When I moved back to my dorm this semester, I brought with me a machine that triggers such nostalgic memories of my youth that it nearly moves me to tears. Just the sound of it starting up makes me giddy.
SEEEGAAA.
The complex synth-orchestral piece that is the theme to Emerald Hill Zone in Sonic the Hedgehog 2 is one of the anthems of my childhood.
Tails, the flying fox that serves as Sonic's ambiguously gay companion infuriates me as much today as he did when I was 11. He just doesn't have the rebellious, menacing scowl. Plus he has two tails. Weird.
Even just looking at the console itself is pleasing in its own rite. The bold declaration of the Genesis' 16-bit prowess is set directly above the bright red glowing "power" light.
When I was leaving home after winter break, I made a quick survey of my closet to see if there was anything I ought to take with me. Past last minute pick-ups have includes an old wood baseball bat and my steel darts, both to be used to torment my freshman suite-mates. When I opened the door, there stood my Genesis and Sega CD in their black and silver glory.
I disconnected the Sega CD from the Genesis. It was, after all, the most disappointing innovation in gaming console history. Plus, who needs to carry an extra 10 pounds from the Governor's E lot to third floor of Clinton, (arguably the farthest dorm from its parking lot in all of UB.)
Hold that honking black mass of a controller - undoubtedly made to fit those of us with a sausage finger condition and developed by an inability to leave our respective couches and carpets - and I assure you that you won't want to put it down.
I have never defeated Dr. Robotnik, Sonic the Hedgehog's nemesis. (I have, thanks to the creators of Sonic, a complex that dissuades me from the care of all red-bearded spectacle-wearing doctors.) I've made it a goal for the semester to finally do so. I will free every animal the evil doctor has captured and transformed into his evil minions.
I will also conquer Electronic Arts' sequel to Desert Strike, Jungle Strike. This game was the original renegade game, allowing the player to do anything he pleased with his Apache helicopter, including attack Washington DC monuments; even the White House. Forget about Grand Theft Auto III. Running over pedestrians is nowhere near as hot as launching a Hellfire missile into the oval office. That's hot like cinnamon.
NHL '98 is also on my list of games to master. I'm well on my way. My brother, who is nearly seven years my senior, used to play NHL '94 and '95 with me for hours. He would punch me in the arm with a good portion of his then-formidable strength every time I lit him up. I lost most of the time, but I'm waging a late-youth comeback.
I've seen similar nostalgia in nearly all my cohorts' faces when I introduced the idea of unwinding to a little Sonic. It's hardly original to bring your out-dated gaming console to college with you. Heck, my brother took the same Genesis to SUNY ESF in 1995, before I entered junior high. He also lost our Nintendo Entertainment System in similar fashion. (Not that I hold a grudge.)
Lack of originality considered, it's inherently cooler to play Sonic and Street Fighter for hours on end than it is to sit around yelping at Madden 2004 or Counter-Strike.
Price comparison? Sonic the Hedgehog 2: $1.99. Madden 2004 for X-Box: $49.99. For the love of God, you could buy the Genesis itself for that price. You could probably even throw in the 32-bit attachment or the Game Shark.
In my book, nostalgia wins over better graphics and faster game-play. Maybe I can't get a close-up of Ricky Williams' colon exploding on instant replay of a Ray Lewis decking, but I'll be able to take my lady-friend out to dinner without having to ask her to reach for her wallet and pay the tip.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
