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Console Graveyard: The Sega SG-1000

bryan.eddy@newretrowave.com — Wed, 15 Jun 2016 18:26:12 +0000

Tonight, we’ll be visiting the grave of a daring hero form far-off Japan. It never really made it all the way west, but it had ambitious beginnings and deserves a place in video gaming history. It was Sega’s first earnest attempt to go head-to-head with the mighty Nintendo, and despite its fall, it paved the way for future success by whetting the teeth of those involved. This entry into the Console Graveyard is… the Sega SG-1000.

A bright and sunny little thing, all too blissfully unaware of its imminent fate.

The “third generation” of console video games began a bit earlier than a casual observer may think. When Nintendo broke its champagne bottle over the Famicom and let it set sail, times were actually fairly lean in the console market. Launching a new video game system, no matter how innovative, could have been seen as a rather bold move. However, Nintendo had faith in their device, and it proved to be well warranted; by 1987, Nintendo dominated around 65% of worldwide video game console hardware sales.

Little do many know that Sega made a valiant attempt to compete with the growing monolith. When the arcade market that had been such a comfortable home for them took a downturn in ’82, Sega began developing the SG-1000. The company had recently sold off some licensing, and was split in to a North American R&D arm and its Japanese corporate branch. The president of the Japanese company, Hayao Nakayama, lobbied hard for Sega to apply its proven clout in the arcade realm to a home console. The end result was the stout little SG-1000, a strange creature that sort of bridged the gap between the Atari 2600 and Nintendo’s Famicom system.

A strange but colorful ad for the SG-1000. I say “strange,” but stranger has come and gone, to be fair.

The first iteration of the SG-1000 was a squat, bright white affair, very simple in its presentation but almost cheerful looking. The controller looked a lot like Atari’s, taking the form of a compact little joystick with broad orange buttons on either side. The graphics gently outperformed the 2600, but couldn’t quite compare to those of the Famicom system, with a modest 256×192 resolution and a 16 color palette. Part of the falling-short could be blamed on hardware component choices; the Zilog z80 CPU and Texas Instruments video and sound chips were the same ones used in the ColecoVision… a then-outdated system. In fact, an unlicensed system called the Telegames Personal Arcade was produced later on that could play both SG-1000 and ColecoVision games.

Screens from Flicky and Girl’s Garden, two of the more memorable titles for the SG-1000.

Despite these shortcomings, the system fared decently at very first, at least in domestic Japanese sales. It was also marketed in Spain with some initial success, but the American market never saw the SG-1000. However, a damning set of circumstances brought about the slow demise of Sega’s new baby. First off, much like some later consoles I’ve covered in this series of articles, Sega attempted to address flaws by simply redesigning and re-marketing the console in new forms. In July of 1984, another corporate buyout was followed by the release of the SG-1000 II. This new packaging included slightly improved controls and the ability to play Sega Card games as well as cartridges, but the console sold poorly out of the gate. An additional computer-keyboard style attachment did little to buoy sales, and the SG-1000 series was discontinued by October of 1985. The series was also badly hit by the crash of 1983, not to mention competition outside of Nintendo in its native Japan. While Sega had lost this battle with Nintendo, they learned a lot, and doubled down on their development of console hardware. The Sega Mark III was released that same year, and it evolved into the well-known Master System, a console that was finally able to compete well in the now-growing market. By 1988, the Genesis was emerging on the scene, and the wars of the fourth generation were in full swing.

Left to right: the Mark II, the 1100 keyboard attachment, and the SC-3000 (a last ditch effort to repackage the system as a personal computer).

While researching this article, I was able to find very little information of much detail on the SG-1000, which leads me to believe it is often overlooked out of hand. However, as we pay our respects at this dusty crypt, we see upon closer examination that we stand at the grave of an unsung hero. I hope at least a handful of our readers discovered something they hadn’t seen or known here today. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and may we never forget the little consoles that fell into the spaces between.

Thanks for reading!

Console Graveyard: The Philips CD-i

bryan.eddy@newretrowave.com — Fri, 06 May 2016 19:38:28 +0000

Once again we strap on our work boots, sling our spades over our shoulders, and shamble on over to the Console Graveyard. This time we’ll take a look at a system that never truly knew who it was. One that had the best of intentions, but just never committed itself. In a different time or place, it could have been a true legend. Sadly, its tale ended in slow death, and it came to rest with us here in the digital mausoleums of the Console Graveyard. Allow me to introduce today’s embalmed console corpse…

Typically, Japanese companies have dominated the console market. Names like Nintendo, Sony, and Sega have brought us the platforms we’re so intimately familiar with now, and only in recent years has the American giant Microsoft waded into this battle from the neighboring PC field. The CD-i, however, is a rarity; it was designed by the Dutch company Koninklijke Philips N.V. Founded in 1891, the company began by manufacturing carbon filament lamps and soon moved on to radios and engines. As electronics became the mainstay of the later 20th Century, Philips held its own in that market with a solid line of consumer devices primarily focused on media and home use. The company, along with Sony, helped standardize the format of Compact Discs. They even pioneered an early LaserDisc device, but held it back in fear that their tape device sales would suffer as a result. You know Norelco razors? That’s them; the name is just branding.

Their first factory is now a museum. That’s how long they’ve been around.

Philips had become a respectably successful company during the 20th Century, and it felt comfortable taking a shot at multimedia. They began work on the CD-i in 1984, and it first hit retail shelves in December of 1991. That’s seven (7) years of R&D. The CD-i was intended to be more than a gaming console. It was meant for use in a wide variety of applications, from education to music to the old standby of media playing. This is fitting, as the first model available to the general consumer market looked very much like a VCR with a gamepad plugged into the front.

This was the first of many forms the console would take as they tried and tried (and tried and f**king tried) to re-market it.

The CD-i was also one of the first home media electronics with the capability of accessing networks. By partnering with fellow Dutch firm CDMATICS, Philips was able to connect CD-i players to the Internet (in its early form). This concept went over better in the Netherlands than anywhere else; a native grocery chain even implemented it for home shopping and delivery.

Despite all this innovation, there were enough problems with the ambitious CD-i that it died a slow death worldwide. One major complaint was the price point; initially released in the USA for a retail price of $700, the Philips CD-i wasn’t seen as a toy, nor was it perceived as a casual purchase by any but the wealthiest (or most foolish) consumer. The system also got panned for its lack of true games and those games’ inconsistent quality. You see, Nintendo licensed the production of some Zelda and Mario titles for the CD-i, but refused to develop said games. The results are famous among gamers on today’s Internet, and while it’s funny now, no one was laughing in the 90s when they played Hotel Mario (or one of three separate Zelda games) on their 700 dollar CD-i and saw this kind of crap:

That’s it. Other than some cutscenes that look like they were made in MSPaint, that’s Hotel Mario.

These games were so goofy that later on, the Internet would use them to spawn creations like this (one of my favorites, and there are a lot of these):

Needless to say, dedicated game consoles were outperforming the CD-i, and they were doing it for less money at the retail counter. The CD-i’s controllers also caught major flak, often cited as “confusing” and “unresponsive.” There was a lot of variation in controller types across the different models, and none of them were well-liked.

So our console looks less like a VCR, but now we’ve got… How do I hold that? How do I play games with it? It looks like the Wii chuck, but the Wii can actually do stuff.

Philips even let Sony and Magnavox take shots at revamping the CD-i, to no avail. The combination of an exorbitant price, small selection of titles, and cumbersome controls took the device down. It would continue to pop back up throughout the mid 90s with some new attachment or another, but it remained unpopular as Sega and Nintendo continued to outperform it in gaming markets.

PCWorld, GamePro, and GameTrailers all ranked the Philips CD-i as the fourth worst console of all time. It was in this judgment that the benighted little high-dollar console finally found its consistency. While it had been flagging since 1993, and Philips planned a discontinuation in 1996, the CD-i persisted limply until 1998, when it was finally given a shot in the head and laid to rest. Philips remains a strong contender in the consumer electronics market, but it has never ventured into gaming or multimedia again. While the idea behind the CD-i was ambitious and even admirable, the execution once again fouled the whole deal. Lesson learned: if you’re going to pitch a console for $700, it had better be something world-shattering. It also better have a good game library and a controller that doesn’t look like a soup spoon.

I can’t get over it. Here we see that the tiny buttons are labeled, leaving you to guess wildly at the purpose of the big ones. We also see the word “interactive.” Thanks for the clue, because this doesn’t look like it’s used to interact with anything.

Thank you for joining me again in the Graveyard. There’ll be more to come; we’ve just recently cleared some space for a new set of digital catacombs. I’ll see you then, creeps.

Console Graveyard: The Nintendo Virtual Boy

bryan.eddy@newretrowave.com — Wed, 30 Mar 2016 18:47:30 +0000

In this installment of Console Graveyard, we’ll take a look at a piece of hardware that was just a little ahead of its time. In fact, it was so ahead of its time that it completely sucked. It has since been eclipsed by modern attempts at VR, but it was a brave shot at the concept of virtual reality. However, those familiar with world mythology know that courage and foolishness are separated by the finest of lines. Today we discuss…

It all started with a company called Reflection Technology, Inc. in 1985 they had developed a sort of proto-virtual reality, a red-colored 3D lens technology they called Scanned Linear Array technology. It was decent for its time, but caused motion sickness in most users. Sega, perhaps wisely, had passed on purchasing the use of this technology, as had Mattel and Hasbro. However, Nintendo got wind of it and was thrilled to try it out. They saw it as a way to be more innovative, and thought that the technology would be difficult for competitors to imitate should it catch on. Nintendo made the deal, code named the project “VR32,” and got to work. The project was given to R&D1, as R&D3 was busy during this time developing the N64.

It’s a good thing Nintendo had their eggs in multiple baskets.

I’m not fluent in Japanese, but I sure hope none of that translates to “portable,” “lightweight,” “user-friendly,” “affordable,” or “good idea.”

For reasons of cost effectiveness, Nintendo R&D1 stuck with the original red LED color scheme. They also did away with a part of the initial package from RTI, the head-tracking aspect. This was a major contributor to the motion sickness problem, as well as (it was thought) lazy-eye syndrome. Japan had also passed a law in 1995 holding developers and manufacturers under more liability if their products caused harm to people, so Nintendo had to be especially careful. They decided that the entire setup would be stationary, resembling over-sized goggles on a stand. A familiar style of controller would be connected by cable to the headset. In fact, it was very similar to what we’d see on the N64.

All of this would be powered by either an AC adapter or six AA batteries.

Yep! It’s like a little proton pack for your controller! Not even that can make it sound cool.

So imagine, if you will, hunching over your dining room table, pressing buttons on a controller you can’t see, to play blurry “3D” games, only to have six more AA batteries burn out on you. Now, you could slide a big AC adapter onto the controller instead, but then you’ve got to be careful not to pull the whole thing out of the wall… while your eyes are plugged into a massive set of goggles that look like someone tried to make binoculars out of a lunchbox.

It shouldn’t be hard to believe the rest of the Virtual Boy’s story.

A familiar chapter in the story of so many failed gaming ideas, not even heavy price cuts could wash the bitter taste from consumers’ palates when it came to the Virtual Boy. Credit to www.vintagecomputing.com for the high quality scan. Every other one was tiny!

When initially released in North America in August 1995, the Virtual Boy sold for $179.95. This, coupled with the unavoidable discomfort of using it, made it a hard sell. So hard, in fact, that it was an astounding commercial failure. It is on record as Nintendo’s biggest flop to date, next to the ill-fated 64DD peripheral for the N64. To rephrase that, it’s the biggest mistake of Nintendo’s that most people have actually heard of. The Virtual Boy was discontinued worldwide in March of 1996, having sold only 770,000 units. Critics trashed it for the aforementioned reasons, as well as its narrow game library (only 22 published games) and what is universally seen as a sub-par marketing campaign for the console. Nintendo has placed the blame on project leader Gunpei Yokoi, and it has been cited as one of the reasons for his early withdrawal from the company… but Yokoi also worked on the successful Game Boy pocket before leaving. No matter whose fault it is or was, the Virtual Boy belongs under the rug where it was swept.

Two animated scenes from one memorable game, Innsmouth no Yakata. And this one didn’t even make it Stateside!

Wasteland seems oddly appropriate, in hindsight… but not the reaction to finding a Virtual Boy. I’d think it was a trap.

Thanks for visiting the Graveyard with me again. Tread lightly on your way out, lest ye disturb the dead consoles.

Console Graveyard: The Atari Jaguar

bryan.eddy@newretrowave.com — Wed, 16 Mar 2016 06:57:36 +0000

Believe it or not, at the time of this writing, we are seeing the eighth generation of home video game consoles. It has been that long.

We’ve seen and experienced a plethora of amazing concepts, innovative ideas, and ultimately spent millions (maybe billions?) of dollars as a civilization on this particular hobby, video gaming. From the early days of the Atari 2600 and the Intellivision, to the glory days of the 8 and 16 bit hit parade, to the transition from cartridge to disc to download… one could say that video games represent their own wonderland for the human spirit.

Even wonderlands have graveyards.

Some of these ideas just didn’t catch on. Be it a glutted market, poor execution of a concept, or even an idea too far ahead of its time, a few consoles have fallen by the wayside, trampled underfoot in the war-march of the gaming industry. The real heartbreak lies in the fact that some of these concepts were even good. However, it can be argued, they were simply not good enough. After all, the market is brutal, and not every idea sticks. Today I will talk about one of the notable losers, one of the ideas that you probably saw… but not for long. Today I bring you…

Generation: 5th

Year Released: 1993

Discontinued: 1996

In the early 90s, things were changing significantly in the home video game world. Companies like Sega and Sony were developing consoles that ran games from a CD-ROM interface, instead of clunky and easily-dirtied cartridges that had limited data storage potential. Sony’s future powerhouse, the Playstation, hadn’t been released yet, but the buzz was everywhere. What had been released was Sega’s CD attachment for its existing Genesis console, and it had gone over very well despite a high price point and an initially limited game library (which quickly grew).

Atari knew it had to cash in! Atari felt it COULD cash in. After all, hadn’t they been the arcade dynamos of the early 80s? Surely there was a place for them among the new stars of this bright era. There had to be. They began R&D on two systems: the never-to-be 32 bit “Panther,” and the 64-bit Jaguar. Both of these projects were farmed out to a company called Flare, which had originally worked on a home arcade system called the Konix Multisystem. Flare had bailed on the Multisystem due to what could be called an overreach; they were shooting to replicate the arcade experience at home… in the early 90s… with an eye on price. Needless to say, with a floppy-disk system and limited RAM, the Multisystem did not take off.

Why Atari saw Flare as a sure winner despite this baffles me.

Sleek. Stylish. Sophisticated. An utter flop.

In their first brilliant move, Flare and Atari decided to go with cartridges. Knowing that their competitors were moving to CDs and doing quite well at it, they decided to try and pack more into a ROM-style cartridge. The controller design is also questionable; I liken it more to a TI-83 calculator than a joystick.

Does this mean I can use it to call Atari’s complaints department?

The system was released in November ’93, and had sold only around 100,000 units by the end of 1994. With only 67 total games in its library, the Jaguar’s selection of games was tiny throughout its first (and formative) years. Flaws in the CPU and UART components of the console contributed to this, as well as third-party developers’ unwillingness to take a risk on making games for a system already doing so poorly on the market.

The system’s belated CD attachment was kind of like putting a truck cap on an El Camino. It also did little to expand the Jaguar’s piss-poor game library.

Despite later attempts to save its flagging sales, which included a CD attachment and even an earnest try at VR technology, the Jaguar never really caught up with the emerging competition. Once the PS1 was released in 1995, sales took an even greater nose dive. In late 1995, Atari even tried infomercials to boost sales. In mid 1996, the Jaguar was laid to rest… and Atari was on the skids too.

It did have a killer BIOS screen though. I like to imagine that Tony Montana would see just this part alone and buy like 20 of them. One for every room in his coke mansion.

There were (and are) some high notes to the console’s ill fated tale. Firstly, its most successful title, Alien vs. Predator, was a notable success. A memorable and underrated entry to the FPS genre, it was an early example of diversity in that category, offering multiple characters for play. It also boasted an incredibly atmospheric setting, both audio- and video-wise.

Another high point would be Tempest 2000, a remake of the 1981 arcade title. This game was originally exclusive to the Jaguar, but was ported once sales began to truly dip. It is widely praised for its soundtrack, and is exhilarating to play even now.

It should also be noted that the Jaguar received ports of two of my favorite games: Wolfenstein 3D and Doom. Both received good reviews on the Jaguar.

The system still maintains a cult following. Hasbro bought Atari in the late 90s, and released the rights to the Jaguar. It is officially an open platform, and interested third parties can develop whatever they like for it. Some of the results can be seen (and grabbed) here.

I’m going to cover this one back up and let it rest in peace, but I’ll see you soon for another edition of Console Graveyard. Thanks for reading!

Arrogance? Wishful thinking? I’d say six of one, half a dozen of the other. Until next time, RetroManiacs!