“You'd better hold onto your promises,” sang the Cranberries in 1999, almost certainly referencing the bold claims CD Projekt RED would make 15 years later in the lead up to hugely anticipated RPG . Every game talks the talk these days: open world this, rich narrative that, movie-like graphics the other. But The Witcher 3's different: its open world appears full of stuff you'd actually be interested in, its story continues from a masterful narrative thread woven by The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings. And it's not the worst-looking game out there either, is it?

CD Projekt knows how to do grown-up fantasy. There isn't a bright green tear in the sky above hero Geralt of Rivia signalling an impending doom. There is magic, sure, but the troubles of the land he inhabits are products of political power struggles, of characters with motivations and fears. Which means its much-touted open world is a pretty immersive place. Finally getting hands-on with the game, I became so immersed that I regularly forgot I was supposed to be checking off quests and instead found myriad ways to arse about. These are they.

Remember that unspeakably awful teenage moment when you were watching a movie with your parents and a sex scene came on? I do, because that exact same feeling washes over me as the camera pulls slowly up on Geralt of Rivia having a lovely bath, sans clothes, in the opening scene. And who's that? Oh, it's love interest Yennefer, also starkers, reclining on a chaise lounge. Behind me, I can feel the eyes of several CD Projekt developers. Watching. Judging. Should I be looking appreciatively at the lingering bum shots so as not to cause offence? Or will that make me look like some kind of deviant? What's the protocol here?

The more pertinent question is probably this: does the scene create a sense of intimacy with its principal characters, or is it wafer-thin titillation? Well, the camera gives more attention to Yennefer than Geralt, but you could argue that's a cinematic convention as much as anything. It's probably a bit of both; an assertion of adult tone with a faint whiff of the tacky. Undeterred, I robe up and leave my tent of debauchery for the wider world.

A crash course in Witcher lore: long ago, the gods let magic into the unnamed continent on which the games (and, prior to that, Andrzej Sapkowski's novels) are set. Normality was never quite restored, and unearthly beasts still roam the wilds. Through some form of arcane ritual, beings like your good self are born with magical powers and not-quite-human properties. Ciri is one such, carrying in her some powerful magic that's much coveted by The Wild Hunt, a collective who owe a bit to LOTR's Ringwraiths.

Phew. That goes some way to explaining why Geralt is training young Ciri up with such gusto. She needs top-notch blade skills to defend herself from the Wild Hunt, and the best way to gain those skills is apparently to spar with training dummies on tiny raised platforms beside a cliff while blindfolded. And doing backflips. She appears pretty good at it to the layman's eye, but Geralt isn't happy. He chastises her like only a white-haired, flame-eyed magical mutant can. Before you go phoning Childline though, remember he's doing it to protect her, really. The softie.

I'd try to explain the exact passage of events that lead me to this point, an enormous grizzly bearing down on me (terrible pun intended) amidst the upturned tables and gore of what was once a jolly feast, but I'd be here until the game's out (May 19th, since you ask). The salient facts are these: I was attending a hearty banquet on the norse/celtic flavoured archipelago of Skellige, having my back slapped by enormous men with northern Irish accents and marvelling at genuinely one of the highest detail interior scenes I've ever witnessed in a game – people danced on tables, food and drink spilling everywhere, diffuse lighting effects giving the windows a wondrous glow. I stepped downstairs to talk politics with someone, and then...

Then the bears showed up. Three or four of them. Slaughtered the whole banquet hall in seconds, leaving nothing of the feast or its patrons except what I choose to believe is strawberry jam splattered everywhere. Their mighty bear paws deal huge damage, so I keep my distance, casting the Igni sign to whittle away their health before cleaning up with a silver sword. Great night.

Tell me the very first thing you do in an open world game isn't galloping off to the furthest point from your starting location just to see what happens on the way. Go on. See? We're so in sync. That's my first move, calling upon my horse and attempting to leave the sleepy autumnal village in which the prologue begins behind for some darker, deadlier climes. Since enemies don't scale in The Witcher 3, I've every chance of running into impossibly powerful foes. But hang on – I reach a certain point on the map, not all that fair from said sleepy village, and am unceremoniously teleported back within some invisible confines. Horrors!

'Witcher 3 not open world after all!' I imagine myself typing, and subsequently breaking the internet, before a developer patiently explains that the prologue area is closed off in this way to maintain narrative focus for a bit before you're let loose into the game proper. Placated, I explore within those confines and see a tremendous amount of environmental variation even in that space. Rolling hills. Crop fields. Hamlets build near the river. A foreboding Nilfgaardian fortress. Alright, Witcher 3. You get away with that one.

There's a fine tradition in RPGs of dicking around in bars when you should be saving the world, and The Witcher may just offer the widest array of procrastination. Not only does it strongly hint at the return of bare-knuckle boxing from TW2, but introduces a new pub pastime in the form of a Hearthstone-aping card game.

It doesn't work exactly like Blizzard's time sink, though. Instead you and your opponent are both trying to fill a number of columns with the most attack points using a limited, non-replenishing deck of cards. I'll level with you – I still don't completely understand it, and I spend longer than a monster hunter should losing precious coins to the bar fly who introduced me to it. I almost won once. I think. As with Pazaak from BioWare's KOTOR games, there's a long-term collectible element, so merchants across the land will stock rare and powerful cards with which to bolster your deck. For a price. What's that, mate? Town being pillaged? In a minute, I think I've nearly got a handle on this...

Witcher lore top-up course: humans don't exactly welcome Geralt and his kind with open arms, despite their proclivity for ridding the lands of dangerous critters. As you walk through the open world you're subject to considerable prejudice, sometimes in the form of a comment uttered under someone's breath as you walk past. Sometimes in the form of three stacked dudes waiting outside the pub you've spent all afternoon playing cards in to pulp your mutant ass.

I could take the high road here and run away from them. I could trap them with my Yrden sign and make a break for it while they're slowed. I could even charm them with my Axii magic. But – no. It's my magical abilities they fear and hate me for in the first place. Resorting to those signs will only reinforce that negative stereotype and proliferate my reputation as untrustworthy. Instead, I punch them all in the head until they die, leaving the scene with my pride intact and my moral compass bearing due right. Be the change you want to see.

One thing The Witcher games do better than anybody else – late '90s era Black Isle excluded – is write meaning, purpose, and plausibility into the most inconsequential side quest. Here's the barebones of one such optional mission I pick up: talk to a man, visit a well, look at some blood, fight a boss, talk to the man again. Standard.

But it's the narrative stuffing which separates CD Projekt's work. I'm talking to the man in the first place because I've heard his village can't find a clean water supply since a battle took place upstream from its supplying river and the casualties keep washing down in the current. I've already been to that battlefield, so it makes sense to me. The well used to service the settlement in desperate times, but it's since become haunted. I visit it to discover the remnants of a murder scene from long ago using my Witcher vision (think focus mode), and that gives me hints as to how to make the imminent boss fight easier. Even with the quest wrapped up, there are later dialogue options which let me learn more about the murder when I chat to certain characters. So. Much. Depth.

Very early on in my playthrough it becomes apparent that the surrounding area has a bit of a Griffin problem. My sleuthing instincts are first awoken when one savages a local farmer and his hay cart, flying off with an entire horse between its talons as if it were a mere vole.

However, I'm at the very beginning of the prologue, which means I'm levelled up to the approximate ferocity of Richard Hammond and – stop me if I've mentioned this – enemies don't scale. That Griffin isn't going to play nice just because I choose to take it on at the very start of the game, before exploring any side quests, making any potions or finding any better equipment. I take the only logical course and decide to investigate literally every other quest line first, scything down Dredgers who are terrorising a local farmhouse, banishing a Noonwraith from the haunted well, collecting disgusting bits of magical enemies for local alchemists, and popping back in the pub to see if I can't get my head around that card game. That's the plus side of enemies existing at a fixed level (which is visible on your HUD, an unlikely similarity with Destiny) – you can potter about doing odd jobs, then return to annihilate them later.

Moral ambiguity – the cornerstone of any good RPG yarn worth unfurling. This chap's the very embodiment of that. He's a Nilfgaardian warlord with whom I must pester for details on a certain character's (who I won't name) disappearance, and when I find him he's shaking down a local peasant for a share of his village's grain. “How much grain can you give?” he asks the peasant.

It transpires that some Temerians already raided the village of grain, but the peasant reckons they can give forty bushels, max. “You will give thirty,” says the warlord. So, he's a good guy for letting him off lightly, or a bad guy for extorting them in the first place, or... I don't know. What's important is that he's interesting. “Look at my hands!” he says. “See the calluses? These are not the hands of an excellency but a farmer. So we speak peasant to peasant.” It's characters like him by which an open world RPG lives and dies, they get you to care about your surroundings more than grass density or tree bark fidelity. Which are both top-drawer, incidentally.

It's surprising how familiar The Witcher 3's core mechanics feel to its predecessor, but they also feel expanded and refined where it counts. Combat is subject to plenty of new animations which give Geralt newfound litheness, but its basic principles of dodging, blocking, parrying and spellcasting remain. It's in the open world where the true novelty lies, both for the series and the genre – we simply haven't seen a space this detailed, technically or narratively, before.

Want more Witcher 3 info? Here's a guide to , then.

Until humanity devises a way to build the lifelike robot version of a young Haley Joel Osment, artificial intelligence will always be a work in progress. I'm no programmer, so I can't speak to the complexities of making a machine act like a real person, or seemingly take up an agenda of its own. But I do know a thing or two about what makes for a good gameplay experience - which AI behavior can make or break, given the crucial role it plays in believability of the world and enjoyment of the combat. But too often, some form of decidedly less-advanced AI rears its ugly NPC face to ruin everyone's fun with positively inhuman or insane behaviors.

Certain kinds of wonky AI seem to crop up all over the gaming ecosystem, across all kinds of genres and generations. But these nine AI archetypes are so common, you'd think their faulty algorithms would've been worked out by now. Let's take a look at some of the stupidest types of game AI to ever rip us out of any immersion like a [humorous metaphor] [sentence punctuation] [continue to next slide]

They say it's dangerous to go alone - but forcing you to buddy up with a Thickheaded Teammate is more hazardous to your health than solitude ever could be. With their endless parade of flagrant idiocy, you'd think that they were a double agent, set up as part of your squad to sabotage your efforts at every turn. When they're not shooting you in the back of the head, they're stepping in your line of fire. Giving them a health item means they'll either waste it on the most minor wounds imaginable, or completely forget they have it when they're fatally bleeding out. As you watch in disbelief while your Thickheaded Teammate struggles to navigate stairs or bypass an open door, you'll suddenly find yourself testing the game's capacity for friendly fire.

As seen in: Resident Evil 5, Halo: Combat Evolved

It's a wonder that the Helpless Companion can wipe their own butt without your step-by-step assistance. Rescuing someone from a deadly situation isn't supposed to be easy, but the Helpless Companion seems determined to get the both of you killed on account of their ineptitude. Instead of running away from danger, they either sprint towards it with open arms or stand perfectly still, neither of which is super helpful when your success depends on their survival. The Helpless Companion is the type who would run headlong into a burning building - not in an attempt to rescue anyone inside, just out of sheer confusion. Maybe it'd be best if you just 'forgot' to rescue them this time.

As seen in: Ico, Dead Rising

Is it clairvoyance? The ability to calculate every possible outcome and thus see into the future? No! It's just the game bending the rules to its advantage, leaving you hopelessly frustrated in the process. The Blatant Cheater seems to think that neck-and-neck competition is the only thing that makes gaming worthwhile, and if your skills are upsetting that balance, then you deserve to be punished. Their methods are many: conjuring up the exact item that ruins you, reading your button inputs, exploiting limitless resources, and so on. But the end result is always the same: you, the player, questioning what you're doing with your life, because the computer seems to be scornfully orchestrating your every loss.

As seen in: Mario Kart, Mortal Kombat

Give the Tireless Worker a task, and they'll do everything they can to please you. They've got no problem constructing buildings or gathering resources for five days straight, just to see their job through to the end. But once that job's complete, they become utterly useless. Without some kind of constant directive telling them what to do, Tireless Workers are content to simply stand in place until death or a new assignment, whichever comes first. The only outside influence that can jolt them out of an unproductive stupor is getting caught in the line of fire - a hazard that they seem to forget all about after running roughly 20 feet.

As seen in: StarCraft, Command Conquer

Yes, this design is often integral to old-school gameplay, but it's such an existentially terrifying notion that I never want to see it again. The Unthinking Drone lives a tragic, typically brief life, as it cannot deviate from a set of basic directives. If you are to walk forward, then you walk forward - even if that means marching trance-like into a bottomless pit, or staring directly at the gun that's about to blow your brains out. Has the Unthinking Drone's free will been suppressed by Nineteen Eighty-Four-style indoctrination? Or does it internally scream out in an attempt to command its unresponsive body?

As seen in: Super Mario Bros., Mega Man

No matter where you are in the world, a properly functioning compass will always point north. The guns held by Armed Compass soldiers work in much the same way: no matter where you are on the map, their barrels will always be pointed directly at you. If you reveal so much as an errant nose hair from behind cover, the Armed Compass will immediately and continuously unload clip after clip in your direction, no matter the range or visibility. That's about all they're capable of, though. Things like flanking your position, calling for backup, moving away from a live frag grenade at their feet, or backpedaling when you charge at them with a knife in hand are all actions that seem to elude the Armed Compass.

As seen in: Titanfall, Battlefield 3

Sometime in the past decade, developers realized how infuriating it is to get a Game Over just because your Helpless Companion teammate bit the dust. So why not go the other direction and make your plot-centric companion nigh-invincible? The problem is that believability kinda takes a hit when your partner can soak up bullets like a Kevlar-brand ShamWow, or skips daintily in front of enemy's faces without ever getting their attention. You're the hero of this game, so the Superhuman Aide can't move the action forward without you. But given their incredible abilities and borderline immortality, it seems like they're far more deserving of the spotlight than your sorry, Medkit-needing ass.

As seen in: Half-Life 2, The Last of Us

As you go about your day-to-day life, you typically don't see many people standing on chairs, walking into walls, rotating in place, or synchronizing their movements with those of a stranger for no apparent reason. But in the virtual world, such bizarre, inexplicable activities are commonplace, all thanks to Abnormal Citizens. They go about their daily routines like any normal person might, making sure to spout the appropriate lines whenever you walk by and/or threaten their lives. But leave them to their own devices, and you'll quickly realize that the Abnormal Citizen has a very limited grasp on spatial awareness or social norms. Then again, you seem to be the only one who thinks what they're doing is weird - so maybe you're the one with a problem.

As seen in: Assassin's Creed, Fallout

If your comrade enters a room only to be immediately gunned down, our basic instincts for self-preservation tell us that following him is probably a bad idea. But the Slow Learner approaches that same situation a bit differently. Watching as their ally takes a shotgun blast to the skull directly in front of them isn't a sign of impending doom - it's an invitation to step right up, now that it's finally their turn to waltz through the door. It doesn't matter if they have to step over a steadily growing pile of allied corpses. The Slow Learner has to see what all the commotion is about with their own two eyes, before a bullet is inevitably lodged between them.

As seen in: Bulletstorm, GoldenEye 007

What's the most annoying AI archetype you're sick of seeing? Any particularly good stories of allied NPCs driving the both of you off a cliff, or enemies who can't seem to see what's directly in front of them? Share and share alike in the comments below!

And if you're looking for more, check out .

Until humanity devises a way to build the lifelike robot version of a young Haley Joel Osment, artificial intelligence will always be a work in progress. I'm no programmer, so I can't speak to the complexities of making a machine act like a real person, or seemingly take up an agenda of its own. But I do know a thing or two about what makes for a good gameplay experience - which AI behavior can make or break, given the crucial role it plays in believability of the world and enjoyment of the combat. But too often, some form of decidedly less-advanced AI rears its ugly NPC face to ruin everyone's fun with positively inhuman or insane behaviors.

Certain kinds of wonky AI seem to crop up all over the gaming ecosystem, across all kinds of genres and generations. But these nine AI archetypes are so common, you'd think their faulty algorithms would've been worked out by now. Let's take a look at some of the stupidest types of game AI to ever rip us out of any immersion like a [humorous metaphor] [sentence punctuation] [continue to next slide]

They say it's dangerous to go alone - but forcing you to buddy up with a Thickheaded Teammate is more hazardous to your health than solitude ever could be. With their endless parade of flagrant idiocy, you'd think that they were a double agent, set up as part of your squad to sabotage your efforts at every turn. When they're not shooting you in the back of the head, they're stepping in your line of fire. Giving them a health item means they'll either waste it on the most minor wounds imaginable, or completely forget they have it when they're fatally bleeding out. As you watch in disbelief while your Thickheaded Teammate struggles to navigate stairs or bypass an open door, you'll suddenly find yourself testing the game's capacity for friendly fire.

As seen in: Resident Evil 5, Halo: Combat Evolved

It's a wonder that the Helpless Companion can wipe their own butt without your step-by-step assistance. Rescuing someone from a deadly situation isn't supposed to be easy, but the Helpless Companion seems determined to get the both of you killed on account of their ineptitude. Instead of running away from danger, they either sprint towards it with open arms or stand perfectly still, neither of which is super helpful when your success depends on their survival. The Helpless Companion is the type who would run headlong into a burning building - not in an attempt to rescue anyone inside, just out of sheer confusion. Maybe it'd be best if you just 'forgot' to rescue them this time.

As seen in: Ico, Dead Rising

Is it clairvoyance? The ability to calculate every possible outcome and thus see into the future? No! It's just the game bending the rules to its advantage, leaving you hopelessly frustrated in the process. The Blatant Cheater seems to think that neck-and-neck competition is the only thing that makes gaming worthwhile, and if your skills are upsetting that balance, then you deserve to be punished. Their methods are many: conjuring up the exact item that ruins you, reading your button inputs, exploiting limitless resources, and so on. But the end result is always the same: you, the player, questioning what you're doing with your life, because the computer seems to be scornfully orchestrating your every loss.

As seen in: Mario Kart, Mortal Kombat

Give the Tireless Worker a task, and they'll do everything they can to please you. They've got no problem constructing buildings or gathering resources for five days straight, just to see their job through to the end. But once that job's complete, they become utterly useless. Without some kind of constant directive telling them what to do, Tireless Workers are content to simply stand in place until death or a new assignment, whichever comes first. The only outside influence that can jolt them out of an unproductive stupor is getting caught in the line of fire - a hazard that they seem to forget all about after running roughly 20 feet.

As seen in: StarCraft, Command Conquer

Yes, this design is often integral to old-school gameplay, but it's such an existentially terrifying notion that I never want to see it again. The Unthinking Drone lives a tragic, typically brief life, as it cannot deviate from a set of basic directives. If you are to walk forward, then you walk forward - even if that means marching trance-like into a bottomless pit, or staring directly at the gun that's about to blow your brains out. Has the Unthinking Drone's free will been suppressed by Nineteen Eighty-Four-style indoctrination? Or does it internally scream out in an attempt to command its unresponsive body?

As seen in: Super Mario Bros., Mega Man

No matter where you are in the world, a properly functioning compass will always point north. The guns held by Armed Compass soldiers work in much the same way: no matter where you are on the map, their barrels will always be pointed directly at you. If you reveal so much as an errant nose hair from behind cover, the Armed Compass will immediately and continuously unload clip after clip in your direction, no matter the range or visibility. That's about all they're capable of, though. Things like flanking your position, calling for backup, moving away from a live frag grenade at their feet, or backpedaling when you charge at them with a knife in hand are all actions that seem to elude the Armed Compass.

As seen in: Titanfall, Battlefield 3

Sometime in the past decade, developers realized how infuriating it is to get a Game Over just because your Helpless Companion teammate bit the dust. So why not go the other direction and make your plot-centric companion nigh-invincible? The problem is that believability kinda takes a hit when your partner can soak up bullets like a Kevlar-brand ShamWow, or skips daintily in front of enemy's faces without ever getting their attention. You're the hero of this game, so the Superhuman Aide can't move the action forward without you. But given their incredible abilities and borderline immortality, it seems like they're far more deserving of the spotlight than your sorry, Medkit-needing ass.

As seen in: Half-Life 2, The Last of Us

As you go about your day-to-day life, you typically don't see many people standing on chairs, walking into walls, rotating in place, or synchronizing their movements with those of a stranger for no apparent reason. But in the virtual world, such bizarre, inexplicable activities are commonplace, all thanks to Abnormal Citizens. They go about their daily routines like any normal person might, making sure to spout the appropriate lines whenever you walk by and/or threaten their lives. But leave them to their own devices, and you'll quickly realize that the Abnormal Citizen has a very limited grasp on spatial awareness or social norms. Then again, you seem to be the only one who thinks what they're doing is weird - so maybe you're the one with a problem.

As seen in: Assassin's Creed, Fallout

If your comrade enters a room only to be immediately gunned down, our basic instincts for self-preservation tell us that following him is probably a bad idea. But the Slow Learner approaches that same situation a bit differently. Watching as their ally takes a shotgun blast to the skull directly in front of them isn't a sign of impending doom - it's an invitation to step right up, now that it's finally their turn to waltz through the door. It doesn't matter if they have to step over a steadily growing pile of allied corpses. The Slow Learner has to see what all the commotion is about with their own two eyes, before a bullet is inevitably lodged between them.

As seen in: Bulletstorm, GoldenEye 007

What's the most annoying AI archetype you're sick of seeing? Any particularly good stories of allied NPCs driving the both of you off a cliff, or enemies who can't seem to see what's directly in front of them? Share and share alike in the comments below!

Until humanity devises a way to build the lifelike robot version of a young Haley Joel Osment, artificial intelligence will always be a work in progress. I'm no programmer, so I can't speak to the complexities of making a machine act like a real person, or seemingly take up an agenda of its own. But I do know a thing or two about what makes for a good gameplay experience - which AI behavior can make or break, given the crucial role it plays in believability of the world and enjoyment of the combat. But too often, some form of decidedly less-advanced AI rears its ugly NPC face to ruin everyone's fun with positively inhuman or insane behaviors.

Certain kinds of wonky AI seem to crop up all over the gaming ecosystem, across all kinds of genres and generations. But these nine AI archetypes are so common, you'd think their faulty algorithms would've been worked out by now. Let's take a look at some of the stupidest types of game AI to ever rip us out of any immersion like a [humorous metaphor] [sentence punctuation] [continue to next slide]

They say it's dangerous to go alone - but forcing you to buddy up with a Thickheaded Teammate is more hazardous to your health than solitude ever could be. With their endless parade of flagrant idiocy, you'd think that they were a double agent, set up as part of your squad to sabotage your efforts at every turn. When they're not shooting you in the back of the head, they're stepping in your line of fire. Giving them a health item means they'll either waste it on the most minor wounds imaginable, or completely forget they have it when they're fatally bleeding out. As you watch in disbelief while your Thickheaded Teammate struggles to navigate stairs or bypass an open door, you'll suddenly find yourself testing the game's capacity for friendly fire.

As seen in: Resident Evil 5, Halo: Combat Evolved

It's a wonder that the Helpless Companion can wipe their own butt without your step-by-step assistance. Rescuing someone from a deadly situation isn't supposed to be easy, but the Helpless Companion seems determined to get the both of you killed on account of their ineptitude. Instead of running away from danger, they either sprint towards it with open arms or stand perfectly still, neither of which is super helpful when your success depends on their survival. The Helpless Companion is the type who would run headlong into a burning building - not in an attempt to rescue anyone inside, just out of sheer confusion. Maybe it'd be best if you just 'forgot' to rescue them this time.

As seen in: Ico, Dead Rising

Is it clairvoyance? The ability to calculate every possible outcome and thus see into the future? No! It's just the game bending the rules to its advantage, leaving you hopelessly frustrated in the process. The Blatant Cheater seems to think that neck-and-neck competition is the only thing that makes gaming worthwhile, and if your skills are upsetting that balance, then you deserve to be punished. Their methods are many: conjuring up the exact item that ruins you, reading your button inputs, exploiting limitless resources, and so on. But the end result is always the same: you, the player, questioning what you're doing with your life, because the computer seems to be scornfully orchestrating your every loss.

As seen in: Mario Kart, Mortal Kombat

Give the Tireless Worker a task, and they'll do everything they can to please you. They've got no problem constructing buildings or gathering resources for five days straight, just to see their job through to the end. But once that job's complete, they become utterly useless. Without some kind of constant directive telling them what to do, Tireless Workers are content to simply stand in place until death or a new assignment, whichever comes first. The only outside influence that can jolt them out of an unproductive stupor is getting caught in the line of fire - a hazard that they seem to forget all about after running roughly 20 feet.

As seen in: StarCraft, Command Conquer

Yes, this design is often integral to old-school gameplay, but it's such an existentially terrifying notion that I never want to see it again. The Unthinking Drone lives a tragic, typically brief life, as it cannot deviate from a set of basic directives. If you are to walk forward, then you walk forward - even if that means marching trance-like into a bottomless pit, or staring directly at the gun that's about to blow your brains out. Has the Unthinking Drone's free will been suppressed by Nineteen Eighty-Four-style indoctrination? Or does it internally scream out in an attempt to command its unresponsive body?

As seen in: Super Mario Bros., Mega Man

No matter where you are in the world, a properly functioning compass will always point north. The guns held by Armed Compass soldiers work in much the same way: no matter where you are on the map, their barrels will always be pointed directly at you. If you reveal so much as an errant nose hair from behind cover, the Armed Compass will immediately and continuously unload clip after clip in your direction, no matter the range or visibility. That's about all they're capable of, though. Things like flanking your position, calling for backup, moving away from a live frag grenade at their feet, or backpedaling when you charge at them with a knife in hand are all actions that seem to elude the Armed Compass.

As seen in: Titanfall, Battlefield 3

Sometime in the past decade, developers realized how infuriating it is to get a Game Over just because your Helpless Companion teammate bit the dust. So why not go the other direction and make your plot-centric companion nigh-invincible? The problem is that believability kinda takes a hit when your partner can soak up bullets like a Kevlar-brand ShamWow, or skips daintily in front of enemy's faces without ever getting their attention. You're the hero of this game, so the Superhuman Aide can't move the action forward without you. But given their incredible abilities and borderline immortality, it seems like they're far more deserving of the spotlight than your sorry, Medkit-needing ass.

As seen in: Half-Life 2, The Last of Us

As you go about your day-to-day life, you typically don't see many people standing on chairs, walking into walls, rotating in place, or synchronizing their movements with those of a stranger for no apparent reason. But in the virtual world, such bizarre, inexplicable activities are commonplace, all thanks to Abnormal Citizens. They go about their daily routines like any normal person might, making sure to spout the appropriate lines whenever you walk by and/or threaten their lives. But leave them to their own devices, and you'll quickly realize that the Abnormal Citizen has a very limited grasp on spatial awareness or social norms. Then again, you seem to be the only one who thinks what they're doing is weird - so maybe you're the one with a problem.

As seen in: Assassin's Creed, Fallout

If your comrade enters a room only to be immediately gunned down, our basic instincts for self-preservation tell us that following him is probably a bad idea. But the Slow Learner approaches that same situation a bit differently. Watching as their ally takes a shotgun blast to the skull directly in front of them isn't a sign of impending doom - it's an invitation to step right up, now that it's finally their turn to waltz through the door. It doesn't matter if they have to step over a steadily growing pile of allied corpses. The Slow Learner has to see what all the commotion is about with their own two eyes, before a bullet is inevitably lodged between them.

As seen in: Bulletstorm, GoldenEye 007

What's the most annoying AI archetype you're sick of seeing? Any particularly good stories of allied NPCs driving the both of you off a cliff, or enemies who can't seem to see what's directly in front of them? Share and share alike in the comments below!

And if you're looking for more, check out .

Until humanity devises a way to build the lifelike robot version of a young Haley Joel Osment, artificial intelligence will always be a work in progress. I'm no programmer, so I can't speak to the complexities of making a machine act like a real person, or seemingly take up an agenda of its own. But I do know a thing or two about what makes for a good gameplay experience - which AI behavior can make or break, given the crucial role it plays in believability of the world and enjoyment of the combat. But too often, some form of decidedly less-advanced AI rears its ugly NPC face to ruin everyone's fun with positively inhuman or insane behaviors.

Certain kinds of wonky AI seem to crop up all over the gaming ecosystem, across all kinds of genres and generations. But these nine AI archetypes are so common, you'd think their faulty algorithms would've been worked out by now. Let's take a look at some of the stupidest types of game AI to ever rip us out of any immersion like a [humorous metaphor] [sentence punctuation] [continue to next slide]

They say it's dangerous to go alone - but forcing you to buddy up with a Thickheaded Teammate is more hazardous to your health than solitude ever could be. With their endless parade of flagrant idiocy, you'd think that they were a double agent, set up as part of your squad to sabotage your efforts at every turn. When they're not shooting you in the back of the head, they're stepping in your line of fire. Giving them a health item means they'll either waste it on the most minor wounds imaginable, or completely forget they have it when they're fatally bleeding out. As you watch in disbelief while your Thickheaded Teammate struggles to navigate stairs or bypass an open door, you'll suddenly find yourself testing the game's capacity for friendly fire.

As seen in: Resident Evil 5, Halo: Combat Evolved

It's a wonder that the Helpless Companion can wipe their own butt without your step-by-step assistance. Rescuing someone from a deadly situation isn't supposed to be easy, but the Helpless Companion seems determined to get the both of you killed on account of their ineptitude. Instead of running away from danger, they either sprint towards it with open arms or stand perfectly still, neither of which is super helpful when your success depends on their survival. The Helpless Companion is the type who would run headlong into a burning building - not in an attempt to rescue anyone inside, just out of sheer confusion. Maybe it'd be best if you just 'forgot' to rescue them this time.

As seen in: Ico, Dead Rising

Is it clairvoyance? The ability to calculate every possible outcome and thus see into the future? No! It's just the game bending the rules to its advantage, leaving you hopelessly frustrated in the process. The Blatant Cheater seems to think that neck-and-neck competition is the only thing that makes gaming worthwhile, and if your skills are upsetting that balance, then you deserve to be punished. Their methods are many: conjuring up the exact item that ruins you, reading your button inputs, exploiting limitless resources, and so on. But the end result is always the same: you, the player, questioning what you're doing with your life, because the computer seems to be scornfully orchestrating your every loss.

As seen in: Mario Kart, Mortal Kombat

Give the Tireless Worker a task, and they'll do everything they can to please you. They've got no problem constructing buildings or gathering resources for five days straight, just to see their job through to the end. But once that job's complete, they become utterly useless. Without some kind of constant directive telling them what to do, Tireless Workers are content to simply stand in place until death or a new assignment, whichever comes first. The only outside influence that can jolt them out of an unproductive stupor is getting caught in the line of fire - a hazard that they seem to forget all about after running roughly 20 feet.

As seen in: StarCraft, Command Conquer

Yes, this design is often integral to old-school gameplay, but it's such an existentially terrifying notion that I never want to see it again. The Unthinking Drone lives a tragic, typically brief life, as it cannot deviate from a set of basic directives. If you are to walk forward, then you walk forward - even if that means marching trance-like into a bottomless pit, or staring directly at the gun that's about to blow your brains out. Has the Unthinking Drone's free will been suppressed by Nineteen Eighty-Four-style indoctrination? Or does it internally scream out in an attempt to command its unresponsive body?

As seen in: Super Mario Bros., Mega Man

No matter where you are in the world, a properly functioning compass will always point north. The guns held by Armed Compass soldiers work in much the same way: no matter where you are on the map, their barrels will always be pointed directly at you. If you reveal so much as an errant nose hair from behind cover, the Armed Compass will immediately and continuously unload clip after clip in your direction, no matter the range or visibility. That's about all they're capable of, though. Things like flanking your position, calling for backup, moving away from a live frag grenade at their feet, or backpedaling when you charge at them with a knife in hand are all actions that seem to elude the Armed Compass.

As seen in: Titanfall, Battlefield 3

Sometime in the past decade, developers realized how infuriating it is to get a Game Over just because your Helpless Companion teammate bit the dust. So why not go the other direction and make your plot-centric companion nigh-invincible? The problem is that believability kinda takes a hit when your partner can soak up bullets like a Kevlar-brand ShamWow, or skips daintily in front of enemy's faces without ever getting their attention. You're the hero of this game, so the Superhuman Aide can't move the action forward without you. But given their incredible abilities and borderline immortality, it seems like they're far more deserving of the spotlight than your sorry, Medkit-needing ass.

As seen in: Half-Life 2, The Last of Us

As you go about your day-to-day life, you typically don't see many people standing on chairs, walking into walls, rotating in place, or synchronizing their movements with those of a stranger for no apparent reason. But in the virtual world, such bizarre, inexplicable activities are commonplace, all thanks to Abnormal Citizens. They go about their daily routines like any normal person might, making sure to spout the appropriate lines whenever you walk by and/or threaten their lives. But leave them to their own devices, and you'll quickly realize that the Abnormal Citizen has a very limited grasp on spatial awareness or social norms. Then again, you seem to be the only one who thinks what they're doing is weird - so maybe you're the one with a problem.

As seen in: Assassin's Creed, Fallout

If your comrade enters a room only to be immediately gunned down, our basic instincts for self-preservation tell us that following him is probably a bad idea. But the Slow Learner approaches that same situation a bit differently. Watching as their ally takes a shotgun blast to the skull directly in front of them isn't a sign of impending doom - it's an invitation to step right up, now that it's finally their turn to waltz through the door. It doesn't matter if they have to step over a steadily growing pile of allied corpses. The Slow Learner has to see what all the commotion is about with their own two eyes, before a bullet is inevitably lodged between them.

As seen in: Bulletstorm, GoldenEye 007

What's the most annoying AI archetype you're sick of seeing? Any particularly good stories of allied NPCs driving the both of you off a cliff, or enemies who can't seem to see what's directly in front of them? Share and share alike in the comments below!

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