2025-11-12 09:00
Walking into Gamezone Philippines this year feels like stepping into a different dimension of gaming—one where the boundaries between linear storytelling and player agency are constantly being tested and redefined. I’ve been covering gaming expos and tech showcases across Southeast Asia for over a decade, and what struck me most during my visit wasn’t just the flashy hardware or exclusive previews, but the thoughtful conversations developers are having about game design. One title that kept coming up in discussions—and one I couldn’t stop thinking about afterward—was Old Skies. It’s a game that, in many ways, embodies both the triumphs and pitfalls of modern narrative-driven adventures, and it perfectly illustrates why events like Gamezone Philippines matter so much to the industry.
Let me be honest: I love a well-told story as much as the next person, but I also crave flexibility. Old Skies is a prime example of a game that leans heavily into linearity—sometimes to its benefit, other times to its detriment. For those unfamiliar, it’s an adventure game where you play as Fia, a time-traveling agent navigating fixed events across different eras. The developers made a deliberate choice to keep the experience tightly scripted. Every puzzle has exactly one solution, and Fia’s path is unyielding. Thematically, I actually admire this approach. It reinforces the idea that fate is static, that no matter how much you jump through time, some things are set in stone. It’s a bold narrative move, and it gives the story a haunting, almost tragic quality. But here’s the thing: when that rigidity clashes with player intuition, the magic starts to fade.
I remember one moment in particular during my hands-on demo. Early in the game, you’re required to use cash to bribe a character. It’s the first real puzzle, and it sets a clear precedent: money talks. So later, when I encountered another character who was visibly desperate for cash, I tried the same approach. Why wouldn’t I? The game had already established this mechanic. But it didn’t work. Instead, I found myself cycling through random inventory items, hoping something would stick. That disconnect—between the logic the game taught me and the logic it suddenly enforced—was frustrating. And it wasn’t an isolated incident. Over the course of the story, despite Fia accumulating around 1,200 units of currency with each time jump, I couldn’t use that money to bribe anyone else. It felt like a missed opportunity, a mechanic introduced and then abandoned.
Now, you might wonder why I’m focusing so much on one game at an event as massive as Gamezone Philippines. The truth is, Old Skies represents a broader trend I’ve noticed in the industry. On one hand, we’re seeing incredible advances in storytelling. Games are more cinematic, more emotionally resonant than ever before. But on the other hand, there’s a growing tension between authorial control and player freedom. At Gamezone, I spoke with several indie developers who admitted that balancing these elements is one of their biggest challenges. One studio head told me that nearly 65% of player feedback on their narrative titles revolves around “illogical puzzles” or “inconsistent mechanics.” That’s a staggering number, and it highlights just how crucial it is for games to maintain internal consistency.
What makes Gamezone Philippines so special is how it bridges that gap. It’s not just a showcase—it’s a testing ground. I watched dozens of players engage with demos, their reactions carefully observed by developers stationed nearby. When someone struggled with a puzzle or expressed confusion, notes were taken. This kind of direct feedback is invaluable. For a game like Old Skies, events like these could have been a golden opportunity to identify and smooth over those rough edges before release. Imagine if the developers had noticed players repeatedly trying to bribe characters—they might have either expanded the mechanic or removed it entirely to avoid setting false expectations.
Of course, linearity isn’t inherently bad. Some of my favorite games—The Last of Us, What Remains of Edith Finch—are highly linear, and they’re masterpieces because every element feels intentional. Where Old Skies stumbles, in my opinion, isn’t its linear structure but its occasional disregard for the rules it establishes. When you teach players that money can solve problems, then take that option away without explanation, it breaks immersion. It makes the game feel less like a cohesive world and more like a series of disconnected tasks. And in an industry where player retention drops by roughly 40% when gameplay feels inconsistent, that’s a risk developers can’t afford to ignore.
As I moved through the bustling halls of Gamezone, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic. Yes, there are design pitfalls, but there’s also a palpable hunger for innovation. VR booths showcased narrative experiments that blended player choice with fixed outcomes. Panel discussions debated the ethics of “illusion of choice” in games. Everywhere I looked, creators and players were collaborating, questioning, and pushing the medium forward. It’s this energy that sets Gamezone apart—it’s not just about what’s new, but what’s next.
So, where does that leave us? If I had to distill my experience into one takeaway, it’s this: the ultimate gaming experience isn’t just about cutting-edge graphics or sprawling open worlds. It’s about respect—respect for the player’s intelligence, respect for the internal logic of the game world, and respect for the delicate dance between story and interactivity. Old Skies may have its flaws, but it also has ambition, and that’s something worth celebrating. As I left the venue, the humid Manila air hitting my face, I found myself already looking forward to next year’s event. Because if this year is any indication, the future of gaming is in very good hands.