Toomanywires

There's something about boxed, retro hardware. Something about aged cardboard that gets me excited. A box shows that the previous owner cared. They didn't throw it out, have a bonfire or fashion it into a piano. No, they looked after it. They might have even preserved the insides - manuals, bags, warranty cards, plastic ties, unused stickers, shrink wrapped batteries etc. A mummified box of gaming joy. Christ, I need a cold shower. Just last week, I found myself tempted by a boxed Game Gear. The packaging was in lovely nick, with sharp edges, bright colours, and manuals included. The previous owner clearly loved their Game Gear. Either that, or it was an unwanted gift, thrown into a cupboard and forgotten, its undesirability ensuring its preservation. Anyway, I already have a functioning Game Gear and have no need for another, but that didn't stop me from seriously considering it. I was halfway to the counter before I decided to pass. Sharp edges, bright colours; ...

Sometimes I'll write about a single object. Something big, or something small. Something significant, or something insignificant. Something I own, something video games. A video game thing. You can never have enough Saturn pads. For all of its faults, real and imagined, Sega's 32-bit machine had some great controllers. The much-aped Saturn pad was sleek yet substantial. The Nights 3D pad was ahead of its time, just like many of the Saturn's features. You could wield the Saturn light gun without looking like a knob, the steering wheel looked cool, the bog standard joystick was excellent and there were countless OTT, game-specific peripherals, such at the Virtual On sticks and the thingamabob that came bundled with Space Harrier. I own lots of Saturn controllers. More than I have hands (2), or friends (2). This week I added another to my collection, the Infrared Control Pad, or the Cordless Pad as it's known here in Japan. A cordless pad from an era of too many wi...