I’ve gone and done it. And by “it” I of course mean, “convinced my poor wife to bless my purchase of another micro video gaming system.”
In this case, it was the TurboGrafx-16 Mini, an absurdly niche system that was only available for pre-order on Amazon.com … probably so that the manufacturer could get an accurate head count on just how many machines to produce. The original system was not a big seller when it debuted in the United States back in the late 1980s, so prudence, it would seem, is more than justified here.
This system joins the hallowed ground of the NES Classic, Super NES Classic and the soon to be purchased Genesis Mini as micro-consoles occupying a place of prominence in our entertainment center.
For lots of people, these systems serve as collectible trophies, trinkets to be displayed but basically non-functional. For me, they’re so much more.
Being able to play the games I played in my youth — in addition to a wide range of games I didn’t get to play but still lusted after — is a direct shot of nostalgia that’s as powerful as any other. And this is the least expensive way for me to do so. Collecting the original systems and games is an expensive hobby, and it rewards you with headaches such as figuring out how to display the games on modern televisions and worse, deciphering any technical misfires you might encounter. And like I said, it’s pricey. Rarer games can cost you over $100 (or a lot more than that), and that’s for a single game. Want to do the math on adding up how much it might cost you to fill out a whole library?
It ain’t pretty.
Why deal with all of that when you can get a gaming system that provides you 20-50 games for one reasonable price? And it plugs straight into your TV. And there’s no download time. Just plug and play.
Yeah, I know it’s not for everyone. And I know a lot of folks are like, “A Turbografx? Really? Are we really scraping the bottom of the barrel with a system nobody played?”
That the TurboGrafx-16 originally didn’t resonate with a wide audience made it the perfect system for me, as it was something weird/unique I could cling to whilst feeling not at all comfortable in my surroundings in rural Kansas (let alone my own skin). For a young teenager, an excuse to allow one’s freak flag to fly (even in the privacy of one’s home) was beyond appealing.
And so, I made the borderline terrible decision to spend my hard-earned money on a gaming system that wasn’t even available for purchase in my home town. We had to drive an hour to Topeka to find a specialty gaming store in the mall that would carry the thing. Then I had to make the decision to buy it, and all of the various upgrades that would in turn require more investment of my hard-earned money and further trips back to Topeka and of course the purchase of games as a result that couldn’t be test-driven at a rental shop (since who the fuck carried Turbografx games for rent?), thereby necessitating an unhealthy obsession with video game magazines and trade publications to gain the slightest hint of information on these games so that I wouldn’t blow $50 every time we journeyed to Topeka to feed my gigantically stupid habit.
Ah, good times.
The previously mentioned “upgrades” were the ultimate kick in the junk, and I really have to hand it to them. These guys were like five years ahead of Nintendo on this sort of price-gouging, and they did it BIG, to the point that one couldn’t even insert a second controller into this thing without purchasing both a multitap device and said second controller both.
There was a thing you could buy that boosted the sound. And another thing that let you play CD games. And another thing that let you play still other CD games.
And before you knew it, you’re out another several hundred dollars.
Given this level of absolute insanity, out of self-protection, I put any potential game purchases through such a thorough vetting process designed to protect me from disappointment that there was basically no way they wouldn’t disappoint me.
It was self-fulfilling. And yes, it was batshit crazy.
Don’t get me wrong. This library had some bangers. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t be itching to play them again today. And I wouldn’t have mountains of regret about letting my parents sell the whole giant mess of system, games and peripherals off for pennies on the dollar a decade or so ago (these things are super valuable nowadays).
Air Zonk. Bonk’s Adventure (hell, all the Bonk games). R-Type. New Adventure Island. Keith Courage. Valis. These were some of the most important games of my youth.
Of course, when I look back, the whole God-damn experience was glorious (not just the games).
Why?
Because it was MINE. No one else was feeling this misery (other than other TG16 owners), so it was some kind of wonderfully weird thing. And it wised me up beyond my years. When a half decade later, I saw folks tripping over themselves to trick out their N64s with a gazillion add-ons, I could sagely nod and move about my business. When Sega would crap out yet another half-assed, half-supported system, real would recognize real, and I would know to steer clear.
Recent research suggests that nostalgia can be beneficial, rather than harmful, and I would believe it. These little video game machines allow me to center myself and cope with the daily stresses around me.
And I expect that no system will scratch that nostalgia itch for me quite like the TurboGrafx-16 Mini.
It was mine, and now it’s coming back.
Now let me go see about buying that Turbo-tap…