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,...

Somewhere between my first Famiclone console and my latest PS5, I worked out I’ve owned over 40 consoles. Not all at once, never all at once. Usually just one or so at a time. In most cases, one TV and one handheld console. The rest of the journey was funded by selling and trading what I had, paying in the difference, and moving on to the next thing. That’s just how the hobby worked for me. It wasn’t always easy, but it was the best way to experience a variety of hardware and games. It started because of jealousy, honestly. I was young; my grades weren’t exactly setting any records, but my dad bought me a Famiclone, one of those Golden China Family Computer units, anyway. The real reason, though? My older brother had just received a portable CD cassette player, and I think my parents felt they needed to even things out. I wasn’t complaining. That little Famiclone was the start of my gaming journey. From that moment, gaming became part of how I experienced life. And because I never had ...

Some memories don't just live in your mind. They stay in your body. That coin sound from Super Mario Bros, the little chime that rings every time Mario picks one up, I can feel it before I even finish thinking about it. Somewhere in my memory, the CRT image of it all is just burned in. The colours, the glow of the screen in a dark room, sitting too close and messing up your eyes, I miss all that. I'm getting ahead of myself, though. I was around eight years old, maybe a little younger, growing up in the northern suburbs of Cape Town, South Africa. My friend David lived two houses down, which made visiting easy. After school, on weekends, most days really, I would just show up. His house was comfortable and familiar, in the way only a childhood friend's home can be. A small room, comfy carpet on the floor, a single bed, and a few magazines scattered around. I recall a large wooden display unit along the wall with family photos and some action figures. Some of these had seen ...