Every work of art begins with a sheet of blank paper, and every sheet of blank paper offers one fundamental choice: portrait or landscape? For the past few generations, videogame developers have often chosen landscape, setting their adventures across sprawling maps that you can navigate as you choose, concentrating on the narrative or scattering to the distant hills just to see what might be hiding there.
These are open-world games, and together we've spent millions of hours in places like this. We've collected Agility Orbs, stolen cars from strangers (and then backed over them), climbed towers to synchronise our viewpoints, and faced penalties for leaving the mission area – and really, could you judge us for that?
Open-world games have showcased design at its most luxurious, extravagant and intoxicating. They've given us the freedom so many videogames promise – and struggle with. Forget building missions; why not build entire neighbourhoods in games such as Crackdown and let the mission flow where it will? Forget building ski runs; why not opt for Steep's mountain range, individual slopes waiting to be chained together in new ways?
