You know that feeling when a game arrives and immediately makes you question every life choice you've made up to that point? That's exactly what happened when I picked up Jurassic Park for the Mega Drive back in '93. I'd seen the film twice—once with my parents, once sneaking back in with mates using the classic "we're just popping to the loo" maneuver—and I thought I knew what dinosaur terror looked like. Turns out, Spielberg…
The other day, my kid found one of my old Sega Genesis cartridge boxes in the loft—you know, those long cardboard affairs that could double as rulers if you were desperate enough. Streets of Rage 2, spine slightly bent from where I'd grabbed it too eagerly one too many Saturday mornings. She held it like it was some archaeological find, which… fair enough, really. "Dad, what's this?" she asked, and suddenly I'm explaining the entire…
You know what's weird? I was sorting through a box of old Mega Drive carts last Tuesday—the kind of procrastination that happens when you should be doing actual work—and I found my copy of Michael Jackson's Moonwalker. Just holding that chunky plastic shell again brought back this rush of memories from 1990, when celebrity tie-in games were about as common as decent arcade ports and twice as likely to be absolute rubbish.But Moonwalker? That game…
Six AAs. That's what stood between you and portable 16-bit bliss back in 1995, and let me tell you, the Sega Genesis Nomad burned through those batteries like they were made of spite and false promises. I remember seeing one in the wild for the first time at a mate's house—this chunky black brick that somehow managed to swallow entire Genesis cartridges and spit out full-color Sonic on a tiny screen. My brain couldn't quite…
There's something almost mythical about how perfectly everything aligned for wrestling games in the late 90s. I mean, you had this weird convergence of technology finally catching up to ambition, the Monday Night Wars making wrestling cooler than it had any right to be, and developers who genuinely seemed to understand what made grappling fun rather than just flashy. And right there in the middle of it all was WWF No Mercy, sitting on that…
There's something beautifully ironic about finding a massive collection of Sega Genesis games sitting pretty on a PlayStation console. I mean, back in the day these were sworn enemies—you picked a side and stuck with it like supporting a football team. Yet here I was in 2006, sliding that Sega Genesis Collection disc into my PS2 and feeling like some sort of gaming diplomat bringing peace to the living room.The timing couldn't have been better,…
The smell hits you first. That mixture of pizza grease, carpet that's seen better decades, and something electrical—maybe ozone from all those CRT monitors running hot. I can close my eyes right now and I'm thirteen again, standing in front of Street Fighter II at Luigi's Pizza Palace, watching some older kid chain combos like he's conducting an orchestra of violence.You know what's funny? I spent more money in arcades than I ever did on…
The smell of orange squash and the sound of a CRT warming up—that's what Saturday afternoons meant to me in the 90s. But there was something else competing for my attention between cartoon blocks and trying to convince mum to let me stay up past eight. Nickelodeon had figured out something brilliant: they'd turned getting messy into appointment television.I'm talking about those game shows that made every kid secretly wish they could ditch their good…
You know what's been eating at me lately? I was scrolling through some old gaming magazines—the proper print ones with that glossy paper that would stick to your fingers in summer—when I stumbled across an ad for Streets of Rage 2. There's Blaze, all sixteen-bit pixels of her, and suddenly I'm twelve again, arguing with my mate Dave about whether she was "too distracting" during boss fights. Which, let's be honest, she absolutely was.The thing…
You know what I miss about being thirteen? The absolute certainty that a thirty-second TV advert could change your entire worldview. I'm talking about those Sega commercials from the early '90s—the ones that didn't just sell you games, they sold you an entire identity wrapped in attitude and blast processing.Picture this: Saturday morning, I'm sprawled on the carpet with a bowl of Frosties going soggy, when suddenly the telly explodes with speed lines and that…