A joyful, enthusiastic experience that grabs you by the hand and slingshots you through a whirlwind of characters, sound and style.

It feels rare these days, by the nature of the media landscape or my limited exposure and tendencies toward what I engage with, to find something this sincerely positive and gleeful in everything it does.

Each time I played left me glad that I had and wanting more.

It was still a cold winter in the early months of 1998 and my breath hung clearly before me as I stared into the window of a local video game store. The name of the modest video game purveyor in the “big city,” a 45 minute drive from my home has since slipped out of my mind to never be recovered. We must have visited the establishment a meager two or three times in total, before relying on the Hastings Entertainment or EB Games in the “big city” mall for the express purpose of buying cartridges. The only memory that has comfortably fallen between the folds of my ever-smoothing brain is not of the store itself but the poster hanging up in the window in that cold, late afternoon air.


As my father completed the transaction inside for a third-party Nintendo 64 controller, I was transfixed by the image of a spiky-haired man wearing bolt-studded armor, carrying a sword that was at least as long as he was tall staring down a robot that looked like an overly complicated radiator leaking a noxious green fog. The words “Final Fantasy VII” were emblazoned upon it, defying my 9 year old’s mind to comprehend what that meant, let alone that there were six others of its persuasion.


Our parents were firmly against our personal ownership of a video game console until the Christmas of 1997, just a few months prior, due to their concern that it would exorcise every fiber of our desire to spend time outdoors. Excited radio personalities jubilantly describing “Diddy Kong Racing” was enough to tip my parents’ minds towards gifting my younger brother and myself a Nintendo 64 for the holidays. My knowledge of this expanding medium was still rudimentary and I my primary exposure, as has been expressed, was exclusively that of a Nintendo 64 child. Friends’ homes that had SNES systems did not compliment those devices with roleplaying games, so this realm was entirely new to me. What was this Final Fantasy game? Was it about dudes that fought robots? And giant swords? It looked so serious and cool. By the time my father exited and we returned to the family van, my take away from the impressive display was that “this must be a real video game.”


We never purchased a Sony Playstation, so the image of the warrior with the oversized sword and the towering robot stayed as only that- a striking visual encased in the storefront window in a town we visited for bulk grocery trips, shopping for clothes in the mall, and getting fast food burritos and french fries. Would the yellow haired man best the mechanical deity? Would I ever find out?


Years later, a televised commercial with flashy computer generated characters and environments captured the attention of my eyeballs with the effectiveness of blending lava lamp and kaleidoscope. None of the actions made immediate sense, but the emotional rollercoaster of seeing such a lifelike and unbelievable animation concluded with the thunderous proclamation of “Final Fantasy IX” stirred the memory of that advertisement in the window from the corner of the back room in my brain. There was another one? And an eighth one I had missed? It looked so playful in contrast with the dramatic face-off in my mind’s eye. What secrets did it hold? Were there more giant weapons and massive mechanical enemies? I would never go on to see or play "Final Fantasy IX."


Christmas of 2001 was one for the books. A day filled with smashing, ghost catching, and watching scores of obedient plant-people devoured in massive gulps of bulbous beasties. A similar experiencemost of my friends had with the Nintendo Gamecube being a common gift of that season. My close friend down the street told me to come visit and see what he had received. His mother had gifted him a Sony Playstation 2. It was an object that defied understanding in my head with visual and audio florishes that Nintendo simply didn't engage with on a hardware level. Comprehension was stretched thinner and thinner by witnessing the mechanics of Metal Gear Solid 2: Guns of the Patriots as watermelons burst, lights were shot out, guns were holstered by the light release of a button press, and rooms of neatly assembled soldiers stood in salute with their boxers showing.


The membrane of understanding stretched to near-transparency as the pearlescent film shimmered across the opening cutscenes of “Final Fantasy X.” The cinematic sensibilities and hyper-real visuals could not be denied. This had surreal looking costumes, weapons that appeared to have mixed with coral, a beastie the size of a continent, and characters that took turns to battle. It was something bigger and more ambitious than anything I had witnessed in games. My friend offered me chances to play, but this was a game type that I struggled with. It was slower and more meticulous- requiring me to allocate points and build up individual loadouts and statistics. It was much more complicated than any pocket monster game I had tried. Was this what a Final Fantasy game was? The thought returned to me again, “this must be a real video game.”


I had played what is widely regarded as “the good ones” for the Nintendo 64 console. My understanding and appreciation for the medium had developed, but it was still squarely fixed in the world of Nintendo. I hadn’t seen what CD based games had been capable of rendering or what Personal Computer games had been able to achieve. This was a new precipice that pointed toward the future. What else had I been missing? I would return to watch my friend play at any chance I could get. Despite purchasing a Sony Playstation 2 years later in 2005, I wouldn’t possess my own copy of “Final Fantasy X” until much longer after that.


However, I would experience another title adjacent to it- “Kingdom Hearts.” Having no affinity for Disney properties, half of the appeal was utterly wasted on my teenage self, but the opportunity to see and interact with characters from these unknown Final Fantasy games was enough of a draw for my interests. This was where I first met Cloud Strife and the one-winged angel he was fated to battle with. Was this a glimpse into the Final Fantasy 7 I had been missing? These characters that were designed within an inch of their lives with an over-the-top-of-the-top musical track and drama? It was absurdly absurd and deliciously delicious. Satiated, I thought my interest in the property would return to its dormant state once and for all.


My high school freshman year saw our family moving to a much larger city, far away from my childhood friends and fifteen thousand population town to something very different than I was accustomed to. It was a difficult adjustment period for many of the same reasons that kind of change tends to have. All that to say, I remember the day entering into my english class after lunch and one of my classmates excitedly showing another guy a page from the video game magazine they had brought in. The page featured thumbnail sized printed images of the “Final Fantasy: Advent Children” animated film that was in production. It looked more real than life itself. Again, the thought percolated in the back of my skull, leaving my skull pressed up against the back of my eyes in desperation to see every inky dot. How could a video game warrant this kind of media event? My brain revisited the thought- “it must be a real video game.”


The eventual release of the movie was indecipherable to me, yet I felt compelled to watch it numerous times. The camaraderie. The drama. The greater-than-any-game-cutscene-ness rendered visuals. The world and relationships that all escaped my uninitiated mind. Heck, my mind wasn’t even that uninitiated by this point. The internet had become a more integral part of my leisure time, and the amount of passive information I had accumulated about “Final Fantasy VII” via osmosis was enough to spoil the general premise and fates of characters. Even so- there was something to grasp at, but it slipped through my fingers again. That was that for another year or so.


One benefit of working in a retail position and still not being an eighteen year old meant that I was not required to stay after closing to finish stocking shelves or prepping the products in the back until the late night hours. It felt bad to be the one employee leaving as my peers all prepared for many hours more work. But I had class in the morning. Never made much of a friendship with them, though. Perhaps largely due to that situation. Probably also in part to the other employees being at least ten years my senior except for the guy who trained me and was fired three days later due to using funds on a customer gift card that had been left behind with about 39 cents remaining. I would typically get stuck restocking the pharmacy and hygiene products, but on rare occasions I would get to helm the entertainment section. This was nice, as it gave me ample time to cruise the aisles with the various movies and games that were in stock to see if anything was worth scooping up at next payday.


Rumblings in various game magazines had caught my eye, but I never paid much attention to “Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII” until classmate Marcus had told me in glass how great it was. What the heck, how bad could it be? I like that "Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children" movie okay and this is more action focused than the standard JRPG appeared. It found a comfortable place on my Sony Playstation 2 shelf and occupied it well after the handful of hours I attempted to donate to it. Maybe "Final Fantasy VII" was not all it was cracked up to be? This was how they had decided to revisit such a well-regarded game?


Senior year of high school was a strange place mentally. Knowing I would be going on to a college to study graphic design meant that my time left was just about getting through the year and making whatever final improvements to my art skills allowed time for. Art class never felt like it benefited me much, as it was so open for any student that wanted to check off their elective class. It was first period of the day, and most of my classmates were in the process of waking up or resting up from early sports practices. That left myself and Chris the only ones in the mood to generally talk during our art-making sessions. If any space in a conversation opened up to the topic of video games, Chris began to speak passionately for the whole room to hear. He would poke and prod my mind about things he found appealing in games and challenge me about my own tastes. Eventually, almost every conversation would come back to his favorite game- “Final Fantasy VII.”


To say that Chris was in disbelief that I had never played the Sony Playstation essential title would be putting it mildly. His belief was so dis that he would hound me to right this wrong and experience the game for myself. Endearing explanations of character traits, vividly describing the twists and turns of the plot, and the emotional highs were his go-tos. He was so passionate you couldn’t help but laugh and take it in stride.


Fall season was comfortably settled into its pace when my family asked about gift ideas for my birthday. Despite my rough time playing "Final Fantasy X" at my friend's home years earlier and the less than stellar impression of "Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII" I couldn't help but feel attracted to "Final Fantasy VII" due to Chris' insistance. Sony Playstation titles were not impossible to locate at this time, so I thought, “now or never” and floated the option out there. On the day, I opened a box containing the Sony Playstation branded “Greatest Hits” version of “Final Fantasy VII” and a corresponding copy of the Brady Games strategy guide. Upon loading the disc into my Sony Playstation 2 console, I learned that my memory card would not be compatible with the game. After making a trip to the nearest Gamestop, the light grey, used memory card was inserted and the game began again. Making a second trip to the nearest Gamestop, I returned the defective memory card and swapped it for the only other one they had in stock. Fortunately, this memory card worked and I was able to proceed into the game.


Chris’ disbelief was cranked to dangerously high levels, as I would explain my middle of the road appreciation of the game. Certainly, there were aspects that I could see had informed and inspired ideas that had followed it, but it was not a smooth ride to return to after having enjoyed the games spawned from its impact. It was big- a collage of seemingly unrelated gameplay mechanics, visual styles, and bizarre translations. It was incredibly dense. It was ecclectic. The equivalent of a video game blast radius had been where I travelled. To now be venturing into the crater was informative but it had cooled after the twelve years from the moment it exploded.

Day after day, Chris would chart my progress and inspect what I enjoyed and question my distaste of other facets. Eventually, I “finished” the game in that I saw the conclusion of the story and wrestled with hidden boss enemies. It wasn’t “the real video game.” It was “a good video game” that I thought was fine. Chris and I would continue our routine for the remainder of senior year, still returning to this topic but with less frequency now that he had succeeded in getting me to play it.


I had done it. I had experienced that poster hanging up in the store window. I knew now that it wasn’t some yellow haired warrior battling a robot. This was Cloud Strife waging a battle against Shinra and even more than that. I had now known the unknown. The mystery fit neatly into this memory shaped box and I tucked it away with the other boxes that were matte with a fine layer of dust and hand written labels were fading away.


I didn’t know Chris’ younger brother had an account on the art site I was active on during my sophomore year of college or that he was following me until reading his brief introduction at the top of the personal message he sent me. The rest of his message detailed that Chris had passed away a few days prior and he asked if I would be available to attend the service. This was the first time I had known someone my own age to have passed and so suddenly. It was shocking. Present situations prevented my attendance, so I had to settle with simply reading the kind words of his online obituary. I had moved away for school and this reality too felt far away.


The Electronic Entertainment Expo of 2015 featured the announcement of the “Final Fantasy VII Remake” coming soon to major consoles. People were excited! I was even a little excited, despite not being that much of a fan or owning any current major console, having cast my lot with the personal computer. Seeing the difference in nearly twenty years of technological progress, I couldn’t help but think of Chris.


I was in a different place as a person and as a person in a place. I had moved even more “far away” to the west coast of the United States and now lived in Los Angeles, California. I had a full time job and had gotten married. So much had changed for me, but Chris was still the same. What would he think about this Remake? It released to critical and commercial acclaim, and I would hear more rumblings and buzzings of ways they had chosen to deviate from the source material. The mystery sizzled anew.


Sitting here writing this in March of 2022, the world has continued to change in ways that were both predictable and not. One thing has not changed- I have still not played “Final Fantasy VII Remake.” But I think I would like to. Maybe that would be something to do one day and see how it has adapted. Again, I’ve been on the internet enough now that through osmosis I have picked up on some of the ways the game has stayed consistent and ways it has pushed into its own territories. Maybe I should play the original game again to appreciate these differences? Good thing I just bought the Steam version of the original “Final Fantasy VII” so I can do that with none of the free time I had. Lordy, I have a kid now. And general responsibility takes up so much time. When in the world will I even find the time to play, not one, but two full playthroughs of kind-of-the-same-game?


I think about that poster hanging up in the window on that cold day and the brave soldier going to battle the large robot.
What would Chris think about the changes in the remake? What would he think about the updated visuals? Maybe I will get around to playing them both some day. Or maybe just the Remake. Or maybe leave it as a mystery in honor of the original. Have to say, it sure looks like a real video game.

The door to Shepard’s cabin opens with the all too familiar rush of air and sliding metal framework. Liara enters and shares the details of a device that is collecting a record of the galaxy, its inhabitants, and crucial information that could affect the outcome of future life when discovered. A digital collection of known history and its players meant to exist in secret for tens of thousands of years until unearthed by the inheritors of the galaxy. One final detail remains before her work is complete- how should history remember Shepard and their actions?

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The Legendary Edition manages to assemble all of the parts and pieces one could want from the original trilogy (with the exception of a minor DLC for ME1). The additional work put into the first game’s visuals and gentle massaging to mechanics and behavior in gameplay modernize things just enough that it feels comfortable to return to without losing the charm of the original design. Aside from the actual UI design changes that make for a more clean, simple interface but loses a bit of personality in the process.

They are minor issues for the expansiveness of the collection. All DLC has been included, the refinements to the ending of 3 are present from the beginning, and the ease of having everything in one place makes carrying one character’s story from the start to finish across all three titles painless. Even game crashing bugs in the original versions of the PC ports were ironed out in my experience. This is the way to play these games.

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Shepard rubs their hands together and draws a deep breath as memories flicker in their mind. The journey to this moment has been fraught with difficult situations that did not always resolve as desired. Shepard had seen civilians, soldiers, and friends succumb to the harsh realities of a cold and indifferent universe. Generational hurt had broken some and damned others into repeating the mistakes of their ancestors. They had made calls that had directly resulted in death, despite it being for the greater good. And now, an opportunity to bury those painful feelings had presented itself.

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But is it fair that this is how future players coming to these games are able to experience them on their first encounters? The quirky Mako is less prone to disaster, characters locked behind additional requisite payment are readily available, and the controversies of how ME3 concluded and handled characters (like a notorious photo from a romance-able squadmate) have been paved over for a ride much smoother than any planet surface the Mako would traverse.

Perhaps “fair” is too juvenile. Is it right? Is it right that many of the things that made the original playthroughs, warts and all, have been given a chance to bury past choices as they are able to tread further into the future and leave a few mistakes behind?
Is this how Mass Effect should be remembered?

It only seems right that it should.
If opposing sides of botched first encounters mutually design advanced spacecraft, experimenters and subjects joining forces, creators and rogue creations reach understanding, or an entire galaxy banding together when they need each other most why can’t a series of games as meaningful and influential as Mass Effect be given the chance to make things right when all is said and done?

It doesn’t change the past or remove the memories of those missteps and problems from those that originally dealt with them, but it does make for a better, more approachable endeavor that anyone wishing to revisit the Mass Effect galaxy or come to it for the first time can manage.

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It would be simple enough for Shepard to neglect the partnership with Cerberus or even the shortcomings before their N7 service. Focus on the accomplishments and what they stood for but not what the costs had been. It would be so far in the past when these bullet points were deciphered and read, what would it matter? Why get bogged down in the messier parts of what mattered? The people that understood those sacrifices were here now and fighting alongside Shepard and they would want their efforts to be valued. Shepard’s mistakes shouldn’t tarnish what everyone had done.

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Symbols are a core part of Mass Effect. Representations of something greater. The most important and obvious being the player character. Shepard is burdened with being an icon of humanity as the first human Spectre, a force to be trusted and followed into certain death, and a unifier capable of finding balance. The Illusive Man knows that Shepard represents stands for more. An essence that inspires and draws others to them to accomplish what others are unable.

Mass Effect: Legendary Edition is a symbol of Mass Effect. A series of games that left a deep mark on so many people across numerous years and continues to draw more in. It is how people want to remember their time with each game, and how others would want to experience it. That is not to say it is without issues, but the warts that remain are the kind that retain the charm of the series and not as much the frustrations or missteps that caused outcries in the past.

This collection is the essence of Mass Effect being sent into the future for those fortunate enough to discover it to enjoy in the best possible way. It has sanded down some rougher edges but keeps that delight in driving across alien landscapes, interacting with telepathic jellyfish creatures, coordinating biotic powers with startlingly precise technological forces, and exploring a galaxy with an assortment of unforgettable faces and personalities that influence your understanding of your place in this universe as you affect theirs. It is a love letter to fans that have been there from the start and for those that are just beginning. It’s not perfect, but it’s exactly how you would want it to be and you wouldn’t change a thing.

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Resolved, Shepard turns to Liara and stops themself before the words can leave their mouth. Who deserves to decide how you will be remembered? You will have departed and only those you have affected remain to pass on your memory. Shepard asks Liara to be the one to decide how history will remember them, knowing that she might embellish a detail or two, but confident that it would be a more true representation of their character. And one that they could be proud to send out into the future to be discovered again.