Cartridge Nostalgia | Retro Gaming Memories & Modern Gaming Life

There was a period in my life where the Saturday mall run was practically a sacred ritual. This was especially during the PS3 and Xbox 360 era, the Wii era, the PSP and DS era. One of those windows in gaming history where the retail experience felt genuinely exciting. New releases all over the place, demo stations set up to play around with, shelf after shelf of cases you could pick up and read the back of. Online shopping wasn’t really much of a thing yet, and that meant the only way to see what was out there was to go and look for yourself. So I went, usually on a Saturday. Tygervalley Mall was my destination, and I had a route. The route always started at CNA. There was something about walking into CNA that just felt right. Soft carpets underfoot, the smell of books and stationery hanging in the air, a quieter atmosphere than most of the other shops. It wasn’t purely a gaming destination, but that was part of the charm. You’d browse the magazines, maybe pick up a gaming publication,...

The other night I was lying in bed, Switch in hand, playing Bioshock 2. The room was dark, which is exactly how I prefer it, the OLED screen cutting through the black with deep, vivid colours. Outside it was cold, one of those Cape Town winter nights that makes you not want to move. A cup of tea on the bedside table. Exploring Rapture and saving little sisters. At some point, I stopped, looked down, and kinda marvelled at the device in my hands. This small, thin tablet was running a game that once pushed my big PS3 to its limits. A massive console, a big television, and here was that same game fitting comfortably in my hands under a duvet. I still find that genuinely amazing. Just having this experience possible and that I’m lucky enough to have access to it. So no, I haven’t upgraded to the Switch 2 yet. And the more I think about it, the less of a rush I’m in. Bioshock 2 has been on my wishlist for a long time. I picked it up after Deku Deals flagged it on sale. I played the first ga...

The first thing that ever got stolen from me was my bicycle. A silly old postman delivery bike with large brown mud flaps. Nothing fancy, just what we could afford. It was a gift from my parents, which is the only reason it mattered as much as it did. When I realised it was gone, I felt awful in a way I didn’t quite understand. Almost like I had done something wrong. Didn’t protect it. Like it was somehow my fault. I hadn’t. But that feeling stuck around for a while, and I still miss my silly old bicycle. That was my first proper introduction to what it feels like to have something taken from you. It wasn’t about the bike. It was about someone coming into our space and helping themselves. That part never really leaves you. Growing up in Cape Town, and still living here now, crime is just part of the background noise of daily life. It varies a lot depending on where you’re situated. Some neighbourhoods have it better. Others have it far, far worse. The northern suburbs sit somewhere in ...