#the day after a perfectly innocuous sleepover

[aniihera]

Perhaps...? No... that wouldn't work. Not even remotely.

[anamaleth]

Twins

Summary: Statement of someone unknown, regarding the appearance of something that was not their twin and the events following said appearance. Original statement given April 10th 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Content Warnings: Imposters , people being replaced/showing up and only you notice, paranoia, mental breakdown, brief mention of drugs (no references to actual drugs/drug use!), people forgetting who you are

read on ao3

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Statement of…huh. That’s odd. It doesn’t list a name here.

Well, statement of someone unknown, regarding the appearance of something that was not their twin and the events following said appearance. Original statement given April 10th 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

Before I start this, I need you to know that I am not crazy. I’ve never had any problems with my mental health, and as far as I’m aware, neither has anyone in my family. My childhood was perfectly normal and, despite the occasionally skipped class, I’ve never been much of a troublemaker. I’ve never taken any drugs in my whole life, I’m not the kind of person to get involved in those sorts of things.

I need you to believe me. This isn’t the confused rambling of someone who isn’t thinking clearly – this really happened. Even though no one would ever consider listening to me, much less believe anything I say.

But that’s what you guys do, right? Listen to people’s crazy stories and believe them? Try to help them?

To be honest, I don’t think you can help me. But I do feel like telling you this is the right thing to do. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.

I’ve been an only child my whole life. When I was younger I used to love it – always being the centre of my parents’ and relatives’ attention, always getting lots of presents on my birthday and on Christmas. It’s such a childish and selfish way to think, isn’t it? I grew out of it, eventually, but it took me quite some time, especially with pretty much all of my friends having siblings and always telling me how jealous they were of me getting so much cool stuff on the holidays.

I was never a jerk about it, though – my parents didn’t raise a spoiled brat. I always shared my stuff with other kids when they came over, always made sure they’d feel “right at home”.

I was about 12, I believe, when I first found myself thinking about wanting to have a sibling. That’s when I met my best friend, or well, former best friend, Charlie Baker. Charlie had…well, has a twin, Alex – and the three of us spent a lot of time together.

Even though Charlie had told me that I was their best friend, I found myself envious of the relationship they had with their twin. They seemed to be – it’s hard to explain. They seemed to be in sync, like two pieces of the same puzzle that fit together perfectly. They teased each other, like siblings always seem to do, and sometimes they fought, but they always had each other’s backs when it mattered.

I wanted nothing more than to have someone like that. A twin. Someone I could be in sync with. I guess I should’ve been more careful what I wished for.

It’s been two months since he…it showed up. I was walking home after having taken the school bus back to my village. I said goodbye to Charlie and Alex, who live just a couple of blocks away from me, turned into my street and walked towards my house. That’s when I realized that I didn’t have my keys with me.

Not that big of a deal, right? I’ve always been pretty forgetful, have been accidentally leaving my keys at home ever since my parents gave them to me. It’s never been a problem though, my mom works from home so she was always there to open the door for me when I needed her to.

I didn’t think much of it when I rang the doorbell and no-one opened the door. I thought “Hey, maybe she just didn’t hear me”, so I rang the bell once more. Again, nothing.

Just when I decided to take out my phone and call her, the door swung open. In front of me, inside of my house, stood someone I didn’t know. Someone who looked almost exactly like me.

I wish I could say that there was something wrong about him that I noticed immediately. But even now that I’m looking back, there was nothing particularly unsettling about him. Nothing that I could remember, at least.

He was completely ordinary, just like me; had the same hair colour as me, a similar hairstyle, the same facial structure, the same height. It was like catching a glimpse of your own reflection in a mirror out of the corner of your eye, without focusing on it.

He - no, it – smiled at me. A smile that was so perfectly normal, so innocuous that it seemed almost artificial. It said four words to me, then, four words before it turned around and left me alone at the doorstep.

“There you are. Finally.”

I didn’t understand what was happening. Panic rushed over me and my breathing began to fasten – not even for a single moment did I consider the possibility that this was all just a terrible joke.

I have been an only child all my life, and I have never been anything but an only child. Yet at that moment, that moment of confusion and horror, it was clear that whatever had opened that door was pretending to be my twin.

In an attempt to make sense of all of this and to rationalize what was happening to me, I ran up the stairs to my mom’s office and barged straight in, not even bothering to knock or wait for permission to enter.

The look of worry on her face when she saw me quickly made me regret that, though. I don’t know what exactly happened after that, but I do remember breaking down crying, demanding to know who that stranger inside our house was who looked just like me; sobbing as my mom held me in her arms, completely overwhelmed.

I doubt that anything I told her had made sense. Even now, putting it into coherent sentences is anything but easy.

She must’ve thought that I had suffered a nervous breakdown. And honestly? After listening to her trying to soothe me for a while, hiding her pain behind calm and steady words, I believed that as well. At least momentarily.

Hearing her talk about me and “my twin”, our apparently shared childhood, and all the memories she clearly seemed to have that I lacked – all that assured me that I was losing my mind. Somehow, something must have happened to me and whatever that was must’ve caused me to fabricate a reality in which my twin didn’t exist.

It was a terrifying thought, but I didn’t see any sense in trying to justify my situation in any other way. I mean, someone who looks exactly like you showing up in your house one day who everyone, if asked, assures you is your twin with an irritated – or worse, pitiful – expression, acting like they’ve known this stranger for their whole life and that the very idea of questioning that is preposterous - that’s not something that just happens, right?!

Of course, I had only talked to my mom about it then, but that was enough to convince me.

I was trying and failing to grapple with my apparent madness when I saw it standing at the door, watching me and my mom - and on its face was that same artificial smile. It was mocking me; it found amusement in my despair.

That’s when I knew that I couldn’t possibly be crazy. Still, it took me way too long to find proof. And even that changed nothing. I should have come to you guys immediately, I suppose. Maybe it could’ve been stopped, then. Not that it matters now.

You know, I’ve never believed in the paranormal. No offence, but all those stories about ghost-sightings and demons or whatever always seemed like crazy talk to me. Most of it is, I think. But not this. Not this.

After it left again, I must’ve made up some excuses about not having slept in a few days and being dehydrated. That was a lie, of course, and not a very good one at that, but I wanted - needed - to get away from everyone.

I went to my room, or what I thought was my room. To my horror, where there had previously been an empty wall, there was now a second bed. It wasn’t a new one either, it looked like it had been there for years. And on it sat that thing pretending to be my twin.

Some part of me honestly considered just packing up my things and running away. Maybe I could’ve stayed with Charlie and Alex for a couple of days. In retrospect, I know that it was already too late for that. But even then, even when I didn’t know the amount of damage that thing had already done, I still had too much goddamn pride to admit defeat like that. Apart from that, I couldn’t just abandon my parents. Sure, my mom was convinced that whatever had invaded our house was her son, but that didn’t mean I would just leave her alone with it. So I stayed.

I did, however, manage to convince my parents to let me sleep in the attic. I don’t know how, really - what with my mom having witnessed that breakdown of mine, but after spitballing a story about “wanting to feel like I’m on an adventure”, they reluctantly agreed. If it hadn’t been for the fact that there was an imposter lurking in my now former room, I think it would’ve felt like a sleepover. A sleepover during which I was sure I was breathing in more dust than air, but a sleep-over nonetheless. Especially because I was barely able to get any sleep.

So, after what felt like hours of lying awake, I gave up and instead did what I could do: I started looking through the boxes we stored up there. It was, unsurprisingly but disappointingly nonetheless, mostly stuff my dad’s parents had owned before they passed away. We had kept most of it, even though I never understood why. I suppose it was nostalgia? It made me feel nostalgic, at least, made me think of all the summers spent in their backyard, playing football with my grandpa or watching birds with my grandma-

Anyway, I guess that doesn’t really matter now, does it? It doesn’t contribute anything to what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t know, it just felt good to talk about clear memories of the past. It’s all been getting so blurry as if it’s fading away from me.

I’m sorry, I’ll get back to it now. So, I looked through those boxes and found an old photo album. I’ll be honest, when I saw those printed out lies – hundreds of photos that showed me and this…thing, I nearly ripped it apart. But eventually, I stumbled across a Polaroid photo of me and my parents. My grandma had taken it way back, said she wanted to “capture some memories”. “Happy family” was written underneath it, in that neat handwriting of hers I had always admired. I burst into tears when I saw it.

We had taken multiple pictures that day and I knew that she had given one of them to me so I could put it into my diary. My diary. I had kept one back then, and if I could find it, if that thing had left it unaltered, that’d be all the proof I would need. And I found it!

It was all in there, all of the diary entries scribbled onto the pages in the scrawly handwriting of my younger self, all the dried flowers and leafs I had put into it, all of the stickers my mom had given to me, and, of course, the polaroid photo of my family and I. My grandparents, my parents and me. We had driven out to the beach and one of the nice people there had offered to take a picture with all of us in it. And all of was documented in blue ink on white paper. I fell asleep reading old diary entries, my face hurting from smiling too much.

But of course, my happiness didn’t last for very long. When I woke up the next morning I realised that while this was enough proof for me to know that I had been right all along and that I wasn’t losing my mind, it certainly wasn’t enough to convince anyone else.

My mom made me and “my brother” walk to the bus stop together. I didn’t have it in me to protest. We didn’t talk, I avoided looking at him as much as possible and for a second, I considered the possibility that maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d feared it would be. I was, of course, proven wrong mere seconds later. When I looked at him briefly, his hair was completely black.

I immediately stopped walking. “Hey, is something wrong?” he asked me as if it didn’t know exactly what was wrong. “Your hair is black“, I stammered, and he had the audacity to laugh.

“Duh, so is yours!” And he…it was right. My hair had always been auburn. Its hair had been auburn yesterday!

This was all its fault, I knew that, and I was just to punch it in its face when I heard Charlie screaming at me to stop whatever I thought I was doing.

Alex pulled me away from “poor Ben”. “Ben” played along, played the victim. And the three of them left.

I will skip over the next couple of weeks for two reasons. The first one being that it’s getting harder and harder to remember all the details, and the second one, well, what I can remember hurts to think about. It hurts so much.

Naturally, Charlie and Alex had sided with the thing that called itself “Ben”. They had abandoned me. Every day when I drove to school, the three of them sat together and talked and laughed while I sat alone in the very back of the bus. They acted as if I didn’t exist.

Do you know what it feels like to helplessly watch as everyone around you starts to forget you? Teachers you’ve known for years not remembering your name, your friends forgetting the things you told them about yourself, acquaintances forgetting your existence? Waking up every day with the knowledge that with every passing hour whatever makes you “you” will fade away more and more and that there is nothing you can do about it?

But do you want to know what hurt the most? The final drop of water in my overflowing barrel of misery!? Coming home late one day, having my mom open the door and her not recognizing me. She smiled as she tore my heart into smithereens with her words: “Good evening. Who are you? Oh, of course, you must be a friend of my son. I’ll go get him!”

I stood there, frozen still until it stood right in front of me. Its lips twisted into that same, artificial smile that it had smiled the day it had invaded my life. And again, it said four words. “Oh. Who are you?”

That’s when I ran away and came to see you guys. It’s been…I don’t know…4 hours, maybe? I’m sitting in this room and no one is looking at me. I brought the photo with me, I suppose you guys can have it. I had kept it with me as some sort of proof that I was still sane, but it feels wrong to keep it. I feel as if the wind is blowing right through me and there isn’t even a window in this room. I don’t know what to do.

My name is M̴̭͔̓ä̴̮͜r̷̹͉͑̏s̶̱̈̚h̶̦̪͘a̷̬̠̕l̷͈̍̉l̵̺͆ ̴̱̱B̸̳̥̅ȱ̶̯͎l̷̜̇͘ṯ̶͝o̸͇̹͛n̷̢̙̂. And I’m ceasing to exist.

Statement ends.

This is an odd one, certainly. Especially since I see to immediately forget Mister…Bolton, was it? Yes, Marshal Bolton. I seem to immediately forget his name after I read it.

We’ve had statements before in which people have been replaced by supernatural entities – creatures we’ve come to refer to as the “Not Them”. This one is different, though – a “person”, if you want to call it that, inserting itself into someone’s life as someone new, instead of replacing someone else. Still, the statement giver seems to be the only one who was able to notice the change.

It’s quite common for the “Not Them” to toy with people’s memories and they have a history of altering photographs and voice-recordings. Polaroid photos, however, seem to be mostly unaffected. The Polaroid photo mister Bolton mentioned has been left with his statement – as he said. It shows a little boy with auburn hair, his parents and his grandparents at a beach.

I’ve asked Tim to look into this statement, and his research has shown no record of anyone called Marshal Bolton having lived near London around the year 2011. He did, however, find one “Benjamin Bolton”. And, as you would expect, he is an only child. Any follow-up requests have been ignored.

I would’ve been keen to brush this whole statement off as a bad joke, presumably by Benjamin who could have found this photograph and decided to make up a scary story about it. However, knowing as much about The Stranger as I do, I doubt that I’m that lucky. Nevertheless, this seems to be a dead end.

Recording Ends.

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

build a bridge to my heart and lead the way

 part one

Alex has never been a huge fan of metaphors. He’s always preferred a more straightforward approach to the world, even more so since he’s been back home.

But there has never been anything straightforward about his feelings for Michael. So here he is, alone in his bed comparing their relationship to his missing leg. That afternoon in the tool shed, a lifetime ago and yet all too recent in his mind, had injured them irrevocably. The tentative possibility of something more was dealt a blow at the hands of his father.

For a decade they’d avoided the issue, letting the pain fester in the prolonged periods of separation. Sex had been their crutch, had kept the connection between them from falling apart for all those years without ever having to talk or heal.

Now they are here, finally building a foundation and standing on their own, adjusting to their new normal as friends. He tells himself not to push them too fast, knowing from his actual leg that rushing the process just leaves you laid out on your ass and hurting.

Days like today make the temptation to take that next step unbearable. Closing his eyes he can perfectly see the way the sunlight caught the hidden golden highlights in Michael’s hair and the column of his throat enticingly exposed whenever his head was thrown back in laughter, something Alex is proud to say was often.

Walking through town at the latest alien themed festival, avoiding Isobel and her eagerness to put them to work, had felt natural and innocuous. The day had been warmer than normal for the time of year and Michael’s bare arm had brushed against his as they walked close together even in less crowded areas. Skin electrified under the slightest touch, Alex had needed to remind himself not to grab his hand.

Michael had stepped away whenever they were approached by one of his father’s friends, always staying close and ready to rejoin him after he’d fulfilled his dutiful politeness. At one point while talking about his plans for retirement, he’d watched peripherally as Liz and Maria had cornered him by one of the booths. Michael had brushed it off when he’d asked and Alex hoped they hadn’t moved onto harassing him about the status of their relationship. They had already been bothering Alex for weeks.

Giving up on the prospect of sleep, he sits up and pauses before making his decision. He pulls on the sock and fastens the prosthetic into place before grabbing a jacket and his keys and walking out the front door. Suddenly the cabin is too secluded, too remote.

He’s halfway there before he’s aware of where his mind has taken him on autopilot. He isn’t really surprised, but he is wary. It’s after two in the morning and he wouldn’t blame him for turning him away. He follows the familiar route back to where Michael parks his airstream. The headlights track the graveyard of broken vehicles, markers leading him to his destination.

He turns the lights off as soon as he sees them gleam off the side of the trailer, staying put while he tries to make a plan. He is just exiting the car when the door to the swings open revealing Michael wearing nothing but boxers, rubbing the side of his face in a listless gesture. Alex takes a few steps closer so he is more easily visible.

“Alex?” He moves down onto the top step. “You ok?”

Alex opens his mouth but still doesn’t have the words to explain his presence. He offers an unhelpful shrug.

Michael glances down at his mostly naked body before taking a step back inside. He gestures toward the fire pit. “Get a fire started, I’ll be right out.”

Happy to have a task, Alex makes quick work of following orders. He has claimed his favorite lawn chair, the one he knows is most comfortable to get up from on his leg, when the door swings open again. It’s a long moment before Michael reappears, holding two mugs and closing the door behind him with his mind.

He sits in the chair closest to Alex before passing him one of the mugs. He offers the black one with a little green alien and Alex smiles, humming in happiness when the smell of chocolate hits his nose.

“Thanks.”

Michael nods with a tired smile and Alex feels guilty for waking him. They sit in silence, Michael shifting in his seat trying to get comfortable and Alex blowing on his too hot drink wondering if he should just leave. He steals a glance at Michael, now fully covered in a long sleeve shirt and jeans but no less beautiful to Alex.

This is what he wants. Quiet nights spent in each other’s company with nothing but nature’s soundtrack and a warm fire surrounding them. But he knows they’re not quite there yet.

“Twenty questions.”

“Light as a feather stiff as a board.” Michael laughs at the confused look on Alex’s face. “Oh, sorry, are we not randomly naming middle school sleepover games?”

Alex rolls his eyes and brings his mug closer to his face hiding his flushing cheeks behind the steam. He’s not sure where the idea came from but it’s growing on him. “Humor me, Guerin.”

Michael takes a sip from his own mug, lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Liz and Deluca put you up to this? Did they dare you?” He shakes his head in mock sympathy. “You shoulda picked truth man.”

Alex ignores the gibe. “What do you mean did they put me up to it?”

Michael waves a hand, his eyes focused on the fire. “They were just being annoying earlier. Thought maybe they’d cornered you too.” He doesn’t elaborate, evading the topic as he had this afternoon, but Alex can guess the kinds of things the girls had said to him. He's starting to wonder if they have money on this.

Silence falls between them as they absorb the warmth of the flames and the hot cocoa. Michael has added some kind of spice, nutmeg, he thinks. Alex has no clue where he’d found it in the airstream but he’s glad he’d thought of it.

“Ok ok, I’ll play along.” Alex startles and then settles back into his seat feeling smug. Michael is just too easy sometimes.

“Favorite movie?”

Michael looks down into his mug like it holds the secrets to the universe.The firefight casts shadows across his face but Alex would wager a guess that he is blushing. “October Sky. Favorite song?”

“You’re a sadist.” Michael looks up with a surprised laugh and can’t hide his smile. Alex groans. “Ok, um,” he pauses, thumbs tapping against his mug while he tries to narrow down his choice. “First Day of My Life. Bright Eyes.”

“Random.” Michael tilts his head to the side, not judging just taking the information in. “I like it.”

They go back and forth like that for a while, asking trivial things and laughing as the fire slowly burns down. Without asking, Michael adds some more wood when it gets too low, wordlessly telling Alex to stay.

Alex flounders for his next question. Mug long since emptied and set to the side, his hands start tapping out a beat on his legs. He will never run out of things he wants to know about Michael, he’s sure of that, but he’s getting tired and also trying to avoid anything too deep. Tonight isn’t the night for those conversations.

“How did you know about light as a feather stiff as a board?” Maria had made him and Liz play it once when they were kids. She’d been so upset when it didn’t work.

Michael’s content smile turns mischievous and he looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes. Alex probably shouldn’t be as attracted to him as he is right now.

“Max and I would sneak down into the Evans’ basement to spy on Izzy and her friends sometimes. One time we came down and one of the girls was laying there with her eyes closed while the others surrounded her. Max thought they were doing some kind of ritualistic sacrifice.” He snorts, shaking his head fondly at the happy memory of his brother.

“When they started chanting I caught on and I used my powers to lift her, just a couple of inches. Oh man, did they freak.” Alex loves seeing the unbridled joy on Michael’s face as he loses himself in the memory of a time when he and his siblings could just be kids. He knows how rare moments like that were for him.

“So you’ve always been a menace to society,” he quips.

Michael throws him a wink, looking way too proud of himself. “If there wasn’t proof I came from the stars, you’d think I’d popped up straight outta hell.”

Still smiling, his right hand absentmindedly moves to rub at the inside of his left forearm. It’s something he’s seen Michael do a handful of times over the years but he's never been able to figure out what triggers it or if he even knows he is doing it. He files it away as one of the more serious questions he’ll ask when he’s feeling brave.

“Wait.” Something clicks in his tired brain and he glares at Michael. “Was Maria there?”

Michael’s eyes squint as he drifts back into the memory. “Maybe? It’s possible, there was that brief blip where she and Is actually liked each other.” His eyes widen as Alex glares harder. “What?”

“She couldn’t get it to work with me. I had to buy her ice cream so she wouldn’t cry!”

Michael shakes his head, grin wider than before. “I’ll buy you an ice cream to make up for it, huh?”

His smile radiates and the waves roll onto Alex forcing him to drop the charade. “Well it’s the least you can do.”

Michael’s laugh is consumed by a yawn he tries to hide by turning his head, but reality crashes down around Alex and he remembers where they are. He’s imposing and although Michael won’t say it he knows he’s stayed too long.

“I should let you get back to sleep.” He stands before Michael can say anything, but he doesn’t even try, just looks up at Alex from behind drooping eyelids. Alex wants to kiss him goodbye. He wants to kiss him good night and he wants to kiss him good morning. He really needs to leave.

Walking towards his car, he stops and turns back when Michael calls his name.

Michael’s head tilts to one side as his eyes rake over him from head to toe sending a shiver down Alex’s spine and a burst of warmth to his gut at the same time.

“You sure you’re ok?”

“I am now.” With a small wave he turns quickly and practically jumps into his car.

Driving in the opposite direction, his eyes barely stray from the mirror where Michael’s figure grows smaller and further away until he extinguishes the fire, disappearing into the darkness.

[daleisgreat]

30 Years of Genesis: Going 30 Years Playing No More Than 30 Minutes of Sonic

This summer marks the 30th anniversary of the launch of the Sega Genesis in North America. I had such a nostalgia trip reliving my memories of the GameBoy while crafting my recent GameBoy 30th Anniversary piece, that it only seemed fitting that Sega’s iconic 16-bit platform gets the same honors of recounting my memories with it. If you are looking for a more authoritative historical piece on it I recommend either Phoenix IV or Console Wars. The former is a strictly informative recounting of the history of the system while the latter is an entertaining retelling done in the form of a novel after days of interviews with everyone involved. The following are my own personal experiences of playing the Genesis over the past three decades.

I remember first encountering the Genesis while spending either Thanksgiving or Christmas 1991 over at my older sister and brother-in-law’s house. I was only eight at the time, and remember being perplexed at the black gaming box and the thought that there could somehow be other systems than the good ‘ol NES. I did not subscribe to any gaming magazines at this point and I think I was still about a year away from experiencing Sega’s deluge of combative commercials against the SNES. During that holiday season of ’91 I recalled playing the first Streets of Rage on the Genesis with my little brother nonstop the couple days we were there. I remember being blown away by how superior it was graphically to what I experienced with other NES brawlers before like Double Dragon. We only got up to the stage where we faced off against the dueling karate sisters who kept whooping us and neither my brother nor I had the skills at the time to get past. The next year or two the only times I recall playing the Genesis were at my sister’s for the holidays or the occasional store kiosk. I remember my brother-in-law picked up other games we played regularly like ToeJam & Earl, Buster Douglas Boxing, Toxic Crusaders and PGA Tour Golf. I dug all of them, especially ToeJam & Earl where I had no idea what was happening half the time with its unorthodox level structure and item pick-ups, but loving the co-op gameplay, stylish graphics and its funky beats at the time. Brief memories of store kiosk play from the early 90s consisted of being horrible at the original Sonic the Hedgehog because it was too fast for my childhood noggin’ to comprehend. I also recall being confused at early editions of Madden Football at store kiosks because when I would press buttons to hike the ball ‘Audible’ would appear on screen and then eight or nine-year old Dale had no idea what that meant compared to easier pick up and play NES pigskin games I was conditioned to.

Until Christmas of 1995 I probably played no more than about 10 Genesis games all together. I was more aware of the system by that time thanks to reading magazines more regularly at that point and hearing from classmates who had the system, but until that point I was pretty loyal to my NES still (I did not get a SNES until late ’96). For the Christmas season of ’95 my best friend at the time who coincidentally lived three blocks away from me, Rich, received a Genesis and that was when I got a lot more hands-on time with its extensive library of titles. Rich and I shared a lot of similar game interests which at that time was a ton of sports games, fighters and action/brawlers. For the next several months I was over at Rich’s for countless sleepovers and going nuts with fighters like Mortal Kombat II and Evander Holyfield’s Real Deal Boxing. Real Deal Boxing blew away Buster Douglas Boxing with more authentic boxing gameplay and an insanely thorough career mode where we would take a created boxer and move him up the ranks as champion until his skills gradually weakened with age to force his retirement. We absolutely ate up the sports games at that time. We played what seemed like an infinite amount of Madden NFL ‘97. A much wiser 13-year old Dale was no longer befuddled by the intricacies of Madden and we had so much fun with it. We would create many players to deck out our teams and keep running blitzes to try and injure the players because there was an intense bone-breaking injury sound effect that we ate up. It was like the equivalent of Favreau and Vaughn going nuts in Swingers when they made Gretzky bleed in NHLPA ‘93.

Mutant League Football was another favorite of ours that made that injury sound effect in Madden child’s play. EA also made MLF and it was the equivalent of NFL Blitz at the time with larger-than-life mutants and animals literally killing each other on the field with over-the-top hits. It was possible to force a team to retire due to killing off too many of its players which was always our desired objective! If you have not played its spiritual successor follow-up, Mutant Football League on PS4/XB1 I give it the highest of recommendations because it perfectly capture the sensation of the Genesis game while bringing it up to contemporary standards. We also played a lot of EA’s violent driving game, Road Rash II. Being able to race motorcycles and knock out your competition with chains and nightclubs while trying to evade the cops seemed revolutionary when playing it for the first time! We later discovered EA’s take of Road Rash on rollerblades in the awesome rollerblade stunt/racing game Skitchin’! Fun fact about Skitchin’ is that the competitors you race against have gnarly nicknames like ‘Thrasher’ and ‘Jackal’ and thus in ’96 was the origin of how I came up with what wound up as my online handle but at the time was my radical Skitchin’ username, ‘Gruel’ to blend in with the rest of the pack and have stuck with it all these years later!

After spending several months devouring a good dozen or so Genesis games with Rich, it did not compare to the summer of ’96 when Rich signed up for the Sega Channel! I remember it launched in 1994 and seeing commercials for it at the time where it seemed too good to be true where for about $15/month would net the user a Genesis cartridge that would connect to a cable line and get the Genesis online streaming access to a rotating 40-50 Genesis games a month. That is right, decades before services like OnLive and Playstation Now, the Genesis did streaming gaming back in ’94 and it worked like a charm! Check out this pristine archival footage of the menus to see how it all worked. Sega Channel essentially was what Xbox Game Pass is today, and I am surprised to hear how little it is discussed when people reminisce about the Genesis. We discovered so many new games this way and for that entire summer I was over at Rich’s about three to four days a week binging on Sega Channel games until Rich’s dad got on my case because I was over so often. I remember discovering new sports games on there like the innocuously titled Super Volleyball that we became somehow addicted to and the surprisingly awesome Tiny Toons ACME All-Stars that had its own killer spin on arcade basketball and soccer that it played like NBA Jam but filled with crazy Tiny Toons power-up attacks. Sega Channel is what additionally exposed me to co-op games like General Chaos, the Streets of Rage sequels and Gain Ground and classic single player games like Shadowrun, Comix Zone and Vectorman that Rich and I took turns trying to keep progressing through. Sega Channel also was my first exposure to the classic Bomberman franchise with many nail-biting rounds played of Mega Bomberman! It came as no surprise to me when I finally bought a Genesis a few years later in 1999 that the first games I hunted down for it were those same games I first discovered on the Sega Channel! In April of 1999 shortly after I turned 16 I got my first after-school job and after a few paychecks I went to Wal-Mart to determine what should be one of the first games to buy on my own! This was around the time when Majesco re-released the third, mini-sized Genesis model at a discount price of around $30. I was legit stunned at that price for a brand new system, even if it was for a ten-year old platform at that time I could not help but instantly snatched it up!

If you read my GameBoy special from several weeks back you will recall my lamenting over its lackluster wrestling games compared to the superior ones on the 16-bit platforms. On Genesis, Rich and I played way too much Royal Rumble on the system. Other wrestling games I picked up for the Genesis over the years was the inferior predecessor to Royal Rumble in Super Wrestlemania. While I had a blast with Rumble way back when, it regrettably does not hold up well all these years later with its over-reliance on a button mashing grapple meter that obliterated thumbs that I have no idea how I tolerated at the time. Saturday Night Slam Masters was a unique wrestling game from Capcom. It is essentially Street Fighter II in a wrestling ring, complete with victory taunts, Mike Haggar from Final Fight in its roster and even has a few wrestling moves sprinkled in! I loved how they had over-the-top laser light entrances and larger-than-life character sprites at the time, and I recall enjoying the Genesis version more than the SNES. There was nothing else like it since, and on occasion I will still throw it in every couple of years. I continue to hope one day Capcom will release its sequel, Ring of Destruction in a random collection of arcade games because it never got a home port all these years later.

Sports games ruled on the Genesis! Pictured from clockwise at top left is Holyfield's Real Deal Boxing, NHLPA '93, Super Volleyball and Tiny Toon ACME All-Stars I mentioned some of my favorite sports games for the system above, but it really needs to be emphasized how big sports games were on the Genesis. Both Sega and EA pumped out a seemingly endless line of sports titles for the system. I remember getting into silly speculation with Rich over how much extra memory that yellow tab on the EA carts allowed EA games to play better. For hoops titles I got my NBA Jam and Live fix on SNES, but on the ‘ol Genny my go-to basketball games were the oft-forgotten NCAA skinned version of Jam in College Hoops. I occasionally also threw in the hand-me-down street ball version of NBA Jam in Barkley Shut up Jam. I loved Madden, but Sega’s Joe Montana line of gridiron games were just a notch or two below too. For baseball, Sega’s World Series Baseball titles were in a league of its own when it came to gameplay and presentation with its larger-than-life hitter/batter perspective. For hockey EA’s NHL line was/is legendary! About four or five years ago my friend Derek gave me a ring to come over for some impromptu random gaming and he never played much Genesis before so when he got over I had the Genesis hooked up and laid out all my games for it and of that night we had the most fun playing a few rounds of NHL ‘94. At that point it was a 20-21 year old game and it still held up as one of the best hockey games of all time.

For brawlers I loved the Streets of Rage games, but I think it is my secret shame that I have yet to complete a single one. That must one day change! I did love the exclusive Genesis TMNT game, Hyperstone Heist! It was right up there with Turtles in Time and every couple of years my friend Matt and I make it a ritual to plow through that game. After many attempts we also conquered the Genesis port of the awesome arcade brawler, The Punisher! It does not have as friendly of a continue system as Hyperstone Heist so Matt and I had to learn to play a little more conservatively and not rely on mindless button mashing. It felt gratifying to have all that hard work pay off and beat The Punisher….until we got a copout ending screen of text saying ‘Now play like the Punisher and try hard difficulty.’ We did not, but I wound up looking up the ending several years later and at least Capcom made it worth your while because it had a far more intricate ending than many other brawlers at the time. The one Genesis brawler that always had our number was Captain America and the Avengers. It is a lot of fun to play, but it does not allow that many credits and by setting ourselves up with the max lives and continues that game was still a beast, and even playing conservatively and having so many attempts we only managed to make it to the final boss, The Red Skull, only once. Let us fast track to about a little under 10 years ago when a co-worker approached me about being interested in buying his Genesis/Sega CD/32X along with a couple dozen games. He was saving up to pay off his upcoming wedding and he gave me a list of everything he had along with prices for everything he wanted going by what he saw off eBay auctions. I did some price researching of my own and made him an offer of around $250-ish for the ‘tower of power’ and about 20 games combined for all three systems. Looking back I accidentally lucked out with that offer because it was only a couple years later when 8/16-bit prices on the used market took a huge jump. I never had a must-have desire for a Sega CD or 32X, but there were always a couple of games I wanted to play on them that I eventually hunted down. I liked the versions of WWF RAW, Doom, Virtua Racer and especially Virtual Fighter the most out of my dozen 32X games. I recall as a then 10 and 11 year old being disgusted by early polygonal console games like Star Fox and Virtua Racer and was more on board with FMV games being the future, but remember being a little taken aback by Virtua Fighter indicating that there may be something to these 3D polygons. The 32X version is a surprisingly faithful version to its arcade counterpart.

I need to dive into my SegaCD games more one of these months. I hunted down all the must own titles for it like the Working Design RPGs, Shining Force CD, enhanced versions of Amazing Spider-Man and Batman Returns and Snatcher which I hope to one day knock off my gaming bucket list. Regrettably now my only SegaCD games I invested a decent amount of time into are WWF Rage in the Cage (essentially Super Wrestlemania but with some FMVs and a bigger roster), Slam City with Scottie Pippen (a abysmal FMV-based street hoops title) and the underrated SegaCD exclusive brawler, Prime. I am a huge Ultraverse comic nut and I ate up Prime on SegaCD since it was the only game released featuring characters from that comic book line before Marvel acquired them and cancelled all their books within a couple years (yes, I am still bitter over it). It is only one player, but Matt and I spent a few attempts taking turns at beating levels until we finally vanquished it. We even had an attempt thwarted when Prime was loading the final boss battle when a flipping blackout halted our progress! As memorable as that moment is I will instead forever associate Prime with its unrivaled and unforgettable opening theme music (seriously….give it a listen!). I need to give a shoutout to the official handheld Genesis, aka the Nomad! My brother surprised the hell out of me one year with it for a birthday present. My favorite Nomad memory is my brother getting hyped for getting his own version of Genesis Shadowrun and I told him I would come over and bring my Nomad and my version while he played on his television and we could both start off our own new game and exchange tips and hints in a friendly rivalry type of way. I think my brother must have gotten the Genesis version of Shadowrun mixed up with the completely differently designed SNES version because he tried to run around aimlessly and gun down everything which is not how you want to play the Genesis version. We were planning that day out for weeks and I remember being stunned after about 15 minutes when I was starting to sink my teeth back into Shadowrun’s cyberpunk action-RPG brand of awesome when my brother out of nowhere went ‘screw this, let’s play something else!’

As I wind down I want to give many thanks to Sega for keeping the Genesis relevant throughout this century with its gratuitous re-releases of physical and digital collections. I have no idea why, but I keep on buying them for the convenience of having them for the latest system. It started with the Sega Smash Pack on DreamCast seeming like a killer value in 2001 for 12 games for $40. Then a few years later on PS2 I snatched up Sega Genesis Collection which seemed like an even better value with just over 30 games for $30! Then in the 360/PS3 era along came Sonic’s Ultimate Genesis Collection which offered 40 games for $30!! Sega also sold a lot of the games ala carte via each console’s digital storefronts. Then last year we got Sega Genesis Classics on Xbox One/PS4 with 50 games for $30!!! The last several years Sega also has been licensing out to At Games to release their own pre-programmed Genesis mini console with dozens of pre-installed games. I held off on getting those after hearing how awful its emulation and shoddy production quality is, but after hearing how Sega finally decided to manufacture their own Genesis Mini themselves this fall and handed off the emulation duties to the acclaimed emulation studio M2, I could not pre-order fast enough! I have no idea why I keep deep diving down this well, but hats off to Sega for keeping me coming back again and again! Similarly with my GameBoy flashback piece, I had an unorthodox experience with the Genesis. I was not a hardcore Sonic or Phantasy Star player like the average Genesis owner. If you ask me any day of the week my answer to what my favorite Genesis game is, it could be either The Punisher, Madden NFL ‘97, Shadowrun, Hyperstone Heist, NHL ‘94 or Skitchin’. That is another thing that made the Genesis great was its mammoth library of diverse titles so there was no doubt something for everyone! With that I will put the kibosh on this look back of my favorite moments with the Genesis as I anxiously await for my pre-order of the Genesis Mini to arrive in a few months! Want more Genesis Love from me in Audio and quasi-video form? I was looking through my hard drive archives and a decade ago while I was still doing my videogame podcast, On Tap, we did a special 20th anniversary special on the Genesis where my co-hosts and I reminisce about the Genesis. I went ahead and uploaded it on YouTube so if you want even more Genesis takes then click here to give it a listen! Also recorded throughout 2009 from the On Tap archives was installments from our history of comic book videogames series. In this next episode I uploaded to YouTube is the second part of series where we breakdown every single comic book licensed game on the SNES and Genesis! My co-host Matt and I did thorough research for this episode and played almost nearly every single comic book game from this era in preparation for the episode to give the most up to date research and to see if these games (of which a vast majority are beat-em-ups) still hold up. Click here to give it a listen! My Other Gaming Flashbacks GameBoy 30th Anniversary

[the-revisionist]

prompt!: 17) things you said that I wish you hadn’t - Caroline/Gillian

 Thank you for the prompt, @ylizam!

PG-ish, angst-lite, nothing too heavy, just a lot of swears as usual (as the title indicates). Oh, and post-series 4. 

the master class in fuck-ups

Perhaps it was too good to last. Or not good enough. Eitherway it doesn’t matter, Gillian thinks—she was bound to fuck it up one way oranother.

She’s paced back and forth on the path from the barn to thehouse about twenty times this morning while the judicious sky spat rain at her,and when the rain stopped and she got bored with the path she circled theperimeter of the barn as if she were a soldier on night patrol, seeing monstersand enemies in every twitching stalk of grass, in the hulking shuffle of boredsheep, in the reflection of every mud puddle. Phantoms all. Who she reallyfears is in the house making tea and preparing lunch—Caroline, who had arrivedearlier this morning. They are to spend a rare day together without familyabout in pursuit of leisurely eating, drinking, talking, and—under whatcurrently passes for normal circumstances between them these days—shagging.

This occasional falling-into-bed-or-whatever’s-convenientstarted nearly four months ago, during a propitious weekend when children werewith their respective fathers, parents were on a “theatrical retreat”—whateverthe fuck that had meant, Gillian couldn’t be bothered to figure out because whileher father was telling her about it she was too busy watching Caroline’s graceful,sensual stretch as she rose from the dinner table—and beautiful young shagbuddies were finally out of the picture because apparently Olga’s considerable patiencewith the likes of Caroline had finally been exhausted. It seemed inevitablethat years of mixed signals and missed opportunities, several bottles of wine,a perpetually chilly house, and an extremely boring nature documentary on sea spongeswould yield over the following months an embarrassment of intimate riches:  two blissful nights in Caroline’s bed,clandestine snogging in motor vehicles, frantic awkward dry humping on couches,innocuous-looking sleepovers that provided cover for sneaking out of masterbedrooms at dawn, and dozy looks across dining room tables.

Caroline seemed more than content with the state of affairsand Gillian thought it was grand too, if only because it played to herstrengths. She excelled at sneaking around; indeed, if stealthy romanticrendezvouses had been a subject at school, she would have had a first everytime. But when it came to fucking it all up, she was no mere student: She was amaster at the craft. In this fictitious academia she would be the teacher, thementor, the wizened professor—well, by now she would be Dean of TwatbrainCollege, sniffing her disdainful, gin-addled way through master classes withaspirant fuck-up students, casually dispensing gems of self-sabotage: If you ever have the opportunity to sleepwith the ex of someone you’re infatuated with, by all means, carpe diem, carpetosser.

The most important lesson, of course, she would save forlast: Nah, see, when you’ve got it goingon with a wonderful, kind, beautiful, intelligent person who’s made it prettyclear she’s in no way, shape, or form prepared for anything remotely seriousrelationship-wise, you need to drink about four Jagerbombs, grab your shitmobile, and after midnight call her on some ridiculous pretext and thencasually let drop that you love her.

As perfectly executed last night. She doesn’t even rememberwhat she had been rambling on about, or how the conversation turned in such away that she started talking about feelings—of all the horrible fucking thingsto talk about, even sober—but drowsily and drunkenly the dreaded I love you spilled out of her mouth andinto the velvety night, where it was greeted with digital silence. Then sheremembers going into a panic and babbling about cake. Caroline eagerly took upthe subject matter, recalling a perfect chocolate cake her mother made for hersixteenth birthday and this was, quite possibly, the nicest thing she’d eversaid about Celia. This morning Gillian woke with despair lining her mouth likecracked leather and an unsurprising urge for the perfect seven-layer cake she’dhad at a tea shop the other week while lunching with Gary.

Arriving later this morning Caroline had been awkwardlypolite, a throwback to when they first met and were, for the sake of theirparents, desperately trying not to eviscerate one another with sarcastic barbs,sneering commentary, and furious eye rolls.  Gillian wasn’t certain why she had even botheredcoming, but while Caroline bustled about in the kitchen as if she actuallyowned it and excelled at small talk, Gillian reverted to numpty mode, stammeredan excuse—actually, it was a melodramatic declaration of the sheep need me!—and bolted for the sanctuary of the barn.

And that is where matters stand: she, pacing around outsidelike a hungry wolf—indeed, it is a sad commentary on the state of things whenthe shepherdess  sees herself as a wolf—andCaroline inside and reigning over her bloody kitchen.  But when she’s completed another lap aroundthe barn she comes out toward the house and sees Caroline standing at the edgeof the stone wall, the very same place where they’ve sat dozens of timestalking, where they first spoke honestly and kindly to one another. She lookslike a painting, with her bold stance and blonde hair whipping defiantlyagainst the sickly white and slate gray of the sky and land: woman versusvalley.

Summoning a sliver of courage, Gillian sucks in a lungful ofair and walks over.

At the sound of her trundling Caroline breaks communion withthe land and turns around, smiling inscrutably in a manner that, Gillian knows,is the result of ruthless self-training for so many years.  “Tea’s ready. Came out to get you, but Icouldn’t find you.”

“Sorry. Just, ah—checking on things.”  Gillian shuffles, kicks at a stone that she’sbeen kicking at and apologizing to for as long as she’s owned the farm. Sorry, stone.

Then Caroline softens slowly, almost imperceptibly, so thatwhen she smiles again—ruefully, this time—Gillian once again feels the drunkenlovestruck fool she was last night and quickly looks away.

“I’m the one who should be saying sorry,” Caroline says asshe squints at the horizon.  “I’m sorry Iwas weird last night about the—the thing you said.”

“The thing,” Gillian echoes.

“Yeah, the thing.”

“You mean, the, uh, oh—” Gillian groans and her voice leapsup into a register of frustration typically reserved for the male of thespecies. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Mischievous, Caroline says, “You don’t want to say itagain?”

“Well, no, I mean—I, I m-meant it, but it makes youuncomfortable—”

Caroline interrupts gently. “It doesn’t. But that isn’t thething I’m talking about. Because I love you too—it was just what you saidbefore that—”

Gillian blinks wildly, thinks she has misheard, thinks thestone precipice wobbles like pudding under her feet. “Come again?” She shakesher head vigorously. “Wait, wait. What—what did I say before that?”

It takes a moment for Caroline to summon it up; she has toclose her eyes for several seconds and then stare out at the landscape again. “Yousaid, ‘I would die for you.’”

“Oh.” Regrettably it all comes back to Gillian now, thatgreat river of drunken hyperbole leading up to the simple, salient statement offact: You know you are very important tome, right? I would do anything for you, I would fight every battle for you, Iwould die for you.

“It unsettled me a little—well, a lot. You know? Just thethought of losing someone important again. Just like that. Like—you know. I couldn’t bear the thought of it.”

Speechless and beyond mortified, Gillian now wishes the wallwould collapse and the valley consume her whole. Fearing tears, she pinches thebridge of her nose.

“Hey.” Caroline steps closer, touches her arm, and pulls herinto a hug. “Don’t be upset—there’s nothing to be upset about. It’s all right.You said nothing wrong.  I know it’s justa figure of speech. And I was thinking about it on the drive over and realized Iwas looking for anything to focus on, to pick at other than what you were actuallysaying. You understand? I’m not ready for any sort of big, grand—romance or relationshipor whatever right now, but I do love you and you make me happy, what we havetogether makes me happy.”

“Oh.” Gillian pulls back and stares at her. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

This affirmation comes so casually and confidently thatGillian’s chest tightens and she struggles to breathe properly. She paces in a tightcircle and, hoping to catch a breath, bends over a little. Fucking figures, shethinks: I’ve inherited my father’s weakheart and now I’m going to have a heart attack and die after she says she lovesme and after I said the stupid thing and now she will be completely traumatizedfor life, now there’s epic fucking up for you, I have reached the nextlevel.  

“Are you hyperventilating?” Caroline asks unhelpfully.

She’s staring at dirt and pebbles and Caroline’s ratherexpensive and shiny new hiking boots. Considering that the only place Carolinehikes to is Sainsbury’s, it seems unnecessarily twatty.  “Reckon that’s the correct term for it, yeah,”she manages to say between a bout of heavy, laborious breathing.

“I’m not going to have to take you to A&E, am I? I’vegot coq au vin in your wretched oven—if I don’t watch it carefully it’ll burn.”

“Coq au vin?” Gillian wheezes.  “I’m not—the bloody queen, why would you makes-something fancy—you are so f-f—ridiculous.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorryfor trying to do something nice for you, and please stop hyperventilating.”

Gillian straightens and, finally, catches her breath. “Shit,wish you hadn’t said all that. Think I need a lie-down. Or a glass of wine.”

“It’s not even noon.”

“All right, all right, just some whiskey in my tea then, I’ll beright as rain.”

“That’s not any better.”

Gillian rolls her eyes. “Aw, fuck off and stop nagging me,woman!” she shouts while stomping toward the house, leaving Caroline alone toconfront the Yorkshire panorama.

Indeed, Caroline folds her arms and glares at the stubbornlygray sky and hills, which are as immutable, infuriating, and starkly beautifulas that goddamn woman who is still muttering and trudging up the muddy pathway.

“Oh, for fuck’s sakes.” She sighs and heads to the house.  There’s a coq au vin that needs tending.