Sports games are not my cup of tea and it's a genre I normally stay as far away from as possible. Sure, I enjoyed pummelling my friends in Blades of Steel, and I enjoyed blasting clay pigeons in Track and Field II. But I never thought I'd get so deeply involved in a game of Tennis, a sport I'd never followed or had the slightest interest in. But whether you were a fan of the sport or not, it was impossible not to be engrossed in the classic Virtua Tennis. Intense, challenging and (especially in multiplayer), wildly entertaining. The balance between realism and arcade was perfect and made it almost impossible to put down the controller.
At the risk of being lynched by half the editors. No, Resident Evil as a game series never initially clicked for me. The stiff controls and, in my opinion, choppy transitions between scenes completely ruined the experience. This changed with Code Veronica, a narratively-mad chapter in the saga of Umbrella but which also solved all the series' (in my opinion) shortcomings on a technical level. Suddenly it became fun to solve absurd puzzles and gun down zombies. The dynamic, atmospheric environments, the absurd but fantastic story of the Ashford family and the sometimes brutal challenge of the game, it all made Code Veronica the definitive survival horror experience of its time.
The hype leading up to Shenmue's release was huge, and Yu Suzuki's magnum opus was as expensive as it was ambitious. In many ways, it felt like the fate of the Dreamcast was directly linked to the success of the action-adventure, which, as we all know, didn't materialise. Don't get me wrong, it sold - just not nearly well enough to cover the astronomical production costs. Shenmue was a diamond in the rough. Fascinating and mesmerising but also frustrating and sprawling, a soup of ideas and systems that didn't interact quite as well as they perhaps should have. But that didn't stop me from devouring the saga of Ryo Hazuki hook, line and sinker. Countless hours were spent in the game's virtual arcades, wandering the streets and alleys of Yokosuka. Shenmue took root deep in my heart and despite its many very obvious flaws, it was also an experience like no other at the time.
Speaking of transformative experiences, there are few moments that can compare to those first tentative steps on Ragol, surrounded by other, real people. Shenmue was fantastic, but if you ask me, Phantasy Star Online is by far the most important game on the console. Growing up, gaming had always felt like a relatively solitary hobby, dying on my digital hill while friends kicked a ball and traded collectable cards. But with Phantasy Star Online, a new world opened up, filled with like-minded, real-life people with whom I could adventure. It was a new kind of community, and after Phantasy Star Online, I never looked at video games the same way again.
It's actually downright unreasonable how spectacular Soul Calibur was and still is. Not just for the visual feast that the game presented, a tour de force of razor-sharp polygons that shattered everything else on offer at the time. No, even from a gameplay perspective, Soul Calibur was something far beyond the ordinary, with a near perfect balance between accessibility and depth. The fact that the game ran at 60 frames per second was just icing on the cake, creating a strange sense of speed and responsiveness in the characters. Add to that the glorious collection of combatants, from the buff Astaroth to the weirdo Voldo and the voluptuously sensual Ivy. Soul Calibur was and is the complete package and not only the best game on the Dreamcast but also a milestone for the genre overall.