A Dreamcast for Christmas

Dear Hedgehogs Can't Swim reader, you've probably noticed I like to do something special for the holidays. Today is Christmas and I can't imagine just posting a regular update. Would you tolerate getting torn away from your families just to read a regular review of an Archie Sonic comic? I mean, you would because you have no friends. But for the rest of you, I decided to deliver a little gift.

I think Christmas is by far the most nostalgic of all holidays. For most of us, it brings back memories of gathering around the tree with your parents, opening gifts and presents. Hopefully, the holiday warms your hearts as you recall times of generosity and togetherness. That's certainly true for me. So here's a personal recollection of one of my favorite Christmas memories, which just happens to relate the topic of this blog.

The year was 1999. I had turned eleven in June. That holiday season, there was one gift on my wish list. The Sega Dreamcast had come on in September. You sure as fuck can bet that the September 9th release date, trumpeted as 9-9-99 by the advertisements, was an event for me.

As a huge Sonic nerd, I desperately wanted a Dreamcast. I needed “Sonic Adventure” pumped into my veins. Since the Saturn era came and went without much attention in America, the Dreamcast seemed like Sega – and Sonic with it – was making a big comeback. I was excited. I was beyond excited. I was hyped as fuck.

However, when I was young, my family didn't have a lot of extra money. I didn't get a Sega Genesis until after the Saturn had come out, when the console prices had been sliced in half. I had my share of toys but video games were generally too pricey for my parents to justify. After my parent's divorce the prior year, I went from living in a two paycheck house to a one paycheck house. So money was even tighter now. As much as I desired a Dreamcast, I didn't expect to receive one.

That year, we had Christmas at my Dad's place. My parents weren't trying to work things out or anything. Instead, they were making an effort to visit each other on the holidays. My mom has never paid attention to video games, finding them annoying and a huge waste of time. My dad, however, usually kept abreast of these things. He knew exactly how much I wanted a Dreamcast. But, like I said, I didn't expect to actually receive one. When I got a look at the pile of gifts under the Christmas tree, I didn't see a box big enough to fit a Dreamcast inside. I was disappointed, internally, but outwardly I kept my composure. After all, I was still receiving plenty of other stuff.

I remember the look and the feel of the room very vividly. This kind of stuff sticks with you, I guess. My dad had set up the gifts in a side room. A few months later, after he was done moving, this would become my bedroom on the weekends I stayed there. There was a huge bay window on the right wall. On that Christmas morning, the room was bathed in light. This, I recall, made the tanned linoleum floor practically golden. It certainly set the scene. I'm pretty sure my mom was still wearing her work scrubs from the hospital, as she probably worked at the hospital the night before.

To be totally honest, I do not remember any of the other gifts I got that Christmas. I know there were plenty of other things. Considering what year it was, I probably received some Transmetal era Beast Wars and Animorph Transformers toys, since those were new at the time. Whatever the other gifts where, I was happy to have them. Even if, secretly, in my heart, I still wanted that Dreamcast. As the pile grew smaller and I worked my way through my booty, I had almost forgotten about the Dreamcast.

That was when my Dad motioned to a corner of the room I had previously ignored. He pointed to a side table, covered with a long table cloth, and told me I had missed one. My heart raced. I stuck my hand under the table and pulled out a large box. In my childhood brain, the box seemed far bigger than I'm sure it actually was. This was it. I quickly tore away the wrapping and was presented with my heart's desire: A brand spanking new Sega Dreamcast, in that beautiful white, purple, and orange box.

I can't properly describe in words how overjoyed I was. Some of you where probably kids once. I'm sure you had That One Gift, that Christmas present that ended up defining the entire year for you. That's what the Dreamcast was for me. Years later, I'd find out that my Dad was hugely irresponsible with money around the holidays. (And, you know, in general.) That he would max out his credit cards to get me and my sister the best gifts. That, when my parents where married, my mom was the only thing keeping his ridiculous spending in check. I'm sure there was some truth to that old adage of recently separated parents trying to sway their child's opinion with lavish gifts. Knowing the kind of person my dad was, I'm sure that's exactly what he was doing.

I didn't care about any of that shit in 1999. If my dad was trying to buy my love, he totally succeeded. I couldn't have been happier at that moment, as I eagerly plug in the Dreamcast and booted the thing up. The opening load screen – the ball bouncing across the white space, bringing the letters to life, followed by the spiral logo swirling into view – still holds intense nostalgia for me. Shit, the date and time menu, a red outlined box against a sky blue background, hits me right in the memories. Since my previous video game experience had been totally within the 16-bit era, the Dreamcast seemed incredibly high-tech.

And my dad was well aware of the mania I had for the “Sonic” series. I only had one game to unwrap with my Dreamcast but, you can bet your sweet ass that it was “Sonic Adventure.” After the torturous seeming set-up process, I was playing “Sonic Adventure.” Within minutes, I was sailing down Emerald Coast, collecting rings, smashing robots, and getting familiar with that game's notoriously shitty camera work.

I think the Dreamcast was the last video game console I really loved. Naturally, I consumed “Sonic Adventure” 1 and 2 and even tried my hand at “Sonic Shuffle,” which I hated. Many, many hours of my youthful life was given to “House of the Dead 2,” the “Marvel vs. Capcom” duo, the “Power Stones” series,  and “Jet Grind Radio.” I wish I had a more nuanced reason for this overriding love beyond my Sega loyalty but I'm pretty sure that was a big part of it. My fascination with arcade games, and the Dreamcast's similarities with arcade technology, might have played a role. But there was no way I was aware of that at the time. I just loved that whirling, whining gray box.

Pretty much every chance I had, I was playing that damn thing. I can recall two specific mornings. One was probably only a few weeks after Christmas. We had gotten a huge snow storm the night before. Certain school was canceled – it was – I booted up my Dreamcast and tried to struggle my way for Big the Cat's stupid fishing levels. Another time, I woke really early in the morning for some reason, around five, even before my dad was up. Figuring I had the time, I popped in “Evolution” and played for a few minutes before my dad groggily marched in and asked me what the hell I was doing. Ah, youth.

I wore my Sega fanboy label with pride, once the Playstation 2 came out. When the Dreamcast's life span was prematurely ended, partially due to that other system's popularity, I held a grunge against all of Sony for years afterwards. I actually refused to buy a Sony DVD player for that reason. I realize now that was fucking stupid but, hey, I was eleven.

I played my X-Box a lot all throughout high school. Yet I remember, out of that generation of gaming, I picked the X-Box primarily because the shape of the console's controllers reminded me of the Dreamcast. Within a few years, I'd more-or-less leave gaming behind. My interests would go elsewhere, as I found the hobby expensive and time consuming. Online gaming is something I've never gotten into, as I had no interest in being called slurs by an Estonian teenager, which also sped along my exit from that world.

I actually still have that original Dreamcast, which has somehow survived several moves. Occasionally, I'll get the need to dig it up, plug it in, and play. That's always a nostalgic experience, always bringing to mind the Christmas morning I just recalled. Of course, I've played newer games and newer systems. But there's just something about the Dreamcast that's still special to me. The time and the place played a big role. Those are the kinds of memories you hold on to, that drift into your mind sometimes and make you smile or laugh.

So Merry Christmas, Hedgehogs Can't Swim readers. I know this update was a little off-topic but I think December let's you get away with that. I hope your holiday is shiny and bright and we'll be back to business as usual on Wednesday.