I like to think of myself as a non-consumerist, but I very clearly remember falling victim to the LEGO Bionicle TV spots that played in between the Digimon episodes I watched as a seven year old. I told my parents a fabricated story that a dream told me to buy the toys. The next day, I went to the toy store and watched greedily as my mom shelled out three bucks for a set. I expected as much as she did that this would only be a passing phase but somehow I got hooked, and I strongly suspect the reason was the Mata Nui Online Game.

This strange little Flash game, launched concurrently with the toys in January 2001, is credited as the main reason Bionicle took off. It’s still one of the fundamental pillars of the Bionicle canon — it recently received its fourth re-release and an incredible fan-made sequel called The Bohrok Swarms surfaced in March of this year.

It’s also one of the most beautiful pieces of art I’ve ever encountered and possibly the one with which I have the deepest connection. I played it actively for the three years, both with and without my parents. It was my alternate reality of choice until LEGO removed it from its site and replaced it with the inferior sequel The Final Chronicle, a sad moment mitigated by my discovery of Pokemon.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my sense of aesthetics was defined by this game. I’m a sucker for movies with dramatic cinematography, shots I’d love to walk around in. Mata Nui is nothing but these shots, sweeping panoramas whose beauty transcends the early-’00s Flash rendering.

The game also adds to a sense that you are in a world, an infinite place you can only comprehend through what you are shown in the game. The cryptic dialogue references aspects of a larger story-universe that would be fleshed out in the remaining years of the franchise. Given how rabidly the Bionicle fan base petitioned for the game to become canon, I wouldn’t be surprised if the references were meant to remain mysterious.

Yet my main takeaway from it today is the music. I listen to the music more than play the games these days, and a 46-minute rip of the soundtrack has survived all the overhauls I’ve put my iPod through due to limited gig space. I would start a record label just to be able to reissue the wonderful score by Paul Hardcastle and Simon Fuller — yes, that Simon Fuller, who created the Idol franchise (Pop Idol, American Idol) the same year Mata Nui was launched.

Most of the themes are brief, but they’re ballsy and beautiful. Reichian repetition soundtracks the arrival of the game’s central villain Makuta. Dense dub plays during the underwater sequences. My favorite music plays in the underground tunnels, where you’re endlessly serenaded by a single, phasing wind note. When you enter the mining town in the middle of the tunnel network, it’s doubled by another note, played on what sounds like a low horn. Enter the actual mine and the sound of pickaxes begins to strike an unsteady rhythm. It’s essentially one piece that develops based on where you choose to travel.

Dance music creeps its way into the fight sequences, particularly drum ‘n’ bass. I would dismiss this as coincidence if not for the fact that the game was released not long after the EDM boom of the late ’90s. In addition, Hardcastle has been producing club music since 1982 and even had a minor hit in 1985 with “19.”

But this is a kids’ game, and the music sometimes lapses into cheesiness.  The universal “suspense theme” that’s as ubiquitous as the Wilhelm scream is used during one sequence, and in another, Ride of the Valkyries is arranged for an absurd ’80s synth. But at seven, I didn’t know what Ride of the Valkyries was, and I was delighted when it played as I flew on the back of a giant bird. It’s still not that distracting, given that you’re flying through what might be the most spectacular game landscape I’ve ever seen.

Mata Nui isn’t flawless, but its problems — the inanity of many of the mini-games, the occasional cliches — come out of the fact that it’s for kids. But aesthetically, it’s a masterpiece, and I’ve still never seen anything quite like it except maybe some of Hayao Miyazaki’s most visually impressive work (My Neighbor Totoro comes to mind due to its combination of kiddie elements and meditative nature sequences.) Although I wouldn’t recommend Mata Nui on the basis of gameplay, it’s an experience to say the least, and if you choose to immerse yourself in it and escape any prejudice toward media intended for kids, it may stay with you forever.