Will Your Favorite NBA Player Beat the Turnover Odds This Season?
Every time I watch an NBA game, I can't help but draw parallels between basketball players developing their skills and how we build characters in role-playing games. This season, as we analyze which players might beat the turnover odds, I'm reminded of my experience with the Elder Scrolls series—specifically why I've always preferred Oblivion's leveling system to Skyrim's despite its flaws. Just like in basketball, where players must specialize to excel, Oblivion forced me to pick a class and commit to certain skills from the outset, creating characters who were exceptional in some areas while being downright terrible in others. That's exactly what separates elite NBA players from the rest—their ability to minimize weaknesses while maximizing their unique strengths.
When I look at players like Stephen Curry or Luka Dončić, I see that same specialization principle at work. Curry, for instance, has reduced his turnover percentage from about 15% early in his career to under 12% in recent seasons despite handling the ball constantly. This didn't happen by accident—it came from deliberately playing to his strengths while systematically addressing his weaknesses, much like how in Oblivion's remaster, you pick major skills that significantly speed up your leveling process while still being able to develop other abilities. The system encourages you to build around your class's core competencies, but nothing stops you from branching out later if you discover new strategies. Similarly, we've seen players like LeBron James successfully expand their games years into their careers, adding reliable three-point shooting to their arsenal after establishing themselves as dominant inside scorers.
What fascinates me about turnover rates specifically is how they reflect a player's decision-making under pressure—the basketball equivalent of managing your character's attributes in a complex RPG system. I remember investing heavily in Speed in Oblivion out of pure curiosity, and the results were absurd—my character moved faster than my horse without even sprinting. In the NBA, we see similar experimental approaches where players like James Harden developed his step-back three-pointer into an unstoppable weapon, even if it meant occasionally turning the ball over during the learning process. Last season, the league average for turnovers hovered around 13.5 per game per team, but superstars like Nikola Jokić managed to maintain elite assist-to-turnover ratios (approximately 2.5:1) while handling the ball more than almost any other center in history.
The beauty of both basketball development and Oblivion's system is that they reward strategic specialization without completely punishing experimentation. In the game, even skills that aren't your major skills still contribute to your overall leveling—you're encouraged to develop a coherent playstyle, but if you decide 10 hours in that you want to pick up Illusion magic, the system accommodates that shift. Similarly, when Giannis Antetokounmpo entered the league, he was primarily a defensive specialist, but he gradually developed his ball-handling and shooting to become an MVP. Sure, his turnover numbers spiked during that transition—peaking at nearly 4 per game in the 2020-21 season—but that was the necessary cost of evolution.
I've always believed that the most interesting players, like the most compelling RPG characters, have clearly defined strengths and weaknesses that create strategic tension. In Oblivion, attributes like Athletics (which lets you jump higher) or Acrobatics created memorable, sometimes bizarre gameplay moments that Skyrim's more streamlined system lost. Similarly, players like Russell Westbrook bring an exhilarating, high-risk style that results in both spectacular highlights and frustrating turnovers—last season he averaged about 4.5 turnovers per 36 minutes, but also generated countless scoring opportunities that simply wouldn't exist with a more conservative approach. This season, as rule changes emphasize freedom of movement and faster pace, I'm particularly watching how young guards like LaMelo Ball (who averaged 3.6 turnovers last season) adjust their games without sacrificing their creative flair.
The danger in both basketball and RPGs comes from what Oblivion veterans call "soft-locking"—creating a character so poorly balanced that progression becomes nearly impossible. I definitely encountered this playing Oblivion as a kid, building characters who couldn't effectively defeat enemies at higher levels. In the NBA, we see similar career trajectories where players who fail to develop beyond one-dimensional roles eventually find themselves out of the league. The remastered Oblivion addressed this by making it harder to create irredeemably bad builds, just as modern NBA development programs help players avoid career-limiting skill gaps. For every 100 players drafted, statistics show only about 20 will still be in the league after 5 years—often those who successfully adapted their games to evolving demands.
As we approach the new season, I'm particularly curious about players entering their third or fourth years—the equivalent of reaching the mid-game in an RPG where your build decisions start to seriously matter. Players like Cade Cunningham and Jalen Green now have enough experience to understand their tendencies but are still young enough to make significant adjustments. Cunningham's turnover percentage last season was around 16.5%, which isn't terrible for a primary ball-handler on a developing team, but he'll need to trim that to 14% or lower to reach true elite status. What encourages me is that we've seen similar players like Chris Paul make exactly that transition—from a turnover-prone young guard to one of the most careful ball handlers in history, eventually achieving a career assist-to-turnover ratio exceeding 4:1.
Ultimately, whether your favorite player beats the turnover odds this season comes down to the same principles that made Oblivion's character development so compelling: understanding core strengths, strategically addressing weaknesses, and knowing when to experiment without compromising identity. The players who successfully manage this balance—like Curry refining his handle or Jokić mastering the art of the high-risk pass—become the legends we remember. Meanwhile, those who either refuse to specialize or fail to adapt their games to their teams' needs often find themselves struggling to stay relevant. As both an RPG enthusiast and basketball analyst, I find this intersection between inherent talent and systematic development endlessly fascinating—it's why I'll be watching those turnover statistics as closely as I once tracked my character's skill progression in Tamriel.
