The Death of the Retro Gaming Archive
An Intensely Fictional True Story
Dylan stood on the hard asphalt, surrounded by stuffed creatures. The scorching sun wasn’t invited, but he came anyway, ready to burn anyone who dared call an outside meeting at 2pm.
He took a long drag from his cigarette and squinted at the circle of plush vagabonds awaiting his speech. All his favorites were here. Sonic. Tails. Solid Snake. Isabelle. Doraemon. A couple others, whose names he couldn’t recall. True friends, the lot of them, to meet him here in the middle of the afternoon. They couldn’t sweat, he knew that. But he swore he saw faint perspiration above Sonic’s brow, glinting ever so slightly amidst the pounding heat.
Dylan put out his boring, flavorless cigarette. He never smoked the things, didn’t even like ‘em. He just needed one for today, this moment, this confession.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here,” he began.
“As many of you know, I’ve been working on this idea known as the Retro Gaming Archive for the last seven years. At first, I wanted the Archive to be an online gaming museum, a digital repository where people could find information about any game they wished. Like GameFAQs, only inherently classier and more visually stimulating.
“In 2020, I began creating the Retro Gaming Archive website in earnest. The online museum concept was abandoned in favor of a vague intent to just write about as many old games as I could, from all generations and eras. But whether due to the pandemic or my own inadequate online reach or both, few visited the site. Now, given the traumatic circumstances of the period, I don’t blame them. I also confess that I had no idea what I was doing then, and that confusion likely stuck out to those handful of visitors. A part of me wanted an online museum still, but I wondered if I committed to it, who would visit? Writing about old games just for the sake of it seemed quaint and misguided. Every day I questioned myself and my methods. I wandered into podcasts, streaming, and even video, all to no avail. Nothing worked.”
Dylan paused and looked at his sympathetic crowd. They were with him, despite the summer blaze.
“I pulled the plug on the website in 2022, but the idea of the Archive wouldn’t leave me. I sat on the name for two years, unsure of how to proceed, but knowing that its purpose was not yet complete.
“In 2024, the Archive sprang to life again, this time in the form of a Substack. No more online museum. Instead, I wrote about whatever gaming topic came to mind. Ranking Nintendo consoles, personal stories, deep dives into individual titles. And dad gum, people have been sort of interested! The Substack community is fantastic and encouraging, and honestly, reminds me of blogging communities from the early 2010s. A welcome throwback to a simpler time.
“But all is not well, friends. That name… ‘Retro Gaming Archive.’ A name that was once so dear to me, but now just feels so clinical, so impersonal. It’s limiting. What if I want to write about modern games? What if I don’t want to archive games anymore? I certainly haven’t been archiving on Substack anyway, and I don’t plan to start. If my current heartbeat doesn’t resonate with the Archive’s frequency, why indulge it further?”
A rhetorical question, but Dylan still paused and looked at the stuffed crowd for dramatic effect.
“The Retro Gaming Archive was a solo endeavor, and it has reached its end. Its purposes, whatever they may have been, are complete. Which brings me to this.” Dylan pointed at the unplugged desktop computer sitting on the curb. “This represents seven years of dreaming, failing, and meandering. To me, this computer is the Archive. And so, that’s why…”
Dylan picked up the desktop and threw all the pieces into the center of the stuffed animal circle. He then pulled a sledgehammer from beneath a nearby brittle bush and reined blow after blow upon the motionless computer. Shrapnel flew onto the laps and faces of the animals. Some of them fell over from the wind generated by the vicious attacks. Finally, after seven hearty cracks, Dylan rested and beheld what he had destroyed.
“The Retro Gaming Archive is dead,” he proclaimed to the hushed throng. “No more digital museum with that name, no more Substack, nothing. It’s all gone.”
Dylan peered towards the hazy horizon. Nothing but steep mountains and vicious desert, untamed, wild, and glorious. Creosote bushes, desert willows, and saguaro cacti intermingled with each other, all sharp spines, curious resin, and blossoming red flowers. Cactus wren flew from hidden nests amidst the harsh shrubs.
“For the last six years, whenever I open my third eye, I witness an opulent gaming museum, filled to the brim with games, both old and new. Visions of people playing and marveling over bizarre, beautiful consoles and computers from decades past swirl in and out. In these scenes, young children learn how to play and enjoy antiquated, obtuse games decades older than them. Arcade cabinets blare while human beings, young and old, co-mingle in blissful union. Families are united. Communities of like-minded thinkers and dreamers are born. Joy Incarnate walks among the people. All from video games?! This doesn’t make logical sense. But I saw it all six years ago, and I still see it today, and it’s as real to me as all of you sitting here.”
He pointed at the desert. “Revelation exists out here. I don’t know why, I just feel it in my bones. I must go there and discover what’s next.” Dylan gazed intently at his friends. “I would love for you all to join me. It won’t be easy. I pray it’ll be worth it. Either way, we’ll be together. And we’ll get some decent stories out of it.”
Dylan sighed and sat on the curb next to his sledgehammer, and awaited their answer…
NEXT TIME: A NEW CREATION IS BORN!
*images courtesy of DALL-E 3, the author, and River Sands RV Resort.
No Dylan! Don't leave me!! Take me with you! I will be so sad without your posts!!
Can’t wait to see the next phase of this project!