On the TV screen, the summoned beast Bahamut spread vast wings that blotted out the sky and sun, then dove down from the nine heavens, spewing a destructive beam of energy from its mouth.
With a deafening explosion effect, the entire screen was filled with blinding, high-temperature white light, and even the television's speakers trembled faintly.
"Holy shit!!"
Marcus, the young Black guy, sprang up from the beanbag chair, swearing loudly as the half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand dropped straight onto the filthy carpet.
He didn't have the mind to pick it up at all. His eyes bulged like bronze bells, locked hard on the screen, his mouth gaping wide enough to fit a light bulb.
David, the white guy sitting in the middle of the sofa, frantically rubbed the joystick on the Sega Jupiter controller with his thumb, his knuckles pale from the excessive force.
"This shit is an RPG? You call this an RPG?!" Marcus grabbed his head of dreadlocks with both hands and turned to look at David in disbelief. "Are you sure this isn't some sci-fi blockbuster some lunatic Hollywood director just shot?!"
David didn't pay him any attention at all. He stared with total concentration at the ATB (Active Time Battle) gauge at the bottom of the screen, a fine sheen of sweat beading on his forehead.
"Shut up, Marcus. Don't mess me up while I'm using a Limit Break! This damn boss has way too much HP!"
In the corner of the room, another roommate in black-rimmed glasses was using the desk lamp's light to ravenously flip through the thick, full-color manual.
It had to be said that North American players used to have a deep-rooted prejudice against Japanese RPGs—one could even call it contempt.
In their fixed impressions, Japanese RPGs were