Top 5 Favorite Video Games and Controllers

This is an "application" that I constructed over the course of two days for a local video game store. The manager's instructions were simple: list your five favorite games and controllers. As you are about to see, I did far, far more than was asked...

My Top 5 Favorite Games of All Time:

5. Ninja Gaiden II: The Dark Sword of Chaos

This 1990 release represents the pinnacle of NES platforming to me. It is the quintessential product of an age in gaming that demanded memorization, timing and, to a certain degree, luck. Its punishing difficulty couldn't be surpassed by the haphazard button-mashing that is so commonplace today, but by the almost devout study of its level design and structure, sprinkled liberally with a heavy dose of patience.

While many often complain about its difficulty, I find this to be its most endearing trait. This was at a time before Achievements or Trophies, in which the actual achievement was simply beating the game. Hell, it was more than a game – just like the Tower of Lahja upon which Ryu prophetically looks in what is possibly the coolest video game still of all time, it was an obstacle to be conquered. It took decisive pattern recognition and a thorough understanding of the game's mechanics. Instances such as Stage 2-2's alternating snow currents and Stage 3-1's frequent absence of light added an impromptu depth that furthered the importance of this learning. In a way, the most important character wasn't the Ninja of the Dragon Sword, but the environment, the stages with which you become so intimately acquainted that their passing becomes a reflexive effort. I remember more about those annoying hawks and where they occur than exactly what the nefarious Ashtar's “plan” entailed (besides utilizing said hawks in ways that would probably provoke PETA into being a more deadly adversary than the titular warrior).

What also makes it stand out is its innovative use of cinematics which, in spite of their decidedly anime-esque aesthetic (I lost count of how many times “what the...” was indiscriminately spoken) add a narrative flair that was largely absent at the time in the medium. The levels were even broken into “Acts”. Admittedly, I didn't understand in the slightest what was going on, but I what I did understand was that ninjas were awesome. Perhaps even jawsome, to use the vernacular of the time.

Ninja Gaiden II taught me many things: patience, a sense of accomplishment and, most importantly, self-reliance. After all, you won't always have two ghost ninjas to help you through life's problems (unless you're really, really good – in which case you probably don't need them, anyway).

4. Shin Megami Tensei (series)

I picked up the first “real” U.S. release in the series, Nocturne, based upon its promised inclusion of Devil May Cry's Dante (1995's Virtual Boy release of Jack Bros. doesn't really count, seeing how the Virtual Boy itself doesn't really count). I had no knowledge of the series previous to this, aside from reviewers popularly touting it as “Pokémon with demons”. While it was an accurate assessment on a very base level, it was far from a fair one. Megaten is probably the most mature series I've ever played, not only because of its explicit use of adult themes and imagery (phallic symbols abound), but because of its extreme difficulty, unapologetic use and engagement of religious iconography, and reliance on player choice and consequence. It's not a series that sadistically punishes poor decisions – it merely makes the player take responsibility for them. These choices are present in both its narrative and its turn-based combat engine. In every entry (with the exclusion of 2005's Digital Devil Saga), even one deviation from a character's affiliated path (be it chaos, neutral, or law) could make the difference between saving the world and serving as the harbinger of its end. In SMT II, the player may even choose to confront YAHWEH, God Himself, resulting in the protagonist's damnation to an eternal cycle of excruciating death and rebirth for his heresy. If that's not ballsy of a developer, I don't know what is.

The combat engine, though not as dramatically, also relies heavily on consequence. Where in the aforementioned Pokémon (as well as most other JRPGs) the strategic use of elemental magic may exploit enemy weakness for additional damage, Megaten also rewards this with affording the player an extra turn (alternatively, a turn is taken away for hitting an enemy with its elemental resistance(s)). This simple yet crucial inclusion drastically affects the play style, forcing you to not only use common-sense tact, but to accommodate for the various, frequently unforeseen circumstances that you will face. You may be conclusively winning a battle, yet suddenly stumble and lose a turn, entirely reversing the encounter. Though improbable, it's not entirely impossible for a pixie to defeat Odin, the Father of Norse Gods (it's on my “to do” list).

That's another thing – you have to have a working knowledge of the demons that you encounter to have any success in defeating them. Thankfully, the demons are not only interesting on a stats basis, but on an aesthetic one, as well. Over 30% of my overall playtime is spent documenting these creatures, which range from fairies, like Atlus's very own mascot, Jack Frost, to religious deities, such as Lucifer. Many of these creatures are obtained through Megaten's “breeding” system, in which the endeavors of mad scientists and eerily stoic clergymen replace al naturale lovin' as the preferred form of making sweet little demon babies like Surt, Destroyer of Worlds (d'aww...).

It is also by far the most atmospheric series I've ever played. This is thanks to Shōji Meguro's scores, which range from haunting symphonies to piercing techno-pop, and Kazuma Kaneko's signature character designs and art direction. Their combined efforts give Megaten an identity unique not only to JRPGs, but to contemporary video game artistic design, as well.

Lastly, I am drawn to the sheer variety that each individual entry represents. While principle titles such as Nocturne and Strange Journey are turn-based, others experiment with genre, such as real-time action in the Devil Summoner sub-series, dating sim the Persona sub-series and tactical role-playing in 2009's Devil Survivor. There is a Megaten game for every role player's denomination.

The Shin Megami Tensei series is one that demands involvement, but with its innovative combat, engaging narratives, striking artistic design, and variety between games, it's easy to become utterly absorbed.

3. Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

It's funny. Nowadays I will list this without a second thought as one of my most beloved titles, but I originally hated BioWare's 2003 epic. Again and again I would attempt to play it, but its D&D-based engine of combat was so radically foreign to my JRPG sensibilities that I would be automatically turned off and cast the game aside for another few months before a repeated attempt. Then, for some reason, it finally clicked. I was hooked.

Though its most notable and innovative features are regularly incorporated into western RPGs today, such as the developer's outstanding Mass Effect franchise, they were completely new to me. The dialogue menu interface added a dimension of personality and choice that allowed the player to control the story and character in unprecedented ways. Not only do evil acts like theft and murder have immediate consequence, but they directly affect character appearance, alignment and, most importantly, skill progression. Becoming a Sith would make your skin so cracked and pale that even Palpatine would blush, but it would also open up important Force abilities which would be unavailable to a Jedi (and vice versa). This alone is enough incentive to replay the game; exploring what could not have been with your first respective alignment.

My favorite part of the gameplay, aside from the paused tactical system, was becoming a Jedi or Sith. It would have been easy to simply give Force attributes to the character from the get-go, but you had to earn them through a system of progression that actually made you feel like an apprentice, even constructing your own lightsaber from scrap. It was a small, but ingenious mechanic that seamlessly contributed to my absorption into the game and its universe.

Then there's the story. It wasn't since Dark Empire that I took any vested interest in the EU. Regarding the track record of canonical fiction outside of the film series (and some of it within... I'm looking at you, Prequel Trilogy) it was understandable that I was skeptical, especially toward a plot that took place 4,000 “before the dark times, before the Empire”. However, it was more true to Lucas's opus than anything that had followed, demonstrating principles and elements such as the hero's journey, redemption, and the universal strife between good and evil that had made the films so popular and endearing to begin with. There were even amusing variations of the recurring character archetypes, such as the homicidal HK-47 in the role of the typically passive protocol droid. That guy kills me (and probably would, given the chance). The revelation that the protagonist was the former Dark Lord Revan was probably the most poignant moment ever in gaming narrative (take that, Aeris).

My one complaint about KotOR is Carth. I couldn't stand that guy. Just recently I discovered that his voice actor, Raphael Sbarge, also played Mass Effect's Kaiden Alenko, which solved an inexplicable puzzle of hatred that had lain dormant in me for two years. God, I hate them. Bunch of stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerf herders.

2004's sequel, Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, was a solid game in its own right, but Obsidian failed to surpass BioWare's original effort. I mean, come on; they could have at least given it a real ending. However, with the The Old Republic due out later this year, I'm optimistic about returning to form a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... probably as a bounty hunter. Bounty hunters rock.

2. Star Fox 64

When this title barrel rolled into my life in 1997, I fell instantly in love. It was a herald to the return of true score-based, arcade rail-shooters in a time when 3D platforming was king. Played in short, sporadic sessions, it was incessantly rewarding without sacrificing depth or difficulty in the process.

There were a number of things that made it stand out, the first being its graphics. While I was awed (to a degree) by 1993 original's polygonal display, 64's Nova Bombed them right out of the water. The sound design was equally impressive, especially due to the extensive use of voice-over, which was relatively rare at the time. However, after listening to Slippy plead for help for the thousandth time, it's not hard to determine why. This was also the first game to incorporate the N64's Rumble Pak, though this was more of a novelty than a drastic innovation.

Another distinguishing feature was its level progression system, in which certain interplanetary paths could only be achieved through the fulfillment of tasks or quotas in the proceeding stage. For example, if you let Falco get shot up on Corneria (as he probably deserves), you're forced to fight Granga instead of the Attack Carrier and progress to Meteo instead of Sector Y (which has conspicuously Gundam-like monkey-bots and is totally awesome for it). I remember anxiously waiting during my first runs to see if I had achieved a coveted “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED” or a measly “MISSION COMPLETE”. Even if you received the former, there was always the lingering threat of being struck with the latter, forcing you to be on your toes and identify the various points of divergence, which exponentially increased the game's replay value.

There was also a welcome variety in combat and vehicle types. Some of my favorite sections in the game were those that involved the alternative “All-Range Mode”, allowing for intense dogfights with Star Fox's nemesis, Star Wolf. It's in these sequences that the player's clout is truly tested (along with the distance that an N64 controller may be thrown in frustration following the inevitable death after death). Additional vehicles in the Gray Fox's arsenal included the terrestrial Land Master and the aquatic Blue Marine, both of which added a dynamic edge to the typical aerial gameplay.

Star Fox 64 remains a paragon of incorporating classic gameplay with new technology, resulting in a timeless product. Too bad the sequels had the appeal of Pigma Dengar in lingerie.

1. Final Fantasy Tactics

While the inclusion of a Final Fantasy title in a “Top 5” list is far from unorthodox, the title itself is. Sure, I could take the easy route and indicate fan-favorite VII, or other hallmark entries such as IV or VI. After all, their prestige is well-earned. They're more than just great games – they're modern masterpieces of design, art, and storytelling. However, this is a list of my personal favorites, and thus I must list the one that had the most profound impact on me as an individual, not on the larger video game society.

1998's title was one that emerged to little ovation, eclipsed by the success of the former year's massively popular Final Fantasy VII. It could have been (and undoubtedly was) easily dismissed as a quaint experiment in tactical role-playing utilizing Square's flagship series. It was certainly nothing an 11-year-old boy would find of any interest with the likes of Ocarina of Time and Pokémon serving as competition. To be honest, I don't quite remember how I happened upon it in the first place. But I'll tell you one thing: I'm glad I did.

Final Fantasy Tactics was nothing short of a revelation to me. I was immediately enthralled by the plot, the art, the combat – everything. It was the first and since only instance in gaming where everything magically aligned to form a product that I would damn near dub “perfection”. Sure, it had its flaws, such as its infamously poor localization (I sincerely believed that I was attacking with “ice bracelets”) and it was derivative of Tactics Ogre, but I didn't care. It was golden to me, the crème de la crème of video game artistry.

Even as a youngster, I could immediately identify its plot as overtly Shakespearean in nature, including warring factions, political assassinations, and melodramatic asides. I was so utterly enamored with the script that I brought an excerpt of it to drama class to perform. Which reminds me; I'd like to retroactively apologize to Square-Enix's lawyers for this blatant copyright infringement, as well as the poor kids I tricked into capes with the promise of them becoming “cool”. I sincerely doubt that any of them had any major objections when I zealously exclaimed, “I GET TO BE DELITA!”

The art direction and character design stood in stark contrast to these dark narrative sensibilities. Simultaneously cute, yet elaborate, charming, and dignified, they were a foil to the game's more mature inclinations and mechanics. Even though every in-game action was executed by sprites on a tile board, I never felt disconnected from the plot, which is a huge testament to its artistic design. While including paramount characters, such as black mages and chocobos, Ivalice was a world uniquely its own without dependence on the broader Final Fantasy canon; thriving with its own history, mythos, and culture.

Aside from the implementation of strategic, tile-based combat, what stood out to me in gameplay was the ability to raise a small army of wizards and warriors that could be any of twenty classes. There were knights, ninja, samurai, dragoons – you name it. This customization system made me feel like a genuine, omnipotent commander of a fantasy army. I still fondly remember leveling all of my melee characters as ninja to unlock the ability to use two swords, which conveniently carried over to their original class (it's called “strategy”, not “cheating”). I would invest countless hours into building my teams to perfection, a labor of love that never even fell close to the threat of tedium that grinding commonly faces.

Today, there are numerous spin-offs and Tactics-related entries in the Final Fantasy saga, including Tactics Advance, Final Fantasy XII and its handheld sequel Revenant Wings – even a remake of the original with the added subtitle of The War of the Lions. However, there will never be one quite like the first. It was a unique culmination of fun and aesthetic that served as a principle sculptor of my identity as a gamer, as well as a person. Final Fantasy Tactics is, and will probably forever be, my favorite video game of all time.


Honorable Mentions (In No Particular Order):

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney (series)

Who knew litigation could be so fun? This modern text-based adventure substitutes legal credibility for outlandish characters, convoluted plots, and ultra-dramatic courtroom “battles”, in which the day is won through wit, attention to detail, and the ability to scream “OBJECTION!” into your DS speaker (preferably in crowded public spaces). Insufferably charming, Phoenix and his menagerie of companions will always have a special place in my heart.

Guitar Hero I

Though many, many sequels, spin-offs, and cash-ins have followed (along with an equal number of lawsuits), 2005's original offering remains its strongest. When it hit the scene, it was an unprecedented marriage of hardware (RedOctane's innovative and reliable Gibson SG) and genre gaming. Not since DDR did a music game seem so intuitive and evoke such obsession. I remember initially playing it with the same daily fervor as if learning to play a real guitar, even boasting to friends that I was learning to play “real” guitar (a lie that I was quickly and unceremoniously caught in). With classic tunes, such as Black Sabbath's “Iron Man” and Ozzy Osbourne's “Bark at the Moon”, the soundtrack continues to prove the importance of quality over quantity (because really, having 90+ mediocre songs isn't better than having 47 good ones). Nowadays, I subscribe to Harmonix's Rock Band series, which I believe is the true successor to the original Guitar Hero effort. However, it will never be the same again. Thank you yet again, Activision.

Tekken 3

While most will opt to nominate Street Fighter II or one of its countless variants as the greatest fighting game ever made, I'm inclined to go against the grain and contend in favor of 1998's Tekken 3. While the PlayStation would remain the Sony staple for around three more years, I consider this, along with 2000's Final Fantasy IX, to be its swan song. With each successive Tekken installment there was a sense of progression, yet none as great as between 2 and 3. Boasting an impressively heightened graphics engine, a more responsive sidestep mechanic with increased emphasis on freedom of movement, numerous mini-games, and an immense roster of diverse characters, it was what coin jockeys like myself were pining for. I remember the first time I saw the cabinet at my local bowling alley. It was like a thousand Christmases concentrated in a single arcade box of delicious animated violence. Needless to say, I left it more beaten than Heihachi after his 20th fall off of a cliff.

Also, it had Yoshimitsu flaunting a mushroom-shaped head and lightsaber, which automatically qualifies it as Best Game of All Time.

No More Heroes (series)

Suda 51's irreverent No More Heroes franchise has three core strengths: its style, its substance, and the fact that it presents itself as nothing more than what it is – an ultraviolent exercise in social dissent. It's punk rock incarnate, hitting you fast and ferociously with unapologetic bloodbaths and “desperate struggles”, wrought by an otaku with a beam katana, an insatiable libido, and too much time on his hands. Aside from the stylist appeal in these games, they're just plain, unadulterated fun. I could cleave would-be vigilantes and sadists asunder for hours on-end. It's a very basic system that works on a primal level of fulfillment – a true successor to the long dormant (or otherwise disappointing) hack-and-slash genre.

Various Other Star Wars Titles Omitted for the Sake of (Relative) Brevity

While identifying the individual merits of each one would prove too long an endeavor at the moment (in my part for writing and yours for reading), I still wish to name a choice few that deserve mention: Super Star Wars (series), X-Wing vs. TIE Fighter, Dark Forces, Rogue Squadron (series), Battlefront (series), Shadows of the Empire, and Trilogy Arcade. Basically, if it was developed in last few years and it wasn't Lego, then the Force is not strong with that one.


My Top 5 Favorite Controllers:

5. The NES Zapper

Admittedly, the inclusion of the Zapper is mostly out of nostalgia. There were plenty of excellent light guns that followed in its wake, such as Namco's GunCon for the Time Crisis series, but the Zapper will forever remain my choice plastic firearm. I can't tell you how many cardboard gangsters in Hogan's Alley or ducks in Duck Hunt fell victim to my close-proximity firing at the screen (however, not enough to keep that stupid dog from laughing at me).

4. The Gibson SG

Sturdy, reliable, and intuitive, RedOctane's ¾ scale rendition of the classic axe provided countless aspiring air rockers an accessible device to perfect their quasi-craft. It was a successful marriage between concept and execution, relaying a realistic-yet-not simulation of guitar playing by simplifying fret and string presence to sequential colored buttons and adding a whammy bar for custom audio effects. Though I have never played a guitar before (or any other musical instrument, outside of the middle school-prescribed recorder) I latched onto it with little difficulty. They say the mark of a great craft is that it is easy to learn, yet difficult to master. RedOctane's ingenious piece of rhythm game hardware epitomizes this philosophy, providing players a convenient template upon which to build their own virtuosic skills through practice and rigor.

Though it outwardly may resemble something of a children's toy, this model has remained the most stalwart of my collection, which includes GH II's X-Plorer, GH III's Les Paul, and RB 1's Stratocaster, all of which have either deteriorated in, or all-out forfeited, playability. It was the first and to this day remains the best. It is a prime example of what can be achieved through publisher/developer cooperation.

3. The Wii Remote and Nunchuk

The problem with the Wii Remote isn't that it's the “novelty” or “gimmick” that it is popularly attributed as being. To the contrary, I believe it was the natural progression in controller hardware. Just look at the PlayStation Move and Kinect. Motion-controlled games are the future of console gaming. So then, why does the “Wiimote” get such flack? It's because so few games utilize it to the utmost of its capability.

When it was released, it was expected to deliver a realistic sword and light gun mechanic, as well as cure cancer and bathe the world with gummy-flavored rainbows, effectively bringing about world peace. As games like Red Steel would indicate at launch, this was not to be the case. “Disappointment” is hardly the word to describe gamers' disenchantment with the device. Ever since, it has been subject to countless party and mini-game collections that use its attributes only on their most superficial level (this is probably also due to the Wii's key demographic of children, families, and “casual” gamers).

However, there are many great examples of how to exploit its motion-capturing capabilities while delivering an experience unique to the software title. There's the Trauma Center series, for example, which literally puts the player in the hands of a surgeon, using the Wii Remote and Nunchuk as various surgical instruments to combat the likes of disease, infection, and... bioterrorism? With laser beams? Yep, this is Japanese, all right.

While there are many more examples of Wii titles that make excellent and innovative use of its controller, there are sadly not enough. This new mode of gaming, though released more than 4 years ago, is still in its early life. It needs to be properly cultivated, which will take creativity, not gimmicks. The Wii Remote is a great controller because it provides a unique tool around which innovative designers can produce innovative games. Hopefully it will see its true fruition before the end of the current gen's life cycle.

2. The Xbox 360 Controller

“Elegant” is the absolute last word I'd use to describe the original Xbox's controller. It was large, clunky, and awkward, reminiscent more of a third-party-developed PC accessory than one of a console proper. How far you've come, Microsoft.

The wireless Xbox 360 controller was the quintessence of simple, yet effective design renovation. Discarding the ridiculous surface area of the previous gen's iteration, it became smoother and far more intuitive. Its various features, such as the right and left analog sticks and grips conform seamlessly to the curvature of the hands. It is the most comfortable and accessible of this gen's offerings, if not all.

1. The Nintendo Entertainment System Controller

It's not smooth, nor elegant. It doesn't have visual flair, motion controls, or aesthetic curvature. It's a small, ugly gray, red, and black brick with only the essential d-pad, “Start”, “Select”, “A”, and “B” buttons. To some, there is nothing special about this device. However, to others, like myself, it epitomizes our love for gaming. The NES controller not only served as the blueprint for generations of console hardware to follow, but it was the foundation of my identity as a gamer. It was the first controller I ever picked up, guiding me through marathon sessions of Super Mario Bros., Mike Tyson's Punch Out!!, and Double Dragon at an age where pacifiers were a more appropriate accessory.

It's more than a controller – it's the icon of a generation. It represents a simpler time when fun took precedence over all else. Even today, picking it up evokes a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of me, reminding me of why I fell in love with gaming in the first place. Sure, it's not the fanciest or most revolutionary device ever made, but it will forever be my favorite controller.

Well, there you have it. I have yet to hear back from the guy (I wonder why). Let me know what you all think.