[ad_1]
James Trew
Editor-in-chief
I remember as if it was yesterday. It was in 1991 and I had my nose glued to the glass in front of a Dixons branch on Park Street in Bristol (England). I was looking at a revolutionary new handheld console that would change the game as we know it today: Atari Lynx II. At least, that's what I thought at the time. History would prove the opposite. So, very, very badly. Thirty years ago, the true pioneer of game consoles – the Nintendo Game Boy, of course – came out in Japan. There was even some in the UK for a while, before my misinformed beak stained the windows of the big-box electronics stores. (The Game Boy arrived in the UK in 1990.)
Despite the choice of the Lynx, I almost instantly knew that I had made a mistake. All the other kids in my class, except one, made the right choice (Dave Galloway, the other Lynx owner, and I quickly became close friends). The playing field quickly changed from jumbled football games to pockets of children gathered around someone who plays Tetris, or maybe two people play Tetris against each other. Dave and I were elsewhere playing two California Games (which is amazing, FWIW).
I loved the Lynx, but it was hard not to envy the never-ending stream of exciting new titles for the Game Boy. Or its impressive life span and ideal size for a pocket. Atari started looking for superlatives (first color notebook! 16-bit graphics!) And tried to pass an arcade (80s) in a small box. Nintendo took a totally different approach, knowing that handhelds needed to boil things down and focus on gameplay. Atari 's notebook had all the graphic power, at least on paper, but in one way or another, the worlds created on Nintendo' s green dot matrix baby seemed more appealing. and shot with talent for limited display. Not capsized from an arcade machine.
Nick Summers
Editor-in-chief
Man, I loved my Pocket Gameboy transparent. Wave race, Grand Theft Auto, James Bond 007 – I pushed each cartridge into my handheld and stopped playing only when the credits were obtained. There was a title, however, that I could never beat: Metroid II: The return of Samus, an action-adventure 2D of R & D1, the legendary development team behind Donkey Kong and the original Mario Brothers.
I remember the game feeling absolutely huge. Samus's quest took place in an underground labyrinth where it was apparently impossible to navigate without a notebook and pen. The scale was daunting, but hypnotizing. I could spend hours sprinting in his cavernous hallways, looking for Metroid objects and ferocious monsters. Before too long, I found myself stuck in the background and I slowly returned to the surface, desperate for weapons, bosses and areas that I might have missed. If a friend did not have the solution, I would give up and move on.
I went back to Metroid II several times. If I could not find a way forward, I would just restart the game and replay a few hours of opening. It was mildly therapeutic until, of course, I found myself stuck in the same part again.
Aaron Souppouris
Feature Editor