I’ve always loved video games. From the get go I had access to the Nintendo Entertainment System. I was too young to really fully appreciate the story lines of games like Zelda, but I enjoyed watching my sister play. I think I also really enjoyed when she’d leave the room to go to the bathroom or get a snack and I’d pick up the controller to lance a few Octoroks. There were marathons of Bubble Bobble and notepads filled with codes for later levels. We grew obsessed with games that the titles were lost to us through the years. It was the memories of close calls and joyous celebration that kept those games vague in our mind, over shadowed by the time spent together.
Bulky Gameboys too large for our hands kept us company on the road in our parents blue, inside and out, Chevy pickup. We’d strain our eyes as we played Metroid for the first time, stretched out along the back seat. Dead or dying batteries meant a desperate search from more double A’s and the deconstruction of every portable electronic device we could find. Usually only enough to power one of the two handhelds, forcing us once again to take turns.
There were arguments over computer time. Lemmings, Hover, Pitfall, discs with 150+ low budget games, filled our days. Even Mavis Beacon could leave us desperate for a spot at the keyboard.
But it was the Playstation that cemented our roles to one another. Borrowed from a then boyfriend of her’s, in the overly curtained room of a teenager, sat the Playstation with our boxy little television. The graphics so iconic to my adolescence that decades later they’re still what I see in my dreams over today’s super high frame rate blood spatters. (You try dreaming in low-res, I promise it’s creepy!)
I’d be called into the room at all times of day. We played Tomb Raider together, passing off the controller taking turns shooting at wolves or solving puzzles. 100% inspired by Laura Croft’s dual gun skills, strength and brains. Hours with bags of chips and sandwiches as we finished every story mode from each Tekken 3 character. Most important to my memory was our hours playing Resident Evil 2.
For years I wondered why my teenager sister would want her six year younger little sister in the room. Now as an adult I get that she was scared of the game. That was the point! It was a horror game filled with zombies, rabid dogs and monsters. So she shared it with me, her little sister there to offer comfort while zombies took over. She’d play it cool of course. We’d leave the lights off and she’d never show the adrenaline pumping through her, unless of course a jump scare got us. Being a cool kid myself, I too did my best to hide my fear as we played through. I never once turned down a chance to play. It was a huge let down then the Playstation returned to its owner.
As we got older and our problems became more pressing than zombies, we stayed in those roles. My sister diving headfirst into the fray of fear, anxieties and later surgeries and countless days in the hospital. Me invited to keep company in uncomfortable chairs for hours of snacks and brave faced solidarity. What I would have given for her to be able to pass the controller to me during those times she was hurting. So we talked and watched terrible television instead. Big sister there to brave the scary parts, little sister there to quietly comfort. The roles we never spoke aloud but easily fell into when needed. All because of a scary video game.
That’s why I have an 8-bit purple heart tattoo. For you.
