Playing Baldur's Gate 3 as Santa Claus: My Surprisingly Wholesome Holiday Run

Okay, so a few weeks back, I was in one of those moods. You know the one. It's 2026, the holiday season is upon us, and I'm scrolling through my Steam library like a kid staring into an empty fridge. Where are all the good Christmas games? Seriously! It's either jigsaw puzzle shovelware that looks like it was coded by a depressed elf, or... well, let's not even get into the weird anime stuff. I needed something with substance, something that could capture that festive spirit without making me want to yeet my PC out the window. So, I did what any rational, slightly unhinged gamer would do: I fired up Baldur's Gate 3 and decided to play through the entire epic, tadpole-infested saga as Santa Claus himself. Not ironically. I'm a genuine Christmas enjoyer, and this was my gift to myself.

Making Santa Is Harder Than I Thought 🎅

Let me tell you, creating the perfect Santa in the character creator was like trying to bake a gingerbread house in a hurricane. It should be simple, right? Jolly old man, red suit, white beard. But the game's options had me questioning everything I knew about the man. The classic, plump Thomas Nast Santa? The gaunt, child-resurrecting Saint Nicholas of ancient Turkey? (Look it up, it's a wild ride). I was lost.

My first thought was 'He's a jolly old elf!' But elves in BG3 can't grow proper beards. Humans just looked like random skinny dudes who discovered a bottle of Just For Men. I wasn't going for 'Grandpa's slightly confused poker buddy.' A dwarf Santa looked like an Incredible Hulk who discovered eggnog—way too angry. Gnomes? Creepy. Always creepy. In the end, I landed on Halfling. Santa, I decided, is like Wolverine: short, stocky, and deceptively powerful. A festive little tank.

For class, I went Warlock. Partly because the default outfit is a snazzy red robe (less work for me!), but mostly for the roleplay potential. High Charisma for spreading cheer? Check. Folk Hero background because he's, you know, a hero of the people? Check. But the real kicker was the Devil's Sight invocation. Now he can literally see you when you're sleeping and know when you're awake... within a 24-meter radius. Perfect. I themed his spells around winter and punishment: Ray of Frost to give naughty NPCs a chill, and Hellish Rebuke—my personal 'coal in your stocking' reaction for anyone who dares strike the big man. I spent way too long on this build, and you're either learning about it here or reading my obituary that says 'died as he lived: overthinking a Santa Claus D&D build.'

A Brief, Terrible Detour Into Krampus Territory 😈

Here's where things went off the rails. The opening nautiloid sequence in BG3 is a bit of a slog on repeat playthroughs. While waiting for my freedom, I got bored, saved my Santa game, and had a 'brilliant' idea: What about his anti-claus? I'm not usually a Krampus guy—he always felt like a holiday villain someone tacked on last minute—but the urge struck. I started a brand new game as the Dark Urge, re-skinned as Krampus. Green skin, red eyes (very Christmas!), a Monk for brutal, hands-on punishment. I was going to be pure, unadulterated evil. A holiday horror story.

And it started... predictably awful. There's an early Dark Urge moment that lets you do something truly heinous to a major NPC. I did it. I took the... souvenir... and kept it in my pocket, thinking, 'Yeah, this is peak Krampus energy.' But then I met Astarion. Even in our first conversation, his vampire sass made my Christmas Goth act feel about as cool as a melted candy cane. He essentially called me a try-hard edgelord. I felt seen, and not in a good way. I noped out of that save file faster than you can say 'lump of coal.' Back to the jolly save it was.

Why Santa Is The Ultimate BG3 Experience 🎄

And so, I returned to my true calling: being the Santa Claus. And folks, it's been magical. It's more fun than finding the last slice of fruitcake you actually want to eat. Astarion, with his pale complexion and penchant for lurking in shadows, has been ironically cast as my Christmas elf. We're partners in crime, but the crime is reverse pickpocketing. We sneak into homes and leave behind a little extra gold, a nice mug, or a candlestick in people's drawers. We're spreading cheer, one stealth check at a time.

My Santa is giving, loving, and maybe a tad naive. I took the Sleep spell because, of course, Santa needs to help the children (and occasionally guards) get their rest. The party's reactions are priceless. Lae'zel, of all people, seems vaguely amused by the whole endeavor, while Shadowheart just side-eyes me constantly. Everyone treats Santa like he's a bit simple, which is EXACTLY what happens in every Christmas movie! The hero is always seen as a fool for believing in joy until he's proven right.

Playing this way has reframed the entire game. I want to face the Absolute with a cup of mulled wine and peppermint cheer. I want to let a devil like Raphael think he's getting the better deal in a contract—because that's just how generous Santa is! Sure, I've made some... questionable decisions. Being a hero in Faerûn is messy. Some people have died due to my mistakes, a burden I carry like a sack of slightly dented toys. But that's the journey.

Will I finish this run by Christmas? Probably not. But that's okay. The point is the spirit. In a game about brain-eating alien parasites, choosing to be a force of festive generosity is the most powerful rebellion of all. The real mind worm isn't the Illithid tadpole—it's the holiday spirit, and I'm here to infect everyone in the Sword Coast with it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some presents to deliver (via Astarion's sneak attacks) and some naughty list updates to make (via Eldritch Blast). Ho ho ho!