Reading · Meaningful Gameplay

In game design circles, Self-Determination Theory (SDT) is almost gospel: autonomy, competence, relatedness, the pillars of motivation (I explained this framework in detail in my previous article). But after years of applying it, I’ve started to wonder: what about the experiences that don’t just engage us, but change us?

SDT helps explain why play feels good, why challenge feels rewarding, why freedom motivates, why connection matters. Yet some games leave a mark that goes beyond satisfaction. They stay with us because they mean something. They don’t just fulfill our needs; they reframe how we see ourselves, or the world around us.

That kind of experience suggests there’s more to motivation than mastery, autonomy, or belonging. Something else is at work, a deeper drive toward understanding.

I call this missing dimension Insight.

Think of insight as the quiet light that appears after mastery: a subtle, reflective spark that follows action.

Through my work with neuroscientists and game designers, I’ve started wondering whether SDT might be missing something. What if there’s another need, one that explains why some play experiences transform us, not just entertain us?

I see Insight as the drive to make sense of experience, to connect action and emotion to values, identity, and meaning. It’s not about feeling free, skillful, or socially connected; it’s about understanding. It’s the moment when play becomes reflection, when we recognize something true about ourselves or the world through interaction.

As Waterman (1993) put it, “People are not only motivated to feel good, but also to experience a sense of meaning, coherence, and self-realization.

This idea builds on work by Oliver et al. (2016), who found that players often describe meaningful games as those that provide “new insights about themselves or others.”
In their view, insight is an outcome of gameplay, part of what makes an experience emotionally powerful or “appreciated.”

I want to take that a step further. What if the motivation to seek insight is itself an intrinsic need, one that complements autonomy, competence, and relatedness?

In neuroscience, this aligns with findings on predictive processing and meaning-making networks (for example, the medial prefrontal cortex and the default mode network), which activate when people interpret experiences in relation to identity or values. This suggests a deep motivational drive for coherence and understanding.

Research on eudaimonic motivation (Huta & Waterman, 2014) further supports the idea that humans pursue activities for self-realization and personal meaning, beyond competence or relatedness.

That would mean players aren’t only driven to do (competence), choose (autonomy), or connect (relatedness), but also to understand, to make sense of emotion, consequence, and purpose through play.

To be clear: this isn’t an attempt to rewrite SDT, but to extend it. Even Deci and Ryan describe integration, the process of bringing experiences into harmony with the self, as a natural aspect of growth. Insight could be the motivational lens for that integrative process: the need to align what we do with what we believe.

As Oliver & Bartsch (2010) describe, “Appreciation involves meaningful affective experiences that encourage reflection on human virtue, morality, and connectedness.”

Research since has supported this distinction:

Autonomy and competence drive enjoyment: the sense of pleasure, mastery, and freedom.
Relatedness and what I’d call insight drive appreciation: the sense of being moved, inspired, or morally engaged.

And as Huta & Ryan (2010) emphasize, “Hedonic and eudaimonic experiences are not opposites, but complementary forms of well-being.”

So, enjoyment keeps us engaged in the moment.
Appreciation keeps us engaged with life.
Together, they form the full spectrum of meaningful experience.

Understanding this fourth need could also transform how we design: it might inspire slower pacing, more reflective reward systems, or narrative tones that invite pause rather than constant stimulation.

Insight transforms interaction into reflection. It’s the psychological bridge between doing and understanding, between achievement and alignment with one’s values.

Games can satisfy our basic needs for mastery, freedom, and connection, but they can also help us make sense of emotions and perspectives rarely explored in daily life.

Consider The Stanley Parable, which constantly confronts players with the illusion of choice, nudging them to reflect on authorship, agency, and the nature of freedom itself. Or This War of Mine, which asks players to survive wartime scarcity by stealing from others. Creating real moral tension that pushes them to examine their empathy and ethics. Likewise, Red Dead Redemption 2 connects insight to the world itself: the more players care for their horse or hunt responsibly, the more the world feels alive, a quiet dialogue about respect, responsibility, and loss.

Each of these moments turns play into contemplation. They meet the player not just as a participant, but as a person.

As Oliver & Raney (2011) note, “When entertainment helps people to reflect on what is truly important, it can contribute to a more profound sense of well-being.”

If autonomy lets players act, competence lets them achieve, and relatedness lets them connect, then insight lets them understand.

This idea is still a hypothesis, a conversation starter. But if it holds true, it could reshape how we think about engagement: from designing for satisfaction to designing for sense-making.

Games might not just meet our needs, they might help us discover what those needs truly are. And that, to me, is where play begins to touch purpose.

If insight truly belongs among our core needs, then the next frontier of game design isn’t more engagement: it’s more awareness.

Which game taught you something unexpected about yourself, others, or the world?”

The Missing Pillar of Motivation: Insight

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