Most games tell players who they are. You are a detective, a soldier, a thief, a hunter, a wizard, or a survivor. The problem is that being told something and feeling something are not the same thing. A game can spend hours explaining who your character is through dialogue, cutscenes, lore entries, and exposition, but if the player’s behaviour never changes, the fantasy remains superficial. They are controlling the character, not inhabiting them...
When a player presses a button, they’re not just triggering a mechanic; they’re embarking on a journey of identity and expression. They’re performing an action as someone, not merely executing a sequence of commands. A jump isn’t just a jump; it transcends that definition entirely. It’s this character’s jump - whether it’s heavy, floaty, precise, desperate, or confident, each kind carries an emotional weight that shapes the player’s experience. Movement, interaction, and limitation all communicate who the character is long before any exposition can set the stage. Game design, when done well, invites players to engage deeply with the character’s essence, to empathise with their struggles and triumphs, making each action a reflection of their story...
