It doesn’t matter to me how someone decides to enjoy their gaming experience. Whether they select an easy mode, opt out of certain features, or frequently save and restart—whatever keeps them entertained is all that counts.
That’s precisely why we have video games.
.
‘Save scumming’ is a term that’s been around for decades, originally as more of a joke, though now it’s used by ‘hardcore’ gatekeepers who find more enjoyment in ridiculing other people on Twitter and Reddit than they do actually playing a video game.
If you’re not familiar, save scumming means often saving your progress during gameplay. The idea is to reload from these saves whenever an undesirable event occurs—such as losing stealth or bad dice rolls.
It’s A Needlessly Hostile Term To Throw Around
And yet, as idiotic as the judgement is, it can be felt. I’m someone who does like to save my games and reload if something happens that I didn’t want, because – stick with me now – I will enjoy the game more if I get what I want out of it. There’s nothing wrong with that, but there’s also nothing wrong with
wanting things to happen outside of your control
And still, I’ll experience guilt when restarting a game due to that making me ‘scum’ to an unknown player online.
Yet when I recall my initial experience with Oblivion, the purity associated with that moment comes to mind.
That very innocence is precisely why save scumming feels damaging to the experience—regardless of judgment, it’s the process itself that undermines things.
This isn’t about telling you not to use quicksaves if that’s what you prefer—I still couldn’t be less concerned with how you decide to enjoy your games.
When I Was Young, These Worlds Were Adventures for Me
I understand that video games are frequently described as an ‘experience,’ but this statement holds particularly true during childhood. When I was young, I didn’t grasp the concept of saving and reloading progress. Our household owned an initial PlayStation along with various titles; however, only my father and elder sibling possessed memory cards — since I was the youngest, each time I started a game, I would simply play through it again from the start whenever I turned on the console.
I possessed a memory card for the PS2, which allowed me to delve into those virtual realms across multiple sessions. However, I didn’t consider saving regularly; instead, each save replaced the last one, rendering my progress irreversible. When the PS3 era arrived, despite the absence of memory cards, I maintained this approach, intensifying the impact of every gaming session.
The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
It was one of my initial experiences with the PS3, and I found myself utterly absorbed in its fantastical universe. However, after spending 70 hours playing, I hadn’t switched from the single save slot I typically used. Should I pick up an item I wasn’t supposed to, I’d face a penalty fee. Angering individuals I preferred not to upset led me to handle the repercussions accordingly. Eventually, even my trusty steed met its end.
As I ventured through the northern reaches of the Jerall Mountains in Cyrodiil, the sole horse accompanying me throughout this journey met its end. This loss left me heartbroken, and all I wanted was to turn back time and prevent his passing. However, what I sought wasn’t an answer but solace from grief. So, I covered the horse’s body with a fabric and arranged burning torches around it before bidding farewell. Afterward, I continued onward.
What Benefits Could I Have Attained From Reloading?
This is what happened: Had I restarted my game right then, I likely wouldn’t have this recollection today. More than likely, I’d have reset the scenario and carried on without much impact either way. However, being 27 years old now, I can still vividly picture my very first virtual steed from “Oblivion,” making it an integral part of my gaming experiences associated with that title.
As I went back to Cyrodiil in
Oblivion Remastered
, I remembered this moment once again. I’ve since become someone who quicksaves and reloads a lot of the time, but when I thought about the innocence that came with my horse’s final moments, I realised that maybe I should try to play Oblivion that way again.
Certainly, I’m quite wary about bringing my new horse out in the game due to past traumas, but this caution also adds an extra layer of depth to the gameplay. Whatever unfolds is part of the journey, and I believe that can make for some truly captivating moments within our gaming sessions occasionally. Perhaps once I reach 50 years old, I’ll reflect upon a future event occurring during my playtime with Oblivion Remastered, cherishing those recollections just as much as those from the initial release of the game.
I vow by the Nine, if it’s my horse dying once more…