Damn, you missed the ledge. And the water is much deeper than you thought. FIVE. Must get to the surface. Will you make it out in time? FOUR. There are no air bubbles in sight. Panic sets in. THREE. Bells chime at steady intervals. A melancholic jingle gains pace. TWO. Your palms begin to sweat. A burgeoning sense of dread does battle with the unrelenting undercurrent. ONE. It’s too late. You sense the inevitable. ZERO.

Sonic the Hedgehog’s wide-eyed, outstretched body sinks below the screen, his last gasping breath forming tiny bubbles as his little head tilts back. This one’s on you.

At five years old, this was the first time a video game had made me feel truly responsible for my actions. Here, Sonic’s demise hadn’t come at the hands of a ring-snatching Burrobot, Buzz Bomber, or Orbinaut: it was me; it was my inability to reach the surface of a submerged Labyrinth Zone catacomb against the clock, thus drowning our hero. My actions, or lack thereof, had a direct influence on my game, and I suddenly felt a great responsibility for the blue hedgehog’s well being - one which wasn’t felt quite as strong before.

“ I felt genuine regret with regard to my actions.

Whereas a vast majority of video games have historically channelled their largely linear storylines towards concluding boss battles - leaving little scope for external influence en route - certain modern titles now present players with choices capable of directly impacting the game world in which they play. The phenomenon of emotionally driven decision-making isn’t necessarily anything entirely new. But as games strive to force players to consider their actions, and as our definition of what constitutes a video game continues to diversify, a distinguished rise in the popularity of emotional NPC moments appears to be taking hold.

Clementine as she appears alongside Lee in season one of The Walking Dead is a perfect portrayal of this dynamic, however the Mass Effect and Dragon Age series are equally relevant as contemporary examples. One thing which has been and continues to be questioned with regards to games of this ilk however, is whether or not said player choice actually matters. If you chose path ‘x’ halfway through, would the story outcome have been different had you chosen path ‘y’ or path ‘z’ instead?

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“ These are games which aim to push players by mental state, not logic.

Reaching a consensus as to the true weightiness of choice in video games may prove difficult. But identifying the underlying sentiment which drives the emotional decision-making trend is not. These are games which aim to push players by mental state, not logic. As long as the illusion of choice is upheld, regardless of its merit, this will always remain true. After all, BioShock Infinite’s plot is first thought to be entirely predicated on choice, however culminates in the sad realization that everything is, in and in itself, predetermined. Likewise, even considering Heavy Rain’s multitude of endings, the illusion of choice is what saves the game from utter mediocrity.

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Indie hit Papers, Please does an exceptional job of illustrating the trend as it introduces very personal circumstances to the process of decision making. Here, the player’s actions as a border official can have a direct effect on the NPC citizens’ lives they choose to interfere with (or at times crucially: choose not to interfere with). Spend too much time emotionally torn during these NPC interactions, however, and risk earning less pay thus putting your entire reliant family at risk, depriving them of food, heating, and, heaven forbid, medicine should they need it.

The rise of games which incorporate permadeath can also be directly correlated with the rising popularity of the emotional decision-making trend. Again, logic is suspended in favor of emotions, as players here are forced to consider the permanence and consequence of their actions.

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Whereas this is true in any game, permadeath makes these decisions personal. Losing an ally at war in Fire Emblem: Awakening means losing them forever, which in turn means players really must consider their actions on the battlefield if they are to keep their squadron intact. Losing your best fighter can be a tough pill to swallow, for it’s not necessarily merely an asset lost, but someone you’ve grown to rely upon. An accomplice. Perhaps even a friend.

To this day the countdown sound bite used to signify Sonic’s depleting oxygen level still genuinely sends shivers up my spine. But nothing has since matched the remorse I felt staring into Clementine’s sullen, disapproving eyes as she witnessed murder by my hand. As this emotional decision-making trend continues to become increasingly popular, these emotional NPC moments will undoubtedly continue to thrive furthermore. I must say, given my previous: I’m not exactly looking forward to the next tear-jerker.

But am I being too soft or too emotionally involved? Do you have an emotional NPC moment that sticks out in your mind? Share your experiences in the comments below.

Joe Donnelly is a freelance games writer based out of the UK. You can follow him on Twitter at @deaco2000