Battles are then seamlessly integrated into the exploration of the huge world, a vast region of Forgotten Realms composed of several interlocking maps – including the six-map wonder that is the eponymous city of Baldur's Gate – peppered with combat encounters of varying challenge levels.

While not strictly an open world, the way the maps interlocked with one another, and the fact that you could (mostly) freely explore them, made Baldur's Gate feel like one. There was an addictive feeling to mapping out the areas as you advanced and cleared the map's “fog of war”, and exploration was rewarded often, but not often enough to make it feel that anywhere you went there were “shinnies” waiting for you.

In fact, Baldur's Gate is often a masterclass on the art of using useless space. Many buildings are enterable, but have little of interest inside. Many maps are just odd stretches of forest with little more than a couple of enemy encounters. The world, then, exists because the world does not solely exist, as in many moderns games, as a playground for the player. This makes it feel more real, and makes it feel more meaningful on the rare occasions when you do find something unique and useful to you.

Dungeons are ever-present, of course, littered with traps, if unfortunately light on puzzles. Dragons are notoriously absent, due to a hard level cap (often modded out by min-maxing players) that would make such encounters near impossible in accordance to the AD&D rules. Other than that, the game's enemy variety has seldom been surpassed.

The AD&D ruleset also powers a rich character creation system, offering players a lot of freedom to craft their own, unique protagonist – later joined by a colourful cast of companions which would set the foundation for BioWare's character writing.