Right, so there I was in Electronics Boutique circa 1992, clutching a twenty-pound note that had been burning a hole in my pocket for three weeks. Sonic 2 was calling my name from behind the glass counter, but this enormous black contraption next to it kept catching my eye. The Sega CD. Even the name sounded expensive.The bloke behind the counter—middle-aged, thick glasses, definitely knew his stuff—was practically bouncing on his heels talking about it.…
My mate Dave was round the other day, watching me mess about with an N64 controller—the actual one, not some modern approximation. His kid picked it up and just stared at it like I'd handed him a relic from Mars. Three prongs? What's the middle bit for? Why's there only one joystick? Fair questions, really. But when I fired up Mario 64 and that plumber's face filled the screen, stretching and squishing as I waggled…
Saturday afternoon, 1997. I'm sprawled across the carpet of my mate Dave's living room, the kind with those swirly brown patterns that could hide Cheerios and shame in equal measure. The N64's been out for a year, and we've already worn grooves in Mario 64's castle floors, but today's different. Dave's sliding a new cartridge into that front-loading slot with the reverence of a priest handling communion wine."My brother got it from Blockbuster," he says,…
There's something deeply surreal about a game where the King of Pop transforms into a spaceship to fight aliens, and somehow it all makes perfect sense. I was twelve when Moonwalker landed on my Mega Drive, and honestly? It might've been the first time a video game made me feel like I was inside someone else's fever dream—in the best possible way.My mate Danny had gotten it for his birthday, and I remember the exact…
You know what still makes my palms sweat a bit? Walking past an old arcade cabinet running Virtua Fighter. Not the sweaty-palms anxiety of teenage social awkwardness—though there's definitely some of that muscle memory lurking about—but the good kind. The kind that comes from remembering when Sega didn't just make fighting games, they made *statements*.I was probably fourteen when I first saw Virtua Fighter running in the wild, tucked into the corner of our local…
There's something beautifully ridiculous about a plug-and-play console that promises to deliver forty-two games in one tiny plastic brick. When I spotted the Sega Genesis Flashback on a shelf last month, sandwiched between knock-off fitness trackers and bluetooth speakers that probably fell off a lorry, I felt that familiar tingle. You know the one. Same feeling I had when I first clocked the original Mega Drive in Dixons, all black plastic and attitude.The box screams…
My mate Tony called me an idiot last Tuesday. Not for anything particularly stupid—well, more stupid than usual—but because I'd just spent twenty-five quid on a pristine copy of Mortal Kombat II for the Mega Drive. "You know you can download it for free, right?" Yeah, Tony. I know. But you can't download the weight of that chunky cartridge, can you? You can't download the satisfying click when it slots into the console, or the…
The other day, my seven-year-old discovered my old stack of Mega Drive cartridges and asked why they looked like "chunky Game Boy games." I nearly choked on my tea. After explaining that his beloved Switch cartridges are basically the great-great-grandchildren of these plastic bricks, I realized it was time to show him what real Sonic looked like—not the Hollywood version, but the original blue blur that made my Saturday mornings worth living.Setting up a Genesis…
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…
Rummaging through my gaming collection last week, I stumbled across something that made me pause mid-dig through the plastic cases: the Sega Genesis Collection for PS3. Still wrapped in that slightly yellowed cellophane that screams "bought it, meant to play it, life happened." You know how it is. The thing sat there looking at me like an old mate I'd promised to ring but never did.Here's the weird bit—I'd completely forgotten buying this compilation. Must've…