When computers were made out of carved rocks, and electricity was the preferred weapon of the gods.
By: Justin Mattarocchia
When I was a young pup, a cell phone was something only rich people had in their cars, with giant batteries and enormous antennae. Like prehistoric bugs in a way; the dragonfly of prehistory, was a cell phone from the 80s. Computers were tri-colored screens with tape drives, like cassette players, or cartridges, like old video game systems. Floppy drives were new. My Atari evolved slowly from a simple home arcade system into a home computer, and when its line died out, we jumped a branch in the tree of technological taxonomy and became the proud owners of one Commodore 64. The 64 referred to 64k processing memory. Its practically an invisible number at this point in terms of modern capacities. It's like a thousandth of a cent now, nobody cares and it buys you next to nothing. But I had a great deal of fun with those little collections of ones and zeros. This could be mainly attributed to the fact I had few friends, or my desire to stay indoors most of the time. Still my imagination was always in overdrive, and I had many LEGOs with which to build my vast multi-colored brick empires. But I digress.
One of my favorite games from that time in my life was called "Rags to Riches." It was probably one of the first real-time, hobo simulators ever made. In fact it's probably the only hobo simulator ever made.
You may think me mad if you like, but I tell you it was an amazing game. The thrill of walking into a town ones never been to before, with nothing but the clothes on ones back, and a small red sack tied to the end of a stick slung over his shoulder, is something no game has quite captured (Or ever really attempted to) since.
I have fond memories of ducking into a soup kitchen to ditch the cop trying to get me off the streets, and then collecting old bottles and cans to turn in at the grocery store, so I can buy some booze and a subway ticket. Sometimes I'd go to the butchers to get the scraps left over from a days work, to distract the junkyard dog, and get a whole bag load of bottles. Those were the night's I rented a motel room at the local flop, and then got a shave. But then sometimes I'd get robbed by a thief looking for an easy score, and I was just a fat bum after all.
Back to the liquor store I went.
Still sometimes I got that haircut, and applied for a job at the old butchers place. Id save some money at the bank, and rented an apartment. I started taking night classes at the local high school in the hopes of one day going to college but then the robber would find me again, after which the police would find me drunk in the streets and haul me in. Id miss work and get fired. My hair would grow out again, and the soup kitchen was once more my home.
You win some, you lose some.
Many a cool summers night I sat in front of the glow of my Commodore 64, the portal to my hobo existence and thrilled myself with the eternal struggles of life in 8 bit splendor.
Oh to be young again.
Oh to be a hobo
on a cool summers night.
Ride the rail my friend. You'll find a campfire and a can of beans waiting for you there....
By: Justin Mattarocchia
When I was a young pup, a cell phone was something only rich people had in their cars, with giant batteries and enormous antennae. Like prehistoric bugs in a way; the dragonfly of prehistory, was a cell phone from the 80s. Computers were tri-colored screens with tape drives, like cassette players, or cartridges, like old video game systems. Floppy drives were new. My Atari evolved slowly from a simple home arcade system into a home computer, and when its line died out, we jumped a branch in the tree of technological taxonomy and became the proud owners of one Commodore 64. The 64 referred to 64k processing memory. Its practically an invisible number at this point in terms of modern capacities. It's like a thousandth of a cent now, nobody cares and it buys you next to nothing. But I had a great deal of fun with those little collections of ones and zeros. This could be mainly attributed to the fact I had few friends, or my desire to stay indoors most of the time. Still my imagination was always in overdrive, and I had many LEGOs with which to build my vast multi-colored brick empires. But I digress.
One of my favorite games from that time in my life was called "Rags to Riches." It was probably one of the first real-time, hobo simulators ever made. In fact it's probably the only hobo simulator ever made.
You may think me mad if you like, but I tell you it was an amazing game. The thrill of walking into a town ones never been to before, with nothing but the clothes on ones back, and a small red sack tied to the end of a stick slung over his shoulder, is something no game has quite captured (Or ever really attempted to) since.
I have fond memories of ducking into a soup kitchen to ditch the cop trying to get me off the streets, and then collecting old bottles and cans to turn in at the grocery store, so I can buy some booze and a subway ticket. Sometimes I'd go to the butchers to get the scraps left over from a days work, to distract the junkyard dog, and get a whole bag load of bottles. Those were the night's I rented a motel room at the local flop, and then got a shave. But then sometimes I'd get robbed by a thief looking for an easy score, and I was just a fat bum after all.
Back to the liquor store I went.
Still sometimes I got that haircut, and applied for a job at the old butchers place. Id save some money at the bank, and rented an apartment. I started taking night classes at the local high school in the hopes of one day going to college but then the robber would find me again, after which the police would find me drunk in the streets and haul me in. Id miss work and get fired. My hair would grow out again, and the soup kitchen was once more my home.
You win some, you lose some.
Many a cool summers night I sat in front of the glow of my Commodore 64, the portal to my hobo existence and thrilled myself with the eternal struggles of life in 8 bit splendor.
Oh to be young again.
Oh to be a hobo
on a cool summers night.
Ride the rail my friend. You'll find a campfire and a can of beans waiting for you there....
succor:
thank you kind sir 