My own video game history is pretty short—I started with Space Invaders and Pac Man like most people my age, but I was neither wealthy nor coordinated, so my exposure to video games usually came in 10-minute stints on a good day. Then we got a Trash 80 for home use and I moved on to Mega Bug and Poltergeist, and then I started using computers for work and that was pretty much the end of my game-playing days until Candy Crush came on the scene.

My son, on the other hand… well, here’s what he has to say:

My introduction to video gaming, as far as I can remember, was a bootleg copy of Atari Centipede on some website I’m sure doesn’t exist anymore. My mother plopped me in front of the family computer to keep me occupied, so I must’ve been around four or five years old at the time. I remember being somewhat alarmed by the strange and very loud beeping sounds coming from the speakers. But once I figured out the controls (moving the mouse made the dot on the bottom of the screen move, what magic!), I was hooked. I’m not sure I did very well, but I loved the feeling of using the computer for something other than the A is for Alligator and 1 + 1 homework she usually made me do.

In elementary school, I noticed other kids carrying around devices that looked like tiny laptops. They only had a few buttons, a strange-looking set of arrow keys, and two screens, one on the top, one on the bottom. Everyone called them a “DS,” and once I saw what they could do (3D graphics! Full music! Lifelike animation!) I simply had to have one. I begged my parents incessantly for this wondrous device, and that Christmas, it finally happened: I got my hands on my first real gaming system; a light blue Nintendo DSi along with a handful of games. The first cartridge I slid in was LEGO Batman, and over the next few years, that DS was my only window into the world of video games.

In 2015, I received my first home console, an Xbox 360, just as the next generation was beginning to take over. I had missed out on nearly a decade of gaming media, and my system was becoming more obsolete with each passing day. But it didn’t matter. I had a controller in my hand and a whole backlog of stories like Mass Effect, Red Dead Redemption, and Skyrim to discover.

Since those days, gaming has evolved substantially. From massive online arenas like Team Fortress 2 or Overwatch, where hundreds of players compete in real time, to single-player experiences that explore narrative in ways unique to the medium, like Fallout or Uncharted, the possibilities have expanded in every direction. Personally, I’ve always preferred the latter, probably because I value good storytelling over gameplay loops or complex mechanics. In my opinion, the best games are the ones that blend technical craft with a rich, resonant plot. Studios like VALVe were masters of this; titles like Portal and Half-Life (and their superb sequels) bridge that gap flawlessly. Portal in particular was a formative experience. I still don’t think I’ve laughed harder at a game than when the main villain of Portal 2 is defeated by firing a portal onto the moon.

Looking back, it’s strange to think that it all started with a sketchy website and a beeping centipede. But that sense of wonder never left me. Whether I’m replaying a favorite classic or exploring something new, I’m still chasing that same feeling: the thrill of a story I can shape with my own hands.