For critics, there seems to be some sort of calculable rule which states that, "The quality of a game is inversely proportional to the amount of backtracking required therein." I have always thought that this assertion was pretty flawed, but then, I spent most of my early gaming years playing titles like Myst and Resident Evil.

Under the boardwalk, down by the sea, yeah.

At the outset of any good adventure game, players are met with a seemingly expansive environment to explore, but with only one or two pathways currently unlocked. All other avenues will be blocked off and require some sort of item, knowledge or ability to open. Thus, the player is forced to explore the few locations available until he or she finds a way to open up the next area.

This is called backtracking, if you hadn’t already figured that out from the title, and it is a staple of any healthy adventure gamer’s diet. In Resident Evil, for instance, once you’ve found that shield key you were looking for, you will have to retrace your steps to find every door that it unlocks. Even while you’re doing that, you’re certain to find other doors and puzzles along the way that require some other sort of item or key to unlock. By now you will have realized that you will be repeating this back and forth process multiple times throughout the game, and you are either loving it or ready to scratch your eyes out.

A lot of people find this sort of gameplay tedious or, dare I say, boring, but I actually prefer it to the linear progression of most games. Sure, it’s often used as a way to artificially extend play time—much like the ball-busting gameplay of yesteryear—but it doesn’t have to be viewed so negatively. By spending time exploring each area, you familiarize yourself and become more acquainted with the landscape. As a result, it becomes a vital, memorable and even personable part of your experience with the game.

Take Metroid Prime as another example. For those who have played it—which should be all of you, if you have any business at all being here—the landing site on Talon IV is one of the most beautiful areas in the game; characterized by drizzling rain, lush vegetation and a pool flowing from a beautifully rendered (for the time) waterfall. Now, imagine if you were never to see this area again after leaving it for the first time. All of that amazing artistic design would amount to approximately a few dozen seconds of gameplay, or however long it takes you to find the door, and a complete waste of the artistic team’s talents.

One of the earliest pioneers of backtracking was the point-and-click adventure genre, which thrived back in the 1980s and early ’90s. It included such titles as LucasArts’ The Secret of Monkey Island and Cyan’s Myst series, which were hugely popular among gamers of the time. So what happened to these types of graphical adventures? In the mid 1990s, they were hunted nearly to extinction by ravenous Quake and Unreal players. Today, there are very few point-and-click adventures left in the world, and most of those that still exist are forced to live on small hard drive reserves where kilobytes are scarce.

The use of backtracking has been on the decline ever since computers have become capable of producing high-action 3D games. Most modern titles emphasise senseless slaughter over traditional exploration as found in adventure games.

Exploration and backtracking aren’t exclusive to the adventure genre, however. A recent action game that actually requires players to retread old ground is Halo: Combat Evolved. Nearly half the game is spent repeating the same locations that you’ve already gone through. Some would even argue that the level design is so repetitive that the entire game is just the same series of rooms repeating ad infinitum. I use fancy language like that because I’m insecure in social situations.

Going back—or backtracking, if you will—to my earlier days, I gained an almost intimate knowledge of the layout and design of Sonic the Hedgehog 2 through methodical inspection of practically every corner of every level. I have memorized the locations of hidden areas and platforms that none of my fellow Genesis-owning friends have ever seen; many of which are simply teeming with delicious rings and item boxes.

Sonic 2 is filled with areas like these, just waiting for skilled explorers to discover them.

Sonic 2 isn’t exactly the sort of game that one would associate with meticulous exploration, but I guess it’s just in my nature to explore. Similar to Nintendo’s Shigeru Miyamoto, I spent a lot of my childhood scouting out the wilderness that surrounds my parents’ home. I’m still a little ticked off that he beat me to the whole Legend of Zelda idea; but I guess he did manage to release it a full year before I was born, so I’ll let him have this one. Well played, Miyamoto-san. Well played.