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You're doing a great job at saving the world. You've vanquished more nameless minions than you'd care to count. Slowly, you've crept towards that epic, fate-of-the-world-at-stake battle with the big one, the one who inspired you to set out on this quest in the first place. Or maybe there's some secret force that's surreptitiously controlling all of your enemy's actions, and you'll have to fight it shortly after vanquishing your foe. Who knows, and who cares? There's a megalomaniac with a giant meteor/airship/god/secret/ancient power/frightening product of bizarre science experiments on his hands and you aim to take 'em out. There's only one problem. "You" are really just a gamer sitting on a couch, and feel bummed that you're about to beat an RPG that you bought. You don't want the experience, the fantasy to end, and you'll be damned if you select "yes" when asked if you're ready to travel to the final dungeon, from which you cannot return (which, from RPG speak, translates roughly to, "Don't save over your current game in the dungeon; if you do, you'll won't be able to return to the world map, and you'll be prevented from completing any side quests you might have had in mind").
You know the feeling that I'm talking about. As an avid reader of this website, I'm sure you've felt it. It's that sinking feeling in your gut you get right before you realize that the game you've enjoyed so much is about to be over; it's that increased focus on your behalf to complete any and all sidequests you can discover before you reach the final dungeon. Whereas before you encountered this feeling, you were playing your most recently acquired RPG at least three hours a day; now, you'll go days at a time without so much as booting it up. You don't want the game to end. You want to prolong the fantasy for as long as possible. You don't want it to become stale. In the name of Deathevn/Jenova/Malpercio, you're going to find every constellation, every hidden treasure, every spell, and every ultimate weapon that you can before time is up.
At some point, after much deliberation, you finally convince yourself to enter that final dungeon, to pass the point of no return. Time to pick another slot on your memory card to save on. Maybe you told yourself, "Well, I have to finish it some time," or maybe you just thought it was time. There's no turning back now. It's just you, a few puzzles you'll have to figure out in order to open the door to the final boss, and the boss itself. That's all that separates you from the game's ending, the termination of the fantasy.
You solve the puzzles. You trash the last boss, thanks to your perfectionist and borderline anal-retentive focus on looking for the game's ultimate weapons, power-ups, and spells. Now roll the thirty-to-fifty-minute ending sequence.
How was the game's plot resolved? Did it satisfy you? Chances are, you're probably experiencing a few different feelings. You're sad that the game is over. That sinking feeling in your gut returns. You really didn't want the game to end. However, you appreciated the game's ending. You're touched; your emotional involvement in the game, which is a function of the quality of the game's story and character development, has reached a plateau. Then you come to a realization. All good things must end in time. It was time for this fantasy to end. Now, you just have to ask yourself one question. Did I enjoy the experience? If you're sad that it's over, then you probably did. You smile, glad to have been able to partake of such an experience. This story is over.
This is the defining moment for the RPGamer. With every good story encountered, every satisfactory denouement, the RPGamer feels a sense of completion. It's a warm, comforting feeling, one that is only experienced when fine story writing accompanies complex character development and successful immersion of the player in the RPG. It's a feeling you won't coax out of games from other genres.
Now it's time to find a new game, a new story. What awaits us?
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