Look, I’ve seen some wild stuff in my years covering gaming, but nothing quite prepared me for what I witnessed scrolling through the Oblivion Remastered subreddit yesterday. A Reddit user named “Bottlecap_riches” has officially broken the laws of physics, common sense, and probably several animal cruelty statutes with what they’re calling a “Pegasus spell.” And honestly? I’m not even mad about it.
So here’s the deal: this absolute madlad decided that regular horse transportation in Cyrodiil was apparently too slow and boring. Because why would you want your trusty steed to actually, you know, survive the journey? Instead, our intrepid wizard crafted a spell that combines 100 boost to speed, 100 boost to acrobatics, and—here’s the kicker—100 weakness to magic. The result? A chestnut horse that becomes a furry missile with zero regard for landing procedures.
The spell works exactly as advertised, which is to say it works terrifyingly well. The poor horse launches into the sky like it’s auditioning for the next Fast and Furious movie, soaring over trees, mountains, and probably several confused NPCs who are wondering why there’s a horse-shaped shadow passing overhead at Mach 2.
Now, you might be thinking, “Surely this brilliant spell includes some kind of soft landing mechanism?” Oh, sweet summer child, you clearly haven’t been paying attention to how Bethesda games handle physics. The horse does indeed fly—gloriously, majestically, like a majestic winged creature from mythology. The landing, however, is more “lawn dart” than “graceful pegasus touching down.”
As Bottlecap_riches so eloquently puts it: “He flew, he just couldn’t handle the landing…” No kidding, sherlock. Turns out acrobatics boosts don’t include a “don’t die horribly upon impact” clause. Who could have possibly foreseen this tragic oversight in spell design?
The best part? This isn’t even a one-and-done experiment. Our intrepid spell-slinger admits they had to “repeatedly spam the horse as many times as required” to get the desired effect. I’m imagining this poor horse standing there like, “Please, just let me carry you to the next town like a normal mount,” while getting blasted with magical steroids until it achieves orbital velocity.
When asked why they didn’t aim for water to maybe give the horse a fighting chance, Bottlecap_riches delivered the kind of brutal honesty that makes gaming communities beautiful: “I aimed badly. Once I took off, I couldn’t steer it. When I did it again, I overshot the water and died anyway.”
Translation: “I tried to be slightly less cruel to this digital animal, but physics said ‘nope’ and we all died anyway.”
Here’s the thing that gets me—this is just another Tuesday in the Oblivion Remastered community. While other gaming communities are arguing about optimal builds or complaining about microtransactions, Oblivion players are out here treating the game like their personal physics experiment gone wrong.
We’ve got players threatening Imperial Guards for their armor, others wiping out the entire Mythic Dawn cult at the game’s start, and some absolute unit giving themselves over 222 million speed points because apparently, breaking the sound barrier isn’t enough anymore. It’s like watching a group of scientists who’ve completely lost their minds but in the most entertaining way possible.
For those wondering how exactly one creates a flying horse of doom, the spell formula is surprisingly straightforward. The speed and acrobatics boosts work together to launch the horse skyward, while the weakness to magic ensures the spell effects are amplified to ridiculous proportions. It’s like creating a magical rocket engine, except your rocket is a confused horse and your launch pad is wherever you happen to be standing.
The spell essentially turns your mount into a living projectile, which sounds amazing until you remember that projectiles generally don’t fare well when they hit immovable objects. But hey, at least you’ll travel across Cyrodiil faster than any fast-travel system could manage.
The Reddit post has spawned the kind of discussion only gaming communities can produce. Players are sharing their own tales of magical transportation disasters, offering “improvements” to the spell (because clearly what this needs is MORE chaos), and providing helpful tips like “aim for the water next time” as if that’s going to help when you’re traveling at the speed of sound.
One commenter noted it’s “a shame the acrobatics boost doesn’t protect the horse from long falls,” which is probably the understatement of the century. It’s like saying the Titanic had “a small leak problem.”
What’s next for Oblivion Remastered’s community of chaos merchants? Knowing this group, someone’s probably already working on a spell that launches entire cities into orbit, or maybe one that turns all the NPCs into flying projectiles. The sky’s the limit, quite literally in this case.
The beauty of Bethesda games has always been their ability to let players break everything in spectacular fashion. Oblivion Remastered is carrying on this proud tradition by giving players new and improved ways to violate the laws of physics, common sense, and digital animal welfare.
So there you have it—the tale of one player’s quest to give their horse wings, even if those wings were made of pure magical chaos and the flight plan included a mandatory crash landing. It’s ridiculous, it’s brilliant, and it’s exactly why we can’t stop playing these games.
Sure, the horse didn’t survive, but at least it went out in a blaze of glory, soaring majestically over Cyrodiil before meeting its inevitable doom. And really, isn’t that what gaming is all about?
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