American Truck Simulator's map has grown massively over the years, greatly expanding the variety of scenery to truck through—but it's still those early desert states I love the most. When I start a new game I always make Nevada my home state, purely because of all the miles of lonely, atmospheric desert roads it has to offer. Simulator games can rarely be described as atmospheric, usually opting for cold realism over being evocative. But ATS manages to do both, and out on those isolated roads in the dead of night, it's positively cinematic.

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In theory, a game like American Truck Simulator sounds comically boring. Obeying the speed limit, delivering wooden planks, driving along straight, featureless roads. But I love it. The superb driving physics are a big part of it. These monstrous vehicles just feel really nice to drive. But on a more abstract level, there's something deeply hypnotic about embarking on these lengthy virtual road trips—especially when it's just you alone in the desert and the sun begins to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of dusky pink.

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American Truck Simulator is visually modest. It's not slathered in lush post-processing effects and there's no complex geometry, but developer SCS Software makes up for its relatively meager production values by creating a powerful sense of place. The desert feels vast, ominous, and empty: a feeling that is only heightened when the dusk fades and is replaced by the dark of night. When it gets dark in ATS, it gets dark. We're talking pitch blackness, with only the light from your truck's headlights illuminating the route ahead.

It's strangely peaceful driving through these liminal spaces. There isn't much visual stimulus, but sometimes you'll see something that'll snap you out of your trance. The neon glow of a roadside diner or motel, or a tumbleweed rolling lazily across your path, lit up by your headlights. The sound design adds to the feeling of isolation too, with only the rumble of the tarmac under your wheels to keep you company—or the rhythmic swoosh of your wipers if it happens to rain. Not that you get much rainfall at all in the depths of the Nevada desert.

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In fiction the American desert is a place people come to escape from their demons, and as I drive past those seedy motels and dingy motels I find myself imagining the kinds of people spending the night there. So little happens in these games that I can't help but make up stories in my head about my surroundings, and these are never more vivid than when I'm in the desert at night. It's amazing that something as seemingly emotionless and sterile as a realistic truck sim can elicit these feelings, but that's the magic of American Truck Simulator.

Drive long enough and the sun will return, inching over the horizon and flooding the formerly dark desert with warm, golden light. The game is pretty in the daylight too, and the other states are just as visually pleasing. The green forests of Oregon and Washington are a nice contrast to the more arid surroundings of Nevada and New Mexico. American Truck Simulator is quietly one of the best open world games ever made, and as it grows in size (updates are coming thick and fast), its cross-state road trip will only get better. I hope they add more deserts.

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