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…
The other day I was rummaging through a cardboard box that's been following me through three house moves, and there it was—my original Earthworm Jim manual for the Mega Drive. Crisp pages, still smelling faintly of that new-manual scent mixed with thirty years of storage. You know that smell. It's like opening a time capsule, except instead of finding historical artifacts, you're rediscovering why we used to read these things cover to cover on the…
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 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…
The plastic clamshell clicked open with that satisfying snap I'd forgotten about until I heard it again last weekend. Inside sat my battered copy of Streets of Rage 2, label slightly peeling, contacts a bit tarnished but still game for another round. My eight-year-old was watching me slot it into the Mega Drive with the sort of reverence usually reserved for archaeological discoveries. "Does it actually work without downloading?" she asked, and I realized we'd…
The thing about speed is that you don't really understand it until it's taken away from you. I learned this the hard way when my mate Dave brought his SNES round for a sleepover, and we spent half the night arguing about whether Mario moved too slowly compared to Sonic. Dave was wrong, obviously, but watching Mario's careful, considered jumps after months of Sonic's breakneck sprinting felt like watching paint dry in slow motion.See, I'd…
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…