The World Wasn’t Ready for the Nuance of Dragon Age II’s Bisexuality

Anders is one of the most maligned characters in the beloved Dragon Age franchise—moreso than some of the cast’s other colorful characters, like the crass, deadbeat Oghren or Blackwall, who commits the cardinal sins of being both a liar and a bore. Unlike those two, Anders was intended to be a polarizing character, as his character arc, beginning in the Origins DLC Awakening and spanning the entirety of Dragon Age II, culminates in the game’s final showdown, and it’s all his fault.

That Anders’ pro-mage sentiments are destructive is undeniable. Whether those sentiments are warranted or not depends on your interpretation (though, importantly, I’m a filthy mage sympathizer and I agree with Anders right up until an unknown number of arguably innocent people died). Some people find his actions evil, full-stop, while others recognize that terrorism is in the eye of the beholder.

But this isn’t about that. This is about the other thing that people hate about Anders: that he’s bisexual.

For all the reasons that people think he’s bad bisexual representation, I happen to think he’s good. Not “good” as in moral, but “good” as in realistic, as in interesting, as in layered and textured and complicated, as I believe strong representation should be.

Already I can hear the protesters. “But he isn’t bisexual!” they say, and I cover my ears. “But he only expressed interest in women in Awakening,” they say, and I cannot hear them. “But—but—playersexuality,” they say, and I look lovingly on this stupid gif that I made to soothe myself every time I had to read another piece of bad bi discourse while researching this article:

I’m being flippant, but the arguments against Anders’ sexuality (and, to a lesser extent, the other companions) are there, have been there since the game was released in 2011. And, as we enter a new period of Dragon Age discourse, the articles about how whether the romances in the series—bi and/or playersexuality included—have already sprouted. Unlike in Origins, all the romanceable members of Dragon Age II‘s base game (that is, Merrill, Fenris, Isabella, and Anders) are romanceable by a male or female Hawke. David Gaider, former lead writer for the franchise, has cited a “cost-benefit compromise” alongside the infamous Dragon Age II time crunch as an explanation for why some characters were bisexual in early BioWare games. Most of these romances are the same regardless of what gender your Hawke is, with the notable exception of literal social Justice (haha) mage Anders.

In an early quest in Dragon Age II, Hawke accompanies Anders to find out what’s happened to his friend, Karl. As it turns out, Karl has been made Tranquil—a sort of magical lobotomy that severs a mage’s connection to the Fade, preventing them from becoming possessed by a spirit and potentially doing a bunch of unwitting violence. The group is attacked, and Anders himself seems to become possessed, fending off a group of Templars almost single-handedly before Karl, in a moment of lucidity, asks Anders to mercy kill him.

Anders does just that, and, in a chat afterward, he reveals that he himself is possessed by a spirit of Justice—that’s what came over him during the fight. Hawke can reply positively or negatively to this, or they can flirt, drawing a surprised response from him that varies depending on whether Hawke is a man or a woman.

If the flirting Hawke is a woman, Anders replies, “I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said,” and the conversation moves on. But if Hawke is a man, he says, “I’ve rarely met a man who says such things so openly. But you’re obviously a rare man.”

In a follow-up scene, two notable things happen. Whether Hawke is male or female, if they respond without aggression to Anders’ dialog, he’ll flirt with them—and he’s the only male character to do so without Hawke flirting first.

Even more importantly, provided Hawke wasn’t negative about his disclosure, Anders will tell a male Hawke (and only a male Hawke) that Karl wasn’t just a friend from the Circle—they were formerly together. If Hawke flirts first, he can ask “You… and Karl?,” to which Anders replies, “I’ve always believed people fall in love with a whole person, not just a body. Why would you shy away from loving someone just because they’re like you? Does it bother you that I’ve… been with men?” Hawke can say yes, it does bother him; choose “no,” as a flirt option; or say he’s never considered it. The latter response provokes a flirtatious response from Anders before the conversation returns to the main branch, accessible by Hawkes of any gender, about Anders’ anger toward the templars.

This conversation is the primary reason people question Anders’ bisexuality. Those questions come from a few different sources—it’s not just Anders’ responses to the flirtation, but also the fact that he only tells a male Hawke about his relationship with Karl, and thus his attraction to men. It is possible for a person playing a female Hawke to not know about Anders’ attraction to men at all.

Which, yes, isn’t my favorite decision. I’ve said as much before. Multiple times. I would love for bisexuality to not feel like a secret, even though it sometimes is in real life. As a bisexual person who plays bisexual characters, I would love the chance to talk to characters about the specific experience of being bisexual, but that’s an option only rarely afforded to me (shout out to Love Island: The Game, I guess?). I want Anders, who is outspoken and downright aggressive about his beliefs, to declare his love for Karl with his whole chest. But as I said then, and as I will expand upon now, I find that his reluctance adds interesting texture to his character rather than being a biphobic choice on the part of the writers.

To understand how his reluctance to talk about being bisexual can be a good thing, we’ll need to back up a bit. Anders first appeared in Awakening, the Origins DLC that followed the events of the main game. There, Anders was a wise-cracking, more upbeat person, with an iconic line of dialogue: “All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools.” Many players assumed that this meant he was straight; the specific reference to a pretty girl, coupled with both our real-world heteronormativity and Thedas’s own, suggested that “pretty girl” was an exclusive interest; according to Gaider, that assumption is incorrect.

While Dragon Age II‘s romantic interests may suggest that bi- or pansexuality is normative or at least normal in Thedas, the text itself says something different on numerous occasions. The most concrete source we have about sexuality in Thedas comes from a codex entry, written in-universe by a traveling scholar named Brother Genitivi, whose writings add depth to the world as the player experiences it. In “Sexuality in Thedas,” Genitivi writes:

…[D]espite the lack of open discussion on matters of human sexuality, there is commonality to be found on the subject in all Andrastian lands. Typically, one’s sexual habits are considered natural and separate from matters of procreation… [Even] a noble who has done their duty to the family might be allowed to pursue their own sexual interests without raising eyebrows.

 

The view on indulging lusts with a member of the same gender varies from land to land… In Ferelden, it is a matter of scandal if done indiscreetly but otherwise nothing noteworthy… Nowhere is it forbidden, and sex of any kind is only considered worthy of judgment when taken to awful excess or performed in the public eye.

Though Genitivi covers some prominent Thedas locations in this snippet, he does not cover Kirkwall, where the second game takes place, except as one of many “Andrastian lands.” In-game, Kirkwall is a melting pot of refugees and long-term residents with a brutal, bloody history of slavery, rebellion, and oppression. We can assume that homo- and bisexuality in Kirkwall are likely met with something similar to those places he does outline: It’s a “quirk of character” in some instances and a “scandal” in others, and may be “selfish and deviant” depending on the perpetrator. Messy, just like our real world.

To complicate things further, Dragon Age is one of many fantasy stories to use magic and fantastical species to stand in for real-world marginalization. Mages in Thedas are susceptible to possession thanks to their connection to the Fade, which grants them magical abilities. Possession, for many mages, ends in corruption—they can be taken over in body and spirit by their possessor, turning them into a dangerous “abomination” capable of tremendous death and destruction. Mages are therefore locked away in groups called Circles, which are run by the Chantry, the primary religious institution of Thedas. Circle mages train young mages for their Harrowing, a mysterious rite of passage that can end in death by Templar if they fail to resist the temptation of a demon. If a young mage doesn’t want to undergo their Harrowing (or if the Chantry or Circle deems them a problem), they can choose to be made Tranquil, instead—a fate (the fate given to Karl) that strips them of their magical ability as well as their emotion. (Other, non-Andrastian societies in Thedas have other ways of dealing with young mages.)

It’s a clumsy metaphor, as many such fantasy marginalizations are. Mages, unlike the average marginalized person in our world, are pushed to the margins of society and sequestered away not just because they are different, but because their existence endangers the average person because of possession. Like other mages in the series, Anders is marginalized because he is a mage; he is additionally marginalized because he isn’t straight.

We know that homophobia exists from both Dragon Age II and Inquisition. In II, Hawke’s horrible uncle Gamlen makes a number of disparaging remarks about Hawke’s partner if they’re of the same gender—of a male Hawke partnered with either Fenris or Anders, he says, “I guess I don’t have to ask which one of you’s the girl.” In Inquisition, Dorian’s personal quest centers on a sort of magical conversion therapy intended to get him to stop being gay and marry a woman for the sake of politics and breeding.

Again, homophobia exists. So, seemingly, does compulsory heterosexuality, which is the idea that heterosexuality is enforced on people in heteronormative populations (such as our own, or, arguably, the society of Thedas). Compulsory heterosexuality, coined by Adrienne Rich, is commonly associated with lesbians because of the Lesbian Masterdoc and because Rich herself was a lesbian (politically and sexually—which Rich defines as two different things on the same continuum). However, there is nothing in Rich’s piece that states outright that compulsory heterosexuality can apply only to women and lesbians, though that is the focus of her article. Compulsory heterosexuality can be said to affect people of all genders differently, but dissecting those differences is beyond the scope of Rich’s piece, let alone mine, which is about a fictional man possessed by a spirit who happens to want to kiss people regardless of their gender.

If Ferelden, where Anders was born and raised, is a place where same-gender desire is “a matter of scandal if done indiscreetly,” and Dorian experiences pressure from his family to marry a female partner and produce heirs, we can say that compulsory heterosexuality is present in Thedas.

If compulsory heterosexuality is present, it may very well be that Anders—whose most recent relationship was not only with a man but with a man made Tranquil, and with Anders himself being an apostate mage possessed by a spirit—is wary of confessing his same-gender attraction to a woman. He’s twice-marginalized, and possessed to boot. It makes sense that he’d be cagey with details that might lead to poor treatment; that’s why he doesn’t mention Justice until it’s absolutely necessary. Though the Fereldan Circle forbids making a mage who has passed their Harrowing Tranquil, there’s no such protection against death—especially because Anders is already possessed.

So, does Anders owe a female Hawke information about his previous relationships? What about his sexuality? Does his conditional disclosure make him not bisexual? If Anders were a real person, the answers here would be easy—bisexual people don’t owe you any information about their past relationships, they don’t have to disclose that they’re bisexual, and they’re bisexual regardless of who they’re currently partnered with. But things get tricky when we’re talking about a fictional character, especially one in a game like Dragon Age II, where all romanceable characters (aside from the DLC character Sebastian) are available to be romanced by Hawke regardless of their gender. It can feel like a character’s sexuality is dependent on the whims of the player—often called “playersexuality”—rather than being a character trait that exists beyond the player.

One of the issues with the “please everybody” approach to romance that people suggest is taking place with Anders is that companions always listen to the player character, an idea outlined well in “Commanding Shepard,” a video by Game Maker’s Toolkit. In it, the host discusses how in the Mass Effect series, your squad will never leave, even if they violently disagree with your actions. They’ll even still sleep with you. Personal disagreement almost never carries any weight, because they are there first and foremost to support the player and enhance their experience of the story. That’s not the case with Anders, whose commitment to the mage liberation cause cannot be swayed. There is no stopping him from attacking the Chantry; high relationship status, whether friendship or rivalry, only affects how much he tells Hawke in advance. His destructive course is set; his desires (and not just the romantic ones!) exist outside of Hawke’s.

Additionally, many people read the content they personally experience in a given playthrough as the “true” or “canon” content—in essence, if Anders does not voice his relationship with Karl to a female Hawke, that relationship did not have to happen within the canon of that playthrough. However, there are plenty of things that happen in Dragon Age that either aren’t revealed to the player or can be missed entirely, whether due to the player’s actions or the kind of character they play (such as a mage Hawke versus a warrior Hawke). Hawke’s siblings, Bethany and Carver, always exist, but which one of them dies is determined by Hawke’s class. The canonicity of their existence in one player’s world state versus another’s is not up for debate—it’s undeniable that Bethany or Carver are present in the playthrough, even if both can’t exist at the same time. The same is true of Anders’ relationship with Karl. The player can influence events that are present or future to a game’s protagonist, such as Anders’ ultimate fate or the fate of Bull’s Chargers in Inquisition, but cannot affect the past. The player may not be aware of Anders’ relationship with Karl, but it’s in the past—it happened, and cannot be changed.

One of the most appealing things to me about Anders’ character is precisely what makes him frustrating to many: that his point of view is so strong, his personality so clear, that the player can only have the mildest impact on it. Anders will always destroy the Chantry because Anders wants to destroy the Chantry. The fact that this choice is so distasteful to many players but happens regardless not only sets Anders apart from the characters discussed in “Commanding Shepard,” but also cements him as a true character with history and concrete beliefs rather than a person who responds positively to whatever the player wants. His personality and choices hold fast no matter how much the player disagrees with it. Likewise, Anders’ sexuality, the canonicity of his relationship with Karl, is the same whether the player knows about it or not. He just doesn’t tell Hawke about it if Hawke is a woman—perhaps he thinks he’s already stretched her tolerance for deviance with his admission that he’s possessed. Why risk confirming his relationship with Karl, too?

It is entirely possible that the differences in dialogue in Anders’ romance arcs stem not from trying to write a nuanced, complex relationship with a bisexual person, but rather an uneasiness with bi men. Some have suggested that Jennifer Hepler, who wrote much of Anders’ dialogue and story in Dragon Age II is biphobic and was afraid to write a romance between two men. However, in an interview on BioWare’s site, Hepler stated that she’d “received some nudges” to downplay the relationship between a male Hawke and Anders, but ultimately “decided that love and passion were human universals and [she] was going to write the male-male romance as romantically as the female one.” Given that Gaider, who wrote Anders in his debut in Awakening stated on Tumblr that Anders has always been bisexual (“pretty girl” or no), it seems less like Gaider, Hepler, and the other Dragon Age writers intended to write a strictly playersexual romance and more like they meant to showcase some of the complexities of bisexuality.

We can blame the fact that Anders doesn’t tell a female Hawke about Karl on a number of things. His own compulsory heterosexuality is one explanation. His experience of biphobia and the specific ways it manifests for bi men is another. It’s also simply easier to create romances that appeal to the player character specific to their anticipated gender—i.e., a male Hawke who flirts with Anders will have it confirmed that Anders likes men by his relationship with Karl, whereas a female Hawke doesn’t need to have that information.

We can say the latter is playersexuality, but I disagree—unlike something like Stardew Valley, Anders’ relationship with Hawke is different depending on their gender. Even if that’s not your preferred method of seeing a relationship with a bisexual person unfold, the truth is that some bisexual people, myself included, have feelings that do depend on a person’s gender. Attraction to multiple genders does not mean the same attraction to multiple genders.

Anders isn’t the perfect bisexual representation, which is precisely why I like him. “Perfect” bisexual representation often feels inauthentic to me—like any person of any sexuality, Anders is a complex, contradictory person whose experiences and preferences don’t map neatly onto any perfect ideal. Bisexuality doesn’t mean adherence to a specific set of acceptable guidelines, nor equal and identical attraction, but simply the capacity to be attracted to multiple genders. As Anders makes abundantly clear in his dialogue—”I’ve always believed people fall in love with a whole person, not just a body”—he does in fact have that capacity, whether players think it counts or not.