You need to step out of your video game comfort zone, trust me

Better the devil you know. That’s what we tell ourselves. We remain comfortably inside the gaming perimeters set, content with the familiar. Or at least, that’s what we tell ourselves. I’ve been guilty of doing this for years – forever watching others play games I was interested in because I told myself they weren’t for me. As much as I longed to know each story, I didn’t want to play through them. I couldn’t.

My skill set was best suited to Pokémon or Super Mario, and even then, I’d sometimes feel like a fish out of water. There were times when I tried to step out of my comfort zone, only to find myself running back to its safety the moment I hit a stumbling block. Underwater levels, timed events, shooters – the list went on and on of all the in-game features I couldn’t deal with because I didn’t like them.

Yet, the whole time I was denying myself such variation. The boundaries I’d set were too restrictive; a prison built out of my own insecurities of my abilities as a gamer. I’d call myself a fan, yet my experience of the content was minimal, or, if extensive, it was from an observer's perspective. There were exceptions to this, notably my love for The Legend of Zelda and Tomb Raider, but again, I always had someone on hand to tackle what I couldn’t. I always had a safety blanket, never truly allowing myself to become properly immersed.

It took my ex-partner struggling with the Arishock fight in Dragon Age 2 for me to finally attempt to do what I was certain I couldn’t: beat the boss. To my amazement, I dispatched the Arishock with ease, quickly finding myself elated by my achievement. Although my ex was annoyed I’d succeeded where she’d failed, she encouraged me to try playing the game for myself from the beginning. Reluctantly, I listened to her. Arguably, it’s one of the few instances when I did, and I’ve thanked her (both verbally and silently) ever since.

Within a matter of hours, I discovered I didn’t just enjoy watching RPG games, I enjoyed playing them. Customising my character, getting to know my companions better, and cockily trying to romance every one of those allies was a joy to experience first-hand. Unfortunately for me, it became quickly apparent that not all RPGs include these elements, particularly romance. I could keep replaying the Dragon Age franchise – and believe me, I have – but it soon became a monotonous task.

Watch the Metroid Prime Remastered launch trailer before you continue

Eventually, I braved tackling the Mass Effect, but apart from the shooting, it was much the same as what I’d done before. It got to the point that such familiarity bred contempt. It was fine when I had a new game or DLC, but when those resources had been depleted, I was left with something too familiar for me to properly enjoy. The devastation of starting to lose love for your comfort game(s) is difficult to describe, but it’s there. Oh, is it ever there. I had to endure it for almost a full decade as I waited for Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

Throughout that drought, I discovered cosy gaming, and while enjoyably pleasant, it always felt a little too safe. Even when a game consumed my waking thoughts like Stardew Valley, that high was soon lost once I learnt that nothing else compared. I found myself stuck in a cycle, one which only ever led back to games I’d played too recently to appreciate their intricacies. My comfort zone was a gilded cage.

I won’t pretend that an epiphany struck me like lightning one evening, convincing me to explore games even when I felt stranded out at sea while playing them. The truth is much less compelling. I started working in the video games industry. I was no longer a casual gamer, for my job involved (before coming to GAMINGbible) writing guides to help other players navigate their way through tricky spots in-game.

Having started this new job, and no longer living with an avid gamer, the only way I could fulfil my contract was to do what I’d always wormed my way out of. I couldn’t ask someone to defeat Ganon for me, I had to do it myself. There was no other option in Metroid Prime Remastered but to brave the murky waters lest I didn’t finish the game. I finished both titles without any outside help, and without avoiding unpleasantries. From that moment on, I realised how important it was to step outside of my comfort zone.

This isn’t to say I believe you should force yourself to play something you truly dislike the idea of – there's no fun in that. Assuming you’ll fail or it’ll be too much for you to handle is a way to prevent yourself from, not just being entertained, but from surprising yourself as well. Those underwater bits in Metroid Prime Remastered? I thoroughly enjoyed them; they had such an ethereal beauty to them.

I felt much the same when I started playing Indiana Jones and the Great Circle. Those stealth sections I was sure would be my undoing were manageable (eventually), and the underwater sections were beautiful, though often nerve-wracking. I’ve even downloaded and started playing Elden Ring, a stunning game I avoided because Bloodborne almost broke me. While I’ve yet to finish Elden Ring, I soon discovered I wasn’t as helpless as I first thought.

RPGs and cosy adventures are still my bread and butter, as too is Dragon Age. There’s no way on this earth I’ll stop harping on about its lore, nor will I ever fully tire of its story. I may need to step back and take a break, yet I’ll always return to it like a faithful hound lovingly falls in-step with its master. Nonetheless, I’ll also be braving the unknown and tackling experiences I believed weren’t meant for me. Much like Bilbo Baggins, I’m going on an adventure, one I yearned for despite my appreciation of those familiar haunts. It’ll take me to places I never dreamt of, some of which will push me to my limits and have my controller ready to fly across the room. But I'll have done it. When those credits roll, I’ll be one smug, albeit mentally spent, gamer.