As kids, we have a tendency to think everything is awesome. There’s a new TV show that’s a carbon copy of Power Rangers? Awesome. New action figures came out with a shiny coat of paint and maybe, maybe another movable joint but are still almost the same thing your parents bought you two weeks before? Still awesome. Our ten-year-old minds are programmed to love. But as we grow older, it’s normal for this borderline irrational acceptance to fade away, leaving behind a more cynical, cold and, OK fine, grounded sense of judgment.

Well, no one explained that process to my love of video games. For years, I held certain titles that I had played as a kid in the stratosphere. Most of them are almost universally recognized as great, sometimes amazing games, but somewhere along the line my praise abandoned all objectivity. These games became perfect and infallible. If anyone challenged them, they quickly became the target of as many fan boy clichés that I could fit into one breath.

I held onto that overly defensive guard for a long time. So long that if you even whispered one negative about games such as The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past or Final Fantasy VI to me only a year ago, I’d have immediately put you on my “knows nothing about videogames” list. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but it’s true. These games were godlike to me and how dare anyone attempt to bash them.

But over the past year, I decided to revisit both of those titles. Not to re-evaluate them on any sort of critical level, but because I simply wanted to enjoy them again. Spoiler warning: they’re still good, excellent even. But a funny thing happened as I was romping about in Hyrule and Narshe—I saw faults.

All of the usual praise for A Link to the Past stills holds true. It has rock-solid mechanics, a huge world filled with secrets, and is responsible for single-handedly establishing the modern Zelda blueprint. There’s so much to say about the game, and it deserves every bit of love it gets. But even though the dungeons are solid, they were mostly devoid of character save for a couple of gems like Turtle Rock and the Skull Woods Palace. The majority of the dungeons don’t do an awful lot to differentiate themselves from others. The puzzles fall into the same basic categories without really taking advantage of the sometimes-unique geographical setting or dungeon theme.

In the same vein, the items are all too often rarely used to their full potential, even inside of the dungeon you find them in. I might already have the fire rod in hand, but after grinding through floor after floor of the Ice Palace, I expect to be rewarded with a dungeon specific tool. Something that will change my perspective of a room or make all of those strange switches I’ve seen suddenly make sense. Instead, Link opens a massive treasure chest to find the Blue Mail, an item that is no-doubt helpful but definitely makes for an anticlimactic moment.

As for Final Fantasy VI, some of you may not like what I’m about to say. Simply put, the game falls apart during the second act. After finally confronting the Atma Weapon atop the floating continent (accompanied by some absolutely amazing boss battle music), the game arguably hits its peak as Kefka does what many other Final Fantasy villains couldn’t—he wins. As Kefka literally becomes a god and tears the world apart, you’re left thinking where all this excitement is going to lead next.

Unfortunately, the answer is pretty much nowhere. There are some very memorable moments during the World of Ruin section and it’s certainly cool to see what happened to the characters since the destruction. But these events serve only as mostly isolated vignettes. Interesting sure, but ultimately disconnected from the main storyline. Some might laud the second act for its undeniable sense of freedom and choice but when it comes down to it, Final Fantasy VI is an amazing 30 hour experience with an additional 30 hours of mostly-interesting side quests.

So now that I’ve opened my eyes to the games’ faults, I have to dial back my love for A Link to the Past and Final Fantasy VI, right? If I kept thinking so highly of them, I would be nothing more than a hypocrite.

Not quite.

Playing those games again has let me shed the honeymoon phase that I’ve been holding on to for the past 15 years. Perceptions of perfection usually stem from skewed viewpoints. While I once thought of those titles as infallible, now I’m able to accept their faults, making everything they actually do so well shine even brighter. A Link to the Past might have its pitfalls, but leading Blind through an entire dungeon only to have him transform into the boss or pulling the master sword out of the stone for the first time still rank as some of my favorite gaming memories. The first half of Final Fantasy VI is so stuffed with amazing moments that listing them all could half a book.

So here’s my challenge to you. Carve out some time in the next year to replay a game that you loved as a kid. Don’t attempt to find faults, but accept them if you do. Chances are you’ll have a greater appreciation for the game in the end and learn that even if you take off your nostalgia goggles, the classics are still a pretty damn satisfying experience.