Defining the Gaming Experience: Why Half-Life and Skyrim Stand Apart
Have you ever played a game and thought, “There’s just nothing quite like this”? This article dives into that elusive feeling, defining games as an experience and exploring how this concept can enrich game theory and criticism. It’s heady stuff, but let’s break it down with examples like Half-Life and Skyrim to make it clear.
Gamers often sense when a game transcends categories like genre, story, or platform. Take Skyrim—despite being a solid but average open-world RPG, it’s etched into memory unlike countless similar titles. And no, it’s not just because Skyrim keeps getting re-released (sorry, no Toaster Edition in 2024). So, what separates the Skyrims of the world from the repetitive churn of, say, Call of Duty? The answer lies in the distinction between games that are an experience and those that merely have experiences.
What Does “An Experience” Mean?
Every game offers experiences—controlling a character, solving a puzzle, fighting enemies, or exploring a map. A driving game, by definition, gives you the experience of driving. These are individual elements that form the “overall” experience of playing. Take CS:GO as an example: it’s packed with tense PvP moments, weapon handling, team coordination, and resource management. These are all experiences, but they don’t make CS:GO an experience. Why? Because other games like Valorant, Rainbow 6: Siege, or Insurgency: Sandstorm can scratch the same itch. CS:GO is excellently crafted, but its elements aren’t uniquely its own.
A game becomes an experience when it transcends its individual parts, delivering something greater than their sum. When someone says, “You’ll never play a game like Silent Hill,” they’re calling Silent Hill an experience. Plenty of games are scary or foggy, but only Silent Hill delivers its distinct, haunting essence.
Is Mayonnaise an Experience?
No, Patrick.
All games have experiences, but not all are an experience. This isn’t just wordplay—it’s a lens for critical assessment. CS:GO’s experiences (gunplay, strategy, clutch moments) can be found elsewhere without losing something unique. It’s not the Mona Lisa of shooters; it’s a fantastic game, but its appeal isn’t singular.
Wolfenstein 3D Was an Experience
To call a game an experience, you must evaluate it as a whole—gameplay, story, aesthetics, lore, everything. A caveat: specific modes can stand alone. For instance, Battlefield 1’s campaigns are experiential, but its multiplayer is average.
Novelty can make a game an experience, but it’s fleeting. Wolfenstein 3D was groundbreaking as an early FPS, offering something no other game could. Today, its mechanics are standard, and its experiential quality comes from historical context, not the game itself. Innovation alone isn’t enough; a game needs unique artistry to endure. Hunt: Showdown, with its striking art and novel shooter-battle royale blend, is unique but not an experience—it doesn’t transcend its parts in a way that feels wholly irreplaceable.
When an Experience Becomes a Genre
Sometimes, a game is so impactful that it spawns imitators, diluting its experiential status but birthing a genre. Dark Souls is the poster child. Demon’s Souls laid the groundwork, but Dark Souls perfected it, creating a genre now called “Souls-like.” Its punishing gameplay, intricate world, and atmosphere were once an experience, but as others adopted its formula, it became a blueprint rather than a singular event. Like Wolfenstein 3D, its limelight faded as its innovations became standard.
Half-Life: The Gold Standard
Half-Life is different. Despite countless linear shooters like Bioshock, Dishonored, or Deus Ex, none replicate Half-Life’s unique alchemy. Even Half-Life 2 doesn’t quite capture it. If you haven’t played Half-Life, you should—it’s one of the greatest games ever made. It’s the only game I’ve played that feels better when it’s over, not because the gameplay drags, but because its ending hits like a freight train. Its subtle storytelling and lasting impact leave you appreciating the act of playing in a way few games achieve.
Making “Experience” Useful
Calling a game an experience isn’t about crowning it the best to win online arguments. It’s a subjective lens, shaped by your gaming history—Pong was an experience for its time, just as Candy Crush might be for an alien with a salvaged phone. Nor does being an experience mean a game is perfect. Skyrim is a must-play for its unique world, but it’s not a 10/10—8/10 feels generous.
Crucially, an experience must stand apart from personal context. Nothing beats those sun-soaked mornings playing Super Smash Bros. on the N64, but that’s my nostalgia, not the game’s essence. The thrill of a 1v4 clutch in a shooter is unforgettable, but it’s not what defines the game. To judge a game as an experience, focus on what it delivers intrinsically, not what you bring to it.
Half-Life and Skyrim endure because they offer something singular, a cohesive whole that transcends mechanics, nostalgia, or trends. They remind us why we play games: not just for fun, but for moments that linger long after the credits roll.