WHEN SHADOWS BECKONED ME TO WRITE
The idea of playing video games as a job always fascinated me, and no, I’m not talking about play testers who are forced to do hours of bug testing for meagre wages. I’m talking about those who write stories about video games. Before the days of YouTube and digital streaming, young gamers such as myself had to rush to the newsstands every month or so to pick up specialist magazines just to get the latest scoop. Without any footage, magazine writers had to employ vivid and convincing language to describe the gaming experience to the reader. As a child, I would spend hours digesting these words to fuel my imagination. This fine art of weaving words to disseminate intangible digital experiences for the reader became an instant love affair to me.
As of December 2025, I have been a video game critic for 20 years. For a critic, writing reviews is a major part of their work but it’s not the only thing. It also involves writing feature-length showcases, interviewing creators in the industry, and then being able to critically analyse the industry while also being able to weave its history for the audience.
At school I was never the best writer. I dreaded writing essays, and most of my compositions were phoned-in simply to survive the school term. Yet, despite my reluctance to express myself through written words I always loved reading books, but video game magazines were the main obsession. I would collect, read, and then re-read the same magazines over and over again. It wasn’t so much that I was particularly interested in the writing; it was more about getting excited for the games, and most writers used immersive language to make it feel as if I were playing the games vicariously through them. As time went on, I was not only inclined to read some publications over others, but I even grew to favour the opinions and styles of specific writers. Some of my favourite game critics to this day are Dave Halverson, Richard Leadbetter, and Greg Sewart.
On October 18, 2005, a remarkable game called Shadow of the Colossus launched on the PlayStation 2 console. This was the game that did two important things to me: it changed the way I saw what a video game could be, and it became the gameplay experience that inexplicably compelled me to write my first real review.
Prior to the release of Shadow of the Colossus, I had always been an avid player, and I loved debating and arguing about the latest releases with friends during school recess. During that time games went from being a fun distraction for me to kill time with, to something deep and profound, and increasingly I felt like I was walking out from a gaming experience feeling profoundly changed.
As I was growing up, so were video games as a medium, and with it my expectations and priorities in terms of what I wanted from a gaming experience became more than just about how fun it was; I started paying attention to how the virtual worlds and their premise were put together, the quality of the music became essential to how I remembered the experience, and compelling stories were important to keep me motivated to play. Looking back, I feel that playing Shadow of the Colossus was a culmination of an evolution that had been taking place, both in gaming itself and in myself as a gamer. It changed the way I saw games as a medium; it was the first time I saw it as something of artistic merit.
Stepping into the nameless world of Shadow of the Colossus for the first time is a moment I’ve never been able to replicate since. I stepped into this setting as a wanderer, and it’s a lifeless world filled with beauty, containing remnants of a civilisation long gone. There is an other-worldliness to it all, and as a wanderer I explore this world with intrigue and wonder, before taking on titans in battles that appear impossible, but in true biblical mythology fashion, I learned to courageously face and overcome insurmountable odds just through sheer grit and courage.
I had played challenging video games before, but this game challenged me in ways which had nothing to do with getting a high score. Instead, the experience made me feel braver; that I too could take on titans of life as a mere mortal. Stepping away from the experience was like undergoing a religious rebirth, and instinctively I was moved to write my thoughts down. Now, I wasn’t necessarily thinking about reviewing the game per se, but rather, I simply wanted to express all the emotions and insights I gained from the epic adventure I had just undertaken. It was less about reviewing a product and more about expressing how it made me feel.
I had never done this before, but I felt almost divinely inspired as the words flowed from my heart to the computer screen. Writing it all in just one take, I took it to my English Literature teacher the very next day, and he gave the most unexpected feedback: that I should send it to the local science and technology magazine. He had contact with the magazine, and so the email was sent, and I thought nothing of it. Weeks later, on December 3, 2005, there it was in print, and to this day I carry the laminated page with me.
Reading the piece again now, I have to say the writing still holds up and I can’t believe 16-year-old-me could write so well. Granted, the whole thing reads like it was written by a gospel preacher sharing the good word, but honestly playing Shadow of the Colossus did feel like a religious experience to me at the time.
In Shadow of the Colossus, I surrendered my sense of self to become this wanderer- an avatar that could do things I wouldn’t be able to do. Yet, the experience ended up doing the opposite: in the process of slaying giants, I learned to take on tasks that I would otherwise find impossible. I never fancied myself as a writer at 16, and yet after defeating 16 giants in a video game I became one.