30 November 2025
We’ve all been there—you fire up a fresh game, heart racing with excitement, only to hit "Start" and… meh. The opening sequence rolls in, it’s flashy, maybe even cinematic, but does it truly deliver on what it promises? That’s the million-dollar question. Whether you're diving into the latest AAA title or a pixel-rich indie game, the opening sequence is supposed to set the tone, drop jaws, and make you desperate to keep playing. But does it?
Let’s break this down, gamer-style.
But here’s the catch: an opening can look stunning and still fall flat emotionally. Just like a movie trailer that promises an epic story but ends up being all sizzle and no steak. So, flashy graphics and epic music? Cool. But they aren't enough on their own.
What really counts is whether the game grabs you and whispers, “You’re about to go on an unforgettable journey.”
Want an example? The opening of The Last of Us doesn’t mess around. It punches you right in the gut with emotional storytelling before you even hit the title screen. That’s not just an intro—that’s a statement. It tells you that this game is going to be raw, real, and emotionally intense.
Compare that to a game like DOOM (2016). The opening is a brutal, metal-fueled monster-fest. Guns, demons, and pure chaos. The message? “Forget plot, let’s rip and tear.”
Both are effective—because they stay true to the game’s identity.
Think of it like the first few pages of a novel. If you’re not hooked, you're probably putting it down. In gaming, the stakes are even higher. Players are impatient. We want action, intrigue, or at least a reason to care.
Does the opening give us meaningful choices? Does it introduce a compelling conflict? Or does it just feed us exposition and hope we’ll stick around?
Some games nail this balance. Red Dead Redemption 2 throws us into a snowy wilderness, struggling to survive. You’re not just watching the story—you’re living it from the get-go.
Others... well, let’s just say a long-winded monologue and a slow-moving tutorial doesn’t exactly scream “Play me for 50 more hours!”
This is golden. The best intros don’t just tell you how to play—they let you feel it. They blend story with interactivity so smoothly, you barely notice you’re being taught mechanics.
Take Half-Life 2. That train station intro? There’s barely a HUD, no hand-holding tutorial—yet you’re absorbing narrative, exploring freely, and learning controls all at once. Genius.
On the flip side, some games go overboard with pop-ups, pausing every two seconds to tell you how to jump or crouch. Yawn. That ruins immersion and can make even the most promising intro feel like a chore.
Games like Bioshock nail this. Remember that descent into Rapture? The eerie radio messages, the first glimpse of the underwater city, and that spine-tingling atmosphere? You’re not just playing a game—you’re stepping into another world. You’re immediately curious and maybe a little scared. That’s the hook.
But not every intro lands the emotional punch. Some feel like a checklist of tropes: “Mysterious ancient prophecy? Check. Damsel in distress? Check. Vague villain monologue? Done.”
If the emotional tone doesn’t match the gameplay or feels forced, we tune out. And once a player tunes out, it's really hard to get them back.
The best intros ride that fine line. They give you just enough action to keep you engaged but also leave room to breathe and take in the world.
God of War (2018) is a master class here. It starts with a quiet, emotional beat—Kratos teaching his son, preparing for a journey. Then BOOM! You’re in a god-tier brawl with “The Stranger.” The build-up, the payoff—it’s all there.
Bad pacing, though, can leave players scratching their heads. Ever had an intro throw a million names, factions, and plot points at you before you even know how to swing your weapon? Yeah. That’s not pacing—that’s info-dumping.
A game’s intro has to make us care about who we’re playing and who we’re fighting for (or against). If we don’t click with our character early on, it’s an uphill battle to stay invested.
Think of Mass Effect. You customize your version of Commander Shepard, but the game quickly gives you real choices, real stakes, and a team worth caring about. You’re not just playing a soldier—you are Shepard, and the galaxy needs you.
That connection is gold.
But if the game tosses you into a generic “hero” role with no emotional connection or sense of purpose? It feels empty. You’re going through the motions, not living the moment.
The right soundtrack can turn a good intro into a legendary one. Think of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. That main theme? Chills, every time. You hear those drums and chants and instantly remember your first dragon fight.
Music primes us emotionally. It cues suspense, excitement, sadness, or triumph. If the music feels out of place—or worse, forgettable—it undercuts everything else.
And hey, who doesn’t love humming a game’s theme hours after playing it?
Some opening sequences are so tightly tied to plot twists or first-time shock value that they lose their charm later. Others? They’re like a favorite movie scene—you enjoy them every single time.
Replayability matters, especially for long games or those with multiple endings. If the intro drags or feels like “that part you have to slog through to get to the good stuff,” then it probably didn’t deliver on its initial promise.
Well… it depends. A good opening:
- Sets the tone and stakes
- Introduces compelling characters and conflict
- Blends story with gameplay organically
- Builds emotional and narrative investment
- And crucially, makes us want to keep playing
When a game nails that, we forgive a lot of its later stumbles. But if the intro feels hollow, confusing, or boring? The rest of the game has to work extra hard to earn our trust back.
Great openings raise expectations—but they must match the game’s real identity. Otherwise, it’s like a clickbait headline with no substance behind it.
But when it works? Man, it's unforgettable. It’s that moment you talk about with friends. It’s the scene you rewatch on YouTube years later. It’s the reason you fell in love with the game in the first place.
So next time you boot up a new title and the opening sequence rolls in, ask yourself: “Is this setting me up for something great… or just blowing smoke?”
Because, in the end, a game’s opening isn’t just an introduction. It’s a promise. And we’re here to see if it delivers.
all images in this post were generated using AI tools
Category:
First ImpressionsAuthor:
Tayla Warner