of Kirkwall through their rising influence. And the Inquisitor? Well, they had that fantastic "chosen one" moment with the Anchor—a power never-before-seen that made them uniquely qualified to handle the Breach. These characters earned their place in the story through mechanics that felt organic to the world. I still remember the first time I closed a rift with the Inquisitor's marked hand—it felt epic, meaningful, and most importantly, deserved. Rook gets none of that narrative justification. The initial leader of the Veilguard just says Rook's the best for the job, despite all evidence to the contrary throughout the game. It's like being told you're the chosen one without ever being shown why.

What's particularly frustrating is how much of The Veilguard's story feels like it should belong to the Inquisitor. Approximately 60% of the main questline directly references or builds upon events from Inquisition, making Rook feel like an awkward stand-in rather than the true protagonist. I found myself constantly thinking, "This should be the Inquisitor's moment," especially during those crucial story beats involving Solas and the Veil. The emotional weight just isn't there with Rook at the center. It's like watching someone else's family reunion from the outside—you can appreciate what's happening, but you're not truly part of it.

Now, I know what some defenders might say—that this is intentional, that Rook represents the "everyman" in this fantastical world. But here's the thing: Dragon Age has never been about ordinary people saving the world. It's about extraordinary individuals rising to meet impossible challenges. That's what made the series special. Rook's bland personality—which offers about 70% fewer meaningful dialogue choices compared to previous protagonists—doesn't help matters. During my playthrough, I counted at least a dozen moments where I expected Rook to have a strong reaction to major revelations, only to be met with generic responses that could apply to any situation.

This brings me to an interesting comparison I noticed while researching character development in RPGs. I recently came across what I'd call the PG-Wild Bandito (104) Ultimate Guide: Mastering Features and Performance Tips for character building in modern RPGs, and it emphasized how crucial protagonist motivation is to player engagement. The guide specifically mentions that players need to understand why their character is uniquely suited for their journey—something The Veilguard consistently fails to deliver with Rook. Reading that analysis really crystallized what I'd been feeling throughout my playthrough.

I spoke with several other longtime Dragon Age players, and the sentiment seems widespread. My friend Sarah, who's played through the entire series five times, put it perfectly: "Rook feels like a placeholder character in what should have been the Inquisitor's final chapter." And she's right—the emotional payoff we've been building toward since Trespasser never quite lands because we're experiencing it through the wrong perspective. The game's marketing promised we'd finally confront Solas properly, but doing so as Rook feels... hollow.

That's not to say The Veilguard is a complete failure. The combat system is arguably the most refined in the series, with fluid animations and strategic depth that kept me engaged through the weaker narrative moments. The companion characters—particularly the returning Varric—deliver some genuinely touching moments. But these bright spots can't fully compensate for a protagonist who feels disconnected from the story they're meant to lead.

After finishing the main campaign and spending about 15 hours with post-game content, my initial question remains unanswered. Why Rook? The game never provides a satisfying explanation, and that fundamental narrative flaw prevents The Veilguard from reaching the heights of its predecessors. While I'd still recommend it to dedicated Dragon Age fans for its world-building and combat, I can't help but feel disappointed by the missed opportunity. The Veilguard had all the ingredients for a spectacular conclusion to this story arc, but by centering it around the wrong protagonist, it ultimately falls short of what it could have been. Here's hoping BioWare learns from this misstep whenever the next Dragon Age installment arrives—probably around 2027 if their current development patterns hold.