RetroYoungen
04-28-2007, 06:26 PM
By Kevin "RetroYoungen" Schaller
I wasn't alive during the first generation of video games. And yet, here I am, thinking about my experiences with both the NES (which I was alive for) and the Atari 2600.
And believe it or not, I saw it as a church activity.
My parents have never been big church people, but while they were married they had a friend, who was a minister of... geez, SOME sect of Christianity. I think. But when they went while I was alive they didn't think I could get too much out of it. So instead of sitting through a boring, personal lecture about God's plan for everybody (specifically them, they WERE the only ones there after all) I was sent upstairs to be babysat by the ministers son... I never did catch his name. Though I should thank him.
When I was sent up there, he showed me what turned out to be a passion of mine throughout the next few decades: the NES. But more than that, he had a 2600 in there, too. Thinking back on it, it was the only thing in the room... kind of odd, and maybe it's just my recollection from being so young, but the walls were bare, and the window was open and barely covered by Venitian blinds (I would only know their name later on when the Activision Anthology came out for the GBA because of the demo. And yes, that's true). The systems and TV were set up in the closet, overflowing the thing with random games sticking out and the little television standing tall, above everything else.
Now that I think about it, it reminds me very much of a small shrine, almost a portal to a new world. And that's probably why I've always associated video games to religion. That, and being told "Kevin, go upstairs while mommy and daddy are talking about God."
I sat up there many times, the elder boy turning on and swapping around the games, and the little TV was glowing back from my eyes as I watched Mario jump over platforms, and Harry jump over pitfalls, and that little Excite Bike dude jump over other... little... Excite Bike dudes. I got the chance to wander around mazes and chase the Holy Grail and warp to other worlds on a whim, and all I could think about was how I was experiencing some form of God through the little people bouncing around on the screen.
I saw the world through sitting in that little room playing video games. Pain, sorrow, success and giddiness were all from controlling those little pixelated people. My parents were downstairs talking about God.
I was upstairs, and I feel like I actually was experiencing such an entity. I'd say I got the better of the experiences. :-)
I wasn't alive during the first generation of video games. And yet, here I am, thinking about my experiences with both the NES (which I was alive for) and the Atari 2600.
And believe it or not, I saw it as a church activity.
My parents have never been big church people, but while they were married they had a friend, who was a minister of... geez, SOME sect of Christianity. I think. But when they went while I was alive they didn't think I could get too much out of it. So instead of sitting through a boring, personal lecture about God's plan for everybody (specifically them, they WERE the only ones there after all) I was sent upstairs to be babysat by the ministers son... I never did catch his name. Though I should thank him.
When I was sent up there, he showed me what turned out to be a passion of mine throughout the next few decades: the NES. But more than that, he had a 2600 in there, too. Thinking back on it, it was the only thing in the room... kind of odd, and maybe it's just my recollection from being so young, but the walls were bare, and the window was open and barely covered by Venitian blinds (I would only know their name later on when the Activision Anthology came out for the GBA because of the demo. And yes, that's true). The systems and TV were set up in the closet, overflowing the thing with random games sticking out and the little television standing tall, above everything else.
Now that I think about it, it reminds me very much of a small shrine, almost a portal to a new world. And that's probably why I've always associated video games to religion. That, and being told "Kevin, go upstairs while mommy and daddy are talking about God."
I sat up there many times, the elder boy turning on and swapping around the games, and the little TV was glowing back from my eyes as I watched Mario jump over platforms, and Harry jump over pitfalls, and that little Excite Bike dude jump over other... little... Excite Bike dudes. I got the chance to wander around mazes and chase the Holy Grail and warp to other worlds on a whim, and all I could think about was how I was experiencing some form of God through the little people bouncing around on the screen.
I saw the world through sitting in that little room playing video games. Pain, sorrow, success and giddiness were all from controlling those little pixelated people. My parents were downstairs talking about God.
I was upstairs, and I feel like I actually was experiencing such an entity. I'd say I got the better of the experiences. :-)