You know, I’ve never really been able to decide on a favourite game—I’ve always had a list of an ever-changing top 10 roughly in my mind, but it’s never been definitive in any way. It’s difficult to place a rating on a game; I’ve never been able to label a game as 10/10 because I figured they just didn’t exist—a game always has some flaw to keep it in check at 9/10. These ratings aren’t exactly nuanced either; some of my favourite games and how I rate them are probably influenced heavily by nostalgia; it’s far from objective, so I guess rating a piece of media like a video game is largely quite personal—your definition of an 8/10 is likely quite different from mine and could mean something entirely different depending on the game you’re judging. However, ever since finishing Persona 3 Reload, my opinion on this idea of rating games has shifted quite drastically, as I’ve finally found a game that I would personally consider a 10/10.
I find it interesting that I came to this conclusion about Persona 3, as it feels contradictory to what I’ve just said. Tartarus, the game's central dungeon, isn’t perfect and can feel tedious at times, certain social links vary in quality, and the plot pacing occasionally slows down. The boss battles are straightforward to not soft lock you out of progression. Despite these flaws, I still consider Persona 3 to be my first favourite game.
I’ve found that this isn’t a matter of good vs. bad and coming to an average rating; this is something much richer and something I have only discovered after over 2 decades of gaming, and that is impact. I could list all the things I loved about Persona 3, but it wouldn’t adequately describe the feelings the game left me with upon its conclusion. The way it masterfully explores delicate subject matter in terms of its themes and manages to offer such a profound perspective on death is what has created this impact for me.
After reflecting on this, I look back at the ratings of my other favourite games and what they mean to me. The ratings I’ve given them aren’t a balance of positives and negatives, as much as my conscious mind might argue otherwise, but they represent the impact the game has had on me, a window into the time spent with it. The reason Persona 3 has managed to attain this unreachable pinnacle of impact is a personal one.
Throughout most of my mid-twenties, my view of the world began to change. I’d become more apathetic towards it, even relating to many nihilist ideas. I found myself relating to the antagonist group Strega a lot more than I would like to admit—Strega being a group who has lost the will to live and view death as salvation—an idea I previously wouldn’t have been entirely opposed to. However, one of the entire points behind Persona 3’s narrative is in challenging the idea that life is worth living, no matter how fragile, short-lived it is, or how terrifying the concept of never waking up again might be. It’s about leaving your legacy through the bonds you’ve shared with others, the fear of losing something you love, and still finding meaning to live despite that. Knowing that things will eventually come to an end, but making the most of the short time we have.
This is why Persona 3 has left such an impact on me and why it’s my favourite game. Memento Mori—remember death—echoes as a bittersweet saying, urging us to embrace the fleeting nature of existence and live each moment to its fullest.
I find it interesting that I came to this conclusion about Persona 3, as it feels contradictory to what I’ve just said. Tartarus, the game's central dungeon, isn’t perfect and can feel tedious at times, certain social links vary in quality, and the plot pacing occasionally slows down. The boss battles are straightforward to not soft lock you out of progression. Despite these flaws, I still consider Persona 3 to be my first favourite game.
I’ve found that this isn’t a matter of good vs. bad and coming to an average rating; this is something much richer and something I have only discovered after over 2 decades of gaming, and that is impact. I could list all the things I loved about Persona 3, but it wouldn’t adequately describe the feelings the game left me with upon its conclusion. The way it masterfully explores delicate subject matter in terms of its themes and manages to offer such a profound perspective on death is what has created this impact for me.
After reflecting on this, I look back at the ratings of my other favourite games and what they mean to me. The ratings I’ve given them aren’t a balance of positives and negatives, as much as my conscious mind might argue otherwise, but they represent the impact the game has had on me, a window into the time spent with it. The reason Persona 3 has managed to attain this unreachable pinnacle of impact is a personal one.
Throughout most of my mid-twenties, my view of the world began to change. I’d become more apathetic towards it, even relating to many nihilist ideas. I found myself relating to the antagonist group Strega a lot more than I would like to admit—Strega being a group who has lost the will to live and view death as salvation—an idea I previously wouldn’t have been entirely opposed to. However, one of the entire points behind Persona 3’s narrative is in challenging the idea that life is worth living, no matter how fragile, short-lived it is, or how terrifying the concept of never waking up again might be. It’s about leaving your legacy through the bonds you’ve shared with others, the fear of losing something you love, and still finding meaning to live despite that. Knowing that things will eventually come to an end, but making the most of the short time we have.
This is why Persona 3 has left such an impact on me and why it’s my favourite game. Memento Mori—remember death—echoes as a bittersweet saying, urging us to embrace the fleeting nature of existence and live each moment to its fullest.