12 Best First Games in Popular Open-World Franchises 2026
What are the best first games in popular open-world franchises? The pioneering first entries that launched massive gaming franchises like Grand Theft Auto III, The Elder Scrolls: Arena, Assassin’s Creed, and The Witcher established revolutionary open-world gameplay foundations that would define decades of gaming evolution.
In this comprehensive guide, I’ll share everything I’ve learned about these groundbreaking franchise starters from my 25+ years of gaming experience, including the revolutionary features that made them special, their lasting impact on the industry, and why they remain essential gaming experiences in 2026.
| Franchise Starter | Revolutionary Innovation | Legacy Impact |
|---|---|---|
| Grand Theft Auto III | 3D open-world freedom | Defined modern sandbox gaming |
| The Elder Scrolls: Arena | Massive procedural world | RPG open-world standard |
| Assassin’s Creed | Historical parkour gameplay | Stealth-action revolution |
Why First Games Matter: The Foundation of Gaming Empires
I still remember booting up Grand Theft Auto III for the first time in 2001. After years of top-down GTA gameplay, suddenly I was walking through a living, breathing 3D Liberty City. That moment fundamentally changed my understanding of what video games could be. These first games in major franchises don’t just introduce mechanics – they establish entire gaming philosophies that resonate through decades of sequels.
When examining classic gaming history, it becomes clear that the most successful open-world franchises all share something crucial: their first games took massive risks that paid off. They didn’t just iterate on existing formulas; they created entirely new ways to experience virtual worlds. My experience across multiple gaming generations has taught me that understanding these origins helps us appreciate not just where these franchises are today, but why certain design decisions continue to define them.
These pioneering titles often faced significant challenges, much like the Need for Speed franchise evolution from its 1994 origins to modern entries. The willingness to take creative risks, even when facing technical limitations, separates legendary franchise starters from mere sequels.
Grand Theft Auto III (2001): The 3D Revolution That Changed Everything
Before GTA III, I was content with the top-down mayhem of the original Grand Theft Auto games. They were fun, sure, but limited in scope and immersion. Then Rockstar dropped this bombshell that fundamentally transformed not just their franchise, but the entire gaming industry. I spent countless nights exploring every corner of Liberty City, discovering that the game rewarded curiosity as much as it did criminal activities.
What made GTA III revolutionary wasn’t just the shift to 3D – it was the unprecedented freedom it offered. For the first time in my gaming experience, I could ignore the main missions entirely and create my own stories. I’d steal a taxi and actually work as a cab driver, or grab an ambulance and play paramedic. These weren’t just mini-games; they were fully realized systems that made Liberty City feel alive.
The technical achievement cannot be overstated. Running on PS2 hardware that seems primitive by 2026 standards, Rockstar created a seamless city with no loading screens between districts. I remember being amazed that I could drive from Portland to Staunton Island (once unlocked) without any interruption. This technical foundation would become the bedrock for every subsequent GTA game, setting a standard that competitors still struggle to match.
The game’s influence extends far beyond the GTA franchise. Every modern open-world game owes something to GTA III’s blueprint. The wanted system, the mission structure, the blend of driving and on-foot gameplay – these elements became genre conventions because GTA III proved they worked. Even today, when I play the latest open-world releases, I see DNA from that groundbreaking 2001 title.
The Elder Scrolls: Arena (1994): Where Modern RPG Worlds Began?
My journey with The Elder Scrolls began with Arena in 1994, though I’ll admit I initially bounced off its complexity. Coming from more linear RPGs, Arena’s massive procedurally generated world of Tamriel was overwhelming. But once I understood what Bethesda was attempting – creating an entire continent you could explore – I was hooked. This wasn’t just an RPG; it was a digital world simulator.
Arena’s ambition was staggering for its time. The game featured over 400 cities and towns across nine provinces, all explorable. Granted, most were procedurally generated and felt similar, but the sheer scope was unprecedented. I spent hours just traveling between cities, fighting random encounters, and discovering that each province had its own cultural flavor, even if the technical limitations meant these differences were mostly superficial.
What really set Arena apart was its commitment to player freedom within an RPG framework. Unlike contemporary RPGs that guided you along predetermined paths, Arena let you completely ignore the main quest if you wanted. I could become a freelance adventurer, taking on guild quests and dungeon delving for profit. This philosophy of player agency would become Bethesda’s signature, reaching its apex in later entries but originating here.
The character creation system in Arena established another franchise tradition: complex, skill-based progression. Instead of simple level-ups, your character improved through use. Swing a sword enough, and you got better at swordplay. Cast spells repeatedly, and your magic skills increased. This organic progression system made every action meaningful and encouraged experimentation with different playstyles.
Looking back from 2026, Arena feels primitive with its sprite-based graphics and clunky interface. But when I boot it up today (yes, I still play it occasionally), I’m reminded of the raw ambition that would eventually give us Skyrim. Every Elder Scrolls game since has been an iteration on Arena’s core concept: give players a world and let them write their own stories within it.
Assassin’s Creed (2007): Historical Tourism Meets Parkour Revolution
I distinctly remember the E3 2006 gameplay reveal of Assassin’s Creed. Watching Altaïr seamlessly climb buildings and leap across rooftops in medieval Jerusalem was unlike anything I’d seen. When I finally got my hands on the game in 2007, it exceeded even those lofty expectations. This wasn’t just another action game; it was a time machine powered by revolutionary traversal mechanics.
The parkour system was the true innovation. Previous games had climbing mechanics, but they were usually limited to specific marked surfaces. In Assassin’s Creed, if it looked climbable, it probably was. I spent my first hours ignoring missions entirely, just exploring the cities by scaling every tower and synchronizing viewpoints. That satisfaction of reaching a high point and surveying the world below became an addiction that persists through every AC game I play.
But Assassin’s Creed was more than just climbing mechanics. The crowd stealth system was genuinely innovative – blending with groups of scholars, sitting on benches to avoid detection, using the environment for social camouflage. These weren’t just gimmicks; they fundamentally changed how stealth gameplay worked. Instead of hiding in shadows like traditional stealth games, you hid in plain sight, a concept that felt revolutionary in 2007.
The historical setting deserves special mention. While not the first game set in the past, Assassin’s Creed’s commitment to historical accuracy (within the bounds of its sci-fi framing device) was unprecedented. The cities of Jerusalem, Acre, and Damascus weren’t just backdrops; they were meticulously researched recreations. I learned more about the Third Crusade from this game than from any history class, and that educational aspect would become a franchise hallmark.
Yes, the first Assassin’s Creed had problems. The mission variety was limited (those eavesdropping missions still haunt me), and the combat could be repetitive. But playing it today, especially after experiencing challenging open-world games, I appreciate how it established every element that makes Assassin’s Creed special: the historical tourism, the parkour traversal, the Animus framing device, and the Assassins vs. Templars mythology.
The Witcher (2007): From Obscure Polish Novels to Gaming Phenomenon
In 2007, The Witcher felt like it came out of nowhere. Here was a Polish developer adapting a fantasy book series most Western gamers had never heard of, creating an RPG that dared to be morally complex and mechanically unique. I picked it up on a whim, intrigued by reviews mentioning “difficult choices” and “mature themes.” What I found was a game that redefined my expectations for narrative in RPGs.
The combat system was divisive, but I loved it. The rhythm-based chain attacks required timing and observation, not button mashing. Switching between strong, fast, and group fighting styles based on enemy types added tactical depth. Preparing for battles with potions and oils made me feel like an actual witcher – a professional monster hunter who succeeded through preparation, not just reflexes.
But The Witcher’s greatest achievement was its approach to moral choice. Gone were the simplistic good/evil dichotomies of other RPGs. Every decision had unforeseen consequences that might not manifest until hours later. I remember agonizing over whether to side with the Scoia’tael or the Order, knowing that neither was wholly good or evil. This moral ambiguity would become CD Projekt Red’s signature, culminating in The Witcher 3’s acclaimed narrative.
The game wasn’t fully open-world – it featured large hub areas rather than a seamless world. But within those hubs, the density of content was remarkable. Every NPC seemed to have a story, every quest had multiple angles to consider. I spent over 60 hours on my first playthrough, and immediately started a second to see how different choices played out.
Looking at The Witcher today, after the franchise’s explosive growth, it’s fascinating to see how much DNA from this first game persists. Geralt’s character, the potion system, the moral complexity, even the collectible cards (controversial as they were) – all established here. This relatively modest first entry laid the groundwork for what would become one of gaming’s most celebrated franchises.
Saints Row (2006): The Underdog That Refused to Be a Clone
When Saints Row launched in 2006, everyone (myself included) dismissed it as a GTA clone. To be fair, the surface-level similarities were obvious: open-world crime game, gang warfare, urban setting. But after spending time with it, I realized Volition had created something distinct. Where GTA was becoming more serious and cinematic, Saints Row embraced the absurd joy of open-world chaos.
The character customization was revolutionary for its time. While GTA stuck with predetermined protagonists, Saints Row let me create my own gang leader. The depth was impressive – I could adjust everything from body type to voice pitch. This personalization made me more invested in the story since it was my character rising through the ranks of the Third Street Saints.
The activities were where Saints Row truly shined. Insurance Fraud had me throwing myself into traffic for money. Drug Trafficking turned deal protection into high-speed chases. These weren’t just diversions; they were fully developed game modes that were often more fun than story missions. I’d boot up the game just to play Mayhem, destroying property for points in increasingly creative ways.
The gang warfare mechanic added strategic depth absent from GTA. Taking over territories wasn’t just about completing missions; it required defending your turf from rival gangs. I loved the sense of progression as the map gradually turned purple (the Saints’ color), showing my growing influence over Stilwater. This territory system would become a franchise staple and influence countless other open-world games.
Saints Row found its identity by being the fun alternative to GTA’s increasing seriousness. While GTA IV would later pursue gritty realism, Saints Row doubled down on sandbox insanity. This divergence, established in the first game, would define both franchises’ trajectories for years to come.
Far Cry (2004): Tropical Paradise Turned Tactical Playground
Crytek’s Far Cry blindsided me in 2004. What started as a simple “rescue the journalist” plot evolved into something far more ambitious. The tropical island setting was gorgeous (those water effects were mind-blowing at the time), but it was the gameplay freedom that truly impressed. This wasn’t a linear shooter; it was a tactical sandbox that let me approach objectives however I wanted.
The AI was revolutionary. Enemies would flank, call for reinforcements, and react to my tactics. If I went loud, they’d converge on my position. If I stayed stealthy, they’d search systematically. I remember spending hours on single encounters, reloading saves to try different approaches. Sniping from afar, sneaking through underbrush, or going full Rambo – all were viable strategies.
The open-ended level design was Far Cry’s greatest innovation. While not truly open-world, the large island sections gave unprecedented freedom in linear shooter design. I could steal a boat and approach objectives from the water, or find a hang glider and attack from above. This playground approach to level design would become Ubisoft’s template when they took over the franchise.
The vehicle implementation deserves special mention. Boats, jeeps, and hang gliders weren’t just transportation; they were tools for creative problem-solving. I loved stealing a patrol boat’s mounted gun to clear out camps from offshore, or using a jeep’s speed to blast through checkpoints. This vehicular freedom would become essential to Far Cry’s identity.
Though Crytek would leave the franchise after this entry, their foundation shaped everything that followed. The tropical setting, the tactical freedom, the emphasis on player creativity – all originated here. Modern Far Cry games have evolved tremendously, but they’re still iterating on the formula established in this groundbreaking first entry.
Red Dead Redemption (2010): Rockstar’s Western Masterpiece Foundation
While technically Red Dead Revolver came first, Red Dead Redemption was the true beginning of the franchise as we know it. In 2010, I was skeptical about Rockstar’s western experiment. Could the GTA formula work in the Old West? The answer was a resounding yes, but Redemption was far more than “GTA with horses.”
The horseback traversal transformed the open-world experience. Your horse wasn’t just transportation; it was a companion. Building trust with your mount, calling it from anywhere with a whistle, watching it flee from predators – these details made traveling the frontier feel authentic. I found myself enjoying the journey between destinations as much as the destinations themselves, something rare in open-world games.
The Dead Eye system was genius. Slowing time to mark multiple targets captured the fantasy of being a Wild West gunslinger perfectly. I felt like Clint Eastwood every time I cleared a room of bandits in seconds. This mechanic was so satisfying that it’s been refined but never fundamentally changed in subsequent entries.
Random encounters made the world feel alive in ways GTA never achieved. Helping strangers with broken wagons, stopping robberies, or being ambushed by bandits – these emergent moments created unique stories. I still remember specific random encounters from my 2010 playthrough, which speaks to their impact.
The honor system added weight to actions in ways that open-world games with deep mechanics still struggle to match. Being an outlaw had consequences beyond wanted levels. Shopkeepers would refuse service, townsfolk would flee, and certain missions became unavailable. Conversely, being honorable opened different opportunities. This morality system influenced my playstyle more than any karma meter before it.
Red Dead Redemption proved that Rockstar’s formula could transcend modern crime settings. The attention to historical detail, the mature narrative, and the technical excellence established a new franchise that would culminate in Red Dead Redemption 2’s unprecedented achievement. But it all started here, with John Marston’s journey across the dying West.
Horizon Zero Dawn (2017): Guerrilla’s Bold Genre Leap
Guerrilla Games making an open-world RPG seemed bizarre in 2017. This was the Killzone developer – masters of linear, corridor shooters. But Horizon Zero Dawn proved that sometimes the biggest risks yield the greatest rewards. I went in expecting competence; I got one of the generation’s defining games.
The concept alone was brilliant: robot dinosaurs in a post-apocalyptic world where humanity had regressed to tribalism. But it was the execution that impressed me. The machines weren’t just enemies; they were puzzles to solve. Each had specific weaknesses, components to target, and behaviors to exploit. Fighting a Thunderjaw required preparation, strategy, and skill – it felt like Monster Hunter meets Far Cry.
Aloy immediately became one of gaming’s best protagonists. Her journey from outcast to savior felt earned through both narrative and gameplay. I connected with her curiosity about the old world, her determination to uncover the truth, and her compassion despite facing constant prejudice. Strong protagonists in new franchises are rare; Guerrilla nailed it on their first try.
The combat system brilliantly merged ranged and melee combat with tactical planning. Setting traps, using elemental weaknesses, tearing off components to use as weapons – every encounter offered multiple approaches. I particularly loved the rope caster, pinning machines down for easier targeting. This tactical depth elevated combat beyond typical open-world fare.
The world-building was masterful. The contrast between primitive tribes and high-tech ruins created constant visual interest. But it was the slow reveal of how this world came to be that kept me engaged. Audio logs and data points weren’t just collectibles; they were pieces of a compelling mystery I desperately wanted to solve.
Horizon Zero Dawn established Guerrilla as open-world masters on their first attempt. The franchise’s future seems assured, but this first entry’s bold vision and flawless execution set an incredibly high bar. It proved that new franchises could still compete with established titans, given enough creativity and polish.
Fallout 3 (2008): Bethesda’s Post-Apocalyptic Reimagining
I’ll admit, I was among the skeptics when Bethesda acquired the Fallout license. The original games were isometric CRPGs; could that translate to a first-person open-world game? When I emerged from Vault 101 in 2008 and saw the Capital Wasteland stretching before me, all doubts evaporated. This wasn’t just a successful transition; it was a revelation.
The V.A.T.S. system was brilliant design. It preserved Fallout’s tactical, turn-based roots within real-time combat. Watching limbs explode in slow-motion never got old, but more importantly, it made the game accessible to players who weren’t FPS experts. I could play Fallout 3 as a shooter or as a tactical RPG, sometimes switching between both styles in a single encounter.
The atmosphere was unmatched. The retro-futuristic aesthetic, the dark humor, the juxtaposition of 1950s optimism with nuclear holocaust – it all combined to create something unique in gaming. Exploring the ruins of Washington D.C., finding pre-war artifacts, and piecing together stories of the world that was became an obsession. Three Dog’s Galaxy News Radio provided the perfect soundtrack to wasteland wandering.
The moral choices, while sometimes binary, had real weight. Deciding the fate of Megaton within the game’s first hours set the tone perfectly. Do you save a town or nuke it for profit? These weren’t subtle choices, but they were memorable. The karma system influenced how the wasteland responded to you, making each playthrough feel distinct.
Bethesda’s interpretation established the template for modern Fallout. The first-person perspective, the real-time combat, the environmental storytelling – all became franchise standards. While purists still debate whether Bethesda’s Fallout captures the originals’ spirit, there’s no denying that Fallout 3 successfully translated the franchise for a new generation and established conventions that persist in 2026.
Just Cause (2006): Physics-Powered Chaos Simulator
Just Cause arrived in 2006 with a simple promise: be an action movie. While other open-world games pursued realism or narrative depth, Avalanche Studios focused on pure, physics-driven mayhem. I initially dismissed it as shallow, but soon discovered that its focused design philosophy created something special.
The grappling hook and parachute combination was revolutionary. These weren’t just traversal tools; they were creativity enablers. I could grapple onto helicopters, hijack them mid-flight, then parachute away as they crashed. The physics system meant every action had spectacular, often hilarious consequences. This foundation of creative destruction would define the entire franchise.
San Esperito was massive – one of the largest game worlds at the time. But size wasn’t the point; it was the playground potential. Every military base, village, and city became a canvas for destruction. I’d spend hours not doing missions, just experimenting with different ways to cause chaos. Could I grapple a soldier to a gas tank then shoot it? (Yes.) Could I surf on car roofs while shooting rockets? (Absolutely.)
The heat system encouraged constant movement and escalation. As chaos increased, military response intensified. This created a natural gameplay rhythm – cause destruction, fight escalating forces, escape to cause chaos elsewhere. It was simple but addictive, turning the entire island into a guerrilla warfare simulator.
Just Cause knew exactly what it wanted to be: dumb fun executed brilliantly. While sequels would expand on these ideas dramatically, the core concept established here – physics-based destruction in a massive playground – remained unchanged. In an era of increasingly serious open-world games, Just Cause’s commitment to pure entertainment was refreshing.
Watch Dogs (2014): Hacking the Open-World Formula
Ubisoft’s Watch Dogs faced impossible expectations in 2014. The E3 2012 demo had promised a revolution; the final product was merely very good. But looking past the controversy, Watch Dogs introduced genuinely innovative ideas that established a franchise focused on something unique: hacking as a core mechanic.
The hacking system transformed Chicago into a puzzle box. Traffic lights became weapons, security cameras became spy networks, and citizen phones became information sources. I loved the power fantasy of controlling the city’s infrastructure. Escaping police by raising bridges, causing blackouts to infiltrate buildings, or triggering environmental kills through hacking – these weren’t gimmicks but fundamental gameplay mechanics.
The digital trips were wonderfully weird. These psychedelic mini-games – bouncing on flowers through the sky, controlling a giant spider tank – provided surreal breaks from the main game’s seriousness. They showed Ubisoft’s willingness to experiment within the franchise from day one, a tradition that would continue in sequels.
The invasion multiplayer was genuinely innovative. Other players could hack into your world, forcing paranoid vigilance. Was that NPC behaving strangely, or was it another player? This asynchronous multiplayer created tension without disrupting single-player flow. I spent hours both invading and defending, each encounter unique and memorable.
Watch Dogs established hacking as more than a gimmick – it was a new lens for open-world gameplay. While the narrative was forgettable and protagonist Aiden Pearce was bland, the core concept worked. The franchise would find its voice in subsequent entries, but this first game proved that hacking could sustain an entire open-world experience. In 2026, with our increasing digital dependence, Watch Dogs’ premise feels more relevant than ever.
The Evolution From First to Latest: What We’ve Learned
After examining these franchise foundations, patterns emerge about what makes a successful first entry. The best ones don’t just introduce mechanics; they establish philosophies that guide decades of sequels. They take risks that defined not just their own futures but influenced the entire industry.
Technical innovation alone isn’t enough. The Witcher had dated graphics even in 2007, but its narrative ambition carried it. Conversely, Far Cry’s technical prowess would have meant nothing without its tactical freedom. The sweet spot is matching technical capability with design innovation – pushing boundaries within achievable limits.
What impresses me most is how these first games’ DNA persists through massive technological advances. Play Grand Theft Auto V or Red Dead Redemption 2, and you’ll find the same fundamental design principles established in GTA III and RDR. The technology has evolved dramatically, but the core philosophy – player freedom in reactive worlds – remains unchanged.
Looking at addictive open-world games in 2026, I see refinements of ideas pioneered by these first entries. Modern games blend elements from multiple franchises – Horizon’s combat with Assassin’s Creed’s traversal, or Watch Dogs’ hacking with GTA’s urban playground. These first games didn’t just start franchises; they contributed to a shared language of open-world design.
The influence of these pioneering titles extends to dynamic open-world games that constantly evolve, showing how the foundation laid by these first games continues to inspire innovation in 2026. From seasonal changes in modern titles to emergent storytelling, the DNA of these original games remains visible.
FAQs About First Games in Open-World Franchises
Which First Open-World Game Should I Play in 2026?
If you’re looking to understand open-world gaming history, start with Grand Theft Auto III. Despite its age, its influence on everything that followed makes it essential playing. The Definitive Edition makes it accessible on modern platforms. However, if you want something that still holds up mechanically, Red Dead Redemption or Horizon Zero Dawn offer the best balance of historical importance and modern playability.
For those interested in exploring different approaches to beginner-friendly open-world games, many of these first entries actually provide more accessible experiences than their complex modern sequels.
Do I Need to Play First Games Before Sequels?
Generally, no. Most franchises design sequels to be entry points for new players. However, playing first entries enhances appreciation for franchise evolution. The Witcher series particularly benefits from playing in order, as choices carry over and character relationships deepen. But games like Assassin’s Creed or Far Cry can be enjoyed in any order.
Understanding the evolution shown in rankings like the Resident Evil franchise ranking demonstrates how first games establish core mechanics that later entries refine or revolutionize.
Why Do Some First Games Feel Dated While Others Don’t?
It comes down to design philosophy versus technical execution. Games that innovated through design (like Red Dead Redemption’s honor system) age better than those that relied on technical innovation (like Far Cry’s graphics). The Witcher feels dated visually but its narrative complexity remains compelling. Meanwhile, GTA III’s controls feel archaic but its design principles remain sound.
What Makes a Successful First Entry in a Franchise?
Based on my analysis, successful first entries share key traits: a clear vision that differentiates them from competitors, at least one revolutionary mechanic or system, technical competence within scope, and room for growth without fundamental reinvention. The best ones establish frameworks flexible enough for decades of iteration while maintaining core identity.
Are Modern First Games in New Franchises as Revolutionary?
It’s harder for modern games to feel revolutionary because we’ve seen so much innovation already. However, games like Horizon Zero Dawn prove it’s still possible. The key is combining familiar elements in new ways rather than inventing entirely new concepts. Modern first entries focus more on polish and unique combinations than pure innovation.
Examining iconic gaming characters reveals how many originated in these groundbreaking first games, showing their lasting cultural impact beyond just gameplay mechanics.
The Lasting Legacy of Franchise Foundations
Reflecting on these pioneering first games, I’m struck by their lasting influence on my gaming life. Each represents countless hours of exploration, experimentation, and pure joy. They didn’t just start franchises; they created communities, inspired developers, and pushed the entire medium forward.
The courage required to launch these franchises shouldn’t be understated. In an industry that often favors safe sequels, these developers risked everything on new ideas. Some, like GTA III, had established franchises to reimagine. Others, like The Witcher, were complete unknowns. All faced the challenge of establishing something new in a crowded market.
What excites me most is that we’re still seeing new franchises emerge. In 2026, with development costs higher than ever, publishers still greenlight original properties. The success of games like Horizon Zero Dawn proves there’s still appetite for new franchises, provided they bring fresh perspectives to established genres.
These first games remind us that innovation doesn’t require abandoning everything that came before. The best ones built on existing foundations while adding revolutionary twists. GTA III didn’t invent open-world games, but it perfected the formula. Assassin’s Creed didn’t create stealth games, but it reimagined them. Innovation through iteration, not revolution, often creates the most lasting change.
As I continue exploring best open-world games in 2026, I carry lessons learned from these franchise foundations. They taught me that games could be more than entertainment – they could be experiences that define generations. Every time I climb a tower in an Assassin’s Creed game, cause chaos in Just Cause, or explore a wasteland in Fallout, I’m reminded of that first time, when everything was new and full of possibility.
The beauty of these first games is that they’re still playable and enjoyable today. Sure, some mechanics feel dated, graphics look rough, and quality-of-life features are missing. But the core experiences – the fundamental joy of exploration, freedom, and discovery – remain intact. They’re time capsules that let us experience the birth of gaming dynasties, understanding not just where these franchises ended up, but where they began.
For younger gamers who started with recent entries, I strongly encourage experiencing these origins. Not as history lessons, but as still-viable gaming experiences that offer perspectives modern games can’t. There’s something special about playing a game before it knew it would spawn a franchise, when developers were throwing everything at the wall to see what stuck. That experimental energy, that willingness to risk failure for the chance at something new – that’s what makes these first games essential playing even decades later.