I'd played fighting games in the 90s on Super Nintendo and in arcades, and while I enjoyed many of them, I never cared enough to devote the required time and effort to develop a mastery. That all changed when I played Soul Calibur at a kiosk in Circuit City and my goddamn brain melted. I immediately sold my N64 and all my games to a close friend, which got me a little over 50% of the required funds to get a Dreamcast (with Soul Calibur and a VMU obviously). The rest of the funds were sourced from a loan with quite unreasonable terms and condition from my brother. I didn't care. Booting this thing up at home was one of the formative experiences of my childhood. It didn't take long before I'd mastered every fighter in the game to the point where I had a hard time convincing anyone to play against me. I had a carrying case with my DC and I'd bring it with me to every friend's house on the off chance that someone would be up to the challenge. No one ever was. I was the SoulCalibur king of that one particular Colorado neighborhood during a glorious run at the turn of the century.

You can't fucking review this game (or any game) in a vacuum. Games don't work that way. 5/5.