This really happened.
I was at chapter 5, working my way through Baldur's Gate slowly but steadily. Tasting the game like wine, every now and then, advancing bit by bit. I had just arrived at Baldur's Gate, after five years of playing (!!!) I had a (not so) great and dysfunctional group without any healers for example. I was playing a Shadowdancer. It was fun, and then it was all gone.
Well. I guess the only choice was to start again (I made the girlfriend purchase me the whole Baldur's gate saga)
This is my third attempt to complete the game. My computer must have crashed when I was a teenager, but I remember also reaching Baldur's Gate back in the days.
This time I am trying to make it special, because I have no other choice. I am forty years old, and this needs to be done, so I can bury my past.
I thought about the race and class for 1 working day.
I rerolled for ages (93). Looked for a custom portrait for 3-5 hours ( finally found one)
I made a character with that roll. I invented a great name.
...And then I decided that I need to slightly change the character.
I rerolled another 2-4 hours (got 93) and made the following character:
Gnomish Fighter / Mage
I also modified the biography with the following addition:
Inspired by your foster father's loving tales, you have always dreamt of living the life of an adventurer, traveling the land by your wits and talents alone. The grounds of the keep were often the stage for many an imagined battle, much to the consternation of the monks that share your home. Companions your age being somewhat of a rarity, you endured by playing every role yourself, a habit that has stayed with you as you enter into adulthood. As Gorion used to advise you, "A little bit of everything makes a better soup."
You know little of how you came to be a ward of Gorion's, but over the years you have gleaned something of your mother's tale from his vague allusions and from the words he sometimes uttered in tear-filled sleep. She was a gnome from the Thunder Peaks region and a friend of his for many seasons. As you have no memory of her, nor any keepsakes to remind you of her existence, you have come to believe that she died while giving birth to you. Perhaps it was the pain of such a parting that led Gorion to cloister himself within the narrow halls of Candlekeep and raise you as his own. Of your father, you have learned nothing.
Without any official knowledge of your family or its backgrounds and achievements in the Gnomish culture, you have had to resort to improvisation, in order to anchor your identity as an able and mature rock Gnome.
As you have learned by books from the libraries of Candlekeep, Gnomes eventually adopt a surname of their own creation, that reflects their greatest achievements and victories in the realms.
Having not gone through gnomish engineering schools or rigorous arcane study (although you have a constant feeling of magical rush through your body, which you consider a normal side effect of being a Gnome), you have come to a conclusion, that by this far into life, your greatest invention must have been the oversized half-knot (which shouldn't be able to exist according to 'The Great Knot Compendium'), that even Imoen was not able to undo, regardless of her buttery fingers and mastery of the shadow arts. At one stage even Gorion tried to undo the knot with a 'knock' spell, but without success. "How curious?", and "This finally proves it.", was all He could utter with disbelief ridden eyes, when He walked away out of the stables.
Therefore you have decided to be known as Killian Halfknot. And now a new adventure waits you as the land around you is hammered by melancholy rain and darkened by distant clouds.
Any thoughts, questions, or words of encouragement ?
-and no I don't think I have it in me to make a "no reload" campaign.