The controversy that shadowed Skyrim’s launch still hasn’t settled, leaving the direction of The Elder Scrolls 6 up in the air. Bethesda’s landmark RPG keeps getting compared to TES II: Daggerfall, where moving across the world felt denser and heavier.

When I think of Bethesda’s work—be it The Elder Scrolls or Fallout—two pillars come to mind: magnetic factions and the thrill of exploration. Skyrim—we bring it up every single year, don’t we?—became the Holy Grail of open worlds, with Nordic forests scored by Far Horizons. In hindsight, though, it’s striking that this milestone formed while running against the grain of public opinion about fast travel. For context, let’s go back to 1975.

Why that specific year? Because soon after, Dungeons & Dragons swept through U.S. schools and campuses, and many future gaming luminaries fell for pen-and-paper role-playing in some after-hours classroom. D&D campaigns revolve around trekking across regional maps in multi-day legs, with formal systems for resting and recovering spell slots. No wonder early CRPGs, MUDs, and later MMOs absorbed some notion of long-distance travel.

Fast travel is the obvious solution when destinations are far apart—but it hasn’t always looked the same. Skyrim launched amid heated arguments over teleport-like convenience: mark a spot and—poof—you’re there. Back in TES IV: Oblivion (2006), that was groundbreaking, and not everyone was pleased.

By contrast, Daggerfall delivered a gigantic, seemingly denser Tamriel and a deeper fast-travel layer. The original Elder Scrolls entries, Arena and Daggerfall, had maps unimaginably larger than today’s: Tamriel once held a Guinness World Record, with an area approaching that of Great Britain (161,600 km² vs. 209,000 km²). Put another way, you could fit around 120 entire Skyrims inside—back then just one region. Fast travel existed, but not as modern teleportation.

How did it work? You opened the map, picked a destination, and planned the route through an options menu. It cost gold (as some games like WoW still do), and you chose to go on foot, by horse, or by wagon—plus whether to sleep in an inn after sunset or camp out. Those choices altered price, duration, and risk; the game told you how long it would take while your character actually followed the shortest path, which you could pause to make camp.

It was slow and a little tedious, sure—but it gave the adventure weight: strategy, realism, calculation. Over time, those qualities thinned out as teleport-style convenience became the norm, especially in mass-market games.

Compact Worlds vs. Expansive Worlds

Because Daggerfall was procedurally generated, vast stretches were functionally empty—trees, rocks, occasional algorithm-built villages. That’s the polar opposite of Skyrim’s hand-crafted design: much smaller, but alive at every turn. Todd Howard’s team built a vibrant, moment-to-moment world where NPCs had routines and backstories. It fueled a modding renaissance and years of communal discovery.

So which approach wins? Daggerfall offered a massive Tamriel and more immersive fast travel, yet—helped by YouTube’s rise—Skyrim cemented itself as an industry icon. It still inspires concerts, songs, and think-pieces like this one: blemishes and all, its legacy is pristine.

The real point isn’t that one is “better,” but that The Elder Scrolls has shown two radically different philosophies for fast travel—still unsettled even now. Starfield was dinged for letting the interface intrude on exploration.

Not long ago I replayed Mass Effect: Andromeda (2017)—its creators said they were “inspired by Skyrim’s exploration.” Ironically, it landed the opposite reaction: open zones aimed to immerse players in alien nature, yet many felt urgency and conflict had drained away—along with some charm. Much of Skyrim’s magic came from its slow-burn immersion; maybe that’s why fast travel became a touchy subject.

Dragon’s Dogma 2 (2024) tried a middle path: wagons that physically trundled across the map, with the option to close your eyes and wake up at your stop—unless bandits or monsters struck. The idea was strong—a midpoint between walking and teleporting (which also existed, but with limits). In practice, inconsistencies kept it from setting a new standard.

Then there’s Starfield (2023), criticized for menu hops and transitions that walled off action from the romance of spacefaring. It’s a paradox echoing “Daggerfall vs. Skyrim” and “Skyrim vs. Starfield.” Bethesda aimed big—mysteries of the universe, countless worlds meant to feel weighty—yet the alchemy didn’t fully click. I don’t think it’s as bad as some claim, but I share gripes about forgettable character models and a diminished sense of discovery versus undeniable Skyrim.

Recapturing tundra magic is hard. After a decade plus of open-world excess, AAA studios still haven’t nailed the balance among “huge,” “immersive,” and “worth exploring.”

So what awaits in The Elder Scrolls 6? Open worlds are far more common now than when Skyrim launched, and teleport-like fast travel is industry standard. But I’m not convinced Bethesda must stick with it. Under Todd Howard, the studio could try something different. Perhaps Skyrim’s issue wasn’t ease of use—something we all like—but oversimplifying a mechanic fans view as core, like inventory.

Jumping from Whiterun to Falkreath in an instant dulls impact. There’s an opening to deepen fast travel—or to design a world where teleportation is restricted or conditional. This debate isn’t going away. The industry may be stagnant in places, but it’s alive. Ten years from now, worlds won’t look the same. Someone will push for change.

Source: 3djuegos