Maybe you had seen a few screenshots, read the back of the box, watched a trailer, or heard about it from someone else. Strategy guides, magazines and walkthroughs certainly existed, but information was not always sitting one search away from you.

Today, it is remarkably easy to know almost everything before pressing New Game.

The best starting class. The strongest weapon. Which skills are worth investing in. Which dialogue choice leads to a better reward. Which quests are missable. How long the game takes. Which ending is considered the best. Even a thumbnail or search suggestion can reveal a boss, location or character you have not met yet.

None of this information is inherently bad. In many cases it is genuinely useful.

Games can be enormous, some systems are poorly explained, and not everyone has enough free time to spend several hours recovering from a bad character build or searching for something deliberately hidden. A good guide can remove frustration rather than enjoyment.

But I sometimes wonder whether easy access to information has quietly changed the way we play.

If you already know that one weapon is significantly better than another, are you still going to experiment with both?

If you know a particular decision locks you out of a quest, are you really making a decision anymore, or are you simply following the safest route?

And if every secret, build, collectible and consequence can be checked before you encounter it naturally, does the game slowly become something to complete correctly rather than something to discover?

Some of my strongest gaming memories did not come from playing efficiently. They came from taking the wrong path, misunderstanding a mechanic, using a weapon because I liked it rather than because it was statistically better, or discovering something I had no idea was there.

Those moments were personal precisely because nobody had told me they were supposed to happen.

At the same time, deliberately avoiding all outside information can feel artificial today. Games are discussed everywhere. Videos appear in recommendations, social media exposes major moments within days, and communities often understand complicated systems better than the games themselves explain them.

So perhaps the real question is not whether guides are good or bad.

It is where we draw the line between getting useful information and removing discovery from the experience.

When you start a game for the first time, how much do you allow yourself to know?

Do you prefer going in almost completely blind, or do you research builds, missable content and important choices beforehand?

And have you ever realized that looking something up made a game less interesting afterward?

A small environment can contain carefully placed details, interconnected paths, unique landmarks, and locations that change as the player progresses. A much larger world may contain more square kilometres while relying heavily on repeated activities and similar spaces.

Neither approach is automatically better.

Large worlds can create scale, travel, isolation, and long-form exploration. Smaller worlds can create familiarity and allow individual locations to carry more meaning.

What matters is not simply how much space exists, but how intentionally that space is used.

Halloween: The Game puts players into the world of the 1978 film, with Michael Myers at the center of a survival horror experience that includes both single-player and multiplayer gameplay.

What makes the idea interesting is how different Michael Myers is from a typical video game enemy. He is not remembered because he moves quickly or overwhelms people with elaborate abilities. Much of his presence comes from patience, silence, and the feeling that he could be somewhere nearby even when you cannot see him.

That raises an interesting question for a game built around him: how do you turn a slow and deliberate horror character into engaging gameplay without losing what makes him intimidating?

There is also the wider question of licensed horror games. We have seen several major horror properties adapted into multiplayer experiences over the years, and many of them eventually face the same challenge: keeping players interested once the initial excitement of playing as or against a famous character begins to fade.

For Halloween, atmosphere may be especially important. The suburban streets, quiet houses, darkness, limited information, and uncertainty about where Michael is could potentially matter just as much as combat or progression systems.

What do you think?

• Does Halloween work naturally as an asymmetric horror game?

• Would you rather play as Michael Myers or try to survive against him?

• Should the game focus heavily on the atmosphere of the original film, or take more freedom with the setting and gameplay?

• Can a licensed horror game like this have long-term appeal beyond fans of the franchise?

For me, the most interesting part is not simply being able to play as Michael Myers. It is whether the game can recreate that feeling of looking down a quiet street and wondering if The Shape is already there watching you.

Use this forum for discussions about new and upcoming games, industry news, announcements, recommendations, trends, publishers, developers, and topics that do not fit one of our more focused forums.

Example topics:

• Which upcoming game are you most excited for?

• What did you think of the latest showcase?

• Which studios are making the most interesting games right now?

• What game would you recommend to someone looking for a great RPG?

• Are game prices becoming too high?

If your topic is specifically about what you are currently playing, use What Are You Playing?. If you want to discuss why a game is designed a certain way, use Design & Decisions.

Think of General Gaming as the main conversation floor of NoAutosave.