Lately I've Been Into Playing Old Games

It all started when a friend sent me a screenshot of "Legend of Sword and Fairy." Although I'd never played the game, I'd seen its iconic scenes featuring the protagonist Li Xiaoyao pop up in front of me more than a few times. I didn't feel the urge to play it then — I just quietly closed the message. But as fate would have it, one day while scrolling through X, I saw someone showing off a photo of themselves slacking off during lunch break. The photo featured a handheld game console, and on its screen was none other than "Legend of Sword and Fairy." The console itself looked every bit as vintage as the game. When something keeps appearing before your eyes by coincidence, it leaves an impression thousands of times deeper. So this time, I decided to experience the game for myself — and that decision opened an entirely new door for me.

The first thing that came to mind was downloading a mobile version. Today's phones are incomparably more powerful than the bulky desktop computers of that era, so running such an ancient game would be a piece of cake. I downloaded an emulator on my phone. But after a few taps on the touchscreen, I simply couldn't accept the lack of physical feedback. Remembering the game console that person on X had posted, I got the impulse to get one of my own. So I opened Xianyu, bargained, paid — one fluid motion. For things meant to relive the past, Xianyu is always their final resting place.

When the console arrived, I tore open the packaging impatiently. Turning it on, I was greeted by a dazzling lineup of classic games. From "Super Mario" to "Adventure Island," from "Warriors of Fate" to "King of Fighters '97" — every title was brimming with memories. As for "Legend of Sword and Fairy," it was there too, of course. But by then it had already served its purpose — bringing all these memories before my eyes. Whether I actually played it no longer mattered much.

Over the next few days, my life revolved around downloading games, playing games, and deleting games — though I didn't skip meals, of course. Playing games I'd only heard about as a kid but never had the means to try, experiencing the thrill of unlimited credits in arcade games — my takeaway was this: nostalgia aside, these games haven't lost the charm they once had. We've simply been dazzled by the flashy, fashionable games of today and shelved these humble classics. It's similar to why I love reading classic novels — they've been selected by history, distilled into essences that people pass down. But unlike novels, classic games are dragged down by their visuals, making us unable to tolerate their "ugliness."

We've always pursued progress. Games need more dazzling graphics, more immersive sound, smoother controls. So these historical artifacts get abandoned by us, even forgotten — yet back then, we were unmistakably, blissfully happy. The things that once brought us joy now repulse us. Is this really the kind of progress we wanted?

I didn't know much about the games from my early childhood either. After all, my family was poor, and China's gaming ban was in effect. My only exposure to games came from shady internet cafés and arcade halls — plus scattered bits of information I picked up on social media as I grew older. So I approached these classic games as an entirely new continent, searching online for what was popular back then and learning their backstories.

When I came across a game called "Boktai: The Sun Is in Your Hand," its description lit up my eyes. The game cartridge contained a solar sensor. Using this sensor, players could charge the in-game "Solar Gun" and even use actual sunlight to attack monsters in the game. This reminded me of when mobile gaming was just emerging and all kinds of interaction methods were popping up: AR games using the camera, racing and parkour games using motion sensors, and map-based games combining GPS with reality. Nowadays, phones are packed with more sensors than ever, yet game interaction methods seem to be shrinking — even the phone's most fundamental touchscreen interactions have been forgotten. They've been replaced by crudely using the touchscreen to simulate a physical button system with no feedback: a virtual joystick, a few virtual buttons.

There are still occasional games with delightful interactions — "Pokémon GO" using GPS to blend with reality, "Ring Fit Adventure" combining gaming with exercise, "Animal Crossing" changing game content based on real-world time. But these are the minority. Most games offer zero innovation in interaction. I hope to see more games inventing new ways to play, rather than merely chasing better graphics.