I played a lot of Game Boy games when I was a kid, and I never got any good at them. Fifteen years later, I’m revisiting these games so that I can finally achieve victory. This is Daniel VS. Childhood.
Rampage World Tour was a very easy sell for me. Giant monsters, cities being destroyed, and the fantastical tanks/helicopters sent in to stop both of those things from progressing were my three main interests when I was nine, and I took it upon myself to not only beat the game, but to beat it in one sitting. Little did I know that there is very little pleasure in beating Rampage World Tour for the Game Boy Color. All the joy that one can get from that game is derived in the first twenty minutes, and what follows is infinite repetition.
When I was a kid, an excess of anything entertainment-related could be seen as a plus. While I’d like to recalibrate the narrative of my existence to include times where I’d rather have spent my afternoons outdoors than inside the house, I can’t do it with any clear conscience. I loved the woods and hiking and exploring, but I also loved mashing my Game Boy’s A and B buttons for hours with an equal amount of passion.
It was in the middle of playing through Rampage World Tour that I had my first ever thought that, maybe, what I was doing was a bit much. Never before had I considered that perhaps I would need to cut back on something in order to enjoy it more. Until that point, the main measure of quality was quantity. If something was to be fully appreciated, it had to be appreciated for hours and hours. Rampage World Tour is an endless line of buildings to knock down and people to eat, and if this was the version where you could play with friends and knock each other around, I could see how the marathon experience would benefit you. But this is the Game Boy Color, where multiplayer required a link cable, the constantly changing amount of luck necessary for that link cable to work, and someone else who was interested enough in inconveniencing themselves to play the same game as you. Rampage World Tour had no such option, so I was stuck, driven only by the idea that if I finished it all in one exhaustive run, I’d be better for it.
The past is stupid.
Nine-year-old me eventually beat it, but twenty-five-year-old me couldn’t be bothered to play more than ten minutes. There is no grand finale in Rampage World Tour. Like life itself, it is only a long walk, followed by abrupt silence. And my long walk would be better spent elsewhere.
Next: Pokemon Red