Editor's note: Is gaming still dealing with the death of Aerith, and do we need a new "Aerith dies" moment? Nicholas grapples with those questions. -Jason

As a medium, video games offer a unique, participatory angle to the emotional experience of a narrative. Unfortunately, it seems that this potential was realized, and subsequently abandoned, in 1997 with the quintessential Japanese role-playing game, Final Fantasy 7.

I (briefly) considered including a spoiler warning at this point, but I'll assume that since you're capable of operating an Internet browser, you're probably aware of the following:

Aerith dies.

And no one has shut up about it since.

Anyone who experienced the now legendary cut-scene will undoubtedly regale you with their personal sentiments at the mere mention of her name. Legions of preteens were permanently scarred by the ordeal. The entirety of civilization, or at least the portion who owned a PlayStation, was shaken to its core, and to this day they bear a blackened, callous mark on their hearts that once belonged to the polygonal flower girl.

Aerith is, in many ways, the gaming equivalent of Bambi's mother. She possesses the distinction of claiming the emotional virginity of a generation, and perhaps this is why it has proven to be nearly impossible for other video games to recapture the magic of Final Fantasy 7. The immediate shock value of her death resonated on both narrative and practical levels (after all, your party now had to make do without her!), but it has since numbed the audience.

I would go so far as to say that, should an RPG today feature the unexpected death of a prominent playable character, the mechanic would be labeled as "contrived" or "melodramatic" by the gaming community, an admittedly harsh crowd. Even if a similar sequence was executed with the utmost care and attention, the death of Aerith will always be remembered as "the first."

I'm not attempting to rob this iconic demise of its significance to video game culture. Rather, I'd like to use her lifeless body as a platform for discussion. Is it possible for game designers go about "resurrecting" (har har) the sort of emotional attachment reserved for Aerith? Can any other game (or character) hope to ascend to this point of sentimental immortality?

It's a difficult task, to be sure. Plenty of tear-jerking moments are out there. Navis' departure from Link at the end of Ocarina of Time. Shinji's pseudo-redemption in Persona 3. The princess's absence from the castle in pretty much every Mario game (why doesn't he just start with the most imposing looking citadel in the first place? Would it really make sense to hide Peach in one of those dinky little forts?). What is it that prevents these expertly crafted scenes from becoming a cultural icon?

Final Fantasy 7's status as an emotional classic was largely a result of circumstance. It was the first original entry in the series on the next generation of consoles, so the presentation values were unlike anything that had come before. This heightened the sense of immersion and facilitated a deeper connection to the cast and plot. Of even greater value to Final Fantasy 7's bid for immortality was its audience. It easily sold enough copies to ensure that the experience was shared by the bulk of the gaming community, but more importantly it served as an introduction to the RPG genre for many gamers.

How can any game designer today hope to re-create the sensation of becoming attached to the narrative of a video game for the very first time in a market saturated with stylistically identical epics? Final Fantasy 7, for many people, will always exist as a memory tinted by rose-colored glasses, which makes objective retrospective analysis an impossible task.

It seems to me that replication, in this case, is a fool's errand. Games like Ico and Shadow of the Colossus have enjoyed critical acclaim for achieving similar plateaus in emotional investment, using a subtler approached than a katana through the back. The entirety of the player experience for the aforementioned helps to convey the same sense of loss invoked in 1997. Yet, even these exceptional examples lack that special "moment," that isolatable section of narrative that's capable of overwhelming the audience.

While my analysis does make the situation for game designers seem exceedingly bleak, my true goal is to highlight the window of opportunity that's available as you read this. It has been nearly 13 years since the launch of Final Fantasy 7. That means legions of younger gamers exist who very likely are aware of Aerith only through word of mouth.

Also consider that since 1997, the consumer base for video games has dramatically increased in size and diversity. Final Fantasy 7 may have had the privilege of being the "first" mainstream JRPG for consoles, but today there are hundreds of thousands of potential customers who have yet to be introduced to the genre.

With this newfound glut of players to target comes the significant increase in exposure given to video games in other forms of media (Jimmy Kimmel, for example). An "Aerith moment" in a high-profile game today would reach an even larger audience, with the potential to spread through multiple channels. The result would be a symbolic moment in popular culture, not only for the gaming community.

Does the death of Aerith really "need" to be overcome? Is it an obstacle to further developments in storytelling for the medium? It's unlikely. Final Fantasy 7 is a source of inspiration for many, a testament to the power of video games and their ability to appeal to the humanity of an individual.

Can you say the same for any other games you've played? What qualities did they possess that enabled an emotional connection to the narrative? Post them below!