A Letter to Travelers

As I sit here, surrounded by the echoes of bygone pixels, I can't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me. The memories of my gaming journey flicker like an old CRT screen, each frame a cherished moment from a simpler time.

I remember, as a child, not having a gaming console of my own. Those days were filled with anticipation as I'd dash to the homes of older kids, eager to catch a glimpse of their gaming worlds. Tank battles raged on their screens, and fighting games beckoned with their complexity. Oh, how I fumbled with those controllers, my fingers dancing clumsily over buttons, unable to summon the special moves that seemed to flow so effortlessly from more experienced hands.

But then, a miracle happened. I got a gaming console from Queen Elizabeth as a birthday present (not really, blurred memory), and suddenly, summer vacations took on a new meaning. I'd spend countless hours at my cousin's place, bonding over shared adventures.

Snow Bros became our obsession. The thrill of acquiring that speed power-up still shatters my spine. We conquered that game, rescuing the princess and feeling like true heroes. Contra pushed us to our limits, its later levels a formidable challenge that we never quite overcame. And who could forget the hidden gems like Mega Man and Prince of Persia?

As technology marched on, Flash games entered the scene. Small, bite-sized adventures that captivated us for hours. The "Age of War" series stands out in my memory – a testament to the creativity packed into those simple yet addictive games. But as with all things, change was inevitable. Adobe's decision to discontinue Flash support marked the end of an era.

Time, however, is relentless. As I stepped into university life, my cousin ventured into the working world. Distance and different paths led to a gradual drifting apart, our once-strong bond fading like the graphics of our childhood games.

Now, we stand in an era of breathtaking visuals and global gacha phenomena. Games like ZZZ showcase how far we've come. Yet, amidst this progress, I find myself looking back, wondering: Are the retro games themselves able to transcend time and hold a special magic? Or is it the era they represent that we truly miss?

This website, a digital collection of some retro games, stands as a bridge between then and now. But I wonder, travelers, does it hold meaning for you as it does for me? Is it a vital archive of old memories, or merely a nostalgic indulgence?