AI Should Be Your Coach, Not Your Chauffeur

Why I Care: The Day I Realized “Autoplay” Wasn’t Play

I’ve been gaming long enough to remember booting up Shenmue on a dusty Dreamcast and realizing for the first time that a game could make me care about the rhythm of a day, the feel of a town, the weight of a small decision. That’s the bar I carry into everything I play. And I’ve also spent too many nights in training mode—fighting game sicko here—grinding muscle memory until my thumb hurts for the thrill of landing a setup on a live opponent. So when I hear the new gospel about agentic AI and “autonomous gameplay,” my reaction is… complicated. I’m not allergic to new tech. I’m allergic to anything that tries to replace the point of playing.

Over the last year, I’ve been deliberately testing how close AI is to playing for me. Not just reading decks from consultants or watching stage demos, but actually handing the reins over when games allow it—exploring platforms like AI Dungeon and RPGGO for their dynamic story claims, messing around with Inworld AI–style characters, and poking at Kindroid’s pitch for goal-driven companions. I’ve also revisited older examples we all conveniently forget: Gran Turismo’s B-Spec mode where you manage a driver while the AI does the racing; Final Fantasy XII’s Gambits that let you script your party into a self-playing machine; Forza’s Drivatars mimicking your driving. On paper, AI “playing for you” isn’t some revolutionary shock. We’ve had the skeleton of it for years. The difference is the ambition—and the sales pitch.

My Thesis: AI Should Be a Sparring Partner or Dungeon Master, Not Your Chauffeur

Let me stake out my hill: AI belongs in games as a force multiplier for player agency, not a replacement for it. The best uses I’ve touched—adaptive coaching, smarter companions, reactive NPCs, and dynamic story scaffolding—make me feel more powerful, more immersed, more myself. The worst uses turn me into a spectator of my own hobby. If a game sells me “autonomous gameplay” as a feature, I’m out unless it’s explicitly a management sim or a novelty mode. I didn’t spend hundreds of hours learning just-frame inputs so a robot could have the fun for me.

Hands-On: Where AI Actually Helps (And Where It Faceplants)

Let’s cut through the buzz and talk about real experiences. First, the good. I’ve had some shockingly great moments with AI-enhanced NPCs. In an Inworld-style sandbox, I spent a night in a grimy fantasy tavern sparring verbally with a barkeep who remembered I stiffed him on a tip. Hours later, he brought it up, folded into a rumor about a guild that “doesn’t pay its debts.” That’s the stuff I live for—persistence and petty memory that makes the world feel alive. It didn’t “play for me,” but it elevated my play by making my choices stick.

RPGGO-style dynamic quests are also compelling in bursts. I got a run of tasks that reframed themselves around what I did—rescuing a merchant turned into tracking his lying bodyguard after I accused her on a hunch. The scaffolding is still visible if you’re looking for it, but it’s on the right side of the line: the AI is improvising within rules, and I’m still the one acting.

On the flip side, I tried delegating as much as possible in systems that allow it. If you played Final Fantasy XII like I did back in the day, you know you can build Gambits that turn fights into a screensaver. It felt clever at first—my own tiny programming language solving boss encounters while I sipped coffee—but after an hour, I felt hollow. The game was playing me. The same thing happened in modern titles with robust assist systems: I tested auto-battle in a JRPG, turned on auto-drive in a racer, let “recommendations” pick my build. The outcome wasn’t the point. My brain switched off. That’s not a victory; that’s a sedative.

Then there’s AI Dungeon. I’ve had wildly entertaining sessions there—absurd heists, heartfelt character beats—but it still demands vigilance. Without guidance, it drifts, contradicts itself, or yoinks stakes out of thin air. That’s not a complaint; it’s reality. It’s a sandbox that begs a human to be the adult in the room. The creativity is intoxicating, but it’s not “AI plays for you,” it’s “AI plays with you.” Key difference.

Kindroid’s pitch for companions that pursue goals alongside you is interesting, and in limited tests with similar agent frameworks, you feel the promise. Give a companion intent—“gather materials for camp and warn me if you see patrols”—and suddenly downtime becomes less tedious without stealing your agency. The risk is scope creep. Let that agent start resolving conflicts and making strategic choices on your behalf, and the knife twists: convenience first, engagement last.

Predictions: What’s Next for AI in Games

Over the next year, I expect AI features to proliferate, but only a few will land within my strict “co-player, not chauffeur” criteria. Here’s my forecast:

• In-context coaching—frame-by-frame trainers built directly into live matches.
• Adaptive story scaffolds—NPCs that uphold authorial beats while improvising small wrinkles.
• Agent companions with clear permission layers—chores are fine, strategic decision-making is not.
• Auto-curation modes—AI highlights your best moments, but you still edit and share the reel.

These developments will be exciting if studios respect boundaries. Overstep them, and it’s spectator sport, not gaming.

The Fighting Game Litmus Test: AI Is a Coach, Not a Champion

My north star for whether AI belongs is always competition. Fighting games keep you honest. I’ve used every training tool I can find—recorded dummy setups, frame data displays, sandbagging difficulties—to sharpen bad habits into clean lines. An AI ghost that learns my patterns? Fantastic. A mode that suggests matchup-specific drills? Inject it. But a bot that plays ranked for me? That’s the death of the game’s soul. What matters in a match isn’t the outcome line on a screen; it’s the tiny language you write with your hands and brain in real time.

Even in racers, the difference is stark. Forza’s Drivatar system that learns from your driving adds personality to AI opponents. Gran Turismo’s Sophy-level research shows how far machine learning can push technical skill. But hand the wheel to “autopilot” outside of a novelty management mode like B-Spec and you’re not racing—you’re watching a replay you didn’t earn. Racing lines are as personal as fight game buttons. Outsourcing that is like outsourcing your handwriting.

“Autonomous Gameplay” Is a Trap—Unless You’re Clear About What You’re Sacrificing

I’ve heard the pitch a hundred times from panels and posts: agentic AI will turn games into living worlds; you’ll set high-level goals and watch your avatar execute; the grind will disappear. Here’s my problem: grind isn’t always bad. There’s good grind—skill expression, mastery loops, flow. And there’s bad grind—busywork, backtracking, bloated UI. If AI erases the latter, I’m all in. If it erases the former, you’re burning the village to save it.

Let me be specific. I want AI to do the following:

• Handle inventory tedium: auto-stash junk, sort by build goals, suggest dismantle vs. sell.
• Coach me contextually: “You’re whiffing punishes on this move; practice this confirm.”
• Make NPCs remember and act on my choices without a quest designer hand-coding every branch.
• Auto-drive to the waypoint while I scroll through gear notes—because the drive itself isn’t the point that time.

I do not want AI to do this:

• Play ranked or competitive content “on my behalf” for rewards or MMR. That’s rot.
• Auto-complete core combat or puzzles while I watch. That’s TV with extra steps.
• Grind resources offline to keep me “caught up.” That’s a spreadsheet masquerading as a game.
• Drive emergent storytelling so aggressively that authored beats vanish into gray improv soup.

There’s nuance here. Accessibility matters. I love Celeste’s Assist Mode because it’s explicit about what it does and why. If AI can be an accessibility ramp—auto-parry toggles, aim assist variants, puzzle hints on a gradient—fantastic. But that’s not “AI plays for you.” That’s “AI clears the runway so you can take off.” Very different ethos.

Autonomous Agents, MMOs, and the Economy Nightmare

Let’s talk about the elephant that publishers politely ignore: if AI can truly play for you, it can truly bot for you. We already live in an MMO world where automated farming wrecks economies and sucks oxygen out of social play. Marry that with “agentic AI” and some breathless Web3 pitch about tokenized rewards, and you’ve built a bot farm with a battle pass. I’ve seen that movie; it ends with real players leaving and marketplaces collapsing under the weight of extractive design.

If studios chase “autonomous gameplay” at scale, they need real guardrails:

• Hard separation of queues and economies for AI-assisted or automated modes.
• Clear disclosures when AI is acting for players, including in social spaces.
• Opt-in worlds designed for agents (management sims, tycoon modes) instead of polluting competitive or shared economies.
• Strict anti-cheat that treats unsanctioned agents like any other bot.

Do that, and we can have nice things. Fail, and we’ll be begging for server wipes while Discords fill with ghost towns and farmer alts.

Dynamic Story vs. Authored Soul: Why Shenmue Still Haunts This Debate

Every time I let an AI system “create” a story beat for me, I ask myself: is this better than an authored moment that someone bled over? Sometimes, yes. The tavern keeper remembering my slight? Magical. A side quest that pivots because I lied? Chef’s kiss. But when AI tries to shoulder the whole narrative, it buckles. It’s improvisational theatre without a director. It can riff; it can’t compose.

Shenmue is my compass here. I can still picture the exact sound of the pachinko parlor, the way a shopkeeper glanced at the clock before closing up, the awkwardness of asking strangers about sailors. Those aren’t algorithmic vibes. They’re authored details with intention. We can and should have reactive systems draped over authored bones. But if I have to pick, I’ll take one honest, handcrafted beat over a thousand plausible but hollow AI paragraphs. Games live and die by moments you remember, not content volume.

What the Current Platforms Actually Prove

I’ve seen a lot of names thrown around—RPGGO, AI Dungeon, Inworld AI, Kindroid—and I’ve kicked the tires where I can. Here’s what they honestly show:

• AI Dungeon proves the ceiling on improvisational play is sky-high if you’re willing to steer. It’s collaborative fiction with a very energetic partner who sometimes forgets what genre you’re in—and that’s okay.
• RPGGO-style platforms show that AI can scaffold quest logic around your choices in ways that keep a playthrough fresh. It’s not witchcraft; it’s good use of models and state.
• Inworld AI demonstrates how much emotional pop you get when NPCs have memory, motive, and a worldview beyond “quest dispenser.” The roleplay energy is real.
• Kindroid-like agent companions hint at a near-term future where you can delegate chores without delegating joy. The trick is keeping strict boundaries.

None of this convinces me that “AI will play for you” in a way that preserves what makes games worth playing. It convinces me we’re entering the era of AI as a co-creator of context and as a caddie who hands you the right club—but you still take the swing.

Counterpoint: Isn’t “Letting AI Play” Just Another Option?

I can hear the counter-arguments because I’ve made them in weaker moments. “What if I just want the story?” “What if I’m busy and need the game to grind for me?” “What if I physically can’t do X without assistance?” Let me take these seriously:

• Story-first players: I love you. Sliding into Story mode to skip execution is fine, but that’s different from a full Agent mode that erases challenge altogether.
• Busy lives: If you only care about narrative beats, give me a clear “cinematic skip” option. Don’t sell me autopilot disguised as gameplay.
• Accessibility needs: Auto-parry, adjustable aim assist, or puzzle hints on demand—yes. But those features should be transparent toggles, not hidden AI ghosts driving your progress.

The Line I Draw: Co-Creation Over Autonomy

Here’s the TL;DR: AI in games should lift the weight off busywork without stealing joy from skill or narrative. Always ask, “Does this amplify my voice or replace it?” Pressure developers to ship optional modes with clear disclosures—and run the other way from “agentic” promises that hide the compromises. If you want to test a new AI feature, look for explicit guardrails, opt-in toggles, and honest labeling.

As players, demand transparency. Opt in where you want support, and opt out where you crave the raw edges of challenge and discovery. As developers, build guardrails, offer toggleable AI layers, and ensure the soul of the game remains human-crafted. Do that, and AI can finally be the sparring partner I’ve been waiting for—never the chauffeur.