An amusing tale about a forgotten system and some good fighting games.

I think I finally understand the whole “its thinking” corporate market motto that was branded on the Dreamcast. It only took me nearly a decade to figure it out, I don’t know if that means I’m slow or what, decide how you like.

One afternoon I was dragged to IKEA furniture store by my girlfriend, I guess we needed new furniture. The salesman was quick to approach and greet in the polite robotic fashion the society has come to endure. I made a quick mental note that his name was Phil and that he would be happy to help us spend our money… I mean find anything we needed. At this point I found the nearest chair sat down, a nice big puffy green leather recliner. It felt good I guess. I proceeded to turn off my brain, letting my girlfriend handle the transaction of money for stuff we probably don’t need occur. That’s when it happened.

A small spark of pain caused me to twitch my neck just enough to the left that I noticed an old run down building across the street. The sign on it was barely literate enough to make sense with missing letters complicating any understanding of the words. I convinced myself it was an arcade of some sort and proceeded out of the store without saying a word to my girlfriend, not that she would have heard anyway. I don’t know why I went over there, the place didn’t look open or even safe for humans but what I found behind that door assured me I had made the right choice.

Opening the door, the building was dark with the only lights coming in from the stained and broken windows. In the center of the room, on a small card table laid a Dreamcast, two arcade sticks, and a crappy looking T.V. I didn’t even notice the other guys in the room that Dreamcast was like an oasis in the driest, hottest, most remote desert in the world.

“We’ve been waiting for you”. A voice rang behind me. It was then that I noticed four other guys and standing near the wall and one other guy sitting in a chair smoking a cigar. Before I could say anything, the cigar smoking man punched me in the gut and I hit the floor. Gasping for air and trying not to vomit, I looked at the guy but I couldn’t manage to say anything. The other guys dragged me to the wall and our lesson begun.

“You are all here because you have forgotten the dream. The dream that treated you so well all those years but now sits in a dusty old box in your attic while you prance about town shopping for IKEA furniture and work at crappy retail jobs with your polo shirts and cell phones that have crappy music as a ringer because that’s what society demands you have. No. What happened to the days when you would huddle around your television, beating virtual characters to a pulp for those bragging rights or even the last slice of pizza? It’s human instinct to be the best, to compete and destroy for glory, by not doing it, you’re not being human. You’re being a drone”.