atomicpoet

What if Sherlock Holmes met Resident Evil? Well, here you go:

Curse: Eye of Isis.

No, it’s not actually Sherlock Holmes battling bioweapons, but you do play as a 19th-century detective investigating the theft of an Egyptian artifact at a British museum—only to stumble onto undead monsters that want you very, very dead.

You get to choose between two detectives: Dr. Darien Dane or his assistant, Victoria Sutton. They even have different scenarios, though, let’s be honest, you’ll be hunting for keys and weapons either way. Expect plenty of zombies. And mummies. Lots of mummies.

This one’s ancient by gaming standards—2003—so you’re dealing with the classic fixed camera angles and tank controls that defined survival horror back then.

Reviews were meh when it came out, but since nobody really makes games like this anymore, I’d wager a lot of people today would actually get a kick out of it. Sure, the controls are a little wonky, but it’s easy to pick up and play.

Definitely worth a spin!

What if Sherlock Holmes met Resident Evil? Well, here you go:

Curse: Eye of Isis.

No, it’s not actually Sherlock Holmes battling bioweapons, but you do play as a 19th-century detective investigating the theft of an Egyptian artifact at a British museum—only to stumble onto undead monsters that want you very, very dead.

You get to choose between two detectives: Dr. Darien Dane or his assistant, Victoria Sutton. They even have different scenarios, though, let’s be honest, you’ll be hunting for keys and weapons either way. Expect plenty of zombies. And mummies. Lots of mummies.

This one’s ancient by gaming standards—2003—so you’re dealing with the classic fixed camera angles and tank controls that defined survival horror back then.

Reviews were meh when it came out, but since nobody really makes games like this anymore, I’d wager a lot of people today would actually get a kick out of it. Sure, the controls are a little wonky, but it’s easy to pick up and play.

Definitely worth a spin!

What if Sherlock Holmes met Resident Evil? Well, here you go:

Curse: Eye of Isis.

No, it’s not actually Sherlock Holmes battling bioweapons, but you do play as a 19th-century detective investigating the theft of an Egyptian artifact at a British museum—only to stumble onto undead monsters that want you very, very dead.

You get to choose between two detectives: Dr. Darien Dane or his assistant, Victoria Sutton. They even have different scenarios, though, let’s be honest, you’ll be hunting for keys and weapons either way. Expect plenty of zombies. And mummies. Lots of mummies.

This one’s ancient by gaming standards—2003—so you’re dealing with the classic fixed camera angles and tank controls that defined survival horror back then.

Reviews were meh when it came out, but since nobody really makes games like this anymore, I’d wager a lot of people today would actually get a kick out of it. Sure, the controls are a little wonky, but it’s easy to pick up and play.

Definitely worth a spin!

After visiting the Vancouver Retro Gaming Expo, I keep asking myself the same question:

What’s the purpose of it all?

Sure, part of it’s just fun. But mostly, it comes down to whether I can actually share something I love—or not. Let me explain.

I’m just as into music. I listen to vinyl every day with my daughter. Easy to share: put on a record, and people get it.

Same with photography. Snap a picture, share it. Instant enjoyment.

Video games? Not so much. The barrier to entry is just so damn high.

First, you need the hardware—not just any hardware, but often something specific.

Then you need the software. Sometimes you can stream it, but streaming usually sucks. I’ve tried—multiple times. Even with 2Gbps at home, the latency ruins it. So you’re left with physical media or downloading everything locally.

And even if you’ve got all that, there’s still a dilemma. On consoles, the game might be optimized, but unless it’s exclusive, it’s rarely the “definitive” experience. On PC, you can get the definitive version, but you’re always tweaking, chasing that ideal.

And what even is “definitive”? Is it keyboard and mouse on a monitor? Gamepad on a TV? Handheld in bed? Everyone’s experience is different, and unless you find someone with the exact same setup, yours is unique. As a PC gamer, finding that overlap is rare.

I’d love for gaming to be more social, but because of who I am, I mostly play solo campaigns—except with family, who’ve been good sports about it.

I’ve tried dragging friends into gaming. I’ve even gifted games and hardware. Never works. I get it.

Online, I talk about games I love, review hidden gems, try to explain why certain things matter to me. But my taste has veered so far from the mainstream—not because I’m a contrarian. I’ve never played StarCraft, WoW, or Dota. Not because I think they suck. I’ll probably love them when I do get around to it. Like how I finally tried Oblivion this year and loved it, despite hating the older Elder Scrolls games.

But I have a whole library of games I wish got more attention—not because I want them canonized, but just because I want to talk about what makes me happy.

And honestly, the sad thing is, if something never enters the “canon,” it’ll probably die in obscurity.

Which brings me to something sort of related: the older I get, the more things I love disappear. The diner I used to visit? Gone. My elementary school? Demolished.

As a kid, I loved those candy cigarettes that puffed out powdered “smoke.” They don’t exist anymore—nobody wants to encourage kids to smoke, and that’s fine, but I remember them. They were a core part of my childhood.

All these things—I can’t share them anymore.

But I can still talk about old video games. I can’t play arcade games in a convenience store with Slurpee cups and magazines everywhere. I don’t own a 386 with a ball mouse. But I can still play those games, talk about them, and build new memories—ones I’ll remember with my grandkids someday.

Eventually, all of it will go away. That’s life. It’s impermanent.

But there’s still purpose in all of it. We’re social by nature. And there’s something magical about transmitting meaning from one person to another.

Even if it’s just about a damn video game.

After visiting the Vancouver Retro Gaming Expo, I keep asking myself the same question:

What’s the purpose of it all?

Sure, part of it’s just fun. But mostly, it comes down to whether I can actually share something I love—or not. Let me explain.

I’m just as into music. I listen to vinyl every day with my daughter. Easy to share: put on a record, and people get it.

Same with photography. Snap a picture, share it. Instant enjoyment.

Video games? Not so much. The barrier to entry is just so damn high.

First, you need the hardware—not just any hardware, but often something specific.

Then you need the software. Sometimes you can stream it, but streaming usually sucks. I’ve tried—multiple times. Even with 2Gbps at home, the latency ruins it. So you’re left with physical media or downloading everything locally.

And even if you’ve got all that, there’s still a dilemma. On consoles, the game might be optimized, but unless it’s exclusive, it’s rarely the “definitive” experience. On PC, you can get the definitive version, but you’re always tweaking, chasing that ideal.

And what even is “definitive”? Is it keyboard and mouse on a monitor? Gamepad on a TV? Handheld in bed? Everyone’s experience is different, and unless you find someone with the exact same setup, yours is unique. As a PC gamer, finding that overlap is rare.

I’d love for gaming to be more social, but because of who I am, I mostly play solo campaigns—except with family, who’ve been good sports about it.

I’ve tried dragging friends into gaming. I’ve even gifted games and hardware. Never works. I get it.

Online, I talk about games I love, review hidden gems, try to explain why certain things matter to me. But my taste has veered so far from the mainstream—not because I’m a contrarian. I’ve never played StarCraft, WoW, or Dota. Not because I think they suck. I’ll probably love them when I do get around to it. Like how I finally tried Oblivion this year and loved it, despite hating the older Elder Scrolls games.

But I have a whole library of games I wish got more attention—not because I want them canonized, but just because I want to talk about what makes me happy.

And honestly, the sad thing is, if something never enters the “canon,” it’ll probably die in obscurity.

Which brings me to something sort of related: the older I get, the more things I love disappear. The diner I used to visit? Gone. My elementary school? Demolished.

As a kid, I loved those candy cigarettes that puffed out powdered “smoke.” They don’t exist anymore—nobody wants to encourage kids to smoke, and that’s fine, but I remember them. They were a core part of my childhood.

All these things—I can’t share them anymore.

But I can still talk about old video games. I can’t play arcade games in a convenience store with Slurpee cups and magazines everywhere. I don’t own a 386 with a ball mouse. But I can still play those games, talk about them, and build new memories—ones I’ll remember with my grandkids someday.

Eventually, all of it will go away. That’s life. It’s impermanent.

But there’s still purpose in all of it. We’re social by nature. And there’s something magical about transmitting meaning from one person to another.

Even if it’s just about a damn video game.

After visiting the Vancouver Retro Gaming Expo, I keep asking myself the same question:

What’s the purpose of it all?

Sure, part of it’s just fun. But mostly, it comes down to whether I can actually share something I love—or not. Let me explain.

I’m just as into music. I listen to vinyl every day with my daughter. Easy to share: put on a record, and people get it.

Same with photography. Snap a picture, share it. Instant enjoyment.

Video games? Not so much. The barrier to entry is just so damn high.

First, you need the hardware—not just any hardware, but often something specific.

Then you need the software. Sometimes you can stream it, but streaming usually sucks. I’ve tried—multiple times. Even with 2Gbps at home, the latency ruins it. So you’re left with physical media or downloading everything locally.

And even if you’ve got all that, there’s still a dilemma. On consoles, the game might be optimized, but unless it’s exclusive, it’s rarely the “definitive” experience. On PC, you can get the definitive version, but you’re always tweaking, chasing that ideal.

And what even is “definitive”? Is it keyboard and mouse on a monitor? Gamepad on a TV? Handheld in bed? Everyone’s experience is different, and unless you find someone with the exact same setup, yours is unique. As a PC gamer, finding that overlap is rare.

I’d love for gaming to be more social, but because of who I am, I mostly play solo campaigns—except with family, who’ve been good sports about it.

I’ve tried dragging friends into gaming. I’ve even gifted games and hardware. Never works. I get it.

Online, I talk about games I love, review hidden gems, try to explain why certain things matter to me. But my taste has veered so far from the mainstream—not because I’m a contrarian. I’ve never played StarCraft, WoW, or Dota. Not because I think they suck. I’ll probably love them when I do get around to it. Like how I finally tried Oblivion this year and loved it, despite hating the older Elder Scrolls games.

But I have a whole library of games I wish got more attention—not because I want them canonized, but just because I want to talk about what makes me happy.

And honestly, the sad thing is, if something never enters the “canon,” it’ll probably die in obscurity.

Which brings me to something sort of related: the older I get, the more things I love disappear. The diner I used to visit? Gone. My elementary school? Demolished.

As a kid, I loved those candy cigarettes that puffed out powdered “smoke.” They don’t exist anymore—nobody wants to encourage kids to smoke, and that’s fine, but I remember them. They were a core part of my childhood.

All these things—I can’t share them anymore.

But I can still talk about old video games. I can’t play arcade games in a convenience store with Slurpee cups and magazines everywhere. I don’t own a 386 with a ball mouse. But I can still play those games, talk about them, and build new memories—ones I’ll remember with my grandkids someday.

Eventually, all of it will go away. That’s life. It’s impermanent.

But there’s still purpose in all of it. We’re social by nature. And there’s something magical about transmitting meaning from one person to another.

Even if it’s just about a damn video game.

Previous years, I went massively over budget. This time, I stuck to around $100. And I swore, I’d only get stuff that I’m truly excited about.

So here’s what I got:

• Warioland 1, 2, & 3. These are the Japanese versions. All were C$5 each.
• Sub Terrania. I’ve wanted this game ever since I was a kid. Thrilled to have it in box for C$20.
• Black & White 2. One of the best PC games of all time, but you can’t get it on any storefront anymore. Got it in box for C$15.
• Dark Cloud. Despite what the cover art indicates, it is not like Zelda—this is the spiritual sequel to Landstalker: The Treasures of King Nole. Got it in box for C$20.
• Untold Legends: Brotherhood of the Blade. A hack-‘n-slash action RPG. This was C$2.

I was tempted to buy a PC Engine console for C$50 but then I’d have yet another console hanging around my house.

All of the games I got are, in my opinion, must-haves.

Previous years, I went massively over budget. This time, I stuck to around $100. And I swore, I’d only get stuff that I’m truly excited about.

So here’s what I got:

• Warioland 1, 2, & 3. These are the Japanese versions. All were C$5 each.
• Sub Terrania. I’ve wanted this game ever since I was a kid. Thrilled to have it in box for C$20.
• Black & White 2. One of the best PC games of all time, but you can’t get it on any storefront anymore. Got it in box for C$15.
• Dark Cloud. Despite what the cover art indicates, it is not like Zelda—this is the spiritual sequel to Landstalker: The Treasures of King Nole. Got it in box for C$20.
• Untold Legends: Brotherhood of the Blade. A hack-‘n-slash action RPG. This was C$2.

I was tempted to buy a PC Engine console for C$50 but then I’d have yet another console hanging around my house.

All of the games I got are, in my opinion, must-haves.

Who are the mascots of PC gaming?

I recently read a thread elsewhere that says one big reason for Nintendo's enduring popularity is their use of mascots: Mario, Link, Kirby, and Samus. But I have to say, PC gaming has its own mascots too. And if you grew up on PC gaming, you know exactly who I’m talking about. To me, these are the most obvious PC gaming mascots:

Sir Graham

Sierra’s signature character. He’s the protagonist of King's Quest, the game that pretty much "made" PC gaming. If you’ve ever typed "look at tree" only to die instantly, you know this guy.

Guybrush Threepwood

For a good long time, the Monkey Island series was the jewel of PC adventure games, and Guybrush was the poster child. For an entire generation of smart-alecks, Guybrush was what made pointing and clicking actually cool.

Commander Keen

PC’s answer to Mario, but with a football helmet and a pogo stick. If you played Keen, you knew that saving the galaxy could happen in between spelling homework and dinner. The alien menace never stood a chance.

Duke Nukem

Duke started out as just another run-and-gun guy, but Duke Nukem 3-D turned him into a legend. Those one-liners were the soundtrack of every ‘90s gaming session. If your parents ever walked in at the wrong time, you know exactly which line I mean.

B.J. Blazkowicz

Possibly the oldest mascot here, since Wolfenstein dates back to 1981. But it was Wolfenstein 3-D where B.J. got a face and a vendetta. He’s been fighting Nazis since before most of us knew what a floppy disk was.

Jill of the Jungle

Jill is the game that put Epic on the map. She was Epic’s answer to Commander Keen, and while the graphics weren’t exactly cutting edge, the level design made up for it. Plus, Jill could turn into a bird. That never gets old.

Doomguy

Probably the most recognizable of the bunch. When people think of PC gaming, Doomguy’s battered face at the bottom of the screen is what flashes in their mind. Doom is forever, and so is the guy with the shotgun.

Gordon Freeman

For a whole generation, Half-Life is PC gaming. Gordon Freeman in that orange hazard suit, holding his crowbar, is basically the Valve logo in human form. He never says a word and still manages to be iconic.

Vault Boy

You don’t actually play as Vault Boy, but he’s everywhere in Fallout. His little thumbs-up and cheesy grin follow you from the vault to the wasteland. With the TV series, he’s basically mainstream now. No mascot is more cheerful about the end of the world.

Kerrigan

The Zerg Queen of Blades herself. If you’re into Starcraft—and millions are—Kerrigan is the face you remember. Blizzard made her the ultimate badass, and she wears it well.

Geralt of Rivia

Geralt first found fame on PC. The original Witcher didn’t even get a console port, so for a while Geralt was our little secret. Now he’s everywhere, but if you played those early games, he still feels like a PC icon.

Chell

Portal’s silent protagonist. You only ever see her in reflections or through portals, but somehow she sticks in your memory anyway. If there’s ever a Hall of Fame for "quietly iconic," Chell gets a spot.

Faith Connors

Maybe not as famous as some others here, but Faith deserves her place. Mirror’s Edge is the best first-person parkour you’ll ever play, and Faith’s red glove and city-leaping acrobatics are instantly memorable.

Madeline

Celeste is one of the greatest indie platformers ever made, and Madeline is what makes it work. She’s determined, stubborn, and endlessly relatable. I’ve never wanted to climb a mountain so much in my life.

Goose

The newest mascot, but maybe the most beloved. Untitled Goose Game turned one honking bird into the hero none of us expected but all of us needed. An awkward bird never looked so adorable.

---

So there you have it: the PC gaming mascot hall of fame. They may not have a theme park, but let’s be honest, nobody’s ever wanted to watch Mario lock eyes with Doomguy at the breakfast table. The world just isn’t ready for that much star power in one room.

Who are the mascots of PC gaming?

I recently read a thread elsewhere that says one big reason for Nintendo's enduring popularity is their use of mascots: Mario, Link, Kirby, and Samus. But I have to say, PC gaming has its own mascots too. And if you grew up on PC gaming, you know exactly who I’m talking about. To me, these are the most obvious PC gaming mascots:

Sir Graham

Sierra’s signature character. He’s the protagonist of King's Quest, the game that pretty much "made" PC gaming. If you’ve ever typed "look at tree" only to die instantly, you know this guy.

Guybrush Threepwood

For a good long time, the Monkey Island series was the jewel of PC adventure games, and Guybrush was the poster child. For an entire generation of smart-alecks, Guybrush was what made pointing and clicking actually cool.

Commander Keen

PC’s answer to Mario, but with a football helmet and a pogo stick. If you played Keen, you knew that saving the galaxy could happen in between spelling homework and dinner. The alien menace never stood a chance.

Duke Nukem

Duke started out as just another run-and-gun guy, but Duke Nukem 3-D turned him into a legend. Those one-liners were the soundtrack of every ‘90s gaming session. If your parents ever walked in at the wrong time, you know exactly which line I mean.

B.J. Blazkowicz

Possibly the oldest mascot here, since Wolfenstein dates back to 1981. But it was Wolfenstein 3-D where B.J. got a face and a vendetta. He’s been fighting Nazis since before most of us knew what a floppy disk was.

Jill of the Jungle

Jill is the game that put Epic on the map. She was Epic’s answer to Commander Keen, and while the graphics weren’t exactly cutting edge, the level design made up for it. Plus, Jill could turn into a bird. That never gets old.

Doomguy

Probably the most recognizable of the bunch. When people think of PC gaming, Doomguy’s battered face at the bottom of the screen is what flashes in their mind. Doom is forever, and so is the guy with the shotgun.

Gordon Freeman

For a whole generation, Half-Life is PC gaming. Gordon Freeman in that orange hazard suit, holding his crowbar, is basically the Valve logo in human form. He never says a word and still manages to be iconic.

Vault Boy

You don’t actually play as Vault Boy, but he’s everywhere in Fallout. His little thumbs-up and cheesy grin follow you from the vault to the wasteland. With the TV series, he’s basically mainstream now. No mascot is more cheerful about the end of the world.

Kerrigan

The Zerg Queen of Blades herself. If you’re into Starcraft—and millions are—Kerrigan is the face you remember. Blizzard made her the ultimate badass, and she wears it well.

Geralt of Rivia

Geralt first found fame on PC. The original Witcher didn’t even get a console port, so for a while Geralt was our little secret. Now he’s everywhere, but if you played those early games, he still feels like a PC icon.

Chell

Portal’s silent protagonist. You only ever see her in reflections or through portals, but somehow she sticks in your memory anyway. If there’s ever a Hall of Fame for "quietly iconic," Chell gets a spot.

Faith Connors

Maybe not as famous as some others here, but Faith deserves her place. Mirror’s Edge is the best first-person parkour you’ll ever play, and Faith’s red glove and city-leaping acrobatics are instantly memorable.

Madeline

Celeste is one of the greatest indie platformers ever made, and Madeline is what makes it work. She’s determined, stubborn, and endlessly relatable. I’ve never wanted to climb a mountain so much in my life.

Goose

The newest mascot, but maybe the most beloved. Untitled Goose Game turned one honking bird into the hero none of us expected but all of us needed. An awkward bird never looked so adorable.

---

So there you have it: the PC gaming mascot hall of fame. They may not have a theme park, but let’s be honest, nobody’s ever wanted to watch Mario lock eyes with Doomguy at the breakfast table. The world just isn’t ready for that much star power in one room.

Who are the mascots of PC gaming?

I recently read a thread elsewhere that says one big reason for Nintendo's enduring popularity is their use of mascots: Mario, Link, Kirby, and Samus. But I have to say, PC gaming has its own mascots too. And if you grew up on PC gaming, you know exactly who I’m talking about. To me, these are the most obvious PC gaming mascots:

Sir Graham

Sierra’s signature character. He’s the protagonist of King's Quest, the game that pretty much "made" PC gaming. If you’ve ever typed "look at tree" only to die instantly, you know this guy.

Guybrush Threepwood

For a good long time, the Monkey Island series was the jewel of PC adventure games, and Guybrush was the poster child. For an entire generation of smart-alecks, Guybrush was what made pointing and clicking actually cool.

Commander Keen

PC’s answer to Mario, but with a football helmet and a pogo stick. If you played Keen, you knew that saving the galaxy could happen in between spelling homework and dinner. The alien menace never stood a chance.

Duke Nukem

Duke started out as just another run-and-gun guy, but Duke Nukem 3-D turned him into a legend. Those one-liners were the soundtrack of every ‘90s gaming session. If your parents ever walked in at the wrong time, you know exactly which line I mean.

B.J. Blazkowicz

Possibly the oldest mascot here, since Wolfenstein dates back to 1981. But it was Wolfenstein 3-D where B.J. got a face and a vendetta. He’s been fighting Nazis since before most of us knew what a floppy disk was.

Jill of the Jungle

Jill is the game that put Epic on the map. She was Epic’s answer to Commander Keen, and while the graphics weren’t exactly cutting edge, the level design made up for it. Plus, Jill could turn into a bird. That never gets old.

Doomguy

Probably the most recognizable of the bunch. When people think of PC gaming, Doomguy’s battered face at the bottom of the screen is what flashes in their mind. Doom is forever, and so is the guy with the shotgun.

Gordon Freeman

For a whole generation, Half-Life is PC gaming. Gordon Freeman in that orange hazard suit, holding his crowbar, is basically the Valve logo in human form. He never says a word and still manages to be iconic.

Vault Boy

You don’t actually play as Vault Boy, but he’s everywhere in Fallout. His little thumbs-up and cheesy grin follow you from the vault to the wasteland. With the TV series, he’s basically mainstream now. No mascot is more cheerful about the end of the world.

Kerrigan

The Zerg Queen of Blades herself. If you’re into Starcraft—and millions are—Kerrigan is the face you remember. Blizzard made her the ultimate badass, and she wears it well.

Geralt of Rivia

Geralt first found fame on PC. The original Witcher didn’t even get a console port, so for a while Geralt was our little secret. Now he’s everywhere, but if you played those early games, he still feels like a PC icon.

Chell

Portal’s silent protagonist. You only ever see her in reflections or through portals, but somehow she sticks in your memory anyway. If there’s ever a Hall of Fame for "quietly iconic," Chell gets a spot.

Faith Connors

Maybe not as famous as some others here, but Faith deserves her place. Mirror’s Edge is the best first-person parkour you’ll ever play, and Faith’s red glove and city-leaping acrobatics are instantly memorable.

Madeline

Celeste is one of the greatest indie platformers ever made, and Madeline is what makes it work. She’s determined, stubborn, and endlessly relatable. I’ve never wanted to climb a mountain so much in my life.

Goose

The newest mascot, but maybe the most beloved. Untitled Goose Game turned one honking bird into the hero none of us expected but all of us needed. An awkward bird never looked so adorable.

---

So there you have it: the PC gaming mascot hall of fame. They may not have a theme park, but let’s be honest, nobody’s ever wanted to watch Mario lock eyes with Doomguy at the breakfast table. The world just isn’t ready for that much star power in one room.

Ah yes, Kool-Aid Man. On the intro screen, he bursts through a brick wall—and if you're going to make a game about Kool-Aid Man, that's mandatory.

If Kool-Aid Man doesn't crash through something at the start, is it even a Kool-Aid Man game? (No. It’s not.)

Now the goal here is simple: protect the precious Kool-Aid from what I can only describe as sentient bombs with straws. They’re called Thirsties, which sounds like the name of a failed emo band, but whatever. These little creeps try to slurp up all your Kool-Aid—which is weird, because I thought drinking the Kool-Aid was the entire point of Kool-Aid.

Anyway, you’ve got to wait until they actually start drinking before you slam into them. Do it too early and nothing happens. Wait too long and they tap you first, sending you careening across the screen like a sentient bowling ball. Bonus tip: don’t touch the walls either, because apparently the Kool-Aid Man is so full of juice that the slightest touch make him bounce.

People like to blame games like this for the Great Video Game Crash. But I say no way. This game has charm. It's got bounce (literally). It's got bright colors. It’s got Kool-Aid Man yelling "OH YEAH!" like he just snorted a line of Pixy Stix. Okay, he doesn't literally do this, but in my head canon, he does.

Sure, this is advertising. But so was Cool Spot for the SEGA Genesis, and most people agree that game was pretty darn good too. So cut Kool-Aid Man some slack. He may be a glass-bodied corporate shill, but by god, he’s our glass-bodied corporate shill.

Oddly, this was made by Mattel Electronics for their M Network imprint, which they used for systems that weren't published for Intellivision. In this case, Kool-Aid Man was an Atari 2600. And I don't understand why this game wasn't available for Mattel's own console. Was Kool-Aid Man too cool for those dweebs who played Intellivision?

We may never know. But one thing’s for sure: Kool-Aid Man definitely belonged on the Atari.