Personally I *love* it when magic gets mixed with technology. Perhaps it stems from my being a child of the 80s at heart, but there's something inherently satisfying to me about attacking robots with spells or shooting wizards with guns. I see it as part of an "old versus new" paradigm where the dusty and archaic butts up against the sparkly and new.
The thing is, delineating terms such as "magic" and "supernatural" in a medium like videogames can be tricky. Often times things that seem magical in one context could be given a science fiction explanation in another. I'd say it really depends to a large extent on the gameworld in question and how the laws of that universe are written (whether it makes sense or not). In BioShock for instance, shooting bugs and thunderbolts out of your sweaty palms is actually not supernatural. They attribute these things to the chemical properties of some sea slug. The ghosts you see are also effects of the ADAM or something; apparently it stores memories on a molecular level. Obviously if we use the standards of our own universe to judge these things they're supernatural, but if we did that then ALL videogames would have supernatural elements due to characters regaining health from eating candy or surviving multiple gunshots to the head. So yeah, in the context of the BioShock universe, I'd say there isn't much "magic." It's written into the game as crazy-ass science.
What appeals to me so much about the first BioShock is the direction. On the one hand, there's the art direction which gives me this amazing underwater city to explore with its speakeasy vibe (an aesthetic that really appeals to me personally). It's like this big film noir haunted house. The mood, the lighting, the color pallet... it all just strikes a chord with me. There's a delightful absurdity in looking out the window and seeing the murky ocean depths, this sense of arrogance about the whole structure told in its very existence and the water ready to breach the glass and swallow up humanity's crumbling hubris. For me Rapture is somehow confining and claustrophobic yet at the same time sprawling and intimidating. I wanted to know more about it, about its history and the people who used to occupy it (and still do), about how things where before it all went to hell and why it went there. The game nourished that sentiment in me by providing exposition in artifacts and moments of varying subtlety: the "found sound" audio clips, the lingering spectral traces, the ruins of leisure. Most of all though the broken and scarred remnants of its tenants, wandering the halls half-barefoot while gibbering to themselves about former obligations and current lamentations.
Which brings me to the in-game direction. Using light and shadow and sound it created some of this past generation's most memorable set pieces to my mind. Clever little tricks like turning out the lights and playing a noise, then turning them back on to reveal an object in the room has suddenly gone missing. Or disguising enemies as inanimate objects. Or projecting shadows in a way that fools you into thinking it's something else. Personally I adore that kinda schiit. It's approaching game direction in a way analogous to film direction where these types of variables are always a consideration. In terms of gameplay things were simple enough (even downright primitive in some respects like no simultaneous dual wielding of plasmids and guns), but the game always maintained a masterful command of pace, both in what was going on onscreen and also with the player's perception. Events unfolded in a way that seemed really engaging.
I was ultimately disappointed with BioShock Infinite by comparison. It seemed to me as though there was so much pressure to top the last game, the direction ultimately lacked focus. I got the sense that there were many, many different versions of the game during the development period---something that becomes apparent when you see how different some aspects were in previews and read interviews during this process---almost as if they couldn't decide what they wanted and kept trying something new. While this is kind of poetically in keeping with the overall theme, the end result feels like a bit of a rushed patchwork with underdeveloped characters, locations, and plot points that ultimately go nowhere. Some elements feel like leftovers from previous builds where the game was perhaps more strategy oriented or involved stealth or exploration more. Elizabeth telling you to play it cool in town for instance is ultimately inconsequential, and it basically boils down to "don't pilfer anything or the guards will attack" maybe twice during the game.
Also early on Elizabeth is much more interactive in some places, basically acting like the developers made her out to be in early clips, only to be dumbed down considerably as your companion NPC for the rest of it. There are elements that seem to encourage exploration and side tracking---lockpicks, code books---but they're mostly afterthoughts and appear disproportionately early on as well (when you've amassed a ton of lockpicks by the end of the game, there's nothing to do with them!). There is no morality system in place despite the game presenting you with several choices that seem to suggest there was one at some point. Plot points and characters are left awkwardly hanging in thin air or brought to swift and highly unsatisfying conclusions. You can only carry two guns at a given time, but somehow you can carry fifty pairs of clothes to change into at a given notice to give you different enhancements. Unlike the first game most of these enhancements seem useless too, mostly due to their being so oddly specific (ex. "25% increase in strength when jumping from a rail onto a platform" or something).
Really though, the biggest disappointment for me was the lack of dynamism in the game. I just couldn't dig my heels into it like I wanted. There's very little exploration for instance, and the rail system (which is billed as being a means of transporting people around Columbia) is instead a series of closed circuits surrounding glorified battle arenas. Your abilities in the first game were also used as a way of connecting with the gameworld too, allowing you to access new areas. Here plasmids vigors are only once used in an environmental checkpoint, and the rest of the time they're just interchangeable combat options. Elizabeth's powers are, disappointingly, much the same way. It would have been cool to use them in a context specific way more, such as in solving puzzles or in choosing environmental-based solutions to handling enemies (as in one of the previews), but instead we get a handful of generic options we can turn on or off. My favorite moments by far were the tidbits that deepened my understanding of the game's world, like the quick little scenes of interaction between characters while waiting for the next area. Also I loved the penny arcade machines and portable record players ('voxophones') that gave exposition much like the tape recorders in the first game. I just wish the game went a little further in detailing some things.
Yeah, I definitely understand the appeal. It's just for someone who is incredibly indecisive and OCD there's a lot of anxiety present in deciding the 'how' part of how to get there. Do I do this, or do I do that? Will I even be able to do the other later if I choose this one? Also what sort of character should I play? I don't want to invest tons of time into building a character only to end up not liking said character, so I better be careful early on in planning this development.
I love Arkham City too. Asylum isn't quite so 'open world' and is more focused, but I still enjoyed it as well. Earlier someone made a very good point about open worlds feeling dead. I think this is an apt descriptor of the first Infamous game. The NPCs all stand around and do nothing but convulse or act stupid for some reason. Kind of the same way in Saints Row, but the silly nature of the game adds vibrancy back into the world, and in the 4th game the NPC behavior is kinda explained in the story (again part of that 'stroke of genius' IMHO). In Arkham City I felt the NPCs were really well done, basically pockets of thugs up to no good. Their dialog was actually fun to listen to, they taunted you. I guess the 'citizens' also being the enemies skirted around the usual issue of having to populate the world with aimless spazzes perpetually in transit.