I grew up in the 1980s, or as I like to call it, the Golden Age. For it was the dawn of the video game – the era of Atari, ColecoVision and yes, even the Commodore 64.
Every one of my friends had a console except me. Perhaps this is what made them so enticing. There was only one thing I had on my mind when I visited: playing their newest video game (any boy will admit to this freely).
Asteroids, Frost Bite and Donkey Kong are a few that come to mind. My friends seemed to have an endless supply of games that took anywhere from 30 seconds to three minutes to play before Game Over. When you got tired of one, you simply plugged in another.
Simple games, like the free ones you now play on your phone, were fantastically addictive. Every game had the same motive: Kill and/or be killed (except Pong of course).
Gaming was further transformed with the advent of computers. Adventure, role-playing games like King’s Quest came with my family’s first computer. We spent hours figuring out how to play this thing until it finally dawned on us that we had to key in commands.
Next came portable gaming... Quite honestly, the Game Boy changed my life. The designer of this handheld device wanted simplicity to be its appeal, and it paid off with Nintendo selling over 115 million units. This colourless micro-screen offered me and my siblings endless play-time, but at a cost. You had to share it, after all (what were my grandparents thinking, giving us only one?!)
But that's where it ended for me. Sadly, my passion for video games was stunted after the age 16. Maybe I thought myself too mature, or got too busy (we all have our excuses). Whatever it was, all that changed the second year of the Great Pandemic...
Isolated at home in the middle of winter, there was only one question I needed to answer: Could someone in their 40s, approaching midlife (crisis?) still enjoy some old-fashioned video games?
Heck, yeah. As it turned out, one game alone could answer that question. I had played Zelda in its most basic form on the Game Boy but this.... this was something to behold. We’re talking open-world gaming that makes you wonder if bathroom breaks are really necessary. Did I really have to go three hours ago?
Yes, the addiction was real; for my daughter, myself... even my wife, who swears she’ll never touch a game controller. Instead, she’s taken on the role of strategic advisor.
Gaming has come a long way since Atari, yet the nostalgia overcomes me each time I foolishly dish out money for a re-make of an old favourite. Tetris, Turbo Chase, and Mario Brothers – the feelings of childhood come rushing back as I re-learn how to play these deceptively difficult games. It’s so much harder, you see, when Mario doesn’t quite run like he used to. It’s like he has arthritis in his 35-year-old legs.
“Dad, it’s okay,” my daughter consoles as I fall one more time into the abyss of Mario’s defunct world.
She has no idea how much my hand-eye coordination has regressed in the last thirty years. I used to be able to make those jumps in my sleep, darn it!
More frequently than I like to admit, I ease my gaming tension through some Psychedelic Tetris (not it’s real name, I assure you). This spectacular version of a simple game has lights, colours and cult-like music for middle-aged folks who need to trip without the LSD (only a game, I assure you).
It’s a whole new world. And if you’re so willing, you can join me.
We can play covid-safe, online... Just give me some time to figure out how that works.
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