When BioWare announced Mass Effect 5, I realized I had somehow missed the original series entirely. As a long-time fan of BioWare’s Dragon Age games (which I’ve also reviewed here at Bi.org), I knew I had to finally dive into their other flagship RPG franchise. Over the past several months, I played through the first four entries: the original Mass Effect trilogy (2007–2012, remastered in the Legendary Edition in 2021) and Mass Effect: Andromeda (2017).
I came to the series with high expectations. I love role-playing games, but I’m usually less drawn to shooters, and the Mass Effect games famously combine both genres. To my surprise, I quickly found myself enjoying not only the traditional RPG elements I’d expected from BioWare, but also the third-person shooting mechanics, which felt exciting, strategic, and rewarding once I got into the flow.
Going in, I also knew that Mass Effect had a reputation for LGBT inclusion, especially bisexual representation. It’s often cited as one of the most bisexual-friendly video game franchises in the industry, with both the player character and a number of major companions written as bisexual. But playing the games for the first time gave me a new appreciation for just how thoroughly this representation is woven into the series’ worldbuilding and storytelling.
What I Liked
Playing Mass Effect today feels a bit like reading a classic novel for the first time, something whose influence you’ve felt everywhere but only now get to experience firsthand. Even though I hadn’t played the series when it first came out, the moment I started, I understood why it became one of the defining franchises in gaming. Coming to it after Dragon Age: The Veilguard, which I’d recently finished and enjoyed, Mass Effect felt like revisiting BioWare’s golden age of storytelling.
In the context of the modern video game industry, Mass Effect’s approach to LGBT inclusion feels refreshingly natural. Characters have full personalities, histories, and moral complexities, and their sexuality is a part of that without it being their defining trait. Conversations about sexuality never feel preachy or self-conscious; they simply flow from who the characters are. That subtlety makes the representation stronger, not weaker, because it feels honest.
The bisexual characters, in particular, are richly developed. Commander Shepard, the player character, can form relationships with men or women, reflecting the series’ respect for player identity and choice. Liara T’Soni, the asari scientist and Prothean expert, brings a balance of intellect, innocence, and emotional depth. Kaidan Alenko, a disciplined Alliance officer with biotic abilities, grounds his strength in compassion and integrity. Kelly Chambers, the Normandy’s yeoman, provides warmth and levity amid constant danger. Diana Allers, a war correspondent, adds a perspective from outside the chain of command. Morinth, the seductive and deadly asari outcast, subverts the romance trope entirely, offering a glimpse of danger rather than love.
In Andromeda, the bisexual roster expands even further. Scott and Sara Ryder, the twin protagonists, both have diverse relationship options that feel organic to the world. Peebee, an impulsive and curious asari explorer, steals nearly every scene she’s in. Jaal Ama Darav, a sensitive and philosophical angaran, challenges stereotypes about alien masculinity. Vetra Nyx, a pragmatic turian smuggler, blends toughness with loyalty. Reyes Vidal, a roguish opportunist, complicates the line between ally and adversary, and in my view, steals the show as one of the best-written and most enjoyable romances in the series. Keri T’Vessa, a turian journalist, shows that attraction can coexist with moral and professional tension.
What I especially appreciated was that not every character in Mass Effect is bisexual. Some are straight, some are gay, and that variety makes the world feel more believable. In some games, developers take “player choice” so far that it undermines realism by making nearly every character romanceable. But Mass Effect respects limits. The bisexual characters stand out because their sexuality fits naturally within their stories rather than serving as fan service.
Of course, representation alone isn’t enough to make a series great; it only matters if the games themselves are worth playing. Thankfully, the Mass Effect trilogy and Andromeda absolutely are. Playing the same protagonist through three interconnected stories, where decisions carry over and shape future outcomes, creates a sense of continuity few games can match. The writing is sharp, the worldbuilding is vast and intricate, and the relationships feel alive. Even now, Mass Effect 3 stands out as one of the most intense and emotionally rewarding experiences I’ve ever had in gaming. Its story of a galaxy at war, fighting for survival against impossible odds, still hits hard years later.
While Andromeda is generally regarded by fans and critics as a weaker entry compared to the original trilogy, there are aspects of it that I personally enjoyed a lot. As a huge fan of sandbox games, I found its open-world exploration deeply satisfying. I’ve even recommended it to my wife, who also loves sandboxes, since we both enjoyed Dragon Age: Inquisition for that same reason. Andromeda is easily the closest to Inquisition in structure and spirit, and while its story and writing are less memorable, the freedom to explore and the improved combat mechanics make it well worth playing for anyone who loves open-ended gameplay. I also found the premise itself clever and even darkly funny: a privately funded set of arks, marketed to wealthy passengers as an elite opportunity to start new lives in Andromeda, waking in a new galaxy to disaster and danger. The fact that the leadership delays reviving the paying colonists until the immediate crisis is under control adds a layer of biting satire. It’s a sharp twist that elevates the worldbuilding beyond standard sci-fi fare.
What I Didn’t Like
Apart from the technical issues that come with playing older games, I really can’t say much of anything negative about the original Mass Effect trilogy. It is, simply put, a masterpiece. The storytelling, pacing, and emotional arcs are so cohesive that even its rougher edges add to its charm rather than detract from it.
Andromeda, which I still recommend playing, does occasionally suffer from representation that feels slightly cringey or preachy. It came out near the beginning of that “woke” period in gaming, and it shows, though not nearly as much as in later titles like Dragon Age: The Veilguard. The difference is one of degree. Where Veilguard sometimes over-explains its inclusivity to the player, Andromeda mostly lets it breathe naturally, with only a few moments that feel forced.
And while I loved the Reyes Vidal character, perhaps especially because I loved him so much, I, like many fans, was disappointed that there wasn’t more of him. Because he isn’t part of your crew, his chapter of the story feels too brief, and you don’t get to develop that relationship further in any meaningful way. That sense of unfinished potential captures what I see as Andromeda’s larger issue: it’s better than 90 percent of games out there, but it isn’t a 99-percenter like the original trilogy. It’s a great game, just not an all-time great.
There’s also one lingering detail from the earlier series that’s worth mentioning. In the original release, Kaidan Alenko wasn’t portrayed as bisexual until Mass Effect 3. Not having a bi male character other than Shepard himself, if the player chose a male version, was a missed opportunity. That said, I don’t necessarily see Kaidan’s later portrayal as a retcon so much as a reflection of something real: sexual fluidity. People’s sexuality and their sense of it can evolve over time, and Kaidan’s change fits within that framework. Still, it’s fair to note that earlier games in the series showed more caution, likely reflecting the cultural biphobia toward bi men that was more pronounced at the time.
And of course, Mass Effect, more than Dragon Age, was built for a slightly more male audience. The combination of sci-fi and shooter mechanics made it feel more macho, which was part of its brand. But nowadays, I think people better understand that there’s nothing about being bisexual, or even gay, that makes someone any less masculine or heroic.
The Rating
I’m giving the Mass Effect franchise four unicorns, the top score on the scale. Even Andromeda, despite its occasional cringe in representation, still earns four unicorns in my book when judged against the average game. That’s because the sheer number, diversity, and consistent quality of its bisexual characters remains impressive, especially for a major sci-fi series that helped set the standard for inclusive storytelling in AAA gaming.
What stands out, throughout both the trilogy and Andromeda, is that bisexual characters are not written as paragons nor villains. They’re flawed, messy, struggling, and growing, just like the rest of the cast. Even the darker or antagonistic characters carry complexity and (in some instances) sympathetic dimensions. That level of nuance is what pushes the franchise to the top of the Unicorn Scale.
The impact of having major bisexual representation in one of the most critically acclaimed, widely played, and beloved video game series cannot be overstated. For many players, seeing themselves in these stories matters. Mass Effect doesn’t just allow that, it elevates it.
I’m excited to experience and evaluate Mass Effect 5 when it arrives. If it carries forward this level of inclusion while pushing narrative, mechanics, and worldbuilding even further, I expect it might raise the bar again. But for now, the franchise has earned its place as a benchmark for bisexual inclusion in gaming.