TL;DR: Oblivion Remastered is everything it should be: a gorgeous, faithful reimagining that keeps the heart, soul, and jank of the original intact. Performance hiccups aside, this is how you honor a classic.

The Year is 2006 (Again)

There are some moments in your gaming life that tattoo themselves into your neurons forever. Escaping the Imperial Prison in The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion is one of mine. I was 15, hunched in front of a too-small CRT TV, controller cable stretched taut, feeling like I had just been handed the keys to an entire living, breathing world. No hand-holding. No glowing quest markers. Just “figure it out, kid.”

So when Bethesda “shadow dropped” Oblivion Remastered in April 2025, my heart did that dangerous little skip it hasn’t dared attempt since Mass Effect Legendary Edition was announced. But my brain? It tightened its tie, sighed heavily, and reminded me: “Remasters usually suck now.”

Good lord, am I happy to say my brain was dead wrong.

From the moment I watched Uriel Septim bleed out onto the cold stone floor again, it was like stepping into a lucid dream. Everything looked different — impossibly sharp, dressed in an Unreal Engine 5 glow-up — but everything feltexactly the same.

Home, sweet Cyrodiil.

The Jank Is The Point

Modern game remasters often make a critical, soul-crushing mistake: they polish away the weirdness. They sand down the edges until the “new” version is just a hollow wax museum replica of what we loved.

Oblivion Remastered flips that philosophy the biggest double bird it can muster. The jank is not only here; it’s thriving. Frame drops during big fights? Check. Auto-save mini-freezes? Delicious. Game-crashing bug after an Oblivion Gate? Perfect.

If this sounds like a backhanded compliment, it isn’t. Oblivion’s barely-holding-together weirdness was part of the magicin 2006. It felt unpredictable, alive. In an era when AAA games are clinically focus-tested to death, Oblivion’s willingness to collapse under its own ambition feels…refreshing.

Of course, if you’re new here, you might not find “random crash to dashboard” quite as charming as I do. That’s fair. Nostalgia is a powerful armor against frustration. But for the faithful — for those of us who survived the original’s quirks — it’s like a warm hug from a chaotic old friend.

Welcome to Cyrodiil (Now with Ray-Traced Mudcrabs)

It’s incredible what twenty years of tech advancement can do for a game world. Cyrodiil’s rolling hills, dark forests, and ancient ruins have never looked better.

The lighting has been a slight point of contention among diehard fans. The original Oblivion’s world was drenched in color and bloom lighting to an almost comical degree. Oblivion Remastered reins it in a bit — perhaps too much for some tastes. Personally, I found the new aesthetic slightly less “fairy tale painting” and more “gorgeous fantasy novel cover.”

Textures, models, and particle effects are lovingly redone without losing the oddball charm. Even in 4K, you can still spot an NPC with a face that looks like it was sculpted in MS Paint — because that’s Cyrodiil, baby.

Is it perfect? No. Some NPC redesigns stumble into the uncanny valley (Adoring Fan, my sweet summer child, what have they done to you?). But when you’re staring at an aurora-filled sky over Bruma, or watching the sunrise over the Gold Coast, you won’t care.

You’ll be too busy being 15 again.

Tommy Wiseau, Hero of Kvatch

Naturally, my first Oblivion Remastered character wasn’t some stoic knight or dark elf assassin. It was Tommy Wiseau, lovingly recreated in Cyrodiil’s janky character creator.

And seeing “Thomas of Wiseau” fumble through the sewers, asking every NPC “Oh hi, Mark!” in my head? Reader, it healed something inside me.

Oblivion’s character creator remains the wild, nightmarish playground it always was — stretched faces, insane sliders, bizarre color palettes. No sterile “realism” here. You want a lizard-man with pink scales and a six-foot forehead? Go for it.

The game invites absurdity. It revels in it.

A Combat Tune-Up That Doesn’t Break the Game

One of my biggest fears was that Virtuos Studios (co-developer with Bethesda) would “modernize” combat too much. I didn’t want Skyrim 2.0.

Instead, what we got is a masterclass in restraint. Sword swings have a little more weight now. Magic feels more tactile. Movement is smoother. But it’s still undeniably Oblivion.

Yes, level scaling remains — love it or hate it. (I personally love running into a Highwayman at level 30 who’s suddenly decked out in glass armor.)

Traversal, too, feels better. The awkward old jumping physics are blessedly intact — meaning yes, you can still bunny-hop your way up mountains like a caffeinated mountain goat.

However, first-person horse riding is mysteriously absent. It’s…weird. You’d think with modern animation tech, they’d nail it. But I guess it’s one sacrifice on the altar of “this thing needed to release, like, yesterday.”

Faithfulness Over Flashiness

In a gaming landscape where “remaster” often means “half-baked cash grab,” Oblivion Remastered feels almost scandalous in its sincerity.

This isn’t a “director’s cut” where they rework lore or add in gritty, self-serious side quests. The famously goofy, charming tone of the original is untouched. The bad voice acting is still bad. The weird physics glitches still make you rocket into the sky sometimes.

The Shivering Isles and Knights of the Nine expansions are lovingly preserved as well. (No spoilers, but if you’ve never met Sheogorath, prepare to meet one of gaming’s greatest characters.)

This is not a “better” version of Oblivion. It’s the same soul, in a prettier body. And in 2025, that’s a radical act.

Bugs, Crashes, and (Hopefully) Patches

To be clear: the launch version has issues. Big ones.

I’ve crashed a half-dozen times, hard-locked my PS5 twice, and had some truly glorious animation bugs. (Shoutout to the guard who T-posed into the stratosphere mid-fight.)

Bethesda has promised patches. I believe them. But even if no patches came? I’d still be here, picking Nirnroots and closing Oblivion Gates like it’s 2006 all over again.

A Love Letter to the Past

Nostalgia is a tricky beast. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking things were better “back then.”

But Oblivion Remastered isn’t great just because it reminds me of being 15. It’s great because it respects the reasons why 15-year-old me fell in love with it in the first place: freedom, wonder, chaos, imperfection.

It’s rare to get a remaster that doesn’t feel like it’s apologizing for its own existence. This one feels like a thank you note from the developers — not just to the fans, but to their own younger selves.

In a world of increasingly corporate, sterile remasters, Oblivion Remastered feels like a miracle. A buggy, hilarious, beautiful miracle.

Final Verdict

The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered isn’t perfect. It’s not supposed to be. It’s a faithful, heartfelt celebration of one of gaming’s greatest adventures — flaws, bugs, and all. Whether you’re a veteran or a first-timer, Cyrodiil awaits you with open, slightly glitchy arms. Don’t miss it.