Summary
There areopen-world gameswhere combat is slick, cinematic, and satisfying. Then there are games where combat feels like a means to an end—a necessary chore that takes place between long drives, wild detours, and physics-defying stunts, and those are the kind of games this list is interested in.
These are the open-world titles where players aren’t dreaming of the next firefight, but of the next curve in the road, the next jump, or the next excuse to hop back in the driver’s seat and stay there. Because sometimes, it’s not about beating enemies to a pulp—it’s about making the journey feel so good, the destination (and the fights that take place there) doesn’t even matter.
Combat inDays Gonenever quite finds its rhythm. Guns feel weighty but sluggish, and melee often devolves into awkward shoving matches with the infected. Butriding that motorcycle? That’s where the game really opens up. Deacon’s bike is a lifeline. Players refuel it, upgrade it, and even push it manually if it runs dry. The more time spent with the bike, the more it feels like a companion rather than a tool.
The Pacific Northwest setting, drenched in pine forests and winding mountain roads, elevates the experience. Speeding down foggy highways while dynamic weather rolls in is often more memorable than most gunfights. There’s real joy in tuning the bike’s handling and suspension, feeling the difference as Deacon tears through a wet dirt path versus a crumbling highway. Combat may bring the tension, but it’s the freedom of the ride that keeps the engine humming.
Sleeping Dogsfeatures some surprisinglybrutal hand-to-hand combat, inspired by classic Hong Kong action flicks and built upon the foundation of theBatman Arkhamfree-flow system. However, while the martial arts system is slick, it’s the driving that steals the show—an ironic twist for a game so invested in fists and slow-motion roundhouse kicks.
Set in a condensed, neon-soaked version of Hong Kong, the city’s compact design and verticality are ideal for arcade-style driving. Cars handle with just enough looseness to drift around corners like a pro, and motorbikes practically beg players to thread through traffic at top speed. Hijacking vehicles from one moving car to another—while standing on the roof—is a regular mechanic, not a one-off set piece. It feels like someone handed theFast & Furiousfranchise a controller and said, “Go wild.” Combat might bring the choreography, but the streets bring the thrill.
Combat inMafia: Definitive Editionisn’t bad—it’s just stiff, and maybe a little too careful. Guns have punch but lack flair, and cover-based shootouts rarely raise the heart rate. Whatdoeswork is the driving, which feels lovingly tuned to match the game’s 1930s setting. Old-school cars have weight, personality, and quirks. Cornering isn’t effortless—it’s earned.
The streets of Lost Heaven, modeled on a mix of classic American cities, provide the perfect backdrop for these vintage rides. There’s even an optional“Simulation” driving modefor players who want to really feel the friction of 1930s tires on brick roads. Police chases play by period rules, enforcing speed limits and traffic violations unless provoked, giving players a reason to ease up and enjoy the drive. When a getaway sequence hits, it’s the steering wheel that does the heavy lifting, not the Tommy gun.
Rage 2’scombat wants to be the star. Developed in part by id Software, gunplay is fast, frenetic, and packed with abilities like Shatter and Slam that should feel game-changing. And yet, something about it feels strangely weightless—too quick to satisfy and too chaotic to savor.
But the driving? That’s whereRage 2finds its swagger. The wasteland is built for traversal, with ramps, off-road trails, and convoy ambushes around every turn.Vehicles are varied and upgradeable, from the beefy Phoenix to hulking tanks and zippy buggies. Vehicle combat feels more tactile than anything on foot, with rockets, machine guns, and EMP blasts turning road rage into an art form. The world might look like a fever dream of magenta and steel, but behind the wheel, it becomes a playground.
Combat inMad Maxis competent, but it rarely climbs above “serviceable.” Punching out raiders feels like it’s checking boxes fromArkham’s combat flowchart, but without the elegance. What players remember, though, is the Magnum Opus—the custom car that becomes an extension of Max’s survival instincts.
The post-apocalyptic wastelandofMad Maxis vast, barren, and surprisingly beautiful, and every inch of it is designed with vehicular mayhem in mind. Upgrading the Opus is a game in itself: do players want better armor, more speed, spiked wheels, or a harpoon that can rip the door off enemy rides? Chases are brutal and balletic, with explosions lighting up the sand while Max rams, flips, and tears through convoys. It’sTwisted Metalby way of George Miller, and it’s absolutely the best reason to stay behind the wheel.
Hacking inWatch Dogs 2is clever and often chaotic, but the gunplay never quite fits the tone. Marcus Holloway isn’t a soldier, and shootouts feel like a Plan C at best. Driving, on the other hand, turns into its own kind of rebellion.
Set in a sun-drenched version of San Francisco, complete with winding coastal roads and tight city streets, driving inWatch Dogs 2isn’t just about getting from A to B; it’s a tool of creative expression. Players can hijack cars remotely, launch themselves off steep hills, or chain together stunts while the cops scramble to keep up. Add in the electric skateboards and fast little RC cars, and suddenly,traversal is a sandboxall its own. With traffic jams to leap over and trolleys to dodge, combat becomes the last thing on anyone’s mind.
There’s plenty to bemoan about the clunky cover system or Niko’s slow aim, but the driving inGrand Theft Auto 4? That’s a love-it-or-hate-it masterpiece. Rockstar dialed in a level of realism that turns every car into its own beast. Weight matters. Wet roads matter. Speeding in a sports car on a rainy day is a gamble, and that makes every sharp turn or near-miss feel alive and high stakes.
Liberty City itself encourages this kind of engagement. Its tight roads, elevated trains, and traffic-packed intersections turn every car ride into something that demands attention. Players swerve through lanes while the radio plays Russian pop or Liberty Rock, chase targets across boroughs, and leave more than a few bumpers behind. Driving isn’t flashy—it’s grounded, sometimes gritty, but always unforgettable. And compared to the clumsy shootouts? It verges on art.
