Top Games

I’ll be honest: making a ranked list of the best RPGs on the Sega Genesis (Mega Drive if you prefer the continental flair) feels a little like arguing the merits of black-and-white TV as a legitimate cinematic medium—passionate, slightly niche, and bound to annoy someone who prefers orchestral leitmotifs and ten-hour cutscenes. Is this category […]

Picture 1994’s fluorescent bedroom glow: a Super Nintendo power LED staring like a miniature umpire, a stack of baseball carts beside it, and your kid-brain assuming the players inside could hear every snack-crumbed swear you launched at the screen. I thought Bobson Dugnutt pinch-hit everywhere, but twenty-plus years and half a gigabyte of manuals later

The jagged scar on my right elbow, Elbow Jones, if we’re on nickname terms, predicts belt-scroll weather better than any barometer. Whenever a cartridge cue loads up that crunchy “WHUD” sample, the bone hums like a tuning fork struck by Guy’s spinning back-fist. Tonight it is vibrating so hard the coffee on my desk forms

“Swipe it, don’t stare at it,” my friend used to tell me whenever I pulled the rat-eaten Blockbuster™ membership card from my pocket. He meant the mag-strip, of course, but I swear the thing actually vibrates when it gets near a Super Nintendo. I have named the card Cardboardus. Cardboardus is our absurd talisman today, humming in recognition whenever

I see you cradling that pint-size Super NES like it is the last donut at the office party—don’t play coy, we already know you spent a week refreshing restock alerts. Now the existential terror sets in: twenty-one cartridges live inside that gray monolith, each one whispering “pick me” like Pokémon in a glass Poké Ball.