Issue 26: Dec 2002
Features
- | Foreword
- | ARAnyM: Atari Running on Any Machine
- | Tip of the day
- | The Future of Atari Computing
- | Back There...
- | MyIDE Interface Part 2
- | Christmas Labels
- | Pulsar: Pulse to a different drummer
- | Atari UK 3
- | Festive Networking
- | A Room with a View
News
M@ilbox
| Back There... by Peter Latimer 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... 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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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