Oblivion Remastered: Worth Playing in 2025?

Ever wondered if a 19-year-old RPG can still hold its own in today’s world of flashy, high-octane games? With The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered hitting shelves this week, I dove into Tamriel’s green heart for the first time, curious if this classic could spark the same magic it did back in 2006. As a gamer who’s logged countless hours in Skyrim’s snowy peaks and Starfield’s cosmic sprawl, but never touched Bethesda’s earlier gems, I’m here to share whether Oblivion’s fresh coat of paint makes it a must-play—or a relic best left to nostalgia.

Right out of the gate, Oblivion throws you into a narrative that feels like it’s trying to sprint before it can walk. Picture this: you’re a prisoner, minding your own business in a dank cell, when suddenly the emperor—voiced by the legendary Patrick Stewart, no less—busts through a secret passage with his elite guards. Why? Because apparently, your jail cell is the only way out of the castle. Convenient? Sure. Believable? Not so much.

Minutes later, the emperor’s dying breath anoints you the chosen one, handing over the Amulet of Kings because he “saw something” in you. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer audacity of it all—zero to hero in under ten minutes. Compare that to Elden Ring’s slow-burn world-building or Baldur’s Gate 3’s nuanced introductions, and Oblivion’s opening feels like a fever dream. The tutorial’s goblin-and-rat-filled sewers didn’t help, dragging down the epic vibes with a mundane slog.

Still, there’s charm in the clunkiness. Patrick Stewart’s gravitas carries the early scenes, and the writing’s sharp, no-nonsense style keeps things moving. It’s dated, sure, but there’s a raw energy that modern RPGs sometimes overpolish.

Once you break free into Cyrodiil’s sprawling forests, Oblivion starts to flex its muscles. The remastered visuals pop—think vibrant greens, crisp shadows, and rain-slicked cobblestones that make every vista feel alive. My first night galloping through a storm on a (whoops, stolen) horse was pure atmosphere. I cranked the brightness just to soak in the remastered foliage swaying in the wind. It’s not Starfield’s ray-traced gloss, but it’s a love letter to 2006’s ambition.

The open world, though, is a mixed bag. The map’s fast-travel system, letting you zip to key locations without exploring, feels like cheating. Why trek through Bethesda’s painstakingly crafted wilderness when you can teleport? I resisted the urge, but after losing my horse (thanks, janky engine) and getting stuck in scenery near an Oblivion gate, I started to see why players might skip the hike. Modern games like Breath of the Wild reward exploration with secrets; Oblivion’s wilds, so far, feel emptier, with caves and shrines offering lackluster loot.

Where Oblivion shines is its lived-in towns. Strolling through Chorrol, I was struck by how every NPC has a voice, a greeting, even a quirky backstory. One alchemist casually asked about the local necrophilia fine—talk about world-building through weirdness! Rumors you overhear lead to side quests that feel organic, not tacked-on. Compared to Starfield’s sometimes sterile settlements, Oblivion’s cities buzz with personality.

Combat, though? It’s a letdown. My warrior-mage mows down enemies with basic spells and sword swings, no strategy required. Facing vampires or Daedra, I never felt pressed to think tactically, unlike the chess-like battles in Avowed or Dragon’s Dogma 2. Closing my first Oblivion gate, with its Doom-esque hellscapes, should’ve been epic, but the enemies just soaked damage and charged. At low levels, it’s too easy; I’m hoping the challenge ramps up.

So, does The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered hold up for a 2025 newcomer? It’s a tough call. The remaster’s visual glow-up and smoother performance (barring some bugs) make Cyrodiil a joy to wander, and the NPC depth lays a foundation modern RPGs still build on. But the dated combat, narrative shortcuts, and occasionally wonky tech scream “2006” louder than the remaster’s polish can hush.

If you’re a lore hound or love Skyrim’s roots, it’s worth a spin for the vibrant towns and side quests alone. But if you’re spoiled by 2025’s tactical depth and seamless engines, Oblivion might feel like a museum piece—beautiful, but creaky. Me? I’m sticking with it, if only to see if Cyrodiil’s charm outweighs its quirks.