Well, if it's good enough for Sony — they are celebrating the 20th anniversary of their console, after all — it's good enough for me.

Here are my top three original PlayStation games.

…Shit.

There are too many. There are way too many to choose from that I've played over the years. Some of them are incredibly obvious choices. Others are games that I have but a dim memory of playing, but which have stuck in my brain ever since. I can't choose three. I can't.

So I won't. Instead, I'm going to present some fake awards for the games that have stuck in my mind ever since I first played them. In some cases, it may have been 15-20 years since I played them, but they still carry significant meaning to me for one reason or another. In many cases, they may not even be among the best games on the platform, but for whatever reason I have remembered them fondly ever since.

Here we go then. The first one is an obvious one, but I don't think many people will argue against it.

The "wow, this is better than anything I've ever seen before" award

What other game could this go to than the original Ridge Racer?

The word "revolutionary" is thrown around far too much with regard to games these days, but Ridge Racer was genuinely revolutionary. It clearly demonstrated the vast difference in power between the 32-bit PlayStation and the 16-bit Super NES and Mega Drive that had come before.

Its slick 3D graphics and unapologetically arcadey handling — remember this was in the days when we were still using digital control pads rather than analogue sticks — made it an absolute joy to play. And despite a relative lack of content compared to modern games — there really weren't very many tracks at all, and all of them were based in the exact same environment — it was a game that could keep you occupied for hours as you tried to beat the irritating yellow car and its even more irritating later counterpart, the black car: an adversary so cocky that it often parked on the side of the road in order to allow you to catch up a bit.

A not-particularly-interesting anecdote about Ridge Racer is that it also kind of introduced me to electronic music. Prior to that game, I'd dismissed a lot of electronic music as being just noise — at least partly due to my parents regarding it as such — but over time I came to appreciate the weird and wonderful accompaniments to the racing on the soundtrack, and was much more open to the idea of listening to electronic music outside of games as a result.

The "holy crap, this is on the same system?" award

It would be remiss of me to talk about Ridge Racer and not mention the much later Ridge Racer Type-4, a game which came out much later in the PlayStation's lifespan but which still plays like a dream today.

Ridge Racer Type-4 was noteworthy not just for being a great game — and a great-looking game with what passed for "photo-realistic" visuals at the time of its release — but also for being beatifully designed, too. Take a look at the video above and tell me that those bright yellow animated menus aren't immediately distinctive and memorable — and instantly recognisable as being from Ridge Racer Type-4.

Everything about Ridge Racer Type-4 fitted together perfectly. The hour-long Grand Prix campaign gave you several mini-stories to follow through as you challenged various races in various vehicles. The vehicles you unlocked ran the gamut from the relatively sensible to the ridiculous, such as the jet-propelled monstrosity you unlocked later that really, really didn't like going around corners.

And the music. Oh, the music. At the time Ridge Racer Type-4 came out, my friends and I had discovered a genre of music known as acid jazz — a blend of jazz, funk and hip-hop typified by artists such as the Brand New Heavies and Jamiroquai. We would listen to pretty much nothing other than this type of music, and so we were delighted to discover that Ridge Racer Type-4's soundtrack consisted almost exclusively of music of this ilk — certainly a far cry from the early-'90s electronica of the first game — and even more delighted when we found that Namco had very much made this distinctive sound part of their in-house "style" for a while, as other games such as Anna Kournikova's Smash Court Tennis (an honourable mention in this list) also had a rather jazz-funk flavour about them.

Racing games have come a long way, but few modern titles provide the same degree of satisfying arcade fun that Ridge Racer Type-4 still does. And now you can download and play it on PSP and Vita. And typing this, I'm very tempted to go and do that after I'm done here.

The "so I like RPGs now" award

Final Fantasy VII. I don't think I really need to say anything else about this, so here's the intro — still one of my favourite game openings of all time.

The "inexplicably burned into my memory" award

I played a lot of role-playing games on PlayStation — at least, after I discovered Final Fantasy VII and the genre as a whole — but I actually have a pretty good memory of most of them, and indeed enjoyed most of them, too, even those that were objectively lower-quality and lower-budget than other games available at the time.

One such game that has stuck in my mind for a long time is The Granstream Saga.

I remember only a few very specific details about The Granstream Saga: it had some lovely anime cutscenes; it had a great battle system that was somewhere between a traditional RPG and the real-time combat of games like Zelda; it featured two heroines called Arcia and Laramee (the latter of whom donates her name to my custom characters in games any time "Amarysse" is not available); and that none of the polygonal models had any faces.

I'm not sure why The Granstream Saga has burned itself into my memory quite as much as it has, but of all the RPGs I played on PlayStation, it's one of the ones I remember most fondly. I'd be interested to replay it sometime and see how it holds up, graphics aside.

The "I like this more than Zelda" award

Yes, I like The Adventures of Alundra more than pretty much any Legend of Zelda game I've played to date. (Disclosure: I only played a couple of hours of Wind Waker and Twilight Princess, and haven't played Skyward Sword at all.)

Alundra surprised me, because it came along at a time where, so far as many teenage gamers were concerned — teenage gamers like my school friends and I, for example — it was 3D or nothing. 2D games were things of the past; it was all about the 3D now, and preferably games that came on more than one disc. (My friend Woody believed for many years that it was physically impossible for a game to be as good as FInal Fantasy VII, which came on three discs, if it only came on a single disc. This was despite me pointing out that the three discs of FInal Fantasy VII all included the exact same game data, and the only thing different between them was the prerendered cutscenes. I could never convince him.)

Alundra was staunchly 2D, though. It wasn't even a little bit 3D — games like Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (which we'll get onto in a moment) supplemented their beautiful 2D art with 3D backdrops and other scenery elements, whereas Alundra was a pixel-art labour of love, with hand-animated characters, a distinctive and consistent aesthetic and the feel that, aside from the screen resolution, it may well have been possible to recreate on the Super NES.

After I got over my initial culture shock at playing a 2D game, though, I discovered something wonderful: a beautifully designed Zelda-style action RPG with, to date, some of the best-designed puzzles I've ever solved without the aid of GameFAQs. Alundra's puzzles were difficult — more difficult than that which Zelda typically offered — but never insurmountable, and consequently they gave a wonderful feeling of achievement when you successfully solved them.

The plot was pretty cool, too. In fact, it went on to inspire a story that I've had half-finished in my head and various word-processing documents ever since. One day I should probably finish that.

The "Hmm, 2D platform games are still relevant" award

2D platformers have had something of a resurgence in recent years thanks to the indie scene, but in the early years of the 32-bit era, developers and players alike were thoroughly enamoured with 3D, with everyone trying to recapture the magic of Super Mario 64.

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night proved that 2D still had a place, however. And what a game it was.

The game was immediately striking thanks to its intro, seen in the video above. The beautiful pixel art, the incredible soundtrack — by gosh, I miss old-school Castlevania music — the cringeworthy but memorable voice acting and script… all of it combined to make the second-most badass intro sequence after Final Fantasy VII in my book.

What was perhaps most interesting about the Symphony of the Night intro, however, was the fact that it was actually the last level of the previous game. Only after you beat Dracula — in a fight that you couldn't lose this time around — did the game proper begin, and then you were in to one of the earliest examples of the "Metroidvania" genre: a type of 2D platformer where you could freely explore a single, huge world split into distinct areas, some of which were blocked off by the requirement for you to unlock specific abilities first.

Symphony of the Night as a whole was so great because it was designed well, played well, treated the player fairly and didn't outstay its welcome. It was over and done with in about 10 hours — including the "secret" second castle — and by that point you'd had an eminently satisfying experience filled with thrilling boss fights, challenging platforming and, of course, amazing music. It's no surprise that this Castlevania above all others is the one that keeps getting re-released.

The "this game is broken as hell, but I still love it to pieces" award

Bust-a-Groove took up a considerable proportion of one of our summers. Why? Because it was brilliant.

Bust-a-Groove was one of the earliest examples of "rhythm action" games that I remember playing, and took the unusual approach of being somewhat like a fighting game — it had different characters, each of whom had their own iconic stage, and you worked your way through them to a non-playable final boss. The whole thing was over in the space of about 20 minutes or so — a single playthrough was, anyway — but it was the kind of thing we all enjoyed playing over and over again with different characters.

Why was it broken as hell? Because of its multiplayer mode, and because of the nature of its gameplay. By requiring the player to input specific button sequences in time with the music, it was possible to get a "perfect" score on a level, and if two evenly matched players squared off against one another, it almost always ended in a stalemate. The game's answer to this was to provide a couple of special attacks that could be triggered in time with the music, but there was also a dodge button and a very obvious cue that these attacks were coming so, again, two evenly matched players would more than likely end in a draw, while two players of different skill levels would be a foregone conclusion.

As dumb as it was, the personality-packed characters, the detailed stages and the incredibly memorable soundtrack made this one of my favourite games of the PlayStation era.

The "I like this more than Zelda, too" award

Here in Europe, we got screwed over on the RPG front for a good few years, with many localised titles not making the hop across the pond from America. Fortunately, I had a modified PlayStation capable of playing imported games, so when I visited my brother in the States on one occasion, I took the opportunity to pick up a selection of games I couldn't get back home, one of which was Squaresoft's Brave Fencer Musashi.

Brave Fencer Musashi was a funny game. And I mean that in several senses. It was clearly Japanese through and through, but an excellent job on the localisation filled it with exaggerated Western stereotypes such as the valley girl princess (who calls the protagonist a "little turd" within two minutes of them meeting), the mystic who overdid it on the archaic English and the distinctly camp scribe named Shanky.

Structurally, it was peculiar, too. It had many of the trappings of an RPG — levelling up, HP, MP and the like — but the feel of a 3D platformer, with you exploring a world of gradually increasing size and getting into various setpiece scrapes against bosses and special events. I never got around to beating it, but it was a lot of fun, and I still have a copy on my shelf, so… hmm.

The… hmm.

I've gone on for over 2,000 words and I think I could probably continue if I tried. But I'm going to hold it there for now and perhaps revisit some more PS1 classics tomorrow.

* I lied. But you already knew that, huh.