#classic games
Still have Mouse Trap, ATARI Games…
Another cover for the latest Patreon-exclusive episode of the Retronauts podcast
Another commission for the Retronauts podcast. Check out the episode exclusively on their Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/posts/43957485
You can also follow me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shaankhanart/
Broke the PS2 out of the box in my closet for a little nostalgia and I beat my Dad’s record time from a decade ago. What a bizarre emotion.
02.11.2021
Atari’s Centipede (1981) was actually programmed by a woman, Dona Bailey.
The most innovative thing about the game was the color scheme, a pastel, which looked wildly different from anything else in the arcade at the time.
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Having enjoyed the recent reboot of the Tomb Raider Franchise and eagerly awaiting the PS4 release of Rise of the Tomb Raider, I decided to play through the original games. Thankfully Steam happens to put them all on sale fairly frequently. Although I grew up familiar with the franchise, the Tomb Raider games were never something I got to play during their original run. Perhaps I was a bit too young to handle the tricky platforming and puzzles, and by the time I was old enough and the PS2 came around, the series began to go down the toilet and I avoided it. Now that I’ve dived into the series I am starting to appreciate it. I’m surprised by how immersive and addicting the games can be, with a challenge that rivals other notoriously hard games.
Initially I picked up Tomb Raider on Steam, although I ran into some control issues fairly quickly. I couldn’t get my controller to work, and even with third party software, it barely functioned. I played what I could, but technical issues ended my playthrough pretty quickly. Thankfully, my local vintage game store had a copy of the PS1 version for a decent price. I fired it up but was unaware what awaited me. Although I could now play the game with no control issues or crashing, the convenient feature of saving the game anywhere was gone. Instead saving is restricted to single use save crystals. What is already a difficult game now skyrocketed in challenge. Save crystals are spaced pretty far away, and in a game where a single misstep can result in the loss of health or instant death, I found myself replaying sections of the game over and over again. Still, I pushed through the frustration and made it to Greece, the second area of the game. This is where I met my match. I reached a level that required jumping and climbing up and down a bunch of perilous platforms, hitting switches to open doors, and then navigating a themed puzzle behind each door. No matter how hard I tried, I could not beat this area. The constant backtracking and limited saves made it impossible for me. After a few hours of trying I gave up. I hate to admit it, but I did. Tomb Raider on the PS1 beat me.
Still my time with the game gave me a decent enough impression. The graphics are basic and have a lot of clipping, but there’s a charm in the classic style of it. The environments are diverse in their appearance and immersive, despite the dated graphics. The controls are clunky and even on the PS1 they were sluggish. However, as a longtime fan of the Resident Evil franchise, I have a soft spot for tank controls. Overall, I enjoyed the game well enough until it crushed me. It is a nice glimpse into gaming history, but not for the faint of heart. If I could have the PC version’s saving system in the PS1 version, I probably would have been able to complete it. Thankfully, I was able to overcome my technical issues with later installments.
6/10
A classic game, but cumbersome save system and dated controls make it too difficult for me to enjoy. PC port would not work on my computer.
A rambling diatribe on retro-gaming elitism
There’s a lot to be annoyed about in the world today - obviously - especially with the various types of mess we’re all living with in every country in the world.
But a particular, and specific annoyance in the retrogaming hobby/lifestyle/environment/zeitgeist, is the hive-mind attitude from an increasing number of the most vocal (and seemingly most affluent) participants that this is, or should be, an extremely expensive hobby/lifestyle/etc/etc.
It’s impossible not to notice an underlying, deeply unpleasant, atmosphere of elitism in many of the communities I visit. An attitude of ‘you’re not doing it right’ directed at anyone who doesn’t have their Neo Geo AES hooked up to a 20” PVM via OSSC. (I have no idea if that example makes sense, nor do I care.)
This is the kind of arms-race attitude that fought to keep PC gaming an exclusive club for decades, and it has gradually seeped into retro gaming’s language and ecosystem almost undetected.
The simple joy of rekindling one’s nostalgia for Super Mario World, or re-experiencing the simple fun of games lost with the arcades, is being obfuscated by a collective need to quantify, update, and monetise every aspect of vintage computer entertainment.
It’s the kind of environment where you might expect the gateway drug of emulation to be met with the utmost scorn, but instead the self appointed guardians of retro (You can have that for your quiz team/band name, BTW) have positioned emulation behind a paywall of Retron 5s, Mega SGs, and (only the latest and most expensive) Everdrives. Any excited newcomer asking about the best controller to play retro games on their laptop is quickly overwhelmed with talks of latency, resolutions, and refresh rates.
If it wasn’t bad enough that forced exclusivity exists, it actually appears to be having it’s desired effect.
You can see it both in the way questions are asked and in the tone of the responses. You can see it in the photos of someones latest, expensive, haul and the other even more expensive stuff in the background - almost, but not quite, out of focus.
People don’t ask where they can find a cheap CRT, they ask if their $100 Trinitron is ‘good enough’. A joyous celebration of a bargain buy, or a long lost attic discovery, will be met with derision and disbelief, the underlying accusation that unless you can afford the inflated eBay prices for a barely average Sega Saturn game, then you aren’t worthy to own it.
Which brings me neatly to the event that triggered this rambling blog entry.
There was someone on a Discord server I’ve been frequenting who stated, blankly, without malice, that “all the good Saturn games are 100+ dollars”.
Why would they think this? Simply because it’s what the gatekeepers want them, you, and everyone else to think.
These are the people who, when a collective question is asked, wouldn’t dream of recommending any of the dozens of fantastic, better even, Saturn games you could buy for the price of Burning Rangers.
It’s this sub-group who don’t want you enjoying Sonic the Hedgehog for free when they’ve invested $200 in a Mega SG. The only way their post-purchase rationalisation can cope is by attacking the perceived difference in quality, by claiming they seek a ‘purer’ experience, and by attempting to undermine the simple pleasure of just playing old games by insinuating that someone with a secondhand NES Mini isn’t doing it right.
Now I just want to be clear that I’m not claiming to be some kind of saint who never judges anyone else’s choices, nor am I saying that there aren’t benefits to some modern retro products, but the weaponised affluence I’m seeing increasingly around retro gaming communities is something else entirely.
Admission 1: I strongly believe that by downloading a thousand roms and picking one to play for five minutes before switching to another, then another, then another… your assessment of them will lack a psychological bond of choice, expectation, and - yes - sometimes investment that adds to the whole experience of a game.
But this is no less true of a pack of illegal roms than it is of someone with thousands in disposable income spending a tenth of that on a game they’ll probably never play.
Cost, value, and investment are relative terms. The kind of ‘bond’ I’m trying to describe between a player and a game can be gained through the investment of time, the effort of research, and the expectation of finding out for oneself if that game from your childhood holds up 20 years later.
Admission 2: I think games from the previous century should be played on a CRT television whenever possible. Pixels look better with real scanlines - it’s an incontrovertible fact - and the colour depth offered by that massive, humming monstrosity wedged into the corner is really something lost to the ages.
But it’s not a prerequisite of fun. And it’s especially not necessary to find the most expensive, most instagrammable, most egregiously hyped PVM to enjoy a game of Super Mariokart with your kids.
When I say: “I think these games should be played on a CRT”, I mean ANY CRT. I’m typing this in a room with 6 of the things, two of them were free, and the whole collection has been compiled for the total cash investment of £26.
As someone born over 4 decades ago I’ll let you into a secret: The geometry has always been rubbish, the hum has always been loud, the picture has always flickered and no one ever cared about resolution or refresh rate or input lag when playing Tornado Low Level on their ZX Spectrum in 1984.
It’s entirely possible to argue a convincing case that you’ll get a more enjoyable retro experience from a wonky Bush portable TV than from any professional quality display equipment. And beyond that, if you can’t find a tube telly or don’t have room for one, use an LCD - it’s better than nothing, and the filters some emulators have these days are great.
It comes down this:
If you’re lucky enough, or have worked hard enough, to have the disposable income necessary to buy $400 RGB Scart cables and a professional monitor the size of a family car - and that’s genuinely what you want for your retro gaming experience - That’s cool. You don’t need anyone’s approval or respect, you’re doing what you want to do the way you want to do it - and that’s a life lesson for everyone right there. But it’s your way, and nothing more than that.
This nonsense of idolising only the most expensive elements of this hobby has to change and we, the members of these communities, are the only people in a place to do that.
So the next time you see an excited new Dreamcast owner looking for game suggestions, mention the best ones first, not the most expensive.
When you come across a reddit picture of someone’s game collection don’t immediately look for the over-priced ‘rare’ game they haven’t got, look for the ones you have in common and can have a conversation about.
And if you ever, ever, see someone being criticised for playing roms, or using composite cables, or playing on a flat screen TV, or any of that postering gibberish - step into that conversation and ask what games they love? What happy memories do they have? What is it about retro games brings them joy?
Because this is the real value of games.
They bring us experiences and memories to savour forever, they engage with us in a different way to that of films and music - and that difference should be cherished.
Games exist to bring us pleasure. Sometimes that pleasure is tinged with fear, and sometimes it’s truly dark and doesn’t feel like pleasure at all. Sometimes the pleasure comes from intellectual stimulation, sometimes from mindless entertainment.
But whatever form it takes, this pleasure, this… fun… cannot be tempered by technology, and it must never be attributed to any scale of monetary investment.
The simplicity of Retro Games is joyous, they are heartbreaking, they are brilliant and they must never be withheld from those who measure value in the size of their smile, by those who measure it in the size of their wallet.
You better get the aspect ratio right though, or I will hunt you down!
Beautiful LuftrauserZ package from RGCD.co.uk…
An A-Z of great PlayStation games: B is for…
Despite a direct sequel and many attempts over the years to create a ‘spiritual successor’, there has never been anything quite like the utter brilliance of Bushido Blade.
The developers, Light Weight, never made another game that even approached it’s quality, so Bushido Blade remains lightning in a bottle, a miraculous one-off who’s legacy has endured long after those of lesser polygon fighters has faded.
The game is most often celebrated for tense and brutal one-on-one battles that can be won with a single thrust or slice of your chosen weapon, and during which the tiniest mistake can leave you wounded, hobbled, or very very dead.
And it’s these weapons that add an extra dimension to the game that is often forgotten. Each of the 8 available has distinct characteristics and affects the combatants in various ways.
Often, pairing particular weapons and characters will open up new moves and combinations, but additionally, making an poor selection can have negative effects - I remember in particular that arming the young warrior Tatsumi with the enormous sledgehammer opened up a few moves particular to that combination - at least one of which ended with him falling and the weight of the weapon.
Another that sticks in my mind is the pairing of female fighter Mikado with the long Nodachi sword that resulted in an overhead swing that caused the character to stumble forward under the inertia.
Add to all this the ability to run away from fights, 2 endings for each character, link cable support, and the ‘Code of Bushido’; a set of rules of engagement, for which the punishment for conduct unbecoming a samurai was the immediate end of your game - and you have yourself a genuine, spectacular, one-of-a-kind masterpiece.
