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 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…
Sitting in the spare room last night, surrounded by a frankly embarrassing collection of retro gaming kit, I found myself staring at the Sega Genesis Flashback sitting on the shelf. You know that feeling when you spot something familiar but slightly…off? Like seeing your childhood friend wearing a suit at a wedding. That's this thing in a nutshell.I'll be honest, when these plug-and-play consoles started showing up everywhere—garage sales, Argos, that weird electronics section in…
There's this moment when you're fiddling with an old Mega Drive cart, cleaning the pins with that ritual precision we all learned back in '91, and you hear that first chime of Sonic's title screen… that metallic twang hits different than anything Nintendo was doing. Not better or worse, just *different*. Like someone took a synthesizer and fed it through a transistor radio, then decided that's exactly what video games should sound like.I've been thinking…
Picture this: there I was, controller in hand, wiggling that stubby little analog stick on my N64 pad and watching Mario's face stretch and morph in ways that shouldn't have been possible on hardware that cost less than my dad's monthly beer budget. That moment—the first time you grabbed Mario's nose and gave it a proper yank in the file select screen—that's when everything changed. Not just for me, but for gaming as a whole.I'd…
You know what still gets me? The other day I was showing my nephew some old PlayStation games, and he asks me, completely innocent, "Why didn't they make Crash Bandicoot for Nintendo 64?" Just like that. Kid's eight years old and he's asking the question that haunted an entire generation of platform gamers.I had to stop and think about how to explain console exclusivity to someone who's never lived through a proper console war. These…
I remember walking into Electronics Boutique in 1998, scanning the shelves for something different. The usual suspects were there—GoldenEye, Mario Kart 64, Star Fox 64—but then I spotted it. A bright orange cartridge with four familiar faces grinning back at me: Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny. South Park, the TV show that made my parents cringe and my teenage self laugh until my sides hurt, had somehow made it onto the Nintendo 64.The bloke behind…
There's this moment—you know the one—when you're digging through a mate's Genesis collection and you spot something you've never heard of. The cartridge looks official enough, decent art, but the name rings absolutely no bells. That's exactly how I stumbled across Crusader of Centy back in '94, wedged between Sonic 2 and Streets of Rage in my cousin's slightly chaotic game drawer. The label had this kid with a sword and what looked like a…
Christmas 1997 was rough for my wallet but heaven for my brain. I'd scraped together enough pounds to grab Diddy Kong Racing alongside my shiny new N64, mainly because Mario Kart 64 was sold out everywhere and the bloke at Electronics Boutique said "trust me, this one's different." Different doesn't even cover it. That cartridge rewired what I thought racing games could be.See, up until then, karting meant Super Mario Kart on the SNES—brilliant, obviously,…
My mate Dave had this theory about movie games back in the day – they were all rubbish because developers got about six weeks and a photocopied script page to work with. Most of the time, he wasn't wrong. E.T. on the Atari 2600 nearly killed the entire industry, and don't get me started on Hudson Hawk for the NES. But then 1993 rolled around, Spielberg's dinosaurs were stomping across cinema screens worldwide, and Sega…