It's the dead of night, and an airplane crashes into the ocean. You surface amid flaming wreckage, spot a nearby lighthouse, and start swimming toward it. You swim past the plane's massive tail as it slowly drowns, and you reach the shore. It's at this point your gamer brain has recognized what's going on, and instinctively, you explore the small island. Without hesitation, you open doors that look like they shouldn't be opened, and -- against what most would argue is common sense in a situation such as this -- enter a strange device that takes you deep below the surface and into the unknown. You do this because you're supposed to. That's how this works. At least, that's what you feel.
This is how BioShock begins. By the time it ends, you'll likely feel quite different about how you interact with games, and more importantly, how they interact with you.