In the summer of 1983, I turned thirteen years old and officially left the world of childhood behind as I entered into my adolescence. It was the year that compact discs first appeared in record stores, but none of us thought they’d last very long. At home, more than 125 million people tuned in to see the final episode of M.A.S.H, while the movie theaters brought us WarGames, National Lampoon’s Vacation, and the final episode in the Star Wars trilogy, Return of the Jedi. It was the summer of Swatches and $3,000 cell phones - a time when The Police ruled the radio - and I played the greatest video games ever made.
I remember endless August days spent with my two best friends and my younger brother, as all of us rode our BMX bikes to the bustling arcade down the street. There was a buzz of activity inside, and the colors and sounds of the games mixed with the murmur and excitement of the kids to create a carnival atmosphere. For me, surrounded by a universe of alien spacecraft, monsters and mazes, high-speed races, and underground escapes, this was a magical place.
From wall to wall, all the games of the Golden Age were lined up, one after another. There was Donkey Kong, Ms. Pac Man, Moon Patrol, Frogger, Space Invaders, Dig Dug, Asteroids, Joust, Pole Position, Q-Bert, and many others that I have forgotten all these years later.
That summer in 1983, we found ourselves lost in the landscape of the arcade, mesmerized by the vast scope of it all. A walking tour around the room revealed countless stories of bravery in the face of incredible danger. There was war all around us, and we were invited to join.
Over here was a damsel in distress - kidnapped by a monstrous ape - and we had to dodge the plummeting barrels hurled at us, as we made our way to the platform where she was being held, only to watch her taken away once again.
There were hordes of merciless alien invaders, swarming downwards from the night sky in relentless formation, line by line, bent on our destruction. We took refuge beneath the shelter of solid blockades, only to watch them crumble under the onslaught of lasers and bombs.
Now there was a grand tournament - a fierce battle of knights, flying on great winged birds, with vicious talons and savage ferocity. There was no mercy shown to weak warriors and, if we failed to win with the lance, the buzzards delighted in dropping us to the bubbling lava below.
In the distance was the startled cry of passerby and passengers in cars, as we ducked, hopped, and weaved our way through a highway of maniacal motorists. We made a mad dash to the banks of a wide and fast river, determined to cross, despite the wobbly logs, hungry alligators, and treacherous snakes awaiting us.
The invitation to live an adventure beckoned to us from those machines of long ago. There was the call to climb new heights, to withstand the attack of evil, to fight with honor and courage, and to make our way home safely in the end.
In 1983, I knew little of the world, yet I learned a few things on those summer days in the arcade down the street. A pocketful of quarters bought me my first real education of the way things ought to be.
Just a game, you say?
Only fantasy and make believe?
Of course.
But it was sure fun pretending...
By K. Haughton | VEESH Writer | MAR.27.08