NOTE: This piece was originally published September 20th 2015 on the now defunct swedish leg of IGN.
It was written by yours truly in swedish and has been machine translated by ChatGPT and reworked for an international audience. Please enjoy.
I could barely contain my excitement.
The clock on the wall was ticking away all too slowly. The more I stared at its second hand, the more it seemed to be moving backward. I can’t quite remember what the teacher in front of the class was actually talking about; it might have been something inconsequential like the great Swedish reign or about some dead king. At that moment, everything sounded like dull, incomprehensible murmur.
After saving my weekly allowance for several months, I had finally scrambled enough moolah to buy the game I longed for the most. Unfortunately, I had already used up all my gaming hours for that day, so it had to wait on the shelf until the next day. And now, that day had arrived.
Suddenly, it happened. The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and everybody scurried to put away their books and pens. I was probably the fastest of them all. The classroom continued to buzz as I threw on my neon green jacket in the coatroom. There was no time to tie my shoes; I simply put the laces inside and stomped them against the insoles instead.
It had been raining. Outside, the asphalt glistened, and a sharp wet smell hung in the air. Water splashed loudly to the sides as I ran home, my shoes becoming progressively soaked. To reach home, I had to run along a forest path that I usually was terrified of, but on this day I couldn’t care less, even though the darkness of autumn had fallen.
Once home, I haphazardly threw my clothes on the hall rack and ran into my room. I grabbed my Game Boy from the desk and threw myself onto the bottom of the bunk bed I was forced to share with my sister before I got my own room. I refrained from turning on the ceiling lamp and relied only on the reading light on the headboard. It was cozier that way. I directed the light towards the small green screen and flipped the switch.
Ping.
I still get shivers today from that familiar sound when starting up Nintendo’s portable console. Like a warm welcome into an exciting world full of adventures. The game began.
A black sky, shrouded in dark clouds, unfolds over the horizon. Rain lashes against the lonely sailboat struggling against violent waves. Thunder roars ominously all around as lightning strikes as if doomsday is approaching. A lonely blonde boy in a hood clings on for dear life, the halyard wrapped around his arm to avoid falling overboard. Lightning strikes yet again, this time splitting the boat asunder.
Outside, I heard the rain starting to hit the window again. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I pulled the blanket over my legs.
A girl walks by the sea. The storm has subsided, and the waves now gently lap against the shore, emitting a faint, soothing sound. Palm trees in the background indicate that it is an exotic location. Suddenly, the girl reacts. She sees something ahead and cautiously hurries there. A boy lies washed ashore, seemingly lifeless. She approaches, bends down, and tries to wake him. The camera pans up to the sky, and in the distance, you can see the silhouette of a large mountain. Perhaps it’s a volcano. At the top rests a gigantic egg.
I never owned a Super Nintendo, nor did I have a PlayStation. I relied on 8 bits to live out my digital adventures conveyed through a greenish 2.6-inch screen and a small monophonic speaker (I had no headphones). Of course, this machine couldn’t convince me with photo-realistic graphics or CD-quality music, but I still managed to immerse myself in the games.
Today when looking back on that game about the little stranded boy with his sword and shield, I remember the story of course, but not as vividly as the feelings I got from everything happening around outside the machine. But whenever it smells of wet asphalt outside or when I’m curled up under a blanket underneath the light of a reading lamp, I’m not reminded of that cold November month 20 years ago. Instead, I remember my great adventure on the exotic island of Koholint.
Funny how memories work that way.