I’m Going to Hold onto Summer as Long as I Can with These 6 Classic Games

I’m Going to Hold onto Summer as Long as I Can with These 6 Classic Games

There are at least three different ends to summer. For astronomers, the sun appears to cross the celestial equator around the 22 of September, and the darkness grows. For meteorologists, summer begins on June 1 and ends on August 31, defined by the annual temperature cycle and the three warmest months. And then for everyone else, Labor Day hits and our lives collapse as the reality of school settles in and the coming dread of dead leaves overtakes our lives.

If you can believe it, I used to like autumn. Even winter! But the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to crave the heat and brightness of summer—even as my medications make me so much more susceptible to both. I’ve spent much of this summer inside, tragically. Between America’s seeming final paroxysmal gasps of “Democracy” and an intelligible economy, a constant series of brutal heatwaves, and the emergence of “Razor Blade Throat COVID,” there have simply been less opportunities for me to “get out and enjoy the summer.” And so, like Margot from Ray Bradbury’s “All Summer in a Day,” I’ve felt myself becoming wan and waxen, delving into remembrances of the time before my parents dragged me from a childhood in Ohio to the endless rains and merciless children of Venus.

In the coming week, the tireless writers of Endless Mode will indulge themselves in all manner of essays centered around a general theme of returning to school as the country prepares for the annual acceleration of “Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Allspice in Everything” Discourse Season. But as I am shoved into the closet, I will be holding on to every possible remembrance of summer in each of these classic video games.

Town & Country Surf Designs: Wood & Water Rage

Summer Games

Ignore the weird mouthful title that no one ever remembers. If someone tells you about this game they’re going to call it T&C Surf Designs or “the surfing/skating game with the gorilla and the tiki guy” because that’s what it is. And it’s the first of LJN’s appearances on this list. 

LJN Toys Ltd. is the company that brought you the invisible ink-shooting/class action nightmare toy guns licensed with the box office bomb Gotcha! They made a lot of questionable moves in the era of the NES. Okay, they made a lot of questionable moves after they were swallowed up by Acclaim, too. It’s a wonder how they survived as long as they did. But if there’s one game to grab your Zinka over, it’s this extremely 7/10 side-scrolling obstacle course skateboarding game with a largely inscrutable 4/10 surfing game tacked onto it. Minigames getting smashed together into a coherent package was a completely legitimate way to make games in the ‘80s, and if you had a decent gimmick and solid-enough gameplay you could become a legend.

With an emphasis on bright color and bold aesthetics, surf brands were everywhere in the ‘80s. If you weren’t there, you might not understand why kids who had never left Montana were wearing Billabong, Quicksilver, and Vision Street Wear, or why parents who had never been anywhere near a surfboard knew what Sex Wax smelled like and were horrified by the name. Look, I never saw Living Colour’s Corey Glover on a beach and certainly not a surf board, but goddamn did he look fly as fuck in his Body Glove short john wetsuit and iridescent blazer. I can’t even tell you how many Ocean Pacific shorts I went through, but I’ll never forget my T&C Surf Designs t-shirt that got ruined on a trip to King’s Dominion by a classmate’s sloshing Hawaiian Punch. 

Collectively known as “Da’ Boys” the main characters that elevated T&C to popular consciousness were the real surfer inspired creations of artist Steve Nazar. Without them no one outside of Pearl City would probably have given much attention to Town & Country. And because Thrilla Gorilla, Joe Cool, Tiki Man, and Kool Kat (where was The Caveman?) translated immediately to 8-bit gaming they made the perfect theming for this vibes-not-substance classic. Surfing as an anthropomorphic cat in a tuxedo or skateboarding over outlandish obstacles as a weird little freak in a tiki mask and board shorts is one of the purest distillations of what everyone who wasn’t a surfer or local thought of coastal life. The still-extant Town & Country Surf Designs may have obliterated any trace of Da’ Boys, and LJN isn’t even a memory anymore, but we’ll always have this middling fantasy of surf and skate culture to remind us of how desperate we once were to escape The Gipper’s nightmare.



Boku no Natsuyasumi 2: Umi no Bouken-hen

Summer Games

I was nine years old when my sister was born. My stepfather was woefully under-prepared to run a household and a business while my mom spent the last weeks of her pregnancy predominantly on bed rest. And while I wasn’t sent away to stay with my aunt and uncle who run a bed and breakfast in a remote coastal hamlet in the summer of 1975 in Japan, I think maybe if I had it would have been better for everyone. 

Few games have encapsulated for me the wonder of childhood, the anxiety and confusion injected by the world of adults (and the general weirdness of other people) the way my time playing Boku no Natsuyasumi 2 did. Sure, there are others in the series from the studio that brought us Attack of the Friday Monsters! A Tokyo Tale (a game that treads similar territory). But this was my first Boku and I played through it with a friend, and that makes it more special than others. 

Like many of Millennium Kitchen’s games, this is a wistful and charming reflection. It is intensely nostalgic and makes no claims otherwise. Days are filled with bug collecting, fishing, swimming, wandering around being a weird unsupervised latchkey kid. And while the game revels in its specificity of place and time (and I’m choosing to believe this the true outlandish summer recollection of Millennium Kitchen founder, Kaz Ayabe), there’s a tremendous depth of universality in every moment. Boku is a game about spending time from the point of view of a nine-year-old, and all the confusion, weirdness, and wonder that entails, most adeptly portrayed in the frequently cryptic conversations with people older than Boku. There’s a sad teenage girl who listens to the same record every night longing for a family dynamic she’ll never have that mirrors the awkward model rocket boy who loves her. There’s a weird Australian photographer and a cucumber-loving artsy college girl who plays guitar and sings. The weirdness of your out-of-work uncle and the questionable patience of his wife while she manages their rowdy children. Each day brings the novelty and more crucially its lack, as the island fills out with the tragic, boring, heartfelt and thoroughly human lives to leave their lingering impression on the main character to record in his diary. 





Friday the 13th

Summer Games

I’ve never been to a real summer camp. There was the arts-skewed day camp at our sister school, and the brutality of tennis camp. But the kind where you live in weird cabins with archetypal kids you don’t know while your parents gin up an acrimonious divorce? I’m sure they exist. I knew kids who went to them. They played out their Daniel Boone fantasies and came back with a broken arm signed by all their other little comrades in some weird fantasy of American mythopoetics. Someone gets shot in the eye walking in front of an archery target, another one falls off a boulder while deputized high school supervisors suck face by a tree. You know the drill, we’ve seen them in media our whole lives from Meatballs to Salute Your Shorts to Addams Family Values. They’re hokey and weird and largely dedicated to a nightmare vision of the “American Frontier” that never existed. 

And that’s why horror conventions dictate that they all have to die…

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you Friday the 13th with its day-glo splashed cover, mediocre side scrolling, and Punch-Out! like boss fight is one of the worst games for the Nintendo Entertainment System. And if you’ve played it, you’ll probably wonder how Atlus survived long enough to become the powerhouse they are today. You’re probably wondering how it ended up on this list when Dead by Daylight does basically everything this does a million times better, and even IllFonic’s now discontinued dud Friday the 13th: The Game was better than this. There are 4/10s and then there is being too generous calling a game a 4/10.

Sure, it was a complete summertime failure for LJN (who show up three times on this list!), but I love it. Racing from cabin to cabin, trying desperately to juggle between counselors to keep children alive despite them all being death magnets? Yes, Jason’s mom’s disembodied Medusa head makes absolutely no sense as a boss, but ignore that. Embrace Camp Crystal Lake. Dodge wolves and zombies because the fantasy of the American frontier is filled with death and an inhospitable nature. Try your best at keeping Crissy, Paul, Laura, Mark, Debbie and all those children alive to run up their parent’s therapy bills before the next school year begins.

Except George. Nobody likes Slow George Who Can’t Jump. Use his ass for bait. His parents signed the waiver.



California Games

I don’t remember what I originally thought of California Games, but revisiting it now there’s a particular delight in the selection of minigames, and in how the Bay Area studio chose to represent both the spirit and place of “California” to the nascent computer-owning public. I’m always curious about how people lean into the spaces they inhabit and how they create meaning for themselves and others. To people on the East Coast, the middle of America, or anywhere not California, this must have seemed exotic and novel. In California, everyone has perfect bodies and perfect tans and they spend their time kicking crocheted balls filled with beads or sand. This is where surfers and hippies come from. Beach Boys, movie stars, and Tony Hawk. But what did it mean to them? Or was it just the standard ploy every board of tourism leans into eventually? 

I’m trying to imagine my childhood mindset playing this and all I can tell you is that you got five grounded-but-offbeat games for the price of one. These weren’t the usual track & field games on the usual track & field backdrops, and that novelty was crucial and gave it an unnatural longevity. Sure, they’re all still mostly “what if QWOP was slightly more forgiving?” but who doesn’t want to imagine themselves kicking sack with the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco Bay in the background, biking through the Mojave, catching sick air by the Hollywood sign, or peddling up the Venice Beach boardwalk avoiding weeds and banana peels and ghostly self-bouncing beach balls? Before there were shareware collections, demo discs, and Yakuza games, this is what we had. Damn. Maybe we should go back?



Flower, Sun and Rain

More games should come with a travel brochure that serves as world-building, game manual, and puzzle solutions all in one. More game manuals should be beautifully designed, evoking a sense of place and character. More games should have manuals.

I’m going to tell you right now that if you play Flower, Sun, and Rain—and you should (or at least watch it)—you should play the DS version. Ignore game critics of the past. Yes, the graphics and sound capabilities of the Nintendo DS are unfathomably truncated compared to the glory of the PlayStation 2, but we are after pure vibes, we are after experience, and we are after sensation. This is the realm of symbolic reduction. You’re going to talk to weird freaks and hear classical music. You should watch Twin Peaks on old VHS tapes rescued from Blockbuster liquidation dumpsters. You should plan your vacation to the island of Lospass on the Nintendo DS.

If anyone ever tells you that Flower, Sun and Rain on the Nintendo DS looks or sounds bad, you should cut them out of your life. If they say the game’s bright, colorful, lighthearted cast of characters and island resort are out of touch with the darkness and menace at the heart of the game, you shouldn’t suffer their opinions and more. Simply put, if you encounter someone with bad or wrong thoughts about Grasshopper’s vacation masterpiece, you shouldn’t know them. They’re wrong, and they’ll just ruin your life.

Flower, Sun, and Rain is a mystery vacation of the soul, a game about games, and a weird not-sequel call-and-response to Suda51’s previous game, The Silver Case. You could be reductive and call it “David Lynch’s Groundhog Day in Micronesia” or some other miserable thing if you wanted. There’s a chaotic wall-breaking Frenchman, an exquisite woman, deranged wrestlers, curious and delightful hotel staff, and so many others I can’t even tell you about. There’s a bomb on a plane and a menacingly perfect boyfriend of a concierge who needs you to stop it. No one is having a better vacation and a worse vacation than Sumio. Every step of this game unfolds in absurdist perfection. We should all be so lucky to visit the hotel Flower, Sun, and Rain.

If there’s one game that could come close to rivaling Shenmue in my heart, it’s probably Flower, Sun, and Rain. If every game was as rich and flavorful as Flower, Sun and Rain, if every game came with a manual so evocative, no gamer would ever feel heartache or longing. 



Jaws

Do you like hunting stingrays for conch shells? Because I do, apparently. Despite being often maligned, Jaws is not only LJN’s finest offering, and a rare bright spot in a catalog full of publishing misfires, it’s one of the best things to come out of Jaws: The Revenge aside from Michael Caine’s house. And unless you have £10,000,000 you can’t live in Michael Caine’s house. However, you can play the game Atlus subcontracted to Westone to make in a month. 

Despite never having made an NES game before, the studio behind Wonder Boy knocked it out of the park with this multi-modal, vertically-scrolling scuba shooter with light RPG elements, a bonus mode where you blast jellyfish with depth charges from a seaplane, and an overworld theme so throbbing and sinister it perfectly encapsulates the terror of having a bad time in a boat. Look, when you get the Wonder Boy devs to do something, they simply do not fuck around. 

I vividly remember the feeling of my heart jumping into my throat whenever Jaws would appear as a little dorsal fin on the map, chasing my nutmeg of consolation towards one of the few safe harbors before I was ready for the ultimate confrontation (a minigame of repeatedly ramming a breaching great white in a weird strobe-bomb jousting match ripped right from the film). It’s lessened some over the years, but in terms of the simple pleasure of being menaced by a shark at the beach, Jaws can’t be beat.


Dia Lacina is a queer indigenous writer and photographer. She tweets too much at @dialacina.


 
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