you progressed you could hit higher and higher notes). On your home island was an enormous loom that wove the fabric of the universe. And all the music was Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake rendered in MIDI (or in my case, internal-speaker beeps & boops). I mean, what? It's weird how attached I am to protagonist Bobbin Threadbare, seeing as I've never seen his face. The game felt enormous to me at the time, as I kept encountering new guilds, each with a story to tell and a different sensibility about the world. The game seeped into the player's real-world life - before playing you were supposed to listen to an audio drama that came on a tape in the game box, and you wrote all your spells ("drafts") down in a physical Book Of Patterns, which listed far more spells than were actually used in the game. This was the first game I ever beat without a hint book, and the discovery that playing a draft backwards would turn the spell into its opposite (dyeing into bleaching, twisting into untwisting) felt like the game world was full of magic and things to try. You could sing a draft at anything, and even sing notes that weren't drafts, just to see if something happened. The story, even from today's perspective, was unique. You quested across the world trying to follow your flock, meeting all these different guilds and slowly piecing together a grander plot that was affecting everyone, and by the end