Tag Archives: childhood

Time Traveling to Play Video Games

Super Mario Bros is a good game because you get to save a princess.

Mario goes on a journey to save her. He jumps so much and picks up shiny coins. Jumping and collecting coins is fun. Jumping on bad guys is also fun.

Sometimes Mario jumps, falls and disappears. Where did he go? Do you know? I don’t. Tell me. Come on!

Then he comes back and everything is great. I get to play the game again.

It looks so good. There are flying turtles and mushrooms. I wonder if they taste good? Does Mario cook them?

You have to move forward to reach the end of the world. Fireballs burn. Run! Run! I hid in a pipe for a moment to escape them.

Then I found the princess because my big brother helped me. Mario loves her and saves her from a bad guy. Do they get married?

This game is fun if you like to jump.

P.S. Time for my nap.

By Adam age 10?

Anyway, to write this post, I channeled my inner child. When that didn’t work, I traveled back in time with a certain device to write with my childhood self.

Nah, I tried to imagine how the ten-year old me would write a post about video games. You read the result, but I have no memory of how I wrote as a child. It’s a guess.

Have you ever tried to write like your childhood self? Did you ever write anything about video games as a child? Are you willing to share and embarrass — maybe — yourself?


Filed under Silly Video Game Inspired Fiction

“Wow! You Got a New Console”

When I was a kid, I didn’t dream about cars. My urge to escape had nothing to do with speeding on the highway in a Ferrari. Instead, I hoped to get the latest video game console. A video game console, for me, was fun without end in a far away land.

A console was a luxury item that my parents bestowed upon a good kid. They reserved the console for special events like Christmas and birthdays, making those days even better. I anticipated the gifts under the tree, the feel and peeling sound of unwrapping, the reveal and joy. Of course, I had to share the console with my older brother too, and I never got a console on launch day.

So for me as a child, a video game console seemed to be the pinnacle of luxury. For me, a console was the childhood equivalent of a new car. After all, the average adult, who isn’t weighed down by the gold in their pockets, doesn’t buy a luxury object, like a new car, on a whim. They need to plan and make a major investment. From my na├»ve perspective, a new video game console was a major investment too. And it was the only major investment that I wanted as a kid.

So a new console, like a new car, was always a big surprise to see. “Wow you got the N64!” That’s something I probably said when another kid told me about their new gift. And I wanted my own.

My parents, wiser and more experienced than I, may have wanted to keep me from getting everything I wanted. Maybe they didn’t want me to become spoiled. They kept me in the fridge, in a sense, to make sure I didn’t become rotten.

But now I don’t need to wait for them to buy me a new console for a special occasion. I’ve grown up and don’t consider a video game machine to be the most important thing in the world. Now I understand money, have some of my own, and I can afford to save and budget. Now a car or owning a house is a luxury, though consoles still aren’t like one cent candies.

As I’ve grown up, the wonder and excitement of owning a new console has worn off. I could save to buy a console whenever I want. Well, almost whenever I want because my super powers do not include turning base metals into gold.

But I didn’t write this post to talk about how I can buy a console now . Instead, I wanted to look back on those childhood days with fondness. I want to keep that child-like sense of wonder and love for simpler times and things. When I unwrapped that console, I had a sparkle in my eyes that transcended a desire for mere consumer things. It’s called joy. I want to keep that sparkle alive as I live my life.


Filed under Video Game Technology