It's powerful wherever you are but where this really becomes a crying moment for me is Kafei and Anju. Their side-quest ends in not even the final hours but the final minutes. I recall so viscerally the first time I sat there in that room in the Stock Pot Inn with her, waiting for Kafei to arrive. Anju sits, stock still, unwavering in her belief that Kafei will arrive. Her family have fled but she has stayed, knowing she will face certain death, but comforted by the knowledge that she will face it with the man she loves. And when Kafei doesn't show she remains resolute. And when he still doesn't show. And when there's a hour left. Half an hour. Twenty minutes. She never wavers. I, meanwhile, was about to lose my mind, utterly unable to remain still in the game or in my chair. I kept running around the room as though there were some secret ritual to make Kafei appear and justify this woman's suicide. I needed him there as much as Anju did. I eventually gave up hope. I gave it up. I came to believe that Kafei wasn't going to come, that the fear of these final hours was too much for him, as it was becoming for me, and he'd sought whatever shelter he could, leaving Anju to die, alone and unloved. To let her die in vain. And then the door opened, and Kafei walked in, and I damn near burst into tears. Again, that theme of hope, that paradox of surrendering to the inevitable and holding onto the possible both at play in one moment. The music, playing throughout the entire ordeal, hightened my emotional state to a fever pitch until I was ready to scream at Anju myself, at my television, to urge her to run (Run where? I'd given up hope of stopping the moon but still couldn't accept the inevitable. Again, the paradox of hope. Goddamn this game is S O G O O D ). It's an experience the like of which I've rarely had with any video game, or movie, or book, or anything. It's a memory I'll have forever.