Everything seems funnier when you’re young, and honestly, it’s even better if you don’t know what the fuck anyone is saying. You’re lead to a room for two hours everyday, separately from the class. At the time, you have no idea that you’re in ESL. And later on, when you get transferred to the gifted program, you never even notice the difference! After all, you just played with blocks in both of the classes anyway, right? Totally.
Disney movies become mysterious and intriguing (Why, is that a fish talking?), and everyone seems impossibly nice (“You’re retarded.” “O-I speak no English. You are very kind.” “…”). I thought All Dogs Go to Heaven was a horror film. It was awesome.
But nothing beats out the memories of those old computers, way back when. Sitting in front of your blocky IBM, printing out “reports” on those weird sheets of paper with tear away holes on both sides, spending the next half hour tearing away those holed sections on every. single. sheet. of paper in the room. And then there were the games. That one game with the airplane and the math problems, and needing to do the math quickly or else…or else, your plane would crash land in a fiery explosion of failure.
But really, we know what we were all waiting for. We were waiting for the teacher to say it was ok to play ONE game. THE one game, really. …Oregon Trail.
I swear to God, the only thing I remember from that game is dysentery and buffalo eggs. I could not understand why we kept talking about yolks in accordance with buffalo, and came to the 6 year old conclusion that they must lay eggs. And not just any eggs, but giant ones that TWO whole oxen can sit in.
A few days ago, I realized that I needed to find this game. This wasn’t unlike the time I desperately spent 2 hours searching google for the Nanosaur game from my 6th grader days. That game filled me to the very core with sheer terror, and I had no idea what the name was. If anyone looked in my google history, they would find everything from “Dinosaurs trex jetpack” to “jumping raptor oh FUCK DINOSAURS apple school games”. I needed to find it and I needed to play it, and by god, I found it and I did. And so I did for Oregon Trail as well. Luckily, it’s a little bit better known, and there was a nifty online version here, and I was able to relive my childhood.
I do not remember any of this shit in my childhood version of the game. Oregon Trail is a story of tragedy, shame, death, and flamboyant thieves. I never knew. I took some notes while playing the game, so I figured I would share them now.
Oh. The horror.
“We passed a grave today! I took a snapshot, because the message was a little strange, LOL. Sally and I had a great laugh about it. BTW, I’m a banker from Boston.”
“I should have known that that grave was bad news, but I realized too late. Sally’s broken her leg. Wait. Oh. Fuck. Wait, was…did I name my WIFE Sally? Or my daughter? Or …was it both? Was it actually my sister? Shit.”
“Still haven’t figured out who Sally is. I’ll try to find some way to ask her discreetly later on.”
Later that day:
Note: I was equally surprised and horrified by the suddenness of the information. There was no sadness or sympathy from that black screen. There was no funeral music. There wasn’t even another grave. Sally just died, and apparently we just threw her over on the side of the road and moved on, all with just one, single heartless tap of the space bar. Oh cruel fate, how could you take my dear wife/daughter from me like this?!
“Over the last few days, we’ve continued to find what the caption calls “Wild Fruit”.
It looked vaguely like pot, but who am I to say anything? As long as it takes the pain away.”
Things just kept getting worse too. Soon, Manny (my son/brother/nephew?) developed Typhoid. Naturally, my first reaction was to go hunting.
Disturbingly enough, apparently I am a penis shaped entity that shoots small pellets at things.
But I took down a fucking BEAR, so suck on that. (Figuratively speaking, but…well, he IS shaped like a …you know.)
“Timmy developed typhoid, probably because I let that stupid asshole Manny stay in the wagon, spreading his disease to everyone. God dammit. I hate my life.”
And to top it all off, fucking:
?!?!?!?!?)*#)$(@*)*&)@(*#@%#@
“Timmy died. I was notified in the same cold letters as before:
I’m pretty sure he was my son/brother.”
“I must have hooked up with an Asian sometime before I headed off on my adventure because I apparently had a child named Shoo, who suffered a snakebite in the middle of the trail. Life is hard.”
Finally, I can feel myself start to unravel at this taunting conversation:
“MY MISSUS/DAUGHTER IS DEAD, MOTHERFUCKER. SO IS TIMMY. AND NO ONE WANTS TO TRADE WITH ME. WHAT THE FUCK. THIS IS SHIT, OK?! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”
In this nearly deranged state, I wander around pathetically until I meet a possessed Indian, who wants to eat my soul:
“Oh fuck.”
…Who leads me across some deadly river with ease, in exchange for a change of smallpox infested clothing. Hmmmm.
“Shoo had the nerve to develop measles the DAY BEFORE WE FUCKING GET TO OREGON.
But all is well. We’re here! LOL! <3 Wish you were here with us. Love ???”
So, did any of this sound familiar to anyone? I don’t know if it’s just me, but I have zero recollection of any of this. And what the hell was up with the thief that just randomly showed up and stole like 200 pounds of food? Was he some sort of He-Man, able to lift twice his weight?
To end this, I feel that I should have learned my lesson after playing Nanosaur again. Some things are just best left in your childhood. Enjoy the memories, and sleep easy. There’s no need to ruin a good thing, which I’m sure we’ve all done many times.
So, I’ve decided to forget what I’ve experienced two nights ago. I’m going to pretend it never happened, because nothing can taint the strange satisfaction I used to receive when I mindlessly pressed 1 at all times, because I couldn’t read anything on the screen. Nothing can ruin that, ok? Nothing.
….
Ugh.
Fucking Cheasy Peperony.
