Eleven years and counting after I graduated from high school, I still have a couple hundred books sitting in my parents’ house. Until I moved out of state, my childhood bedroom was basically a storage unit where I could keep old magazines, notebooks, toys, posters, clothes, and DVDs. My first full-time job after college was in the town I grew up in, so I often spent the night at their house if I didn’t feel like driving the 45 minutes back to my apartment after my shift ended at 11 pm.
Essentially, my parents’ house served the same purpose as my camp in Baldur’s Gate 3.
Baldur’s Gate 3 has an interesting approach to encumbrance. On the one hand, most characters in your party can’t carry much without getting weighed down (shout-out to Karlach, my party’s one exception). On the other hand, there is no limit on the amount of junk you can ship back to your camp, where it gets chucked into one of several chests scattered around the area. It’s a convenient mechanic that lets you take everything you want from an area, as long as you’re willing to sift through it all later. When my wife ran out of lockpicks recently, she ended up picking up locked chests and sending them back to camp so she could open them later. The game doesn’t have a problem with that. If it isn’t nailed down, it’s fair game.
This is how my parents’ house worked, too. It wasn’t where I kept anything that I needed immediately. When I was working that job, I kept my antidepressants, for example, in my car so that I would always have them no matter where I ended up staying the night. But stuff I might want at some point months or years down the line? Hell yeah. My Spider-Man 3 Blu-ray? That’s in my bedroom at my parents’ house. Lost: Via Domos for PS3? That’s in my parents’ basement. Scene It? Seinfeld. Stacked up with nine other Scene It? games in the closet where the Rock Band instruments all live.
The Scene-It? stack also included games themed to Disney, music, Turner Classic Movies, Star Trek, television, and several more.
In Baldur’s Gate 3, your camp holds items of equivalent or lesser value. The fifth torch I found while exploring the goblin dungeons? In a trunk somewhere at camp. A rotten hunk of Waterdhavian cheese? You better believe it’s sitting next to six other expired food items in a trunk of perished perishable goods. Because even the most worthless things have worth in Baldur’s Gate 3, and because there’s no limit to the amount you can keep in your assorted trunks, there’s no reason not to send everything (no matter how pointless or off putting) back to camp.
Now, I’m not keeping a sack of rotten tomatoes in my childhood bedroom. But, if we convert sentimental importance to monetary value, isn’t the Spin magazine with Eminem on the cover purchased at Detroit airport in August of 2010 roughly equivalent to a spoon I found in a decrepit house? Is my pen that I got in high school that could write in four different colors really more valuable than a bundle of rope that has no practical purpose?
No, but these things are important to me. I may not be able to sell them for much (or any) money, but they remind me of a time in my life. They aren’t treasured possessions, but they are things I’d rather not part with unless there’s a good reason. In Baldur’s Gate 3, that reason is gold. In real life, the reason will only come if my parents ever decide to move. If it isn’t clear from the fact that I still have an issue of Spin Magazine from 2010, I don’t like change. I hope that day never comes.
NEXT: Nobody Told Me You Could Do The Underdark And The Mountain Pass In Baldur’s Gate 3