When Pixels Collide

“There’s no violence, Dad?”

“Of course, there’s no violence.”

“No Joe Public to beat up either.”

“Things were a bit different in the ’90s, Sid. You didn’t go around beating up innocent people just for kicks.”

“I can’t see any prostitutes to pimp out or cars to steal. How did you not claw your eyes out with boredom?”

“Boredom? You can’t get bored playing this computer game. This, my boy, was the pinnacle of child entertainment.”

“Pinnacle? More like a piss-take, Dad. Where are the guns? I want to shoot something.”

“There are no guns.”

“Ugh! This is child abuse, you know. I should ring Childline or something. This is an infringement of my human rights.”

“Just because Sonic the Hedgehog isn’t a violent video game.”

“This is 2024, Dad. I have different ways of expressing myself.”

“By shooting random people, stealing cars, and pimping women into sex work.”

“Don’t judge me, old man. I get to decide what nursing home you go into when you become elderly. Which, come to think of it, must be soon, right?”

“Very funny, Richard Pryor.”

“Who’s Richard Pryor?”

“Dear Lord, I really have failed as a father.”

“Yeah, you have. Forcing me to play a retro console game about a blue hedgehog who’s got an addiction to golden rings must come with some prison time.”

“I’m not forcing you, Sid. I’m trying to educate you.”

“Why don’t you teach me to make banana bread instead? That’s educational.”

“I baked too much banana bread in the pandemic. I hope I never see another loaf of banana bread again. And another thing, Sonic doesn’t have an addiction to golden rings.”

“Then what does he collect them for? He can’t eat them.”

“Maybe he appreciates them.”

“Maybe he weighs them in and sells them to fund his crack habit.”

“Sonic doesn’t have a crack habit, Sid.”

“That would be a better game, though, wouldn’t it? I’d definitely play that game.”

“Are you trying to ruin my childhood with your awful modernisms?”

“You’re trying to ruin my childhood with this visually abhorrent piece of garbage. What kind of graphics are these? They’re making my eyes itch. Do you want a blind son, you monster?”

“This monster wants his spawn to stop being a whinge-arse and play the game.”

“Urgh, fine. I’ll play your dull 1892 video game.”

“1992, Sid.”

“1892, 1992. Same thing. Wait a minute. Did you and Granddad own slaves when you were a kid?”

“No, we didn’t own slaves in 1992.”

“It must have been pretty bad living in black and white times.”

“I didn’t live in black and white times. It was very much bright technicolor times. I was born in 1981.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, Dad. I’ll just say when it comes to the truth, you’re an unreliable source.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Moments ago, you told me I was about to play one of the coolest games of all time. ‘That, your honour, is a lie. I find the accused guilty of being a fraudulent father.’”

“Funny, Sid. I think my appendix just burst with laughter. I tell you what though, this fraudulent father could always send his gob-shite of a son to go and live with his mum and her new boyfriend for a while. Maybe Richard will play one of his violent video games with them.”

“His name’s Ritchie and you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

“Fine. You win. I’ll play Sonic the Crackhead.”

“Hedgehog.”

“Urgh, whatever. Does Sonic the Blue Hedgehog have any superpowers?”

“He can spin really fast.”

“So he’s a coke-head.”

“He’s not a coke-head, Sid.”

“Then where does he get his energy to spin really fast?”

“Maybe he’s very athletic, or he drinks too much coffee. I’d go as far as to say he may have a sugar problem. You were always hyperactive as a kid if me and mum gave you too much sugar.”

“And did I spin really fast and have an unhealthy obsession with golden rings?”

“No, but you did have an obsession with picking up cats and head-butting them when you had too much sugar. Why, I don’t know.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Ring your mum and ask her.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You have to speak to her sometime, you know. Please don’t roll your eyes, Sid. She’s still your mum.”

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

“I have past experience making deals with little children. They’re not the most trustworthy of folk. They break their promises very easily.”

“Do you often make deals with little children? There’s a register for people like that, you know.”

“Har-de-har, I think my spleen just exploded with hilarity. I was referring to you, Sid. You break your promises as much as Granddad Mike breaks wind.”

“I’ll strike you a deal, Mein Führer. I’ll speak to Mum when I complete Sonic the Coke-Head. How about that?”

“You have to play the damn game before you complete it, and stop calling him a coke-head. You’re probably offending an entire community somewhere.”

“Yeah, I’m going to get canceled for offending the blue hedgehog community.”

“You have to be careful, Sid. Some may identify as blue hedgehogs.”

“If they kick up a fuss, I’ll just throw some gold rings at them. That should keep them happy for a while.”

“After you’ve completed Sonic, I’ll further your console education to another level.”

“Whoa, I didn’t sign up for more of your old-time gaming shenanigans, Dad. Sonic and out.”

“I can ring your mum now if you want. She’s always texting me asking if you’re doing okay. Tell you what, I’ll do it now…”

“Put the phone down, Dad. You’re being embarrassingly Dad-ish. It doesn’t suit you. It makes you look fat.”

“It’s not fat. It’s well-crafted body armour.”

“Now who’s being Mr. Comedian.”

“I take my craft seriously.”

“What retro game are you inflicting on me next?”

“Super Mario Bros.”

“Isn’t that a film?”

“It was a game before it was a film, you philistine.”

“Do I get to fight King Kong?”

“Donkey Kong.”

“Are they related?”

“No, they aren’t related, Sid.”

“I wonder if Sonic and Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle are related.”

“You’ve read Beatrix Potter?”

“I’m not a philistine, Dad. Mum used to read me Beatrix Potter stories when I was a kid. In many circles, I’m quite well-read.”

“Just press play, will you.”

“Urgh.”

‘…SEGA…’