The cloak of familiarity

I woke up yesterday with an inexplicable hankering to play some Syndicate Wars. I couldn't tell you why, I just had the urge. And then today I find myself reminiscing about my N64, with its instant loads, the quirky controller and the extortionately priced carts imported from the US after hours poring through well-thumbed pages at the back of Edge. The familiarity of Goldeneye, the cute brutality of PilotWings and the near-perfection of Mario64 and Ocarina of Time are (in my memories at least) a wondrous, warm cloak of comfort.

I daresay that the reality would be somewhat different if I picked them up again, but the memories of these cherished experiences is one that I treasure and the pure thought of engaging with these games once more is reassuring and exciting - even if I never take up the opportunity. Having pondered why these yearnings have entered my mind, I've identified the source - the snow and ice outside my window. Granted, this may seem a little odd, given that I'm as likely to have played these titles at times other than when the cold, clean blanket of white covered the ground - but it's perhaps the tea and biscuit-fuelled sessions in warm surrounds whilst the snow and ice fell outside, that I engaged most seriously with the subject matter.

Just as smells, sounds and tastes can transport me back to places and events, seemingly the weather can evoke my gaming past. Hot summer days remind me of Jungle Strike on the Megadrive, and drinking a can of Dr. Pepper whilst playing License to Kill on the C64. It seemed to always be raining while I was playing Sensible Soccer and it was definitely blowing a gale when I was working my way through Day of the Tentacle. Sadly, this evocation of memories 'rule' is fallible and I can't work out whether it was hot or cold whilst I was playing some gaming greats. Golden Axe was played in shorts, but Streets of Rage was weather-independent.

Sadly, these days, I tend not to whole-heartedly immerse myself in games due to a lack of time and a change in priorities. But I'll always love the moments when I yearn to power up a classic. So please - keep snowing, stay cold and keep me craving the warm cloak of familiarity.