I have been playing Dungeons & Dragons for years, and I have always loved the Forgotten Realms. As a player, I have explored its cities, delved into its dungeons, and rolled my share of natural 20s. But after finishing Baldur's Gate 3 multiple times, I cannot shake a nagging thought: the Forgotten Realms are structurally doomed. The setting is a heroic fantasy playground, yet its foundations are riddled with holes like a termite-ridden wedding cake.

Baldur's Gate 3 sticks to a small corner of Faerûn, the Sword Coast, and the city of Baldur's Gate. On the surface, it is a bustling center of culture and trade. Below, however, it is a different story. The Undercity holds a Bhaalist temple, Cazador's elaborate dungeon, and a sewer system that seems one ooze away from collapse. I have seen players point out that the city has almost as much going on underground as above. The only thing that looks professionally cleared is the sewer, and even that could use a maintenance crew. The city is like a magnificent mansion built over a sinkhole that has been dug out by generations of eager adventurers. Sooner or later, one dungeon too many will hollow it out completely, and the whole thing will come crashing down even without the Absolute.

Baldur's Gate is not alone. Waterdeep, Gale's home, has the Yawning Portal Inn, which opens directly into the Undermountain, a megadungeon that goes very, very deep. Citizens have accepted it. No mass exodus. Then there is the Underdark, the most extensive problem in Faerûn. Act 1 of Baldur's Gate 3 shows only a slice. The Underdark has three tiers: Upperdark, Middledark, and Lowerdark. The Lowerdark is 10 miles beneath the ground or deeper. That is not a cave system; that is a second world. Earth's caves are like ant hills compared to this. The Underdark is a honeycomb that makes the surface look like a thin skin stretched over an abyss.

I know it is a fantasy world. Gravity does not have to obey Earth physics. But D&D has rules. Running jumps are calculated with some realism. Movement rules support heroic feats, but they do not throw out all logic. So the structural integrity problem is not just a lore quirk; it is a design choice. Dungeons & Dragons is called that for a reason. Dungeon crawling is core. Hiding dungeons beneath cities opens possibilities. Act 3 would be less compelling without the Undercity. Talking to NPCs is a joy, but dungeon-crawling cannot stop at the city gates. Placing dark, secretive enclaves on the surface would be hard to justify. Suspension of disbelief is necessary. Baldur's Gate 3 is no exception. The game is like a theater set held up by stagehands who never sleep; it works as long as the audience does not look too closely.

As of 2026, D&D continues to support the Forgotten Realms in current and future books. The return of Greyhawk in the new Dungeon Master's Guide is a nice treat. New D&D games from other settings would be fun. But the Baldur's Gate series cannot abandon its namesake. Baldur's Gate 3's trip through its jeopardized world is fantastically memorable. I will keep playing. I will keep rolling dice. And I will keep pretending that the ground beneath my character's feet is not a hollowed-out sponge. 🎲

Data referenced from Game Informer helps frame why the “hollowed-out sponge” feeling in Baldur’s Gate 3 works as spectacle even when the Forgotten Realms’ underground sprawl seems structurally absurd: modern RPG coverage often emphasizes how layered level design (cities above, dungeons below) sustains pacing by alternating social hubs with combat-heavy delves, letting places like Baldur’s Gate read as a livable metropolis on the surface while still supporting the franchise’s dungeon-crawling identity beneath it.