They say that reminiscence is a sign of old age. Now that I’m fast approaching the age of 30, I can’t help but agree with it.
I still remember my childhood years – when the television set had knobs instead of buttons. Not that I watched it in monochrome; that was my older siblings’ memories. Back then, the family computer is actually a game console. I fondly remember the day my dad brought home a Nintendo, and how we all got into it – except for my brother and mother.
Amusingly, it was my dad who was most addicted to it. There was this Japanese story game which totally hooked him. He was so into it that he even make blueprints of the maps, notes on important choices and other geeky stuff. All because it was written in Japanese. And he even let the machine run overnight, forbidding anyone to turn it off because he was in the middle of it.
Later on, I found out there was a password system that enables you to just log out, then return to where you left off. I never had the heart to tell that to my dad.
I remember the first and only time I cut class – all because I wanted to play at the nearby video gaming salon. It was short-lived though, especially since the guy I coaxed to join me was a teacher’s son.
I remember our first actual computer – a stunning 286 processor with two floppy drives, and a micro-floppy drive. I remember those summer days spent on Gorilla, Nibbles, Frogger, Digger, Golden Axe 3, Budokan, Prince of Persia, and so much more.
I remember Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Sonic the Hedgehog, Super Mario, Final Fantasy, and other SNES, Sega, and Playstation games. In fact, I just got myself some emulators and spent days and nights just revisiting the wonder I had for them – especially the RPGs.
I have a lot of childhood memories. But ironically, the thing I missed the most was my childhood. As the song goes, “Have you ever seen my childhood?”
Looking back and rediscovering how much technology has advanced for the past 20 years, I somehow believed that there are some things that gadgets or social networks can never replace. Yes, it can always imitate. Or simulate. But in the end, we can never digitize friendships.
In an ever-changing techonological age, I remember that there is hope in our youth.