The 16-bit era marks the earliest memories I have safely locked in my treasure vault of gaming adventures, bar the few 8-bit games I played prior. It sparked a lifelong passion and ignited both family bonding and sibling rivalry.

Whether these moments were a solo adventure or shared amongst my friends and family, this is a list of my most memorable video games in the 16-bit era.

1. Pocky & Rocky (SNES)

The dynamic duo that had me both locked in and confused. It’s a chaotic, bullet-hell co-op game where you play as Pocky, the shrine maiden and Rocky, the Racoon. I chose Pocky, because as the ritual goes, I must play as the bad arse female of the game, since girls who could fight were simply the coolest. This is still very true.

Pocky & Rocky was a difficult game when I was a child. So difficult that I have never seen what lies beyond the raft on level two. Yeah… basically the start of the game, but my brother and I always came back to play. The music was catchy, the gameplay was highly satisfying, and the sound effects were something else.

“WOOOOOOoooooo. WOOOOOOoooooo.” – Snakey

Pockey & Rocky was a catalyst for my lifelong enjoyment of co-op games.

2. The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past (SNES)

A Link to the Past was like being in a dream state. I was immediately immersed in the world of Hyrule. It might be my earliest memory where a fantasy world felt alive and lived in. It was exciting from the very first cutscene. Early milestones coaxed me forward, most notably receiving Link’s sword and shield and rescuing Princess Zelda. The excitement of pushing aside the ornamental shelf to reveal a secret escape route was thrilling, and the sound of the guards when they gave chase filled me with a sense of urgency.

The truest moment of awe was stepping out of the sanctuary and seeing the world map for the first time. It was an entire fantasy land, and I could explore it.

It was filled with interesting characters­—witches, flute boys, woodcutters, and the ethereal Princess Zelda, whom I visited regularly to stare at her pretty sprite.

Progression-wise, I had no idea what to do for the most part, and a lot of my experience revolved around watching other people discover things—like when my dad reached the waterfall and received the flippers from King Zora, or watching my brother enter the dark world for the first time. Suddenly, there was a whole new realm to explore.

I never reached the dark world myself. There was something about the rabbit sprite that really creeped me out when I was a kid. Not to mention the world having been drained of its vibrancy. It was too scary for my timid child-self.

There were many challenges I couldn’t overcome or even comprehend at times, so when it was my turn, I lived in Kakariko Village, got robbed in the Lost Woods, or had the guards called on me on a regular basis, and I was content with that. I was perfectly okay with the colourful land of thieves and snitches.

3. Super Mario All-Stars + Super Mario World (SNES)

There aren’t many things that jostle my nostalgia joy sticks like the chatter of the Super Mario All-Stars opening and the shing of the gold coin.
It was the only Mario game I had in this era, my introduction to the Mario franchise, and it was a 4-in-1 cartridge—I mean 5-in-1, I have zero recollection of the lost levels.

What I do recall are the sick beats of the underground theme. The menacing tempo got my thumbs moving, encouraging me to speed run the level. On top of that (quite literally), climbing above the bricks and sprinting to the warp tunnels at the end was pretty much the only way to play.

Speaking of secrets, this same playstyle was adopted in Super Mario 3. Every playthrough meant crouching at the white platform and running through the level behind the enemies, eventually reaching the secret door and receiving the warp whistle. I didn’t get far most of the time, but it deviated from the rails.

Super Mario 2 was my favourite game of the collection. It had its own secrets, but this fascination had nothing to do with the world and everything to do with Princess Peach being a playable character. Grace, whimsy and her iconic floating ability, Princess Peach was my dream girl—in a very different way than implied. Her sprite resembled Princess Zelda in A Link to the Past, and that gave me a fix I didn’t know I needed at the time.

Super Mario World, on the other hand, had a different motivation, and his name was Yoshi. As fun as it was to find Yoshi, feed and grow him, and ride joyfully through the stages, it was equally as painful when I inevitably lost him. Oh, the frustration of chasing him across the screen only to see him fall to his untimely demise, leaving me stranded and emotionally distraught. It was the first of many emotional responses.

This Mario collection, particularly Super Mario 3, was also a big moment of kinship between the siblings. We would have two playing at a time, handing off the controllers when one eventually ran out of lives. It brought us together, making Super Mario All-Stars + Super Mario World the family game in our household.

4. Penguin Land (Sega Master System)

I don’t think I have ever spoken to anybody, outside of my family, who has played Penguin Land.

The Sega Master System and Sega Mega Drive era blend together in my mind. Many of these memories share the same shelf, and sometimes the same feeling. Penguin World was a unique experience. It provided enjoyable and deep puzzle-solving on a weekend when the school week had been particularly tiresome.

I spent a lot of time, legs crossed on the floor, contemplating the routes on each level, only to find yet another way to break my egg. If it wasn’t the polar bear or a long drop, it was a miscalculation leading to crushing self-sabotage. It quickly became a game of one thousand ways to die. I tried again and again, completing five or six levels until I couldn’t regulate the frustration any longer. I switched off the master system, ejected the cartridge, and got lost in the classic that was Alex Kidd instead.

5. Alex Kidd in Miracle World (Sega Master System)

..and when I say “got lost in”, what I mean is I sat on the sidelines while my older brother clocked the game. Alex Kidd was far too difficult for my developing brain. My hand-eye coordination and ability to recognise typical gaming mechanics at this stage were still in their infancy. I still remember that sad ‘whom whom whom…’ of the ghost floating to the sky.

The stages are familiar to me, and the music is eternally playing somewhere in its very own compartment in my brain. So, even though my gametime doesn’t quite reach Penguin World’s, it lives on via the bonds of brotherhood.

6. Young Merlin (SNES)

Young Merlin was a magical adventure unlike any other. Its art style and large sprites were like a Saturday morning cartoon. The world felt like a storybook. Fantastical beings like dwarves, wizards, fairies, and, of course, the beautiful maiden, who I thought was a princess, but it turned out she was just a regular, pretty lady. I blame Zelda and Peach for normalising the video game princess in my impressionable mind. Despite the trickery, the characters enchanted the world, even though there were very few of them.

When I think about Young Merlin, I am brought back to moments when I’d find a new crystal and cast it into the pond, acquiring a new power that made me feel extra magical. However, the most memorable was finding the wrench so I could remove the cart wheel and go cart riding in the mines. Crashing over and over was the endgame for me. I didn’t even know there was a mermaid or an elf in this game. I barely travelled anywhere, and it still felt like a grand adventure. Young Merlin, one day I will finally beat you, but until that day comes, I will be at peace knowing I bested cart riding.

7. The Simpsons: Bart’s Nightmare (Sega Mega Drive/Genesis)

Like millions of others, I watched and enjoyed The Simpsons, and the video games were another way to enjoy the lovable, dysfunctional family. I can’t think of a Simpsons game that I didn’t enjoy. Bart’s Nightmare was my first, and for that reason, it must be on this list. Because the cartoony visuals were suitable for 16-bit graphics, Bart’s Nightmare looked exactly like the show to my juvenile eyes.

Bart’s Nightmare stimulated my hyper-imaginative mind. The way each level was a different kind of bizarre hooked me in, but with each new colourful distraction, there was a little boy mashing buttons to the beat of his own drum, thinking, ‘what is even happening right now?‘

Needless to say, I tried and tried—but, unfortunately, like most of my efforts in primary school, I failed. *sadface*

8. Pokémon Blue & Pokémon Crystal (Game Boy Color)

In the 90’s, Pokémon swept across the world. Millions of kids were caught in a storm of adorable critters and wholesome moments. I was one such kid. The Indigo League had me welling up with emotions as Ash forged deep bonds with his beloved companions. There wasn’t anybody else who showed me the true bounds of love and friendship quite like Ash Ketchum. Then Pokémon Blue hit the gaming scene, and it wasn’t long until I loaded up my atomic purple Game Boy Color and forged bonds of my own.

It all began in Pallet Town. From my first Pidgey to the Elite Four hall of fame and the Cerulean Cave, Pokémon Blue filled my little heart with immense joy and many unforgettable moments. Moments that cannot be replicated in today’s gaming world.

At the time, the excitement of going on my own Pokémon adventure was the centre of the experience, but it was some of the finer details that solidified their place in my own Pokémon hall of fame.

Sonically, Pokémon Blue was at the peak of the chiptune era. Everything had its own theme song: the battle theme, the Pokémon Centre/PokeMart theme and the route theme. Each town had its own theme song, and every one of them was as iconic as the next. However, the one that hit the hardest, that scratched that audio itch, that plays on loop in my head when I’m in the waiting room at the medical centre, is Lavender Town’s theme. I was immediately captivated by the ominous atmosphere created by those slow chimes. Lavender Town’s theme still gives me chills.

But as much as melody clung to the walls of memory, so did the discovery of glitches and workarounds. At the time, it was hearsay in the atmosphere that led you to explore those rumours for yourself. With much curiosity, I found myself following the footsteps of those ghostly whispers all the way to the coast of Cinnebar Island, where I achieved my first ever glitch—Missingno. This opened a portal to a whole new world of joy.

That was all lost when an angry spirit possessed me and threw my Game Boy Color to the ground in a raging fit. Tears quickly followed, and I was without my precious band of buddies for the first time in months. But all was not lost. After a week or two of moping, regret and probable boredom, I awoke to the sweet view of a brand new Pokémon Edition Game Boy Color and a shiny golden cartridge. A gift from my ever-loving father.

Pokémon Gold had earned its place in my heart as it featured a day/night cycle, the new phone system to call my bestie—and crush—Birdkeeper Vance, and most importantly, the greatest Pokémon of all, bubbly Totadile.

However, it wasn’t until a year later that I had so selfishly begged my dad for days on end to purchase the newly released Pokémon Crystal. Which he did—much to my then stepmother’s scowling disapproval.

Pokémon Crystal reminded me of something that I had forgotten I needed: a playable female protagonist. Thus, a legend was born. From then on, Crystal became the greatest Pokémon release, even to this day.

This list barely scratches the surface. There is an entire catalogue of video games that could represent my pre-existential mind. Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy Kong’s Quest, Sonic the Hedgehog Pinball, Golden Axe, Streets of Rage, and that big basket of beat-em-ups; they are all honourable mentions. The games on this list don’t represent all of who I was, nor all of who I am today. They are a museum of crystallised moments and milestones that I can look back on with starry eyes and remind myself to cherish, not just my history, but the small wonders that come and go. It is, after all, where I came from, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.