One blind co-op run. A hundred and eight hours. Every companion, every romance, and every choice made together.
Two creators said yes to a blind first co-op run of Baldur's Gate 3, no guide, no spoilers, two custom heroes and one shared party. A hundred and forty episodes and a hundred and ten hours later, across seventeen stream days, they had recruited every companion, romanced the ones they chose, and made every single choice together. This is not a story about optimizing a CRPG. It is a story about two people deciding, over and over, to save everyone they possibly could.
Baldur's Gate 3 was the first epic, the run that proved these two could carry a hundred-hour RPG and still be laughing at hour ninety. Everything the channel became, the Elden Ring climb, the studio behind yourgibs.com, started here, with a tadpole in each eye and a boulder they insisted on playing with.
It opens before either hero has a name: Gibs building a half-elf monk he keeps comparing to a guy named Chad, Flaut fussing over horns and freckles for a Tiefling bard. Then a mind flayer ship plants a worm in each of their eyes and the real trouble begins. They adopt the intellect devourer, bluff their way past a goblin warband, and start the habit that defines the whole run: pick up every stray, save every animal, talk to every crab. The marquee beats are earned the messy way, a barrel-bomb that levels a goblin camp, a hag outsmarted, a druid grove pulled back from the brink.
"I am not a monk. I am a poser monk."
By the act's close they have a full party, a favorite tiefling or two, and a body count of reloaded saves they would rather not discuss. The tadpole in the eye is still ticking.
The Shadow-Cursed Lands turn the tone up. A whole zone that kills you in the dark, a cult fortress at its center, and the goddess-daughter at the heart of it. Flaut's bard flirts with a githyanki by trying to break her ribs. Astarion's past comes knocking. The single most-debated decision of the run lands here, the fate of the Nightsong, and the pair make the call that will echo into the last act.
"Bruise me so you might possess me."
Act II ends the way the game intends: with a tyrant, a tentacle, and a mind flayer colony, and the Emperor stepping out of the shadows to change everything the party thought it knew.
Baldur's Gate is where the run becomes a hundred small mercies stacked into a war. A steel-golem foundry full of enslaved workers. A vampire lord and seven thousand souls. A murder cult, a clown in pieces, a House of Hope with an operatic devil who turns his own boss fight into a musical. Minsc and his miniature giant space hamster join the party. The Emperor is not who he says he is. And every big fork, ascend a friend or free him, free a prince or trust an ally, is made out loud, together, on stream.
"So they were definitely roommates, right?"
It ends at the summit of a falling brain, a hundred and eight hours from a nautiloid crash, with the whole city saved and the goodbyes beginning. Lae'zel, Karlach, Gale, every one of them carried to an ending the pair chose on purpose. Withers has the last word, and it is a benediction.
This is where it all started. Two people who had never carried a hundred-hour RPG blind said yes anyway, made a hundred and forty-five choices out loud, and saved everyone they could reach. The receipts are all in.
The record does not read like an ending. It reads: we did it, and then we did Elden Ring.
Every on-screen choice the pair made, episode by episode, from adopting a brain-worm to commanding the Netherbrain. This is the EVERY CHOICE run, counted.
Gold marks are the pivotal story forks. Hover the line to read the count at any episode.