The Witcher 3 wasn’t just a game I played this year—it was a journey, a kind of sprawling, endless adventure that stayed with me in the quiet moments between other things. It’s one of those rare experiences where every element—story, music, characters, even the places that don’t technically exist—comes together to feel real, like a world that could keep spinning whether I was there or not.

What made it special, I think, was the vastness of it. There’s something deeply human about losing yourself in an open world, about wandering into the unknown not because you have to, but because you can. For me, that meant hunting for gear. I spent hours tracking down the perfect materials, assembling the ideal armor sets. It wasn’t just about the gear; it was about the ritual, the way it made me feel connected to this world and to Geralt’s place within it.

But more than the gameplay, it’s the story that lingers. It’s layered, like the chapters of a long book that you don’t want to end. At its heart, there’s the Wild Hunt—a looming threat, relentless and inevitable. And there’s Ciri, Geralt’s impossible daughter, always just out of reach. But surrounding that core are so many other stories—of friends, lovers, and strangers. Yennefer, Triss, Dandelion, the Bloody Baron—these aren’t just characters; they’re people with their own triumphs and heartbreaks.

And then there’s the world itself, a kind of character in its own right. Every town, every forest, every mountain pass felt alive, filled with its own stories, its own horrors and joys. The music was more than just a soundtrack—it was the pulse of the world, carrying me through moments of triumph and despair, reminding me that even in darkness, there is beauty.

But what stays with me most are the deeper themes. Geralt is a Witcher—seen by the world as emotionless, a tool to kill monsters and nothing more. And yet, beneath that, he’s brimming with emotion, with love and loyalty and an unshakable need to protect the people he cares about. His journey is a balancing act—remaining true to who he is while grappling with what he feels.

For me, The Witcher 3 was a lesson in purpose. Geralt didn’t choose his destiny—it was thrust upon him. But over time, that purpose became his own. And maybe that’s what purpose really is—not something we find, but something we grow into.

This game wasn’t just about defeating monsters or crafting armor—it was about what it means to live a meaningful life. About identity and connection and the quiet strength it takes to care about others. It’s a game I’ll treasure, not just for what it was, but for what it taught me about myself.