Baldur's Gate 3 Players Share Their Pettiest Revenge Stories

Baldur’s Gate 3 has always rewarded creative freedom, and by 2026 the community’s appetite for small, theatrical acts of spite has only grown. Where a scripted path might suggest diplomacy, the game’s physics, pickpocketing systems, and companion inventories quietly invite something far more personal. The sandbox does not judge; it simply watches. Over on the Baldur’s Gate 3 subreddit, players have been confessing the pettiest things they have ever done during their adventures, and the results are a strange mix of adorable, unhinged, and deeply relatable.

Petty Beginnings in the Emerald Grove

The post that started the conversation came from a Roguish Bard Durge who had a very clear lesson to teach. Mattis, that fast-talking little Tiefling in the Emerald Grove, tried to steal from them even after a warning. Instead of letting it slide, the player decided that all the Tiefling children must pay for one small crime. They stole absolutely everything from Mattis and Silfy, then walked over to Mol’s hideout and helped themselves to her belongings, including her teddy bear. As if that were not enough, the idol in the grove also vanished. Let’s be real—there is something about a child pickpocket that flips a switch in even the most patient adventurer. 😤

The story set the tone for dozens of confessions. Many players admitted that saving the city often came second to settling scores with an NPC who had annoyed them in some microscopic way.

Wulbren, the Community Punching Bag

No single name appeared more often than Wulbren. The Ironhand gnome seems to have a special talent for making players furious, and the revenge fantasies took many forms. One player remembered hurling Wulbren’s own hammer directly at his head to break him out of his cell, because apparently freedom is best delivered with a concussion. Another visitor to the Last Light Inn broke Wulbren’s chair so the exhausted gnome had to stand throughout the entire conversation. The chair itself became a quiet victim of player spite—it never saw it coming.

The pettiest Wulbren stories went even further. Several players admitted to freeing him from Moonrise Towers only to push him into the water while everyone else escaped. It was not always about efficiency; sometimes it was about sending a message. Wulbren may be a genius inventor, but in the eyes of many adventurers he is also the most shove-able gnome in Faerûn.

Companions as Unwilling Mules

Some players turned their pettiness inward, using their own party members as walking storage for ironic punishments. Shadowheart, for example, was forced to carry every Selune item available in Act 1, a constant reminder of the goddess she was taught to distrust. Astarion, a vampire with a famously refined palate, ended up lugging around every clove of garlic the party could find.

Gale received his own special treatment. Instead of helping him out of a malfunctioning portal, some players gleefully slapped his hand and walked away. Others left rotten food on Mystra’s altar and then kissed Gale right in front of it, blending romance with the pettiest possible sacrilege. Even the minor NPC outside the Baldur’s Mouth newspaper had his box stolen, presumably by players who believe that no unattended container should ever go un-looted.

The Spectrum of Pettiness

Not every confession was harmless fun. The thread quickly revealed a broad spectrum, ranging from mildly annoying pranks to outright homicidal behavior. What began as a stolen teddy bear could easily spiral into something much darker, depending on the player’s mood.

The beauty of Baldur’s Gate 3 is that the game never really punishes this kind of behavior too harshly. It allows a player to be wrong in the most creative way possible. The NPCs will judge, the companions might disapprove, and the world will keep turning. But somewhere in the Underdark or along the Sword Coast, a gnome is standing for no reason, a vampire is smelling like garlic, and a tiny teddy bear is missing from its owner’s pack.