When asked if this is my favorite game, I'll usually reply with an "Uh...I think so? Probably? One of them?". And it is, all of those things.

What keeps it at the top is not so much its slightly quirked-up RPG tropes---the rolling HP counter, items not stacking, recieveing accumulated money from your dad over the phone instead of right after a battle--for all of these do not add up to a "better" "RPG gameplay" experience than something like Final Fantasy VI or even a modern Persona. Figuratively, Earthbound is a JRPG with tank controls; it moves slowly and at times requires more-than-reasonable jumps in logic to progress or even do so in the most efficient way. It can be frustrating, and I can't blame anyone for wanting to put the game down after a few souring experiences with it. I love it, but I also have to admit that it's clunky and doesn't always hold up.

And yet, to me, the quirky world surrounding the quirk is how its identity rises into the cosmos to a league of its own. Its tethering to real world, 90s-era Americana is unfailingly charming, and the charm is expounded upon with each strange little encounter with a walking mushroom, a cultist, miniature UFO or wayward hippie. By itself the setting doesn't come across as fantastical as a Dragon Quest or any number of steampunk-medieval mashups from releases of its time, but the magic comes from the contrast of hanging out in a cozy small town and the alien oddities just outside it. If we're truly role-playing, it's the only game where I can say "my friends and I ate burgers at the mall before we fell into a nearby cave and walked with live dinosaurs in a prehistoric world". Or perhaps I can say "we explored behind a watefall and discovered a village of aliens with whiskers and bowties before sitting down and reflecting on life over a cup of coffee". This particular flavor of imagination is amongst my favorites.

This game reminded me how much magic there is in our day to day lives if we care to stop for a moment and read between the lines, which coincidentally is why I now use a Hobonichi planner made by the same creator. I'll probably play it several more times whenever I'm feeling a little lost in life. And I'll call my Mother.

The heyday of the 3DS Virtual Console was a magical time. I would play this and Link's Awakening on long car rides to and from Southern California, an experience that many others probably had before me when they originally released on Game Boy in the 90s. Having renewed access to important moments in Nintendo's history delighted me, elevating an already amazing handheld library to new heights. I had played retro games before, but this time is what made me a fan of retro games.

There's something special about this one in particular. The lack of a map, while annoying, is not as crippling as it was for the original Metroid, and with some trial and error I could still make progress through the winding tunnels of SR388 while keeping the thrill of exploration and isolated atmosphere intact. It was also--and Samus Returns never quite achieved this--genuinely scary! Samus' sprite is comically huge, yes, and it leads to some unfair blind jumps, but it also lends itself to a cozier, more immersively claustrophobic experience than the likes of Super Metroid. You truly are walking around in the dark on an alien planet, anticipating what horror may lurk beyond the next corner or sea of acid. Dissonant beeps and boops in the soundtrack are just eerie enough to pay off in an effective jumpscare when you scroll the screen just far enough for a hatchling Metroid to bust out of the wall and absolutely WRECK you. A simple counter at the bottom of the screen for how many you have left to go is a refreshingly simple objective to shoot for, fittingly placed next to your missile count. This is one of the few Metroid games where the amount you are given is justified and needed to take down the bosses, and there's not so many arbitrary expansions that it becomes too easy.

It's an awesome little game that leaves me excited, lonely, and a little unsettled each time I come back to it. And isn't that what Metroid is all about?

Long before Bloodborne, the Blood-Stained Sanctuary of Cave Story consistently spiked my heart rate in a way no other video game had before. I remember staying up past my bedtime on my DSi, feeling so much pride the moment I finally beat it and got the true ending, the concept of which was also pretty new to me. There is something so personal, beautiful and tragic about this story and world, and all throughout my time with the game I remember thinking how unbelievable it was that just one person made it. I don't think I realized how profoundly inspiring that thought was to me until writing this.

This was the first indie title I'd ever played. It's the (rather unfair) standard I hold all the rest to in one way or another.