Given the truly colossal scale of open-world video games today, having a way to mark out routes and points of interest is a must. Game developers have to weigh the benefits of giving players all the information they will need to know (quest and objective markers, towns, and resources) against the thrill of exploration and keeping surprises hidden.

Even after achieving this delicate balance, many developers still miss out on the chance to make their map UI special. A good map-reading mechanic can turn the simple act of finding bearings into an immersive, player-driven experience or a satisfying part of the central game loop.

If any genre needs a good map to hook its players in with an immersive atmosphere, it's fantasy. The Elder Scrollsseries has an interesting and varied history with maps, from pixelated to lovingly hand-drawn and time-stained cartography. However, 's bold, birds-eye-view map evokes that classic tabletop model design familiar to tabletop-gaming enthusiasts.

While being able to see the whole landscape from the perspective of Magnus' emergency exit hole into Oblivion (AKA the Sun) might break realism for a medieval-esque swords-and-sorcery setting, it leaves a strong impression on players, especially at the start of the game, when most of the landscape is freshly unmapped for them to explore.

While onboard any starship, players of can at any moment remind themselves of the realistic enormity of the universe and the inconsequential smallness of their own lives by accessing the Galactic Map.

Where many other space games may be tempted to express their map of space as a flat plane, this three-dimensional miniature is charted in-game with full vectors (although the actual galaxy is still disk-like). The sheer amount of information (inhabitants, type of civilization, hotspots) is cleanly displayed to the player via color coding, provided they have the requisite scanner tech.

While wasn't the first game to seamlessly transition from first-person gameplay to a diegetic map, the Pip Boy's retro-futuristic interface set the standard for open-world game immersion. Navigation (both on the map and between other functions of the Pip Boy) is somewhat clunky, but this is sort of the point, as the tech of the Fallout universe is meant to be chunky and unwieldy.

The player is given a vague, CRT green monochrome image of the landscape and two intersecting lines to trace their positions, akin to a military targeting system, which is probably more than any regular survivor of an apocalypse might expect to get. Despite this, the UI functions perfectly once the player has acclimated, being just readable enough to be functional, just obscure enough to feel authentic.

The real-life maps of history, made before cartography perfected the art of charting the world, tended to look more like abstract works of art than the type seen in fantasy movies or video games. While the Bunting cloverleaf map or Ptolemy's world map would likely give players a headache today, a little of that magic is lost in clean, organized fantasy maps.

However, recaptures the essence of these old parchments of the past with its incredible tapestry map, which is as much a work of art as the Lands Between themself. Other historically inspired games, such as Kingdom Come: Deliverance, have integrated period-accurate styles in their maps, but Elden Ring's clean, beautiful map, which must be pieced together with fragments found throughout the world, elevates the act of discovery into something sacred.

Any pirate story worth its salt should contain a scene where buccaneers swagger about a map, fingering ink stains and land masses on the parchment, bickering about the best way to sail or the truth or myth of fabled treasure. allows a group of players to experience this crucial part of freebooting pirate life themselves around their very own map table.

The markings and pins on the map strike the balance between salty pirate flavor and readability, with stylized icons and dashed lines sitting pretty on top of hand-drawn sandbars and beaches, scuffs, rum stains, and tears. While one person parses the map, their three other pirate mateys can follow along and plot the path of their next raid or digging excursion.

is a game that was practically built around the concept of exploring a wilderness without human or technological aid. To that end, its sophisticated map UI comes across as low tech (the player is given a compass and a map without a cursor or checklist) to help them get into the mood. Unlike real-world maps, Firewatch's map is relatively simple.

Areas of interest or previously-visited locations are dynamically added by Henry (the player's in-game fire lookout avatar) using his handwriting, hand-drawn trail lines, and clean but amateur-looking symbols. This ensures that the player never gets too lost in the somewhat small open world while giving them the chance to appreciate free exploration and nature.

In terms of pure exploration potential, might be the most impressive open-world video game ever made, as its procedurally-generated open worlds literally go on forever in all four cardinal directions, down below into the depths, and even into other dimensions. To help chart their way, players can craft maps with paper and a compass.

An empty map will have to be filled out by the player by scouting the area. Maps are fully integrated as items, and really do chart the terrain as the player walks. These maps can be displayed as a minimap when used as an off-hand item, on walls or surfaces with an item frame, and with those frames, seamlessly stitched together to get a picture of the wider world.