There's something magical about firing up a Genesis cart in 2024 that transports me straight back to my mate Steve's bedroom, circa 1991, where we'd argue over who got the six-button pad and whether Sonic 2's Chemical Plant Zone music was the greatest thing ever composed. Spoiler: it absolutely was, and still is.I've been revisiting my black plastic brick lately—partly because my seven-year-old discovered it in the loft and partly because modern gaming sometimes feels…
The other day my kid found my old Game & Watch collection buried in a shoebox behind some Christmas decorations. "Dad, why is this Game Boy so thick?" he asked, holding up my pristine Donkey Kong unit like it was some ancient artifact. I couldn't help but laugh—here's this device that once felt like pure magic in my eight-year-old hands, and to him it looks clunky as a house brick.But that got me thinking about…
I was rummaging through my loft last weekend, dodging cobwebs and trying not to step through the ceiling, when I found it—my old Sega Master System, still wrapped in that tatty towel I'd used to protect it during house moves. The sight of that familiar black plastic shell sent me tumbling back through decades of Sega memories, from those early 8-bit days right through to the Dreamcast's bittersweet finale.You know, Sega's journey through the console…