Armoured and Dangerous: How Oblivion Invented Modern Gaming's Greediest Habit
Before Fortnite skins and deluxe editions, there was a horse in shiny armour.
Picture this: it's 2006. Paris Hilton is declaring "that's hot" on MTV, YouTube has just hit its first million views with “End of Ze World” and the biggest "downloadable content" in most people's lives is a sketchy LimeWire file mislabeled as the new 50 Cent single.
Into this world galloped a video game on a red-ringed Xbox 360 — The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion — a game that would not just rewire how RPGs felt but infamously change how all games would make money forever.
You’ve spent sixty bucks on The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion — a full-priced, complete game, bursting at the seams with quests, spells, and “radiant AI”.
And then you reach the stables.
And a pop-up appears.
Would you like to protect your horse with this exclusive Horse Armour? Just 200 Microsoft Points! (That’s about $1.50 in 2006 money — the price of a can of Cherry Coke or a ringtone of Chamillionaire’s Ridin’.)
You pay. You saddle up. Your horse is now dressed like a knight at a mid-tier Renaissance fair. Congratulations: you’ve just bought one of the first-ever pieces of paid cosmetic DLC in a major console game. The gaming world would never be the same.
The $1.50 Joke That Built a Billion Dollar Industry
Today, spending a few dollars for a virtual skin barely causes a ripple. But in 2006, this felt like heresy. Gamers weren’t just upset about paying extra — they were upset about what they were paying for. Armour, after all, isn’t just window dressing in a fantasy game; it’s a declaration.
As Polygon's excellent piece on armour design points out, in RPGs, your armour says who you are. It’s your identity, your aspiration, your aesthetic signature. A battered iron cuirass marks you as a scrappy underdog; a set of shimmering daedric plates announces you as a god among mere mortals. In classic games like Dark Souls, Final Fantasy, and Tactics Ogre, armour design isn’t just functional — it’s deeply cultural.
It’s easy now to mock the outrage that Horse Armour stirred. We live in a world where “Deluxe Editions” are the norm and skins in Fortnite cost more than an indie game. But back when Oblivion was first released, DLC (downloadable content) was new. When you paid $60 (USD) for a game, you thought you owned everything. The Horse Armour wasn’t just a punchline — it was a warning shot.
Horse Armour opened a Pandora's Box of microtransactions that today fuels an entire industry. The “nickel-and-dime” culture — from Call of Duty battle passes to Assassin's Creed deluxe bundles — traces back, in no small way, to a fancy barding for pixelated horses.
Oblivion Remastered: Nostalgia With a Price Tag
Fast forward to 2025. Oblivion Remastered lands in a shadow drop, no less — like a medieval spell cast onto Steam without warning. The resurgence is real; fans both old and new have already sunk hours inside the game since its release last week – with one punter even finishing the game in 8 minutes!?
Oblivion is back, but it’s not all magical. The Horse Armour is back as well.
Naturally, it’s tied to the Digital Deluxe Edition — about $10 extra than the base, bundled with some shiny swords, another set of horse barding, an artbook and soundtrack.
Bethesda framed it with a wink: a nostalgic in-joke, a knowing nod to history. But for many players, the joke still cuts close to the bone. Because in this "cute" re-release of the Horse Armour lies a blunt reminder: the practices we mocked became the foundation of modern gaming’s economy.
Some fans laughed. Others seethed. Nostalgia has a funny way of polishing sharp objects until we forget they once cut.
In-Game Cosmetics: The Good, The Bad, and The Very Expensive
It's tempting to see the Horse Armour saga as pure villainy. But the truth, as always, is more complicated.
Without cosmetic microtransactions, games like Fortnite and League of Legends wouldn’t exist in the form they do.
Today, anyone can jump into those worlds — build towers, slay noobs, make bad dance decisions — without spending a single penny. Monetisation through cosmetics allowed these massive, polished, living worlds to exist for free for players.
The idea that style is optional but accessible — that you can pay to look different, but not to win — has, at its best, made gaming more democratic.
Yet the darker side hasn’t disappeared. EA FC 25, the newest Oblivion Remastered, and countless others still charge base prices and upsell digital extras. They sell Deluxe Editions, Ultimate Passes, Season Passes, Battle Passes — premium content layered atop already premium purchases.
The slow drip that started with a horse’s shiny caparison has, for some players, become a flood of small transactions, turning full-priced games into gated experiences.
The Real Legacy of Horse Armour
In the end, Oblivion remains a marvel — sprawling, flawed, magical. Its spirit — of adventure, of wonder — survives beyond the cynical DLC items.
But the Horse Armour was a seed. A seed that grew into a mighty, tangled forest: free-to-play wonders and predatory pricing schemes alike.
When we ride through Cyrodiil today, whether on a regular horse or a $10 upgrade, we ride through the future that shiny saddle built.