Do you remember the first time you saved Zelda? The feeling of heroism that ensued was palpable. I had saved the princess from certain doom. Through forests, pits of lava and cloudy skies, I had triumphed over Evil. I was a six years old hero and damn, it felt good.
Do you remember those children books that asked you to choose the hero’s path? “Little Robin ventures through the chilling cave, hoping to find his friend before the night falls. He encounters an impasse, and must choose whether to go left or right. For left, go to page 5. For right, go to page 9.” I loved them. I was seduced by the power of choice. Without even knowing it, I had already sealed my fate as a future gamer.
I remember feeling genuine affection for Epona each time I called her with my Ocarina. I can recall as if it happened yesterday the reverence I felt for Tyrael the first time he materialized before my eyes. Or the powerlessness that overtook me when I was ordered to abandon Sarah Kerrigan to the Zergs on Tarsonis. I was especially shocked to learn she was a Cylon all along. Man, those bastards are everywhere.