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There...
by Peter Latimer
![[Photo: 2600 jr]](images/2600jr.jpg)
Another Christmas
as a 20-something. When you're a 20-something,
chances are you're doing most of the buying,
worrying about the costs, worrying about the
rows, and desperately trying to work out just
what in the world you can possibly buy for that
weird aunt who has no interests in life beyond
watching daytime TV. But when you're a kid,
Christmas is just the most amazing time - the
agony of getting through Christmas Eve, the
golden moment of getting up at 4 o'clock on Christmas
morning, and being sent back to bed. Then getting
up every 15 minutes after that until finally
they let you open your presents. A distant time
full of magic moments and magic things, things
like my Atari 2600. I certainly remember that
Christmas - all those amazing games, each new
and interesting, immersing you in a whole different
world. That was when games were really games.
They didn’t have the graphics and sound so they
sold themselves on the only thing they did have
- the fact that they were damned good fun. Nothing
else. And that's why we all played them for
hours on end, day after day. Not like the "looks
good but bored in ten minutes" games of today.
Just recently,
as the build-up to Christmas began, with those
kinds of thoughts running through my head I
finally decided I'd do it - I'd recapture those
old feelings and maybe glimpse that Christmas
morning from about 20 years ago, I'd go and
buy myself an Atari 2600 and a small stack of
games. A trip to eBay sorted it out - a 2600
jr,
just like the one I had, and a bunch of cartridges: Combat, Pac-Man, Battlezone, Asteroids, Jungle
Hunt and Galaxians. With the all-time
greatest console and my own all-time favourite
games I was ready to let the nostalgia flow.
It started as
well as I could have hoped for. It's difficult
to describe how wonderful it feels when you
get a chance to revisit the things you love
from your childhood. Unpacking it and plugging
it all in, I could see my dad in our old house
wiring it up to the black and white portable
television while my brother and I waited impatiently, completely
on edge about the incredible machine we were
about to try out. It's also difficult to describe
how depressing it can feel to see the truth
sometimes.
Unfortunately,
almost 20 years’ worth of rose-tinted spectacles
and a grown-up brain have taken their toll.
Pac-Man was the first game I tried, and it was
heart-breaking. Could this really be the same
thing that had silenced me with its brilliance?
It was, to be honest, pretty awful. I hadn't
played that game in a long, long time and I
doubt I ever will again. Why were the graphics
so much better in my memories? Everything
was blocky, flickery, slow and dull, and a total
disappointment. But then, Pac-Man had never
been my absolute favourite. The really good stuff
was still to come, wasn't it? No, it wasn't...
![[Screen-shot: Pac-Man]](images/pacman.gif)
Battlezone. I
remembered this one well. In my memory this
was the game with the amazing 3D graphics, the
thrill of wondering just where the next hit's
going to come at you from, the satisfaction
of taking out one of the flying saucers (if
that's what they were). But it couldn't and
didn't match up, not by a million miles. I’m
not totally unreasonable, I didn't expect to
be stunned by graphics and sound, but I did
expect the game to still be fun and... it just
wasn’t. It was boring. I wasn't even sure if
I was playing properly but after a couple of
minutes, I didn't care. In my mind I could see
the child that I once was and how this game
had enthralled me for so long, and I wondered
just what on Earth I must have been on.
![[Screen-shot: Battlezone]](images/btlezone.gif)
Asteroids. That
sinking feeling of disappointment was setting
in and, after the first two, I was expecting
nothing from this. Sadly, I wasn't wrong. I
didn't have the box with the game synopsis,
but if it was honest then it would have said,
"Some silly triangle shoots at big blobs that
become smaller blobs. And that's all that ever
happens". It's mildly interesting for the first
second or so, but by then you've seen and done
pretty much all this one has to offer.
![[Screen-shot: Asteroids]](images/astroids.gif)
I wasn't sure
I should continue. Next was Combat, and this
was one memory I didn't want spoilt - I can
remember playing against my brother for about
eight hours non-stop. That’s how good it was,
with "was" being the operative word.
Reluctantly,
I switched it on... The Combat cartridge claims
it consists of about 6,000 games. In
actual fact there are about two, the rest are
just dull variations on the first two, which
are pretty dull to begin with: Whether it's
flying planes, driving tanks or whatever else,
it quickly comes down to the same thing: boredom.
The whole idea of re-living my childhood didn't
seem quite so good any more. In fact, it seemed
pretty awful. But I wasn't going to stop there,
I had to finish, in case there was something
wonderful just a cartridge-swap away.
![[Screen-shot: Combat]](images/combat.gif)
Jungle Hunt.
I was in two minds as to whether or not to put
this one in. For months I'd lived for this game,
rushing home from school excited at the thought
of getting a little further. It might not feature
on many people's all-time great lists but it
was right up there for me. I put the cartridge
in half-heartedly, knowing for certain it was
going to be just another rubbish game. But,
as I started to play it I noticed something
a little different about this one. As I leapt
from vine to vine in the opening stage I
was beginning to care less about the graphics
and more about whether or not I was going to
make the jump. As I swam against the crocodiles
I was caring less that they looked like clothes
pegs and more about whether they would eat me
or not. The boulder run wasn't about wondering
how a square boulder could roll so well, it
was about making sure the damned thing didn't
crush me. And so on. In short, I was having
fun. Nothing I would rush home for, but
fun. Finally.
![[Screen-shot: Jungle Hunt]](images/junghunt.gif)
So I was little
more hopeful at the thought of playing the final
game, Galaxian. I shouldn't have been. The opening
screen which had once dazzled me with its incredible
colour-flashing effects now just looked like
the TV wasn't tuned in properly. Things were
looking bad and the game hadn't even begun.
Even as a kid Galaxian was nothing special to
look at or listen to, so there was no real disappointment
with the graphics or sound. But like most of
the other games I'd tried, it was dull, slow
and boring. You shoot the aliens, they swoop
down, you shoot the aliens, they swoop down,
you shoot the aliens, they swoop down a little
faster. And then one of the little gits hits
you and suddenly you're more interested. You
need revenge. No decades-old games console’s
about to humiliate your speed and agility. Those
aliens are about to get a lesson they'll not
forget. I found myself becoming involved in
the game. I wanted them dead. More importantly,
I wanted to get to the next level and do it
all again a little faster. And most of all,
I wanted the three figures in my score to become
four, to become five, to become six... Finally
it had happened. The feeling I'd gone through
all this to recapture. The feeling of involvement
in the game without needing all kinds of incredible
graphics, sound, variety or plots. Of course,
it lasted all of about ten minutes and I haven't
played it again since but at least for those
few minutes I'd discovered again just
what it was all about. And that made it all
worthwhile.
![[Screen-shot: Galaxian]](images/galaxian.gif)
I haven't switched
on my Atari 2600 since that day and possibly
never will again. Galaxian and Jungle Hunt had
brought a little fun, but the overall feeling
was a huge disappointment. But how could it
have been anything else? With decades having
passed, could I really have thought nothing
would have moved on in gaming except graphics
and sound? Of course all aspects of gaming have
moved on. And they'll continue to. Games are
only of their time, and the Atari 2600 is of
the early '80s where it will always rule its
world. It was a truly revolutionary machine
and possibly the most important piece of home-gaming
history there is. But there's no doubt that
it really is history.
It began to dawn
on me that the whole experience never had much
to do with games at all - in reality it was
about the desire to live back in that carefree
world again. The world where nothing much matters
- you don't care about girls, about how you
look, about a job, about disease, death or anything
else. I think any of us lucky enough to have
experienced that world as a kid will always,
somewhere inside us, yearn to return to that
simple place where every moment is its own adventure.
But the tragedy is, none of us ever will. There
are three things undeniably true in this world: 1. Poirot
will always catch the killer, 2.
Mr T will always pity fools and 3. You can
never go back.
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