I guess the apple don't fall far from the tree...

 By Mike Loder  

My dad is one of the kindest and most fun-loving people I know. Between him and my mother, there's a lot of cheek and plenty of charm.

My parents often supported my interest in gaming as a kid, perhaps seeing it as an extension of cartoons. Together, they did try to draw the line when my interest became a little too much.

It wasn't uncommon for the cables from my Nintendo 64 to be hidden way up on a cupboard because I was playing too much. (But like in any video game, I found a solution—clearly, I knew where they were.)

This reflection, however, is about Dad and my introduction to video games.

We got a PC in the 90s—not a "gaming rig," but a professional home computer meant to assist with word processing and eventually provide access to the internet. Our computer man, Ken, would come around maybe twice a year to install or upgrade our software.

Windows 95 was the brand-new thing, and we had plenty of floppy disks lying around for my sister's school projects. The clunky white computer was a marvel to behold, with its big glass screen and chunky tower base. The machine could—and would—be turned on with a carefully placed touch of your big toe... when we were old enough to reach, of course.

I recall sitting on Dad's lap as he showed me games like Star Wars: X-Wing and Hover. I remember being fascinated by the movement of the mouse, the control, the interactivity, and the vastness of what seemed like space—not just a series of polygons and sounds.

I was impressed by Dad's ability to pilot the craft through a series of gates and eventually shoot lasers at enemy fighters with the click of the mouse.

From then on, it was established that the home computer was a magical gateway and a marvelous tool to explore all sorts of characters and places. Music was another huge part of the engagement.. 

My dad's parents lived in San Francisco, in the U.S., and would often send us gifts for Christmas and birthdays to Australia. To my grandparents' credit, they chose computer games to send instead of knitted woolen jumpers!

One of my favorites was an educational exploration game called Dangerous Creatures (I think I still have the CD-ROM somewhere). It was a point-and-click program full of facts, sounds, and videos of animals from all over the globe.

I used to play this game at night, and it was always a bit scary, with some of the videos showing animals hunting prey or insects fossicking about. When I was done, I had to shut down the computer alone and go to bed, running from the computer room down the hall, turning on my Thomas the Tank Engine nightlight, and jumping safely into bed before the "animals" could get me.

Another title I would receive express from the U.S. was the Putt-Putt series. This little purple car starred in point-and-click adventures that played like Saturday morning cartoons.

I absolutely loved the little puppy who got around with Putt-Putt. I remember clicking on everything because so many scenes and characters had hidden animations built in.

My first title in this series was Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo, which is still available (along with a few others from the series) on Nintendo Switch!

Weekends in the 90s were sometimes filled with outings to shopping centres. Chadstone, being one of the biggest, thankfully housed an awesome little arcade known as N.R.G., or "Energy." The design of the outside was purple with big yellow letters and featured what we would have considered back then as "totally rad" designs to draw us kids in.

It had some of the best games on offer, including Daytona Racing! You can still find this classic in various malls to this day. My sister, Dad, and I would all play this game together multiple times back-to-back if we could. Perhaps this is where I learned to drive... or at least crash on that one turn under the Sonic mountain (IYKYK).

Dad would always—friggin always—go for this skiing game as well! Every time we visited, he wanted to jump into the downhill ski race. I wasn’t big enough to play it yet, so I had to watch...

An absolute honorable mention to the Star Wars Trilogy arcade game as well! 

Another hot spot for outings in the 90s was the Fun Factory, which also housed a roller-skating rink. This place had a huge underground arcade that, sadly, is long gone.

One of my favorite games there was Tokyo Wars, a tank-driving simulator where you rolled around taking out enemy tanks. Dad and I would play together as the game spouted a series of phrases like, "Enemy tank left! ... Enemy tank to the rear!"

Playing the Tokyo Wars tank game sparked my interest in armored combat and, later, military history.

I was a very lucky boy to have the dad I have. In my early years, it was he who bought me the golden Star Wars Trilogy VHS box set from the Target at our local shopping mall, Malvern Central (a local donut, milkshake, and supermarket spot).

I didn’t know what it was when he handed it to me, but there was a knowing in his eye and an excitement across his smile. It must have been a novelty to have access to three movies in one set back then. Oh, and he knew that what was on those tapes would blow my tiny mind.

I recall the scenes in the Death Star trash compactor, along with the creatures on Dagobah, as being the most disturbing on my first viewing. Not to mention the Rancor in Jabba's Palace in Return of the Jedi.

At that stage, though, I think The NeverEnding Story was the real reason for my fear of murky water—look up the Swamp of Sadness.

Star Wars was unique for me as it offered a kind of "dual education"—an introduction to both cinema and gaming with familiar faces and places. All of a sudden, I could fly ships around and explore the hidden bases seen in the movies (and, in some cases, blast those scary monsters).

Though I didn’t like the third-person camera for exploration—I was afraid of being killed. Something about seeing my character fall or get blasted was a real concern. (A healthy fear, I’d say, that has gotten me this far in real life as well!)

Dad was obsessed with one mission in Star Wars: Shadows of the Empire—Mission 2, the attack on Echo Base.

The level came in several parts and had you taking down Probe Droids, AT-ST walkers, and the massive Imperial AT-AT walkers with harpoons and tow cables. "Just like in the movie, Dad!"

The excitement of seeing a movie translated into a game has resonated with me through a select few titles in my lifetime. One of the most memorable from that era, of course, was GoldenEye 007.

We even had a cutout of Pierce Brosnan from the local video shop! I remember you could write your name on them and claim them when the shop wanted to get rid of them to make room for new movies. (Apparently, they just threw them out otherwise.)

And no, my version is long gone... I destroyed it like an idiot kid! But it had a good run.

Video Ezy and Blockbuster visits were a huge part of life growing up in the 90s.

On the weekends, our family would visit the local video shop to rent a couple of movies for the weekend. I, however, was more interested in renting games once I discovered they had a whole section dedicated to them.

I still recall the satisfying rattle of an N64 cartridge in a VHS case.

Later in life, I had to convince Dad to rent an entire console! The Nintendo GameCube became available to rent from Blockbuster in 2001—a huge deal for a young gamer eager to get his hands on the next Nintendo console.

They were cheeky, though—charging extra not just for the console but also for the memory card, an additional controller, and, of course, the game itself. It became an expensive exercise, so I started saving my pocket money to buy the console outright.

Dad later gave me an entire jar of spare change to put towards the GameCube. It was an absolute win for me and such a kind thing for him to do!

I don’t think Dad knew how much these moments would impact me, my sister’s life, and even the lives of my friends. As we all grew up, we learned and enjoyed a slew of awesome content and entertainment together.

When I reflect on the nights spent watching movies and gaming as a family, I realize what an incredibly safe space he provided as a father. It was a place for all of us to learn, absorb, and bond—memories I will cherish for the rest of my life.

I think the best way to sum up this reflection is with a simple meme... and to simply say, I love my Dad.