1993 was one of those unforgettable years, a moment of intersection between the old and the new, where film, television, music, and video games seemed to be in full swing, pushing each other to find the next big thing in movie theaters.

Jurassic Park kept us glued to our seats, not only because of the hyperrealistic dinosaurs, but because for the first time we felt that the future of cinema was no longer imagined, but palpable. If you were looking for something less colossal but equally unforgettable, the nightmare before Christmas arrived to prove that animation could also be dark, artisanal, and poetic on DX television.

The Files sowed doubt in millions of minds with its blend of science fiction and paranoia, while Power Rangers was a hit with the younger crowd with their cheap explosions, spandex suits, and fights that were pure entertainment on steroids. The music wasn't far behind either. On the one hand, I Will Always Love You became the tear-jerker anthem for half the planet, and on the other, Eurodance began to creep into every dance floor with rhythms that today seem retro-futuristic but that were at the height of the present, and as if it weren't It wasn't enough, Apple was ahead of its time with the Newton, a kind of digital agenda that seemed straight out of a science fiction movie. It didn't work entirely well, but it made one thing clear: the future was serious.

Amidst all that creative chaos, video games were going their own way. The 16-bit war between the Super Nintendo and Mega Drive was in full swing, with games that were increasingly complex, faster, and more spectacular. Arcades were still roaring in arcades, offering experiences that wouldn't fit in the home. Although little by little, 3D was beginning to emerge, Virtua Fighter was the first serious warning: fights could have volume, weight, and polygonal vertigo. 1993 was all about the refinement of classic formulas, the timid emergence of new technologies, and above all, the feeling that something big was about to happen. Now, get comfortable, adjust your memory, and turn on your imaginary controller. Because in this new chapter of the harvest, we review the 10 most relevant, influential, and memorable video games of that 1993 that, unknowingly, was already beginning to write the future.

Samurai Shodown (Neo Geo)

In 1993, arcades were filled with punches, projectiles, and impossible combos. Street Fighter 2 was the undisputed king, and Mortal Kombat was beginning to emerge with its explicit violence and dark charisma. SNK did something no one expected, lowering the volume. They moved away from garish effects and took us to feudal Japan with a fighting game where the important thing wasn't how many times you hit, but when you did it. Thus, Samurai Sodou was born. The bet was risky. Here, there were no eternal combos or fire in the fists. There was a katana, and that changed everything. Samurai and Sodou weren't rushed. There was rhythm, there was pause. Each hit could decide the round, and that's why the tension was constant. Players stopped mashing buttons and began studying their opponents because mistakes weren't corrected with a super combo. They paid for themselves with half a bar of energy.

Life Visually, it was a shock: enormous characters with clean, fluid animations and an unusual expressiveness for the time. Each setting was a moving postcard. Markets at dawn, wind-tempered forests, snow-covered villages. Everything breathed history, and traditional Japanese music with sakhachi flutes, taiko drums, and minimal strings turned each fight into a samurai movie scene. You didn't have to understand Japanese to know that what was happening there was important. It also introduced a mechanic that became key to the series: the rage bar.

The more damage you took, the stronger your character became. A system that seemed unfair until you mastered it, and then everything made sense. Samurai and Sodou weren't just an oddity that earned a place in movie theaters; they were a manifesto, a declaration of principles that said, "Fighting can also be elegant, measured, and deeply strategic." It was a hit in Japan and surprised the West. He founded a saga that still lives on today, a reminder that in fighting games, sometimes less is more and that a well-used katana can be worth more than 100 crazy fists.

Gunstar Heroes (Mega Drive)

September 1993 At a time when 16-bit games seemed to have reached their peak, a title appeared that, without making much noise at first, would end up marking a turning point. A game born from the talent of a group of Konami defectors who decided to do things their way. Thus, Tresor was born, and thus, Gunestar was born. The Mega Drive greeted Gunestar with a jolt because this wasn't a run-and-gun. It was speed, it was controlled chaos. It was playable design taken to its maximum expression. A game that understood that nonstop shooting could be an art form if done with style from the first second. Gunestar made it clear that here, anything was possible. You could choose between shooting while moving or staying still, and you could combine two weapons to create new ones: a short-range flamethrower, a remote-controlled laser, bullets that bounced all over the stage. You chose, and each combination had its own personality. And then there were the Levels, or rather, ideas: a battle on a moving train, a boss that transformed in real time, an entire stage presented as if it were a board game.

The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening (Game Boy)

In the middle of 1993, when it still seemed unthinkable to experience a great adventure outside of the television, Nintendo surprised us with something that shattered all expectations: The Legend of Zelda: Links Awakening for Game Boy. A portable adventure that not only lived up to its predecessors on the home console, but in many ways dared to be something different: more intimate, stranger, and more unforgettable. For many, it was their first game, for others, the first they could carry in their pocket, but for all, it was a revelation. Links Awakening didn't take us to Girule. Zelda and the Triforce didn't appear, and yet everything still felt authentic. This time, Ling was shipwrecked on Cooint Island, a self-enclosed place with strange characters and situations that bordered on the dreamlike. There was a peculiar sense of humor, unexpected winks like enemies taken straight from Super Mario, and a constant feeling that something wasn't quite right. By the way, technically, it was a feat on a two-button, green-screen console. They managed to design ingenious dungeons, puzzles that required logic and memory, a soundtrack that used every possible tone of the sound chip, and an item system that made you think about every step. Everything was measured to the millimeter, from progression to hidden secrets. And to top it off, its story, a fable about dreams, identity, and the price of awakening.

The ending, without giving away spoilers, remains one of the most poetic and melancholic of the entire saga. For many, it's the best it has ever produced. On a narrative level, Zelda sold more than 4 million copies and was a resounding triumph for the Game Boy. It still remains a benchmark for what can be achieved when design surpasses technical limitations. Today, you can play its remake for Switch, which is a loving tribute to every corner of the original. Because Link Awakening wasn't just another adventure, it was Proof that great journeys also fit into small cartridges

Well, I'll leave it here since there are still many more games that I will be writing, greetings to everyone.