There's something unsettling about firing up Shadow Man on the N64 after twenty-odd years. I mean, you forget how genuinely disturbing some games were back then—not in that try-hard, gore-for-shock-value way modern horror does, but in a proper, creeping dread sort of way that made you glance over…

You know what? I've been thinking about that dusty corner of my game collection again. There's this one cart that sits between my beloved Ocarina of Time and the slightly warped copy of GoldenEye—Quest 64. Funny thing is, most people either don't remember it at all or they…

Picture this: I'm rifling through a car boot sale last autumn, knee-deep in someone's gaming collection, when I spot it—a pristine Mega Drive 2 sitting in a cardboard box like it's been waiting for me specifically. The seller wanted fifteen quid for it, which felt like highway robbery…

My mate Dave called me yesterday asking about "blast processing," and I had to laugh. Not at him, mind you—but at the memory of teenage me parroting that marketing phrase like it was technical scripture. Course, back then I couldn't tell you what processing actually meant beyond "makes…