The Future of Open-World RPGs (And Why Most Studios Still Don’t Get It)

Let’s get this out of the way: I love open-world RPGs. Deeply. Stupidly. The kind of love that keeps you coming back long after you should’ve moved on. But like any toxic relationship, there comes a point where you start asking, "Am I the fool for still hoping they’ll change?"

Because if the last decade has taught me anything, it’s that while the potential of open-world RPGs is nearly limitless, most developers are still trapped in a design mindset from 2012. You know the one: quest markers like a Vegas strip, flavorless collect-a-thons, copy-pasted NPCs grunting the same five lines, and a world that looks huge but feels emptier than Ubisoft’s next road map.

And yet, despite all this, we get flashes of brilliance. Games like Elden Ring with the DLC Shadow of the Erdtree, Cyberpunk 2077 (after it pulled itself out of the rubble), and The Witcher 3 prove that there’s still hope. That this genre can evolve. That maybe we haven’t seen its final form yet. So let’s talk about what the future should look like—and what needs to die along the way.

Goodbye, Map Clutter. Hello, Player Agency

Remember the first time you opened the map in The Witcher 3 and saw all those little question marks off the coast of Skellige? I do. I thought: "Wow, so much to explore!"

By the time I cleared half of them? "Wow, so many identical smuggler caches."

That’s the problem. Developers confuse "content" with "filler." They think if the map is bursting at the seams, we’ll mistake it for depth. But Elden Ring pulled the rug out from under that entire philosophy. No checklist. No breadcrumb trail. Just curiosity and consequence.

Want to wander off into a poison swamp for no reason? Go ahead. You'll probably die, but at least the game respects your decision to die horribly on your own terms. That’s real agency. And more games need to stop assuming we're toddlers with ADHD and start trusting us to play like adults. Or at least reckless degenerates with a plan.

Worlds That Feel Alive (Not Just "Populated")

If I walk into a village and everyone just stands around waiting for me to talk to them, that’s not immersion. That’s a wax museum. A pretty one, maybe, but lifeless all the same.

The Witcher 3 didn’t get everything right, but its world breathed. You overheard arguments in Novigrad alleys. Kids ran through the mud in White Orchard. Drunks told you to piss off in five different ways. It felt like a place, not a level.

Now look at something like early Cyberpunk 2077. Night City looked amazing. Neon, grit, verticality. But touch it, and it crumbled. NPCs vanished if you blinked. Police spawned out of thin air. No matter how much style you slap on, a lifeless city is still a lifeless city. Thankfully, CDPR seems to have taken the backlash to heart, because post-Phantom Liberty, things feel more reactive. More real. Not perfect, but at least they’re learning.

The future? More simulation. Less set dressing. I don’t need ten square miles of terrain if it all behaves like a cardboard diorama. Give me a small world where things happen without me. Where NPCs talk to each other without me being the center of the universe. Imagine that.

Meaningful Choices, Not Cosmetic Dialogue Trees

Do you want to help this character, betray them, or flirt awkwardly until the dialogue loops? Groundbreaking.

RPGs have been selling the illusion of choice for years, but let’s be honest: most of those dialogue wheels are just different ways to say "yes."

This is why CDPR’s best work in The Witcher 3 still stands tall. The Bloody Baron questline alone is a masterclass in moral ambiguity. You make a decision, you feel clever, and then ten hours later it punches you in the gut because guess what? You didn’t have all the information. Real consequences. Not "+5 Paragon."

Even Cyberpunk 2077, once the bugs were squashed and the story beats polished, started playing in this territory. Phantom Liberty isn’t just DLC—it’s a psychological sucker punch. It asks what loyalty costs. It asks what you’re willing to sacrifice to stay human. That is what the genre needs more of.

Stop letting us choose the color of the explosion. Let us choose who lives with it.

Combat That Feels Like Combat, Not Spreadsheet Math

You know the combat system is busted when you’re slicing enemies in half with a greatsword and they barely flinch because your crit chance isn’t high enough.

Open-world RPGs have a bad habit of thinking "RPG" means "numbers first, logic second." That’s how you end up in situations where wolves are tougher than armored knights because they’re "level 40."

Elden Ring nuked that idea. You can fight anything, anytime, if you're good (or lucky) enough. It's not about XP farming. It’s about mastering the system. Learning tells, exploiting weaknesses, and yes, dying a lot. But never because your sword wasn’t the right color rarity.

Give us combat that feels earned. Let builds matter, sure. But don’t make me do math homework just to enjoy a sword fight.

Verticality, Not Just Bigger Maps

This is something Cyberpunk 2077 almost figured out. Vertical exploration. Stacking environments. Giving the world a sense of physical depth, not just square footage.

It failed in places (too many locked doors, too many useless rooftops), but the idea? It was there. That’s the future.

The problem is, most open-worlds are still stuck on the "horizontal sprawl" model. They think bigger = better. It doesn't. Not when half the map is filler. Give me a tight, vertical district with secrets hidden behind broken elevators, duct vents, rooftops, and alleyways. Let me explore like I’m trespassing, not just jogging across a field.

Games don’t need to be bigger. They need to be smarter.

Developers Need to Stop Chasing Trends

You can smell the desperation in modern game design. Battle passes. Live-service hooks. Multiplayer shoved in where it doesn’t belong. It’s like every publisher is terrified of making a game that just... stands alone.

But guess what? The Witcher 3 didn’t need seasons. Elden Ring didn’t have daily quests. Cyberpunk 2077, for all its faults, wasn’t built around player retention metrics. And those are the games we remember.

The best RPGs don’t pander. They lead. They set a vision and commit to it. Even when it fails, it fails with character. That’s more than I can say for the hundredth early-access survival crafting hybrid with a stamina meter and a five-page roadmap.

So, What Do We Want?

Simple. We want stories that don’t condescend. Worlds that feel lived in. Combat that rewards skill. Exploration that respects curiosity. And choices that hurt.

Is that so hard (MOFO)?

Apparently, yes. But the good news is we have blueprints now. Elden Ring showed us what freedom can look like. The Witcher 3 reminded us why writing matters. And Cyberpunk 2077, after crawling out of its own grave, proved that redemption is possible when studios stop pretending and start listening.

Now all we need is for the rest of the industry to stop chasing clicks and start chasing craft.

Because if I see one more open-world RPG where I have to craft ten wolf pelts to unlock a slightly bigger pouch, I’m deleting my entire hard drive out of spite.