I say, “Oh, I’ve played video games …” the way Willie Nelson might admit to having “tried” some pot. But that was all a long time ago, in any case.
These days, walking into the local 24-hour pharmacy to pick up a prescription for our daughter, the first gush of cool, dry, synthetic-smelling air hits me and I flash back to an obscure ’80s video game called “Crazy Climber” by Nihon Bussan, Ltd. Similarly, the smell of ubiquitous cheap plastic in a five-and-dime evokes “Battlezone” by Atari. On the other hand, the warm greasy smell of Chinese take-out food conjures “Donkey Kong” by Nintendo. And lastly, the smell of an air-conditioned diner evokes—along with its distinct “vrrr vrrr vrr” buzzing sound—“Defender” by Williams.
These are only a few of the games I dropped countless quarters into (and the neighborhood shops that hosted them). The members of my generation grew up in the post-Vietnam, Star Wars (of both Lucas and Reagan) era: along with Hanna Barbara cartoons, our recollections of years gone by include colorful ghosts cornering us in blue corridors, bouncing evil smiley faces leading hordes of robots, and outlined boulders hurtling through dark space. All of these were accompanied by their respective background sounds (in order: “wakka wakka wakka,” “Intruder alert!” and “dumm, dumm, dumm, dumm,” of course).
I’d like to think that those countless hours after—and before—school, the steady stream of quarters trickling out of our pockets, and the “Defender wrist” and “Pac Man elbow” injuries came to some good in our lives. I remember those days: closing my eyes at bedtime and seeing a video game screen quite vividly, or drifting off to sleep and having my right hand rapidly flutter (trigger button) involuntarily. While it’s tempting not to believe in any long-term effects from hours spent interacting with game consoles, it also seems naïve to jump to that comforting conclusion. In our current cultural climate, we worry about the long-term effects of exposure to pharmaceuticals, bad parenting, environmental contaminants, and all manner of foreign, unhealthy, or unintended invaders. Where does that leave those who spent endless hours battling eight-bit invaders from space?
