Nestled in my bottom dresser drawer were five Game Boy games: Super Mario Land 2: Six Golden Coins, Metroid II: Return of Samus, Kid Icarus: Of Myths and Monsters, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: Back From the Sewers and Skate or Die: Tour de Thrash (perhaps putting an end to notion that sequelitis is a modern phenomenon). I was eight and it was 1992, and it would still be another six months before I could play any of the games in my dresser. While I saved up for a new Game Boy, I kept the boxes pristine and read every manual religiously. I lived vicariously through the tiny screenshots and control diagrams.
Despite sitting amongst more recognizable titles, it’s really Skate or Die: Tour de Thrash that has stuck with me through the years.
Today, it’s the economy of design that I appreciate. A handful of folks at Electronic Arts in the early 90s put together a tight, simply crafted skateboarding game. No frills, and I admire that. The arcade scoring and racing are perfectly complimented by the terrific music and uncomplicated graphics, and nearly a quarter decade later, it still holds up! A gimmick or two might have helped Tour de Thrash stand out in 1991, but it is its simplicity that makes it such a great little gem in 2015. It’s a perfect game of both restraint and exploitation. Tour de Thrash maximizes the hardware it is on without overstepping its bounds with superfluous nonsense.
I didn’t quite catch on to any of this as a kid though. No eight year old knows what “economy of design” even means, much less uses it in a sentence. I was attracted to Tour de Thrash because it felt countercultural. I wore acid washed Bugle Boy jeans my mom laid out for me and went to bed at 8 PM every night, even on the weekends. To a kid like that? Tour de Thrash, a game that invited you to skate until “ya shred yer feet off” was flat out scandalous. When a great uncle furrowed his brow and glanced at my mother when I told him I got a game called “Skate or Die” for Christmas, I knew I was in uncharted territory. I felt cool just knowing what “Santa Cruz Skateboards” was, even if the term “stale fish” soared completely over my head.
Of course, the game, fun as it may be, is completely tame. The dialog is a little colorful, but mostly just silly 90s California skateboarding gibberish. That’s about it. There’s really nothing countercultural to Tour de Thrash at all. There’s an irony in that a skateboarding video game made me feel cool when I was nine and now writing about it at 31 has probably made me feel a little less so.
Ah whatever. I was never cool.