I did go on a bit. Apologies.
"I’ve read plenty of great literature and seen plenty of classic films, but I’ve never taken part in anything that captured the loneliness of death the way the unraveling of the Digital Mind Wave does at the end of Crisis Core.
At first, the DMW was irritating. So much seemed to be left to chance. But little by little I came to rely on it. I know I can’t be the only one who cried, “Come on, guys, help me out here!” when I was in the middle of a really difficult battle. And they always came through, if I could hold on long enough.
My friends were a motley crew. There were a couple of Turks, a fallen hero, a spoony homicidal bard, and a backwoods boy like Zack who’d had more than his fair share of bad luck; there was the girl who was the love of Zack’s life, and the man who’d been like a father to him. They all gave support and encouragement in their different ways – even when Zack didn’t want it (why did Zack keep shouting at Genesis, ‘Mind your own business'? I was always grateful for Genesis’ help!).
I really had not appreciated how much I’d come to depend on them, or to what extent I had identified with Zack, until I lost the DMW and realized, to my horror, that it was gone for good. My friends couldn’t rescue me. Even my memories of them were being wiped from my consciousness. The piecemeal manner in which the DMW was taken from me, the way in which the spinning dials stuttered, and stopped, and faded, made it feel as if my brain was shutting down bit by bit. Aerith was the last to go. Then I was completely alone. For me, that was the moment when the finality of Zack’s/my impending death fully hit me. It was such a powerful experience that even the tear-jerking farewell scene and the execrable ‘Why’ couldn’t diminish its impact.
And the reason it is so memorable is that there is no other medium which could deliver this experience. I wasn’t a reader or an audience for this event. I was a participant. That, I think, is unique to gaming."