We have to share spaces with all sorts of people in the outside world: coworkers, fellow pedestrians, annoying kids in the shops, that guy at your local who thinks you’re best buds but actually you can barely stand him. We can heal up and get stronger before we head back out into that cold, cruel world.Ī person’s home is also unique because we have (nearly) total control over who’s allowed inside. (Or when someone builds a football stadium next door.) Regardless of what is going on outside â€” or what we’re enduring while we’re away â€” the home remains a nurturing space of regeneration, a zone of reclaiming. There is a comforting safety in our homes, which is why we feel so angry, hurt, and violated when someone breaks into them. (This note is here because I will refer to this concept later.) We never feel quite as comfortable as we do at home, because it’s only at home that we can take off all the armor, all the masks, and all the burdens that we carry with us on our travels.

My home is a place that defines me and allows me to be myself in all the ways that matter. Of course, this is a big part of it, but there’s more.

Surely it goes beyond just having a place for our stuff, as Mr. Let’s step back a bit and think about why home is important in the real world. I’ve realized the importance of home in an open-world game. Indeed, a case might be made that linear games don’t really let us experience a game world so much as one narrow strip of activity within a world. So much of my life is dictated by outside forces that I treasure the option to explore or goof around or experiment in a game world.

I’m beginning to realize how much I prefer open-world games to linear experiences.

Also note that this piece has a spoiler in the final section (“Bethesda Does It Right”) about Skyrim’s Dark Brotherhood questline. That’s a very different post, one which I sort of already wrote. Let me say right away that this piece is not about how I feel at home in the world of video games.

Gta sa safe houses