I stopped playing at the third chapter and went for a new playtrough of ATOM.
I just couldn't stand the writing anymore.
This is the first game I contemplated killing most of my companions.
I think about killing the companions in most crpgs, ps:t is probably the only exception where I'd keep them along because I want to. BG1/2 you don't really have a choice since there's no merc system so you gotta pick some of them, at least unless you're a pro gamer. Cuckmaker and wrath of the cringefinder have pretty bad companions, but it's no worse than PoE or Tranny or Nu-men era. Well. Not much worse, anyway. DoS is probably the least offensive of recent ones, which all things considered is impressive. But even a game where one of your companions is a cringy talking squirrel knight riding a... what does he ride? A cat? Anyway, whatever it is, that bullshit is nothing compared to insanity like Aloth; an insane screeching faggot who immediately forces you into a combat encounter to keep him alive (much like the fox in cringefinder) and who anyone with more than two brain cells to rub together would kill on the spot or at least confine within an insane asylum (again, much like the fox). At least you could kill HEYAITSME on the spot, though she returned for the sequel regardless, but at least she had the dignity to wear her immortality belt and run off if she "died" during the laboratory section.
Sheila ("Sheila: A girl who is beautiful inside and out!") Seelah doesn't even do you that courtesy. If you manage to get her killed during the early section, the game ends in an immediate failstate and you have to reload. Her life is more important than the player character's. Why? Because she's there to stop you from killing the other two insufferable characters that are immediately forced upon you in the mere beginning of this cancerous unskippable on-rails bullshitsection! You wanna do an
"[Attack] Die!"? Beautiful Both Inside & Out Girl: "Nope!" And then you do your soul-sucked cuck face and go "ok honey", another little part of you dying another little silent death as you continue to pave the road to total disenfranchising demoralization through willing participation. And the you get on your knees and ask for more. You wouldn't want to be mistaken for one of those gross nerds who don't like the popular thing. Never. You will be popular, even if it costs you everything. And so you celebrate your unskippable on-rails sections and your insane faggoty purse-puppy companions, and you ask for more, and you stuff it all up your asshole until one day your corpse is found by two morgan freeman and bradd pitt expys in a grotetsque simulacra of the sin of gluttony, but done to yourself willingly and anally instead of forcibly and orally. Self-rape unto death: Modern-man achieved in perfection. Can't get more pozzed than that.
This is where we're heading, trust my words.
And it's all because of video games.