Yara is at its most fun when your “clean” plan collapses and you improvise with whatever wild kit you brought along. One minute you’re sneaking toward an outpost, the next you’re making a loud exit with resolver gadgets, vehicles, and an escalating mess that somehow counts as success. Reaching 100+ hours is easy if you treat the island like a playground instead of a checklist: clear regions at your own pace, experiment with loadouts, chase side operations, and hunt down gear that genuinely changes how encounters play out. Far Cry 6 stays sticky because it constantly hands you new tools and dares you to use them creatively, so your approach evolves instead of repeating the same fight for the hundredth time. | © Ubisoft Toronto
It’s the kind of open world that turns a simple errand into a whole evening because the detours feel like the point. A ride to the next mission can spiral into tracking a legendary animal, getting pulled into a stranger’s problem, then limping back to camp with a story you didn’t plan to have. The 100-hour mark arrives fast once you start engaging with the “slow” stuff: hunting for upgrades, filling out the compendium, chasing challenges, and treating camp like a place you actually maintain instead of a menu you visit. Even the main narrative is hefty, but the real longevity comes from how often Red Dead Redemption 2 rewards patience – observe first, act second, and suddenly you’re living in it rather than clearing it. | © Rockstar Games
If your brain likes tinkering, this one is basically a bottomless toolbox disguised as an RPG. You can lose an entire session rebuilding a ship layout, then jump out to “test it” and accidentally pick up a faction storyline, a companion thread, and a side mission chain that refuses to be short. The long playtime in Starfield comes from variety stacking on variety – exploration, scanning, outposts, gear hunting, skill choices, and all the small decisions that make your character feel tailored. It also encourages second (and third) lives because a new build changes your pace: stealth and persuasion push you toward different solutions than a combat-heavy setup, and that reshapes what you end up doing for dozens of hours. | © Bethesda Game Studios
GTA V eats time in a completely different way: it’s less about getting lost, more about getting tempted. You’ll load in to do something specific, notice a ridiculous car, decide it needs to be yours, and five minutes later you’re in a high-speed problem that turns into a story of its own. The campaign has plenty of side content to stretch your playtime, but the real hook is how easily you can invent goals – perfecting heists, building a garage, chasing challenges, or just seeing how far you can push the city’s chaos before it pushes back. And once you mix in Online, the hours become routine: upgrades, businesses, repeatable jobs, and that endless “just one more run” momentum. | © Rockstar North
England in Assassin’s Creed Valhalla isn’t just a backdrop – it’s a to-do list you want to get obsessed with. One raid turns into upgrading the settlement, which turns into chasing gear sets, which turns into clearing a region because you’re already halfway there. Assassin’s Creed Valhalla’s size is obvious, but the hours really come from how it stacks long arcs on top of each other: alliances, mysteries, cult hunting, river raids, world events, and a steady drip of side stories that feel like mini sagas. It’s also built for players who like to micromanage their power curve, swapping builds and chasing the next ability while the map keeps expanding. | © Ubisoft Montreal
These games don’t hand you competence – they make it a project, and that’s where the hours go. Getting better isn’t just leveling up; it’s training, learning timings, prepping properly, and respecting that walking into the wrong situation can end badly if you’re unready. Side quests tend to feel like problems rooted in the setting rather than throwaway errands, which makes it dangerously easy to keep following threads just to see how they untangle. Add in alchemy, gear progression, roleplay choices, and the satisfaction of mastering systems that don’t bend instantly to you, and long sessions become the default. Put both entries of Kingdom Come: Deliverance together and it’s the sort of medieval RPG commitment that quietly turns into a multi-week residency. | © Warhorse Studios
Yharnam doesn’t hand out long playtimes politely; it earns them by making you pay attention. Progress in Bloodborne is measured in hard-learned routes, boss patterns you memorize through failure, and that moment you finally crack a shortcut that turns panic into confidence. The hours pile up because the game keeps rewarding curiosity: optional areas hide behind weird conditions, side bosses punish the unprepared, and the lore is scattered in item descriptions and environmental hints that you start connecting like a conspiracy board. Then there’s the build obsession – blood gems, weapon transforms, chalice dungeons, co-op, PvP – each one a fresh excuse to roll “just one more” character and see the city with new eyes. | © FromSoftware
It’s easy to lose track of time when a single in-game day has three different lives packed into it: school routines, relationship building, and then a dungeon run that stretches because you refuse to leave until the treasure route is perfect. Royal thrives on that “one more week” pull – max a confidant, unlock a perk, fuse a stronger Persona, and suddenly you’ve planned your next ten hours without meaning to. The length isn’t just story scenes either; it’s the rhythm of optimizing calendars, chasing side requests, and squeezing value out of every evening slot like you’re doing light strategy work. By the time you’re deep into late-game palaces and optional challenges in Persona 5 Royal, the 100+ hours doesn’t feel like a goal – it feels inevitable. | © P-Studio
No matter what you set out to do, something better tends to happen on the road. A contract becomes a moral problem, a side quest turns into a multi-step tragedy, and you’ll routinely forget the “main objective” because the writing makes the detours feel essential. The 100-hour reputation comes from how much of The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is genuinely worth seeing: dense questlines, monster hunts with investigation beats, exploration that pays off, and builds that let you lean into signs, alchemy, or pure swordplay depending on your mood. Even downtime has weight – Gwent spirals, gear crafting, treasure hunts, and expansions’ worth of content energy built into the experience. It’s long, but it rarely feels long-winded. | © CD Projekt Red
The first time a machine fight clicks – tear off a component, trigger an elemental reaction, set a trap line, then finish with a well-timed shot – you realize the combat alone can carry a marathon playthrough. The world Horizon Zero Dawn invites long sessions because it keeps giving you meaningful side paths: hunting grounds, cauldrons, errands that reveal history, and gear progression that changes how you approach every encounter. Aloy’s story is strong enough to push you forward, but the real time sink is the loop of preparation and experimentation – scouting machines, crafting ammo, upgrading pouches, and hunting for the parts you need to become terrifyingly efficient. When you start chasing full completion, the hours disappear fast. | © Guerrilla Games
You can spend an entire night in one area and still feel like you barely scratched it, because every conversation is a fork in the road and every fork has consequences you actually notice later. The game’s length comes from choice density more than map size – different party compositions, different moral lines, different problem-solving styles, and suddenly scenes play out with completely different energy. Combat in Baldur’s Gate 3 adds its own time sink, especially once you start treating fights like puzzles: positioning, synergies, spells you didn’t realize would interact, and the sheer joy of pulling off a plan that looks impossible on paper. Add exploration, companion arcs, loot obsession, and the urge to see “what happens if I do it the other way,” and it becomes the rare RPG where a second playthrough feels less like replaying and more like opening a parallel timeline. | © Larian Studios
It’s the kind of game where your “main quest” keeps getting bullied by a better idea you had ten seconds ago. You set out to reach a marker, spot a cave, end up in the Depths, and suddenly you’re engineering a ridiculous contraption just to see if it works – then rebuilding it because it almost worked. The playtime climbs because creativity is progress here: shrines become physics puzzles, traversal becomes invention, and every resource you pick up feels like future problem-solving fuel. Between exploring three layers of the world, chasing gear upgrades, experimenting with builds, and getting sidetracked by emergent nonsense, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom doesn’t feel like commitment – it feels like what happens when you’re having too much fun to be efficient. | © Nintendo
Cyberpunk 2077 is designed to make you linger. Even when you’re heading to a job, the city’s noise – calls, texts, gigs, strangers with problems – keeps pulling you into side stories that feel personal instead of disposable. The hours stack up because the best content often lives outside the critical path: fixer gigs that escalate, character-driven questlines with real payoff, and builds that change how you move through the world, from stealthy netrunner setups to loud cyberpsycho energy. Then there’s the simple habit of tinkering – mods, perks, weapons, cyberware – because the game constantly tempts you to optimize your playstyle or try a new one. If you let yourself play it like a city you’re inhabiting rather than a checklist you’re clearing, 100+ hours arrives naturally. | © CD Projekt Red
The map keeps expanding in your head long before it expands on your screen. You ride toward a landmark, catch a glimpse of something off to the side, and the next thing you know you’ve gone down a rabbit hole of catacombs, hidden bosses, and “wait, this leads where?” moments. Hitting 100 hours is almost unavoidable if you’re the kind of player who follows curiosity, because the game rewards detours with real discoveries – new weapons, weird spells, secret routes, and encounters that feel like you weren’t supposed to find them yet. Builds in Elden Ring are another time vacuum: respeccing, testing a new weapon art, chasing upgrade materials, and suddenly you’re planning an entire session around making one idea work. It’s brutal, sure, but it’s also generous with wonder, and that’s what keeps you roaming. | © FromSoftware
This one doesn’t chase a traditional finish line; it dares you to make your own routine and then rewards you for sticking with it. One session becomes a resource run, which becomes a base upgrade, which becomes a detour to scan a planet you’ve never seen before, which becomes a “quick” expedition that eats the rest of your night. The long hours come from the loop of discovery and improvement: finding better ships, building and refining bases, learning recipes, managing inventories, pushing further into the galaxy, and constantly spotting something strange on the horizon. It also scratches the collector brain in a very specific way – cataloging, optimizing, and slowly turning chaos into a system that works for you. When a game like No Man’s Sky can turn wandering into a habit, 100 hours is barely a warm-up. | © Hello Games
A great 100-hour game doesn’t announce itself – it just quietly takes over your free time. You sit down to “make a bit of progress,” then get pulled into a quest chain, a build idea, or a new area that begs to be explored properly.
These are games that routinely clear 100+ hours, from RPG epics and open-world sandboxes to strategy time-warps and endgame-heavy grinds. If you want something you can live in for a while, these picks keep giving you reasons to come back.
