A FEW WEEKS ago, I met up with some friends for one of our regular get-togethers — a chance to kick back, enjoy a pub lunch, share good company, and have some easy conversation.
My chat with one friend in particular, a guy of a similar age and background to me, ended up heading in an unexpected direction. I can’t quite recall how we got there, but at some point I mentioned that I enjoy playing computer games.
His reaction wasn’t quite horror, but it was certainly one of stunned disbelief. I can’t remember his exact words, but the gist was: ‘I didn’t think you were that type.‘
Such was his response that I had to pause to consider exactly what it was I’d said. I know what I thought I’d said.
I didn’t think I’d professed to being a crack addict, or to snatching handbags from old ladies, or even boiling kittens in motor oil. I’d simply admitted to finding pleasure in gaming.
So, in my defence, I’ll now use this post to explain why I do.
Uncharted Territory
I STILL REMEMBER my introduction to PlayStation gaming, and though I’d dabbled in other systems before, this felt different.
The early game I remember most was Uncharted—one I’d heard described as ‘like playing an action movie.’
Now, action movies I knew well: I grew up loving them. Who doesn’t like Indiana Jones, for example? The scruffy professor who somehow manages to look ruggedly handsome while running from boulders, punching Nazis, and losing his hat at least once per scene.
My fondness for such tales was, perhaps, inevitable.
The youngest of five boys I’d grown up in the 60s. Unsurprisingly, therefore, I’d been weaned on Boys’ Own adventure stories and old comics such as Victor, Hotspur and Eagle.
All were packed with stories such as those in which daring explorers trekked through jungles, unearthed hidden temples, and faced danger with lantern-jawed grins and snappy one-liners.
But could a console game really capture all that?
Yes. Yes it could. And more besides.
A Starring Role
FROM THE VERY first scene of Uncharted, I wasn’t just watching a character embark on an adventure—I was that character. Nathan Drake, wisecracking treasure hunter with a knack for trouble.
He wasn’t just on my screen. He was me.
His choices were mine, his daring leaps were mine — as were his mis-timed pratfalls.
And when enemies came gunning for him, it was my pulse that quickened as I ducked for cover and unholstered my pistol.
I think that’s what struck me most: the energising immediacy of it all.
Films can be thrilling, sure, but they never called on me to climb that cliff myself, or solve the ancient puzzle that reveals the artifact which unlocks the next chapter of the story. Uncharted did. And the difference could not have been more extreme. One is passive, the other active; one watching, the other doing.
In one you sit in a comfy seat munching popcorn, and in the other you gear up and get dirty.
There were moments that made me smile—like when Drake would mutter some smart quip after a near-death experience—and others where I genuinely gasped as the world crumbled around him/me (sometimes literally, in the case of collapsing ledges or temples).
The action was relentless, but it wasn’t just about spectacle. The story kept pulling me forward, making me want to see what lay beyond the next ridge, around the corner or deep inside the next shadowy ruin.
And underpinning it all was that amazing score. Sweeping, cinematic, and utterly thrilling. It was the sound of adventure itself, swelling at just the right moments to remind me that I wasn’t simply playing a game—I was starring in an epic.
Against all Odds
THAT, THEN WAS the magic of Uncharted. And for someone who grew up devouring tales of heroes and explorers, it was like finally being able to step into the pages and drive the story.
Gaming controller in hand, I was no longer the wide-eyed kid reading about exploits of danger, discovery and derring-do. Nor was I the passive, movie-loving retired buyer of engineering widgets.
No. I was the charismatic, all-action hero, sprinting, climbing, battling the bad guys, performing valiant deeds in desperate times, and surviving against the odds.
That was me.
Looking back, I think that’s what made Uncharted so special. It wasn’t just a game—it was a chance to live out the ultimate pulp adventure. And for me, it was the perfect gateway into PlayStation gaming.
You see, I realised then that video games weren’t just about pressing buttons; they could be as cinematic, as thrilling, and way more immersive than any film or novel I’d ever loved.
In short, Uncharted turned me from a spectator into the star of the adventure—and I can’t think of a better introduction to gaming than that.
RAVEN MOON 