The Door is Locked. Good.
You try the handle.
Click.
The door doesn’t budge.
A little text pops up: “It’s locked.”
And suddenly… you're obsessed with it.
There could be a dozen open doors around you — literal paths forward — but you keep looking back at the locked one. Why? Because it’s closed. Because you’re not allowed in yet. Because someone — a designer(ME), a storyteller, a ghost — said “not yet,” and that’s more interesting than “go here.”
In games, locked doors do something magical. They spark curiosity. They add tension. They imply there’s more to the world than what you can currently access — and that makes the world feel real.
They’re not just mechanics. They’re narrative devices.
A locked door can mean:
You’re not ready yet. (Come back stronger.)
You’ve missed something. (Pay attention.)
This world has secrets. (And you’re close.)
Or even: This story isn’t about you. (And that’s okay.)
I use locked doors all the time — sometimes literally, sometimes metaphorically. A broken elevator. A corridor filled with fog. A piano with missing keys. They’re all ways of saying, “This is a living world. It doesn’t exist only for you — but you’re welcome to discover it anyway.”
And when you finally unlock that door? That’s magic.
Your Turn:
What’s the most memorable locked door or secret you’ve found in a game?