I never used to take screenshots of imaginary worlds.

I love being immersed in games, of marvelling at the wonders their designers have imagined, that their artists have dragged into existence through sheer talent and application of their hard-earned skills. I love walking through places that could never exist, sitting on benches beneath skies filled with dragons and infernal fire, taking a moment to soak in the impossible.

But documenting those wonders always felt… I don’t know, forbidden? Unnecessary? Like it was taking their work and claiming credit for it?

It’s only been in the past few years that I’ve started to interrogate those feelings. Some of it is undoubtedly rooted in the collision of childhood wonder with “Why are you always playing games? They’re not real. They don’t matter.”

But they do matter. They make me feel awe and belonging and competence and delight. And if these worlds - crafted by human hands and hearts and minds - are full of wonder, should that wonder not be shared?

So back in 2022, I set out on my first in-game photography tour, with the intent to treat the photos I produced with the same degree of care as I do with my photos of the real world. After all, if my subconscious thesis statement is that these digital worlds are as worthy of appreciation as the analogue world, I have a duty to treat them with the same respect.

And where better to start than Outer Wilds.

In case you haven’t come across it before, Outer Wilds is a wonderful space exploration game, and one which is uniquely vulnerable to spoilers. Knowing the secrets of Outer Wilds makes playing it somewhat redundant, which is also a challenge for those of us who have played it and wish to spend more time with it.

Photography seemed like an excellent excuse to soak in a beloved world for a while longer.

Of course, in-game photography isn’t always a straightforward endeavour; videogames are often complex illusions, tricks of perspective and special effects that struggle to stand up to scrutiny. In-game tools for switching perspectives or removing player characters from compositions are often minimal or completely absent. Composing and extracting photos from these worlds is a key part of the process, and often a significant part of the fun.

Outer Wilds required a succession of mods to break the camera from the player’s perspective, to freeze time and hide UI elements to frame the perfect shot, and ultimately to output screenshots in higher resolutions than originally intended.

But the photography was all mine. The choice of moment, of framing, of post-processing to achieve a specific effect, all that echoes my process for real world photos. I’m not claiming credit for the developers’ art; I’m holding up a lens to it and saying “Look, see what I’m seeing! Isn’t This Beautiful?”

In April, I started playing Nier: Reincarnation, a game on the verge of destruction. Less than a month before its servers were due to be shut down, I decided to document its glorious art styles.

(And glorious they are, despite the relative low resolution of mobile screens, and a lack of anti-aliasing which seems notable given modern game design principles.)

Nier raised some questions for me. My usual mindset has been to avoid taking photos of games with fixed camera angles or starkly-scripted sequences; my internal argument that I’m offering my own perspective is harder to justify when taking a photo of a scene exactly as the developer intended me to see it.

But Nier has fixed paths and an uncooperative camera. In this case - especially since the game wasn’t going to be around for future players to explore - I decided that choice of moment would have to be enough.

And Nier, I hope you’ll all agree, was beautiful.

When I first visited the Lands Between, I marvelled at the sheer wonder that FromSoftware’s artists had crafted, and knew that I’d have to go back, camera in hand.

So I did, and quickly discovered that this was going to be more of a project than I’d originally envisioned. Elden Ring is vast, and between the day/night cycle and emergent elements and seemingly infinite beautiful sightlines, I spent hours just poking and parkouring around the opening regions of the game.

Elden Ring also brings its own challenges to my process. The UI is vital to playing the game but takes up a significant amount of screen space, so I’ve been learning to play without it. The in-game telescope is great as a functional zoom lens, but wide-angle shots require me to crouch beside a nearby rock and clip the camera past my character’s head. And that’s all on top of trying to take photos while everything is trying to kill me.

Needless to say, I’m having a wonderful time!

But it’ll take some time before I’m done, so I’ll be releasing new photo albums as I progress through the game, through grimy mires and crystal caverns, awe-inspiring views of ancient academies and treacherous precipices. To start us off, here’s the first instalment, as I take a wander through the shattered ruins of Limgrave.

Thanks for joining me on these tours, and I hope you enjoy seeing these worlds through my eyes!