Sometimes you don't realize a game has ruined you for everything else until years later, when you're fumbling through another run-and-gun shooter wondering why it feels like chewing cardboard. That happened to me recently when I fired up some modern indie thing that promised "classic arcade action." Twenty minutes in, I switched it off and dug out my Model 2 Genesis. Time to remember what perfection actually felt like.Contra: Hard Corps hit the Mega Drive…
Last Sunday I was digging through a box of N64 cartridges in the loft—you know how it is, searching for one specific game and somehow ending up with dust in your hair and a sudden urge to replay everything you'd forgotten you owned. Anyway, buried beneath copies of Mario Kart that still smell faintly of childhood birthday parties, I found Glover. That weird little rubber ball game that nobody quite knew what to make of…
The worst part about Donkey Kong 64 isn't the backtracking or the bloated collect-a-thon madness that every reviewer mentions. No, the worst part is how it absolutely ruined my summer of '99 because I couldn't put the bloody thing down.I'd just gotten the Expansion Pak—that chunky red brick that made your N64 feel properly next-gen—and DK64 was bundled with it. Free game, right? Except nothing's free when it costs you three months of daylight and…
The sound of plastic clacking against plastic still makes my spine tingle. Six-button pads, you know? That distinctive Genesis controller feel—heavier than Nintendo's offerings, with buttons that had this satisfying click when you really meant it. Saturday mornings in 1991 meant negotiating screen time with my sister, and somehow I always won when Sonic was involved. She'd get bored watching me spin-dash through Green Hill Zone for the hundredth time, wandering off to find something…
There's something almost mythical about the Sega Genesis Nomad that makes me smile every time I spot one at a retro gaming convention. Picture this: it's 1995, and while Nintendo's pushing the Virtual Boy (yeah, that happened), Sega drops this absolute unit of a handheld that can play full Genesis cartridges. Not cut-down versions. Not "special editions." The actual, honest-to-goodness 16-bit games that were melting faces on TV screens worldwide.I remember the first time I…
My mate Dave knocked on the door last Saturday morning holding a battered cardboard box like it contained the Holy Grail. Inside? His dad's old 486 DX2/66 complete with a double-speed CD-ROM drive that made sounds like a cement mixer having an argument with itself. "Thought you might want this," he said, grinning. That's when it hit me—we're living through the archaeology of our own childhood, and the 90s PC gaming scene is buried treasure…
Right, so you've got yourself a Mega Drive—or Genesis if you're across the pond—and you're staring at those AV outputs wondering why your games look like they're being broadcast through a fishbowl. Trust me, I've been there. Back when I first plugged my Mega Drive into mum's Panasonic CRT using the RF switchbox that came in the box, I thought the fuzzy, slightly off-color picture was just how Sonic was supposed to look. Spoiler alert:…
Standing in my mate's bedroom that summer of '89, watching him unwrap what looked like a sleek black spaceship, I had no idea I was witnessing the opening shot of a war that would define my teenage years. The Sega Genesis—or Mega Drive as we called it in the UK—sat there gleaming like something from a sci-fi film, all curves and air vents where my chunky NES was all right angles and beige plastic."Sixteen-bit," Dave…
My first experience with the game DOOM was in 2011 when my daughter told me I had to “play this old shooter.” She said, “Dad you can’t possibly understand gaming history without playing DOOM.” I was somewhat hesitant to play it initially due to wondering how well an “old” computer game could be. Boy was I mistaken. After loading a source port version of DOOM onto my laptop (yes, I know that’s not the same…
The plastic shell cracked under my thumb with that satisfying *pop* that meant business. I was eight, maybe nine, wrestling with a copy of Super Mario 64 that had picked up some dust bunnies from underneath my mate's sofa. Dad was watching from the kitchen doorway, shaking his head at my technique—"You'll break the bloody thing," he muttered, not understanding that cartridge maintenance was basically surgery and I was the family's unofficial Nintendo surgeon general.Those…