It's my party and I'll Far Cry if I want to.

I've been playing Far Cry 3 lately and enjoying it for the most part, but the more I play it the more it worries me.

Far Cry 3 is the epitome of the science of modern game design.  It's also the next logical step in open-world sandbox-style games after Skyrim, and it certainly bears a lot of the marks of its influence.  Everything about this game is designed to keep you playing a little bit longer: XP based character progression, tons of collectables, hunting for crafting materials, tiny bits of treasure scattered everywhere that trickle slowly into your wallet, guns that slowly unlock availability as time goes on (or can be bought) and are further customizable, Assassin's Creed-style slowly-unlock-the-map-and-side-missions-as-you-go gameplay, Skyrim-style laughable sidequests where everyone needs something that's conveniently in walking distance.  Layered on top of a save-your-friends story where you go from OHMYGODIHAVEN'TSHOTAGUNBEFOREICAN'TKILLAMAN to fuck-yeah-jungle-survivalist-badass in the span of about 20 minutes and you're literally egged on by an alluring woman who promises you approval and (I'm not kidding) full-on graphic sex if you give her everything she wants.

And yet everything manages to simultaneously be an instant gratification roller-coaster ride.  The game is filled with cutscenes and character actions where control is taken away from you to do something actiony while your vision is locked in all its headbobby glory to a camera lodged in your character's eye sockets.  Your character is established as being a well-off white kid from California who hasn't touched a gun in his life and couldn't imagine shooting even his kidnappers, fortunately your older brother (whom you're held captive with) is an ex-marine so he's able to show you the ropes before being conveniently killed--but it's no problem because you're instantly adopted by the warrior tribe culture that's fighting against the pirates who kidnapped you and your friends who have this mysterious power that turns you into a master-stealth-ninja-survivalist by merely placing a small tattoo on your left arm.  Everyone on the island instantly knows your name and how much of a badass you are, there's zero character development at all--you're instantly the only possible person in the world who can solve this island's troubles.

Putting myself in my character's shoes is very difficult.  I feel like it robs me of what could have been an amazing character development experience when my character is suddenly a master marksman with what should be years of jungle special forces training literally the second I step out of Dennis' shack.  There's no tension, no proper sense of the stakes whether it be in a small situation like taking over an outpost to the overarching story (your character constantly whining about the imminent danger of his friends doesn't do it, and is frankly meaningless to us when we the player don't KNOW Jason's friends personally).  And the extent of the actual in-game character development I've seen thus far is the friends you rescue being shocked that you're no longer a benign white boy who panics at the first sign of danger like they do.

I feel like the setting is a mask for what is basically an empty game experience that only exists to eat up my time and money.  It's the sodapop of video games--empty calories that tastes sweet but has no substance.