Remember all the coverage leading up to the release of Fallout 3? The previews from E3; the haunting dulcet tones of "I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire," from the commercials; the sterling reviews that poured in as the release date neared? I knew this was a game I had to experience because like many others, I loved Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. However, I was unable to start it until this past March. As a result, I saw Fallout 3 win a number of Game of the Year awards before I even started it. Now that I actually have had a chance to try it out (approximately twenty hours of it), I have a big problem:

I cannot bring myself to continue.

It’s the depravity of the human condition, the loneliness of the Wasteland, and the great sorrow that permeates the landscape. They haunt me. The discovery of a woman resorting to prostitution in order to survive the harsh world was shocking; misery and depression seeped from her. I remember the elderly woman who lost her violin and the loving tones with which she referred to it. She needed that reminder of a happy past; moreover, she just needed hope.

The Wasteland intimidates me. It bombards me with dull tones of greens, grays, and browns. There are times when I traverse the landscape and go twenty, thirty, even forty seconds without encountering anyone, friend or foe. That short amount of time seems like nothing in the real world, but in a video game, going that long without doing anything is a near-eternity. Unless the in-game radio is turned on, there is no soundtrack to keep me company. Fallout 3 is by no means a beautiful game, at least not in the way Oblivion is beautiful. When there are no enemies to fight or strangers to meet, I am forced to observe the fallen metropolis. Some critics leveled a similar charge (technologically stunning, but not aesthetically beautiful) at Killzone 2, as well as inFamous. Both depict fallen societies caught in the midst of conflict and disaster. However, both provide a great deal of action and activity to keep a player continuously engaged. Lulls do not exist in those titles, but Fallout 3 forces me to accept its bleak loneliness.

However, nothing in the game is as disconcerting as the victims of the wastelands. After escaping from the vault, I discovered a skeleton sitting on what used to be a boat dock. It sat there, facing the sunset, with a bottle on one side and a teddy bear on the other, and the thought hit me: this person died watching the sunset, attempting to find comfort in a childhood security and the bottom of a bottle. The image of that person sitting on the dock, probably knowing they were about to die, was so unsettling that I put down the controller and just stared at the screen for a solid two or three minutes. There was also the couple in the house. I do not remember which house it was, but I cannot forget the image of the two of them lying there together, one skeleton snuggled up hopelessly against the back of the other. Again, the realization: these two died in each other’s arms. If only everyone was fortunate enough to leave this world in that fashion.

Fallout 3 is not an Oscar worthy film or Nobel Prize winning novel; it is just a game. Because of the status that video games hold in society, it is ridiculous to think it could affect a person in these ways. However, it does affect me, and because of that, I know I must finish Bethesda’s latest masterpiece. I have only played a fraction of the game, and already I have found everything described above. It is a remarkable example of how far gaming has come in my lifetime, and a great encouragement to what the future of gaming holds, especially in the hands of true artists such as those at Bethesda. I purchased Fallout 3 to play one of the most anticipated titles of 2008; instead, I received one of the most engaging, gripping, emotional episodes of gaming I have ever come across. Never before have I experienced such a deep emotional resonance from a video game.

I believe that video games, because of their interactive nature, have the potential to grasp their audience on a far deeper level than either movies or music. The philosophical ideas presented in BioShock, as well as the cinematic presentation and production value of Mass Effect, have only furthered this notion. Hollywood is beginning to more seriously look to the gaming industry for ideas and intellectual properties, with film adaptations of Gears of War, BioShock, and even Halo (at one point) in production. How far can gaming go? Can it provide a viable medium for commentary on society? Activision’s dropping of Six Days in Fallujah- a first person shooter based on the battle of the same name from the Iraq War- seems to point to “no,” but if the level of quality in Fallout 3 is what we as a gaming community have to look forward to, then the future is bright indeed.

Now, if only I could find more stimpaks…