In the early 1990s, I rented quite a few video games from my local Blockbuster store. I felt compelled to try any and all new games that showed up for rental — up to the point my parents would allow, anyway.

Around the same time, I figured out how to disassemble video game cartridges. I thought myself very clever and began disassembling NES and SNES games I’d rented to see what was inside. Blockbuster wouldn’t have liked this, of course — to prevent such a practice, the chain sealed its game cartridges with tamper-resistant security stickers designed to show if someone had opened them up.

Luckily for me, the stickers didn’t always cover the screw holes, allowing me to work around them. With a careful bend at the sticker joint between two sides of the plastic cartridge case, I could examine the cartridge interior with impunity.

It was then that I struck upon a weird idea. Similar to how kids would scratch their initials on a tree or a school desk, or perhaps draw their initials in wet concrete, I realized I could leave my own mark hidden within the cartridges themselves, gaining a small form of immortality in the process.

The key idea being that I would stick a note on the inside of the cartridge case, so people (most notably, Blockbuster employees) could not normally see it; one would have to open the cartridge again to reveal the secret message.

My youthful imagination fantasized about exchanging covert correspondence between video game renters this way. Even better, I could imagine someone, some day, far in the future randomly opening up an old SNES cartridge and finding a note from me inside. They’d be completely perplexed and amazed, and my goal would have been achieved. But even if no one ever found my message, it still would feel good to have it out there.

Placing The Golden Ticket

The next time I rented a game, I disassembled it and set to work with my plan. I found some small self-adhesive labels and wrote a short note on one, along with a date. After sticking the label to the inside of the cartridge, I closed it up and later returned the game to Blockbuster as usual.

I probably only wrote my initials on the first label (simulated above), but on the subsequent labels — maybe two at most — I might have written a short phrase such as, “Greetings from the past!” I don’t recall exactly. I believe I left the first such note inside Super Mario Kart in the Raleigh, NC area around 1993.

If you find it, let me know. It will be even better than finding the Golden Ticket in a Wonka Bar. As a reward, I’ll give you a personal tour of the VC&G Museum — and I promise you won’t drown in a river of chocolate.

“You are the weapon!”

I was a big fan of the original NES Renegade back in the day, but I seem to recall the sequel, Target: Renegade, being a major letdown. Did anyone out there actually like it?

Discussion Topic of the Week: What’s your favorite Taito game of all time?

“No more Mr. Ice Guy.”

It looks like Kickle Cubicle visited much of the Eastern U.S. coast over the weekend with a nasty snowstorm; hope you guys are digging out all right. Here in NC, some of us lucked out with a light dusting and a lot of rain.

Kickle Cubicle itself is a fun, Lolo-esque NES puzzler with a silly name that hints at both kicking and modular office partitions (thankfully, cubicles do not actually appear in the game). If you run across it, I highly recommend picking it up.

Merry Christmas from VC&G!

Discussion Topic of the Week: It’s Santa time once again. If you could magically (and freely) have any one item for your classic computer or video game collection, what would it be?

The Euro-American family in its native habitat.

Just in time for Thanksgiving — and the ritual practice of family togetherness — comes this wonderful vintage photo from the back of the NES Action Set box. In it, we see a four-person white American nuclear family utterly consumed by a game of Super Mario Bros.

This scene looks nice at first glance, but imagine having to play through a whole game with mom and dad hanging off of your shoulders.

“Hey son.”

(Father gets in close, whispering into son’s ear.)

“Want to play some Super Mario Brothers?”

“I’m already playing, Dad.”

(Father squeezes son’s shoulder tighter.)

“My uncle’s name is Mario.”

Luckily, the scenario I’ve concocted above appears nowhere on the box. Still, a few amusing things about this photo jump out at me:

• Mario is gleefully flying to his death.
• The family apparently owns two copies of Super Mario Bros. because one is on the table, and they’re playing one in the NES.
• The two kids are both playing a one player game at the same time. Or maybe the older brother (player 1) on the right is screwing up the little brother’s game by hitting pause at random intervals.
• The mother and the son on the right aren’t looking at the TV set. Actually, I don’t think any of them are.

I’ve included an extra-large scan this time (when you click on the image), so you might be able to turn it into a desktop background.

For more vintage family madness, check out my latest slideshow on Technologizer.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Discussion Topic of the Week: Have you ever played a video game with your entire immediate family rapturously engaged in the action on screen?

Coming Soon: Ben Bernanke’s Bail-Out!!

Discussion Topic of the Week: How has the current U.S. economic recession affected you?