Games are so easy to get into. As a kid it was all I wanted to do - much to the dissatisfaction of my parents. I couldn’t wait to be done with my to-do’s so I could get my hands on whatever I was playing, which, as a seven-year-old, meant either flash games on the PC or Aladdin on the Super Nintendo.

Aladdin is the first game I remember beating. I was downright staggered with the rush accompanied by the accomplishment. There was never a boy with as much joy as I was feeling at that moment. I was validated - rewarded for the hours of seemingly endless trial and error it took to clear levels such as the flying magic carpet volcano one and the genie lamp level. No guides. No cheat codes. No help. It was the peak of the mountain, and I was basking in a pretty sweet view up there.

Naturally what I did next was tell my parents what I had just achieved, being an only child at the time. They could see I was beaming, and I remember my mom being especially excited about it, having witnessed many of my crying sessions over the sheer frustration on the harder levels. I wanted them to play it. I wanted them to experience what I was feeling firsthand. I have no real way of describing how good it feels - you need to have a taste yourself. To no one’s surprise, it didn’t happen. Back then adults wouldn’t entertain the thought of playing video games and, above all, I was trying to share something that can’t be shared.

Growing up, it made no sense to me how video games were never taken seriously as storytelling mediums, especially when the other mediums we have to compare them to are movies and novels. Given how interactive they are, it seemed rather logical that they would be the best way to tell a story given that as a player you are literally in it, in charge of the decisions. I eventually came to terms with people not caring about video games as much as I did and to try to convince them of otherwise was a lost battle. In all honesty, it made me angry to see video games being belittled and outright dismissed.

Over the years I came to understand that stories we resonate with are deeply personal and quite rare. It fascinates me how individual an experience can be even when it is shared by so many. Books, movies and games are composed of many elements that - like strings - will at times and for perhaps only a moment come together to play a specific chord I did not know my heart wanted to hear. It’s unique, special, and seemingly destined to reach me. I found myself experiencing those moments more often with games than with any other medium; largely I believe by the level of immersion games allow for when coupled with a strong narrative.

Powerful storytelling has become more prevalent in games in general, finding their way into titles that would traditionally set it as one of its selling points such as  God of War and even Call of Duty (some of them, let’s be real.). Narrative can be the glue that bonds the other elements in games to bring forth that profound feeling of awe and deep resonance in them. When paired with our personal life experience, it can pull seemingly scattered thoughts into a pattern that reveals something new about who we are. I’ve come to realize that, however small, those moments play a significant role in shaping my values, my taste, and - most importantly - my identity.

My younger self is thrilled to see games in the mainstream. It’s a testament to the fact that, in one way or another, they have achieved a level of recognition and appreciation I always wished they would. Those extraordinary convergence points are what keep me reaching for new games, striving to fully immerse myself in their worlds, plots and premises. The possibility of once again hearing those chords place me, time and time again, at the foot of the mountain - eager for the climb, in the hopes I can once more discover a little bit more about myself on the way up.