Without further ado, here are my current top ten favorite video games:
10. The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (N64)
In some nearly forgotten, lost pocket of time existing somewhere between 1998 and 1999, I briefly spent a few hours being confused and frightened by The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. I did not understand it, I could not pronounce “Hyrule”, the Stalchildren that appeared at night freaked me out, the Peahats that appeared during the day freaked me out. Hyrule Field felt vast and threatening, so I took shelter in villages where I felt safe…until I encountered a giant golden spider scuffling on a wall and found my way into the Royal Family’s Tomb, where I encountered this. I did not yet “get” this Zelda thing, but even so there was something mystical about my brief sojourn wandering around Hyrule as child Link; it was exciting when I found a secret passage connecting the Lost Woods and Death Mountain, bizarre elements like “Happy Masks” intrigued me, and I longed to see what lay on the other side of the map in the distant lands of Lake Hylia and Gerudo Valley. I can’t fully explain to you why I did not take the plunge and buy the game to further explore these mysteries, but I think it comes back to me being intimated and frightened by it all. Whatever the reason, I returned the game to where I’d rented it from (or borrowed it from?) and wouldn’t revisit Ocarina of Time until 2003, on the eve of the release of The Wind Waker.
When I finally did sit down to properly
play Ocarina of Time via the GameCube version released as a pre-order bonus for The Wind Waker, I was older and
wiser, I had experience with Link’s
Awakening, Majora’s Mask, and A Link to the Past and was now eagerly anticipating
the upcoming and beautiful-looking The
Wind Waker, and I went into the N64 classic knowing full well its
reputation and how foolish I was for passing it up several years prior. I was
immediately taken aback by the title screen, the tranquil scene of link riding
Epona through Hyrule Field at dawn with a contemplative piece of music playing.
There was something unexpectedly subtle about the opening that caught me off
guard and already a powerful emotion overcame me. It’s like they knew, I thought at the time. Knew what?
That Ocarina
of Time was one of the greatest video games ever created.
Chrono Trigger is unlike any other RPG or adventure game I have
ever played. It just has this vibe…this inexplicable vibe that is difficult to
grasp. The game is undoubtedly incredibly charming, for starters, featuring
perhaps my favorite cast of central characters in any game, a colorful line-up of
personalities that include technological genius, Lucca, chivalrous frog knight,
Frog, and prehistoric matriarch, Ayla. The central time travel theme and the
concept of visiting a planet’s life throughout several different stages of its
history in order to learn how it became doomed and what must be done to save it
was and still is original and largely unexplored territory in interactive
entertainment and just a brilliant concept besides. The total surface area of
the world in Chrono Trigger is actually
pretty small compared to most other RPGs, but the excitement comes from
exploring “vertically” and seeing how the planet changes throughout history as
opposed to exploring “horizontally” across a wide area of land. The whole adventure
is excellently-paced, the battle system is innovative and never feels like it
bogs down the experience (partly thanks to the game dispersing with random
battles), and the art and spritework is colorful and lively. Chrono Trigger is overall a journey that
constantly surprises, delights, and engages around every corner.
But you know what my favorite part of Chrono Trigger is? You know what I think
is perhaps the most important factor that determines that special “vibe” I
mentioned? Music. I’ve brought up music a lot throughout this list, whether in
regards to how important a specific game’s soundtrack is to the overall
experience for me or how large a role music plays in my enjoyment of video
games in general. While it might be dishonest of me to make such a definitive
assertion, Chrono Trigger’s musical score
has long been what I consider to be my favorite video game soundtrack of all. The
game’s characters are partly so endearing because each one has their own
musical motif, each time period comes alive with its own unique sound, and
there are so many moments, so many perfect, beautiful
moments that are so perfect and beautiful because a perfectly-suited piece
of music kicks in at just the right time. The ending credits theme, “To Far Away Times”, might be my favorite single composition in video game history.
Yasunori Mitsuda, the brilliant composer behind Chrono Trigger and later Chrono Cross (among other titles), poured everything he had into this soundtrack and
damn does it show. Chrono Trigger is
an experience that has largely stuck with me so much because of its music, and
it’s a score that has basically become the soundtrack to my own life as I
constantly go back to listen to it in the car, on walks, when I’m writing, when
I’m drawing, when I’m in lying in bed, when I’m cleaning, when I’m dreaming,
and of course right now as I write this. Chrono
Trigger is a wonderful game in every respect, but its music especially is a
part of my soul.
Silent Hill 2 has the best storytelling of any video game I’ve ever
played. It is one of very few games that I know of where narrative seems to not
only have been an extremely important focus in development, but indeed the
primary focus. This isn’t a case where there’s a few hours of compelling story
delivered through cutscenes intermixed with divorced gameplay sections, but
rather the rare video game where almost everything serves the story. There are
still cutscenes in Silent Hill 2, but
the storytelling does not end when control returns to the player; every
location, every monster, every moment has significance, and if something doesn’t
directly influence the central narrative, than it fleshes out the universe in
some way, which in turn also enhances the central story. Nothing is random and Silent Hill 2 is drenched in symbolism
in an artistic way that no other video game I’ve encountered can parallel.
Disconnecting itself completely from the first
Silent Hill’s narrative, SH2 follows James Sunderland, a man
wrecked by grief who receives a letter from his late wife, Mary, who died three
years prior to a deadly disease (it’s never named, but I assume cancer). The
letter beckons James to the couple’s “special place”, the lakeside resort town
of Silent Hill, and as we journey with James into the fog-enshrouded, seemingly
abandoned town, we meet a variety of other troubled characters and spend a lot
of alone time with our protagonist as he tries to come to grips with what
appears to be reality breaking down around him. As James delves deeper and
deeper into horrors that begin to slowly feel less and less external, I feel
myself getting pulled down with him; as sweat beads on my forehead at 2AM as I
huddle in a dark corner of a grimy hospital or walk down a dark flight of
stairs that seems impossibly long, I feel a player-protagonist connection
unlike any other. This is my journey just as much as it is James’s, and as this
focused experience winds towards its conclusion, I feel a closeness and an
empathy for James and his tormented friends few other games have ever matched
for me. As the credits role, there are always tears in my eyes.
Silent
Hill 2 also has a very unique atmosphere among its brethren. For one thing,
largely unlike its predecessors, SH2 doesn’t
feel like it’s “horror all the time” but rather contains several “relaxed”
moments that while still fitting the horror theme, just feel…different somehow. There’s a feeling of deep loneliness
and stagnation to the game, and some have even likened the experience as a
whole to depression, which I feel is an
incredibly appropriate reading. This atmosphere is of course heavily supported
by the bleak and dreary art design and the unforgettable soundtrack, which probably
unsurprisingly is one of my favorites in anything ever. All of this too serves
the narrative, but I also think this “feeling” that Silent Hill 2 has is one of the main reasons this entry in the Silent Hill series in particular has
left such a strong impression on so many people; I can at least say that this
is largely the case for myself.
NOTE: This blurb originally contained a line relating different colors to different Silent Hill games, but I removed it because it was similar to an idea contained in YouTube creator Jordan Underneath’s Silent Hill 3 video, "Silent Hill 3 and the Worst Movie Ever". When I originally wrote this, I suppose I was thinking of this idea as a kind of universal truth about the Silent Hill games (I really can’t remember if I necessarily got the idea from Jordan’s video or also had it on my own before watching his video) but have since reconsidered and out of respect for Jordan’s work, and to avoid the risk of stealing his idea, I’ve decided to take the line out. While I'm sometimes inspired or gain knowledge from other creators, I always strive to use my own words and ideas. Also, when I mentioned that some have likened Silent Hill 2 to depression, I was talking about Jordan’s brilliant video on Silent Hill 2 (appropriately titled "Silent Hill 2 and Depression"), which I originally linked to but Jordan has since removed. After a re-branding of his YouTube channel, Jordan has since deleted all of his video game-related videos, including his Silent Hill videos, but you can check out his newer, more artistic videos on his channel, “Jordan’s House” (I highly recommend you do as well, as his surreal, atmospheric short films are really something special). While I highly doubt Jordan will ever see this, I nevertheless apologize to him if it seemed like I was trying to steal his idea, which absolutely was not my conscious intention.
As I clutched onto the back of a gargantuan bird soaring
over a vast lake, the wind pummeling me and the creature ferociously beating
its great wings and spinning upside down in an attempt to shake me off, I knew
I was experiencing a historic moment in video games. I knew Shadow of the Colossus would go on to be
regarded as one of the greatest works in the medium. The sixteen colossus
battles are varied, intelligently-designed, and easily some of the most
emotionally epic encounters in any video game I’ve ever played (and are backed by an outstanding soundtrack), but when I
think of Shadow of the Colossus, I
just as readily think of the space between these stunning conflicts. Quiet,
lonesome moments spent journeying across sprawling plains and vapid deserts
with my only companion, my horse, Agro, who I found myself more attached to
than any other companion-type character in video games. Discovering forgotten
ruins on a mountain ridge, knocking apples off of a solemn tree on a seaside
cliff, or simply marveling at the breadth and the wonder of it all…it’s these
moments I cherish. In a somewhat similar way to Silent Hill 2, it is this lonely atmosphere that calls to me and
connects me with Shadow of the Colossus,
that creates a powerful kinship with the game in me, but the feeling present in
both of these experiences is very different; Silent Hill 2 feels akin to depression, whereas Shadow of the Colossus feels more like
contemplative isolation. Also like Silent
Hill 2, except to an even greater degree, the minimalism and starkness of Shadow of the Colossus demonstrates the
greatly untapped emotional potential of video games beyond film-like cutscenes,
wordy scripts, and a neatly divided gameplay/story philosophy; Shadow of the Colossus lets you live its
narrative, feel the pain of its protagonist, and feel the pain of every beast
you slay. It is a marvelous experience that nothing has ever rivaled for me.
Adventure
and discovery. Skies of Arcadia
embodies adventure and discovery. Despite all the Dreamcast love on this list,
I strangely did not actually play Skies
of Arcadia on its debut console and instead played the 2003 GameCube Legends port, which is essentially the
same game with a few tweaks here and there and a few extra sidequests. Skies of Arcadia is my favorite RPG; it’s
everything I love about the genre contained in a single experience. I received Skies of Arcadia as a birthday gift in
2003 and was pulled into a world of adventure that didn’t let me go until very
late that night, at which point I was already emotionally attached to the characters
and the world. And what a world it is. I often criticize the lazy perpetuation
of traditional video game environment clichés these days (forest, desert, ocean,
etc.), but I’m not inherently against them, and if you want to see a game where
these tropes are richly explored and used in an imaginative, effective way,
look no further than Skies of Arcadia.
The culturally and environmentally distinct lands of Arcadia make for an
unforgettable world where the possibilities seem to be endless. It’s a world of
floating continents and airships, air pirates and evil empires, of flying
monsters and ancient weapons, lost civilizations and countless unsolved mysteries,
of daring rogues and fierce friendships. It’s like some dream mixture of Star Wars, the works of Jules Verne, and
the films of Hayao Miyazaki. Skies of
Arcadia contains a fair bit of the usual JRPG clichés, but it also eschews
many of them, particularly in regards to its overall positive and upbeat vibe
and easy-to-follow but unpredictable narrative. The cast of upbeat characters
is also simply darling, and in particular the three central characters of Vyse,
Aika, and Fina are a group of tightly-bound friends who I grew to immensely
love.
5. Sonic the Hedgehog 3 and Knuckles (Genesis)
When I think about what makes a great
platformer for me, i.e. creative and memorable levels filled with secrets, a
sense of connection and level-to-level progression, a non-intrusive but
effective narrative, a moderate but non-frustrating challenge, and great art
design and music, Sonic 3 and Knuckles,
a.k.a. the true Sonic the Hedgehog 3
born when combining Sonic 3 with Sonic and Knuckles, immediately comes to
mind. Picking up right where Sonic 2
left off both design and narrative-wise, Sonic
3 is a platforming legend that amazingly seems to often go overlooked in
favor of Sonic 2 (probably in large
part because of its weird double-game nature and relatively late release). The
level design of Sonic 3 balances a satisfying
sense of speed and momentum with more traditional platforming challenges more
elegantly than ever before, the art design builds on the previous titles’
uniquely surreal but also realistic look culminating in what is one of my favorite retro aesthetics, the music is the height of classic
Sega Genesis tunes, and I am still making new discoveries in this game’s
massive and intricate stages to this day. I’ve always admired the creativity
present in the Sonic series’ zones
from a thematic perspective and Sonic 3
is the pinnacle of this imagination as Sonic and friends race through a vast
sunken city, a vibrant amusement park metropolis, a dense season-changing
forest, and an immense flying battleship, among so much more. Sonic 3 is also one gigantic,
interconnected adventure as the end of each level seamlessly blends into the
next area, creating a sense of cohesion and progress. The two individual Acts
of each Zone also often differ from each other in dramatic ways and environments
sometimes change in real time, like when Dr. Robotnik’s machines turn the jungles
of Angel Island Zone into an inferno or when the bad doctor uses a giant drill
to cause earthquakes that shift and alter the landscape of Marble Garden Zone.
Even though the levels are more gigantic than ever before, nothing ever becomes
stale because of this constant variety. The story of Sonic 3 is also subtly told not only through brief little
“cutscenes” usually involving Knuckles messing with Sonic and Tails in some
way, but also in the level themes themselves, such as Launch Base Zone, an
inventive location where we can see Robotnik’s gigantic doomsday weapon, the
Death Egg, being repaired in the background…before of course going back there
in the second Act to try to stop it from launching.
Indeed, much of the stuff I love about the brilliant Donkey Kong Country: Tropical Freeze, my favorite modern platformer, was present in Sonic 3 and Knuckles years prior. There is such a wonderful attention to detail in Sonic 3 and the result is a platformer that doesn’t just feel like a bunch of disconnected levels you hop and bop through to get to the goal, but rather an epic journey that feels incredibly satisfying when all is said and done. Besides all this, Sonic 3 and Knuckles seems to be a treasure trove of secrets waiting to be uncovered, and there was a real sense of mystery surrounding Sonic the Hedgehog 3 and Sonic and Knuckles when I was a kid. This partly stems from the fact that there are puzzling elements in the stand-alone Sonic 3 that betray its incomplete nature, such as mysterious unreachable paths that wouldn’t become fully explained until one could return to them with a playable Knuckles. Along with a Tails who could actually fly this time around, there are actually three playable characters who all feature a unified gameplay style but each have their own unique skills that allow them to reach new level sections; Knuckles’ story in particular, which takes place after the main events of the game, diverges dramatically from the route Sonic and Tails take. The series’ patented “Special Stages” are also finally not extremely difficult garbage and this is still the only Sonic game to date where I’m able to acquire every single Emerald and obtain all of the characters’ super forms the legitimate way…and I also enjoying doing so to boot! As an added bonus on top of everything else, Sonic 3 and Knuckles even has an interesting connection to Castle in the Sky, one of my favorite Hayao Miyazaki-directed films! I have no hesitation in saying that Sonic 3 and Knuckles is the absolute pinnacle of this series, a timeless platforming masterpiece, and also my personal favorite platformer of all time tied with the next game on this list, which is of course…
Super Mario Bros. 3 is my favorite Mario game, my favorite NES game, and my favorite platformer of all
time tied with Sonic 3 and Knuckles.
I have a nostalgic attachment to this game unlike any other and just beholding
its yellow and blue boxart makes me melt, nevermind listening to any of its
music or sound effects. It had a tremendous influence on my imagination as a
child, and it continues to do so today. The game even initially released in
Japan the year I was born and it came to the states on my second birthday; it
was meant to be. It’s easy to retroactively look back at Super Mario Bros. 3 as basically the standard Super Mario
title. After all, airships, the Koopalings, the familiar world themes, the raccoon
tail, it’s all here, and it all started here.
But that’s the key element: all of this was new in Mario 3, and back in 1988 this game was a powerhouse of invention that
aside from bringing back Super Mushrooms, Goombas, and traditional platforming gameplay,
was just as creative and weird and distinct as Super Mario Bros. 2 before it. While I heavily criticize just how
much the Mario series constantly and
nauseatingly recycles elements from Mario
3 today to the point where the whole
Mario franchise has largely become
stale and quite boring compared to what it once was, I don’t let that current reality
sour this original masterpiece, which in addition to introducing all that stuff
also does dozens of other wonderful little things that newer Super Mario titles don’t emulate and that make this game still far and beyond them
all.
The creative genius of Super Mario Bros. 3 is in the details. Did you know the entire game
is themed around a stage-play? That’s the context for those big blocks with
screws in them; they’re stage props. A world map was introduced here, but it’s
more than just a level select screen; it’s full of little secrets of its own and
contains all sorts of neat interactive moments like being able to guide a
rowboat out to some bonus islands in the water land. Then there’s the fifth
world, which at first glance seems like just a small landmass with a mysterious
spiraling tower at the far end of it. Climb that tower though and…. Yes,
there’s a desert land and a water land that come second and third respectively,
but besides this being the game that established that formula in the first
place, it uses these themes with style and still manages to branch outside of them
with some really imaginative ideas for the time, like a world where all the
sprites are mega-sized. The narrative also isn’t just Bowser kidnapping the
princess, which doesn’t actually happen until the very end of the game in this
one, but instead sees the plumber brothers venturing outside the Mushroom
Kingdom proper to the larger Mushroom World, where the various kings of
different lands have been transformed into dogs and seals and spiders and all
manner of other creatures by the nasty magic wand-wielding Koopalings. Another element
that I admire about Mario 3, and
actually something I admire about all three NES Super Mario games (four counting The Lost Levels), is atmosphere. I described the original Super Mario Bros. as having a uniquely stark
and weighty atmosphere and a similar kind of feeling extends to its NES successors
as well. The castles and airships feel truly foreboding in Mario 3, there’s a sense of mystique surrounding certain areas like
the ice land (which is embodied in its theme music), and the world as a whole just seems to feel more immersive in a
way. I actually just played through most
of Super Mario Bros. 3 this past
weekend and it always amazes me not only how varied and memorable each level is
considering the limited tech at the time, but also how, similar to Sonic 3, I’m still finding new secrets
in this game to this day. Like the original Super
Mario Bros., Super Mario Bros. 3
is a game that I can return to and play through at any time and always immensely
enjoy, and each experience also always seems to bring new discoveries.
---
Phew! I thank you if you took the time to read all that, or even if you read any of it! Clearly, these seven games are incredibly important to me, but there are still three more yet.... Next time, please join me for the big finale as I close the doors of The Stock Pot Inn with a grand celebration of my three favorite games of all time.
Yes, please join me for the Carnival of Time.
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