The Joust manual begins: “How on earth did you fall into this bizarre world?”
That’s how I feel about life sometimes.
I’ll keep this part short. Though Joust is a true arcade classic and a fun enough game, I can’t recommend it for many people who don’t care about Atari. Namely, Atari newcomers. I think there are better arcade games on Atari. And tons of worse games, I suppose, so check it out if you need another Atari arcade game to play. Especially two player mode. Hey, it has a nice title screen.
I recommend Joust for anyone who needs a game where you ride on flapping ostriches and collide against armored buzzards. If you like classic arcade games, you will most likely enjoy Joust. Otherwise . . .
I recommend Joust for Atari curious, Atari nerds and collectors.
Life game . . .
I really don’t want to play this game, and it’s not because of the annoying yet distinctive flying mechanic. I really don’t want to play this game because it will now and forever remind me of how I hurt someone, how I was cruel on an epic scale.
Joust was one of her favorite Atari games, the other being Galaga. I was surprised, not at her fine choices, but that I was unaware Galaga was on Atari 2600. It wasn’t. (Just the “prequel,” Galaxian.) Turns out she grew up with the less common and graphically superior Atari 7800. It has a bigger number, so you know it’s stronger.
This was obvious when I popped in Joust for Atari 2600. Her jaw dropped. “I don’t know what that is,” she said, “but it's not the Joust I remember.”
I procured Joust for Atari 7800 and showed her the difference. “Yeah, this is it,” she said. “This looks a lot better. Wow…”
I had thought the 2600 version was more than fine until I saw the beauty of near-arcade-perfect graphics of the 7800. This holds true for many such Atari comparisons. I think the 2600 game is just fine until I see another port on another console. Sometimes it’s best not to think about these things. And really, as long as the Atari 2600 version plays well, it’s all good.
So we played Joust on Atari in my childhood bedroom. To be honest, I don’t remember much about this moment other than maybe running around and bouncing into things. Some eggs.
What is unusual here is that I don’t really remember playing it with her other than the fact that we did. I typically remember seemingly petty details about playing games with others. But like the relationship, I suppose, I forgot too many things. Things that weren’t petty.
What I do remember from that day is kissing in the same armchair where we played Atari.
This happened near the beginning of our on-again off-again relationship. And now we’re off. Again. For good.
I can go into any number of reasons and variables behind the final breakup from both sides. I could detail all the wonderful memories, or at least the video game memories, which are always wonderful to me: when we discovered a local old-school arcade one night and she rediscovered her joy for Pac-Man; when we went to the retro game convention (her attendance proved her dedication to me) and laughed at the inevitable weirdos; when she came over to play Atari–I mean, see me–and a new package had come in the mail for me. It was the Turbografx Mini. She witnessed me unbox that one with a big grin, like a little boy on Christmas. It was obvious this guy she was dating was deep in the retro game wormhole. And to her credit, she went along with it, embraced it. A whole new world. She really did love me.
She was a whole new world for me. Long story short, we fell into a head-first freefall of love and wonder. We courted at work, where we met, and we really fell into that freefall when we discovered we shared the same favorite movie. And like the movie, we fell into a cute and charming romance. A seemingly miraculous romance, with all the signs pointing to divine approval, if not will.
We shared more than Amelie. We shared a lot of interests, such as art and politics, and more importantly, a vision of our future selves. I wanted to grow into the best version of myself, to develop, and to embrace a new spirituality beyond my meditation practice. She also wanted to grow and develop, especially spiritually. So hey–we could do this together, right? We would be spiritual partners. We would be the best thing that ever happened to either one of us, for the rest of our lives.
I will always remember her eyes, and the deep, deep trust I could see in them, opening entirely to me.
It wasn’t long, though, before I began to have my doubts. There are so many chapters to the story, so many events and places and whispers and novelties and turnarounds and dreams and laughs and betrayals and hurts . . . .
Simple version: She never thought she’d love again, after being hurt by others. I showed her she could love again. And I promised she could trust me. I wouldn’t leave. I was for real. I was. I promise.
Until I wasn’t.
I broke my promise. Among other things. Like her. So many ways I broke her. I broke the trust in her eyes. I broke our shining future, which was the only future, which was everything. I broke her.
I really, really do not want to play Joust.
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