Good game systems do not just teach players what to press. They teach players how the world works. That difference matters because a player who only learns inputs can only follow instructions. A player who understands the model can solve problems the game has not explicitly explained yet. This is where Model Transferability becomes important...
A lot of modern games look immersive before they actually feel immersive. The lighting is expensive. The animations are polished. The worlds are huge. Characters blink, breathe, sweat, stumble, and stare dramatically into the middle distance. Everything looks like it should pull the player in, but somehow the experience can still feel strangely hollow. That is the problem with modern immersion...
A lot of difficult moments in games are not actually difficult. They are simply unexplained. The player enters a room, touches something they did not know was dangerous, and dies. A hidden sniper fires from outside the frame. A floor collapses without warning. An enemy suddenly becomes immune to the strategy that worked five minutes earlier. The game may technically be challenging the player, but the player is not being tested on understanding. They are being punished for missing information they were never given...
A lot of games give players choices. The problem is that not all choices ask the player to think. Some choices are simply buttons attached to pre-designed outcomes. Press this to distract. Press that to persuade. Select this option to set a trap. Choose this dialogue line to resolve the scene. These interactions can be useful, readable, and satisfying, but they are not the same as letting the player construct an outcome through the world. This is the difference between activation and construction. Activation is when the player triggers a designed outcome. Construction is when the player builds an outcome through interacting systems. Both can look like agency from the outside because both involve player input, but the player’s relationship to the result is completely different. One asks the player to select a solution. The other asks the player to understand the world well enough to create one...
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...
Most games want players to feel like their choices matter, immersing them in a world where every decision has weight and significance. The problem is that many of those choices don't actually change anything meaningful within the game. You pick dialogue option A or dialogue option B, often leading to interactions that feel strikingly similar despite the initial differences in choice. You choose one path over another, venturing into distinct story arcs that ultimately converge at the same destination. You spend resources one way instead of another, believing that your strategy will yield varied outcomes. Yet somehow, the game quietly bends itself back into the same shape, leaving players questioning the impact of their decisions...
