Breath of the Wild Effect

I still remember the feeling I had when I first dove into The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild in 2017. At that point, I had been a fan of Zelda for nearly 30 years, and yet I had never seen anything like it in the series up to that point. The world was vast and breathtaking, and I quickly learned that every bit of muscle memory I had developed over almost three decades with the franchise would need to be discarded. Venturing out into the wilds of that rather unorthodox take on Zelda‘s Hyrule, I regularly stumbled upon secrets that no quest giver or map marker was willing to guide me toward, making each find feel like something unique to my own adventure, all while other players were out there having a similar experience. Now, Crimson Desert is having the same effect on me, and I can’t get enough of it.

But Zelda: Breath of the Wild ignited a phenomenon far more broad than the sight-driven discovery and curiosity-fueled exploration of one individual’s experience. Its lack of handholding and minimalistic approach to what was once the traditional open-world formula almost made it an asynchronous multiplayer game of sorts, where players cooperated with one another by sharing their discoveries online and through word of mouth. There was no guide book large enough or publication with enough time or resources to reveal every single secret housed within Breath of the Wild‘s Hyrule, so players took it upon themselves to help others find what they believed at the time was something no one else had ever seen. Nine years later, Crimson Desert takes a similar approach in its open-world design, effectively reviving what I like to call the “Breath of the Wild effect.”

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What the Breath of the Wild Effect Is

The Breath of the Wild effect ultimately comes from a game being so massive and filled with secrets, and so unwilling to hold the player’s hand, that it almost forces players to rely on each other to make sense of it all. There’s direction, sure, but it’s loose enough that most of what you find comes from simply choosing a direction and sticking with it. That means a lot of discoveries don’t feel like they were placed directly in your path, but more like something you happened to come across on your own, even if someone else might have found it first.

Who’s That Character?

Identify the silhouettes before time runs out.

Who’s That Character?

Identify the silhouettes before time runs out.

Easy (7.5s)Medium (5.0s)Hard (2.5s)Permadeath (2.5s)

That’s where things start to transition from a solo experience into something that feels more cooperative, even if it wasn’t an explicit intention of the developer. Because the game isn’t spelling everything out, players naturally begin comparing notes, sharing what they’ve found, and pointing each other toward things that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. It turns personal exploration into something more collaborative, even though there’s no actual co-op system in place. One player’s discovery fills in a gap for someone else, and over time, that exchange starts to feel like a necessary part of fully experiencing the world.

In that sense, calling Breath of the Wild an asynchronous multiplayer game isn’t as far-fetched as it might sound. You’re not playing alongside people in the traditional sense, but their presence is still felt through what they’ve uncovered and shared. The game becomes bigger than any one player’s experience because no single person is going to see everything on their own. That’s the Breath of the Wild effect, and when another game manages to recreate that same dynamic, it’s hard not to get pulled into it the same way all over again.

I even remember listening to a Kotaku podcast around a month after Breath of the Wild‘s launch, where they talked about how they were still stumbling upon things in the world that no one else in the office had discovered yet, even after dozens of hours in the game. From there, they began to call Breath of the Wild a multiplayer game without being designed as one, and that was made even more evident by what players were sharing online as well. Social media platforms were flooded with videos, screenshots, and descriptions of things players were finding in Hyrule that they believed no one else knew existed. It was an interesting experience, to be sure, and it’s one of the many reasons Breath of the Wild‘s open world is still considered something of a standard in the industry today.

Crimson Desert’s Open World Is Having the Same Effect on Players

Now, Crimson Desert‘s open world is having the same effect on players, to the point that even I—someone who has now logged around 160 hours in the game—am seeing people share things online that I haven’t discovered yet. If Crimson Desert is somewhere in your algorithm, chances are you’ve already seen numerous screenshots and videos shared by normal players (not even guide makers) online that have led you to some valuable resource, gear piece, or unique event. Just yesterday, in fact, I learned of a gold mine within a cave that I had already discovered but hadn’t ventured deep enough into to actually mine the gold.

Needless to say, my phone’s photo library is now filled with screenshots of what other players have so graciously shared (thank you, by the way), and every time I boot up Crimson Desert again, I’m swiping through each one of them as I go out and find them for myself. Some might say that’s not as fun as making your own discoveries, but the thing about a game as massive as this one is that, even when I’m taking advantage of what other players have found, I’m still going to be finding my own secrets along the way. Plus, Pearl Abyss made it rather clear up front that it wanted Crimson Desert to be a collaborative experience, so if you’re playing it this way, I’d say you’re playing it the right way.

Crimson Desert‘s open world is having the same effect on players, to the point that even I—someone who has now logged around 160 hours in the game—am seeing people share things online that I haven’t discovered yet.

But regardless of what the “right” way to play Crimson Desert is, I’m deeply fascinated by a game’s ability to bring people together when it’s actually designed as a single-player game. You’re still on your own, but you’re constantly running into things other players have already found or pointed out. A cave you missed; a mechanic you didn’t think to try; a location you walked right past. That overlap starts to matter, because it fills in the gaps the game leaves open without ever forcing you down a specific path.

That’s really what the Breath of the Wild effect is. A game is big enough, vague enough, and confident enough in its design that players end up relying on each other to see everything it has to offer. No one person is going to find it all, and the game knows that. So, instead of guiding you to every answer, it leaves room for players to help each other finish the picture. And honestly, that’s what makes Crimson Desert so hard to put down, because every time I think I’ve seen what it has to offer, I’m reminded that I’ve barely scratched the surface.