Introduction
It all started on a rainy Saturday morning. I was spending the weekend visiting my cousin Lance. We were supposed to ride four-wheelers, but the bone-chilling downpour dashed those plans. So, we did what most adolescent males did in 1988. We turned on that 8-bit wonder, the Nintendo Entertainment System. After some Ninja Gaiden and Contra, we slid in Final Fantasy. The music entranced me, the graphics befuddled me, the gameplay bonded to me. The game touched me mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. It was a whirlwind weekend romance that I would never experience again. A few years later, I received a Super Nintendo for Christmas, and by Easter had finally saved enough money to purchase Final Fantasy II. I ate, slept, and breathed that game; until Final Fantasy III came out.
Those games, and others like them (oh ChronoTrigger, how I miss thee), engaged me unlike any other. Undoubtedly, it is the level of story-telling which goes into those games which makes them the best. And as great as they were (and still are), and as much as I loved them (and still do), I always felt like something was missing – as though the experience could be so much more personal and interactive in a way that would really allow me to be a part of the game, and not just an almost passive observer. I didn’t know it at the time, but video game RPG’s had become my gateway drug to a deeper addiction.
