It's only an origin video game if it's from Origin Systems. Otherwise it's sparkling nostalgia. — me, on the socials.
A meme went around a few weeks ago inviting people to list the “nine games that shaped who I am”. This will be a slightly different list to the one I posted, because today is a different day. If you ask later, the list will be different again.
So, with forewarning about how bad I am at completing series of posts, here’s the first three.
Wizball (Commodore 64, 1987)
Wizball was one of those games that could only have been made back when nobody had a clue how video games were supposed to work.
You spawned as a bouncing green face (the titular wizard in his titular ball) and initially could only move by altering the direction and speed you were spinning when you hit the ground. So your first objective was to find enough tokens to buy the power-ups that would stabilize your flight.
It had co-op multiplayer, but the second player controlled the wizard’s cat, piloting a small green drone (the “catellite”) that was only available after buying another power-up. The cat’s important job was to collect paint droplets that…
I’ll stop there and just say this game is considered one of the gems of the eight-bit era. It also came with not one, but two all-time classic eight bit songs, both by Martin Galway: the game's title track, and the iconic Ocean Loader 2, which my brother and I used to sing along with as we waited for the game to load, slowly, from its audio tape.
Which gets us to the meat of this entry. So many of my most cherished childhood memories playing video games aren’t nostalgia for any game in particular, but for hanging out with my brother. Any number of games could fill this slot (the original list also had Marble Madness, but I could easily swap out Ghosts and Goblins, International Karate+, Speedball 2 or Bubble Bobble as stand-outs amongst many others) but for some reason, the time we spent playing Wizball is held in my memory as the platonic ideal of Playing Video Games with Nick.
Xenon (Atari ST, 1988)
I played the shit out of this game. Only four levels long, and by today’s standards incredibly easy, but it was stylish and fun and I couldn’t get enough of it. By the time we got rid of the Atari ST, I could probably have done the first level blindfolded.
The levels alternated between the more tactical ones where you could switch between ground and air modes (by waggling the joystick, because they hadn’t invented a second joystick button yet), and the pure forward-scrolling flying levels. I preferred the former, which is probably why the sequel, Xenon 2, despite its absolutely banging Bomb the Bass soundtrack didn't grab me nearly as much.
Dungeon Master (Atari ST, 1987)
Dungeon Master had atmosphere in spades. Labyrinthine passages. Deadly traps. Forever rationing your food and water. The way at any moment your torch or light spell could run out, plunging you into darkness. The fact you were completely alone down there, with no shopkeepers or friendly NPCs to offer respite from a hostile world. And that damn shriek the mummies made, attacking when you were sure you’d found a safe spot to sleep.
The game spawned many imitators, most notably, the D&D-licensed Eye of the Beholder games, but none matched the original for style and elegance of gameplay (Hot take: no computer role playing game has ever been improved by adding the D&D ruleset).
Despite the game being released the same year as Wizball (and before Xenon), it took us a few years to get hold of Dungeon Master because even when we finally upgraded from our Commodore 64 to the Atari ST, the game needed a whole megabyte of RAM, which was another set of birthdays and Christmases away.
While on student exchange in France, Nick picked up a magazine with a map of the whole dungeon, so I still mentally translate “gold key” back to “clef d'or”.