Residual Light

The race for us, these blinded mice concludes…for now, that impending pendulum keeps tick, tick, tocking, and return I must, but for now the time is mine, mine and mine alone.

No longer must I feign the interest, to care for your obvious forecast of small talk with a hint of cats and dogs, for the sun could have his hat on, yet I no longer give a toss.

Whilst again I refrain, from the modern and mundane…. your popular references always go over my head, immersion in the game, each weekend the same, as I live in my own bobble of amusement.

This outside world no longer holds any relevance or meaning to my soul, for now this weekend is mine, mine and mine again, and I shall do as I see proud.

Pursing the games as much as I can, enjoying the lonely mists of irrelevance that life leads me to, a journey that many people dare not travel I find myself a secluded recluse bound by nothing, yet knowing all..

A lone ranger you may say, I’ve been sitting inside all day, the curtains closed, whilst the NES and I play.

It’s eventually happened, I’ve finally been cast in life as a lonely silhouette, constrained to this earth to live in the shadow of one’s former self.

Residual light glistens the through the slits in my curtains, the street lights beckons like a robin to the spring, the continue music plays and the alarm bell rings.

Monday is here, regrets not to adhere, I shall do as I see proud.

About the author:Baz

Baz hates writing in the 3rd person but has been an avid gamer since that once fateful 4th birthday when a certain Italian plumber fell down many many holes.

Since then it has been onward and downwards failing to leap over many other holes, but with such a persistent nature that shall not be changing anytime soon.

A fan of games old and new Baz’s favourite systems are the Nes & Playstation 1. Other lifelong hobbies would include mostly reading a lot, copious amounts of music and having a good ol‘ giraffe, preferably down the boozer!

8-Bit Memories

 

Memory is a funny thing. Many people say that scent is a strong trigger for memories and I’d agree with that. For me, the smell of pine trees and oranges means Christmas time. Yes, oranges. I don’t know why but that was just something my grandma always had around the holidays, bowls full of oranges. So, I can’t smell that combination and not be instantly in the holiday spirits. Gaming can have that same effect on us. Anytime I hear a song from the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s Californication album I start feeling the warm and fuzzies for Ocarina of Time. I just so happened to listen to that album on a near loop while I did my first playthrough of OoT.

Is this part of the reason we swoon over retro games? Strip away the thrill of the hunt for a game you desire, the bragging rights on obtaining a great deal and other things associated with current day retro gaming and collecting. Maybe we are looking to relive a small slice of that feeling from when we first played our Nintendo. Or maybe it brings back memories of some life event that happened around that one time you were able to beat Guts Man on MegaMan.

Personally there’s more memories tied to game and consoles than I could even begin to list here. One of the most prominent, and not particularly cheery is linked to Super Mario Bros. on the NES. It was during the summer of 1990. My step-dad and I were in my room taking turns playing Super Mario Bros. At this point  in time, I was still teaching the adults how to get through games and show them “secrets” that I thought I was a genius for figuring out. It was a bit hot, we didn’t have air conditioning, but we sat there sweating like we were in a sauna so that we could hopefully, maybe, possibly beat the game. My step-dad had the controller and was working his way through a level when my mom popped in the room, rather startled and told my step-dad that it was serious and he needed to step out of the room to talk. You may have been an adorable child that wouldn’t dare listen in on adult conversations, but I certainly wasn’t.

I craned my neck as far as possible in their direction without being noticed and overheard their conversation. At the time, it didn’t mean much to me but it was my parents talking about the US going to war in the Gulf. The Gulf War had just started. Now, anytime I hear references to the Gulf War there’s a tiny place in the back of my mind that goes back to that hot and humid room where I wrangled a sweaty NES controller.

About the author:

Kyle Murphy is a 30-year old husband and father who resides in depths of retro nerdom. He’s a contributing writer for Retro Obscura, a host on Eclecnet, a streamer on Twitch and wants to grow up to be an adult one day.

Featured Image by Jonathan Noyau