The fact that we have an intrinsic and inviolable will is perhaps the most defining thing about us as humans, and that's what makes the ending in BioShock so incredibly powerful, unexpected, and dark, as it's revealed that you as a player have never had any real control. It turns out that in every mission and every decision, Frank Fontaine has controlled you through hypnosis, using the phrase "Would you kindly" to turn you against Rapture creator Andrew Ryan. This innocuous phrase is a programmed command that forced us to blindly obey Fontaine's will, and at the same time created game magic of a kind we've simply never seen before. For my own part, this has stayed in the back of my mind and I am now aware of how often in games - and in real life - we are given apparent choices that are actually predetermined. BioShock's unique moment is thus both existential and deeply uncomfortable, and completely unforgettable.
Being a console gamer in Europe in the 80s and first half of the 90s was not very easy. Our games were sloppy PAL versions that were often released several years after they did in Japan and, remarkably, many often didn't arrive at all. So, it was a bit of a strange experience when we finally got to familiarise ourselves with the Final Fantasy series in Final Fantasy VII. This was at a time when we'd grown up with Nintendo's cute games and Sega's cooler titles, which were generally pretty family-friendly. Developers rarely dared to take real risks, especially when it came to main characters, but Square didn't care. Aerith was not only a central figure in the story, she was also a playable character that many invested both time and emotions into. Her unexpected and irreversible death in the middle of the game's narrative hit like a real punch to the gut. There was no way to save her, games just couldn't work like this. A sense of powerlessness and sadness was instilled by the brilliantly directed scene and three decades later it is still a hot topic.
No Russian from Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 was so controversial that it had been world news even before the game was released, with the developer even offering a way to skip the mission if you didn't want to play it, something that was completely unthinkable at the time. In the mission, we take on the role of an infiltrator in a terrorist group and are forced to participate in a massacre of civilians in an airport, where it's obvious that killing innocent people cannot be avoided. It was a slightly surreal feeling that made me uncomfortable and offered a moral challenge I had never really experienced in a gaming context before. No Russian remains one of the most memorable moments in the Call of Duty series, and a perfect example of how games can challenge and be culturally important in a way that books and film cannot offer.
John Marston seemed a rather tragic character from the moment we first met him. He had obviously committed some real atrocities and was now going to face penance on behalf of the American state, which was the only way to regain his freedom and be reunited with his wife. It led him on a wonderfully powerful adventure where we really bonded with Marston, learnt to appreciate his rugged personality, and did what we could to get him back on track. But... after trying to do the right thing by hunting down his former gang members and friends (who were obviously like family), the final shock comes when John, despite his sacrifices and willingness to change, is killed by government agents who break their promise. It was like the air went out of me completely. It was brutal, cold, raw, and I felt like I had been betrayed myself. Instead of the typical triumphant hero, we got a tragic ending and a powerful reminder of the real world where too few stories end happily.
I love Quantum Dream's adventures, and I like Heavy Rain best of all, which I rewarded with a 10 at the time. Throughout the game, we work hard to solve the mystery of a series of missing children, where the seemingly invisible culprit is called the Origami Killer. But... the characters and I were always one step behind, struggling to figure out who was behind these terrible crimes, even though we follow several different people, each with their own personal motives and secrets. When the true identity of the Origami Killer is revealed - Scott Shelby, the seemingly good-hearted private investigator who has been in the game all along - the shock was unreal. That's not just because he's been one of the most sympathetic and believable characters, but also because of how skilfully Quantum Dream manipulated me into believing something completely different. It was simply an unusually successful twist where the character that was shown the most and seemingly drove the story forward... was the true problem. It means that as a player I was actually helping a child murderer, and it stands out as a twist I think about sometimes to this day.