This morning I found myself reading about yet another aggravating change implemented by Google. The change itself was minor; a niggling detail that pushed a feature I already didn’t like into even more annoying territory - but it made me recognize something: It’s not just that I actively dislike Google these days, I don’t even view it as the same service I loved only a few years ago.  

You see, Google used to be my wacky teenage friend. It was a kid who watched too much Dexter’s Laboratory growing up, had trouble sitting still, and was gifted with an obvious ability to create. It provided me with innovative solutions to my problems that were incredible but slightly broken. Google Voice could replace my landline, but its transcriptions were laughably terrible. Google Wave helped me plan meetings collaboratively, but the service was buggy. Gmail was miles ahead of any email service I had ever used, but the “Labs” I relied on heavily would stop working unexpectedly. Not once, though, did I ever blame Google for these issues. In fact, they were almost charming. I only loved Google more for trying so hard and giving me the services in the first place.

Flash forward to the present day, and Google constantly infuriates me. Every trivial change they make to that stupid black bar looming over the search page leaves me exasperated. I think I realized why today - it’s because that bright teenage kid I loved has grown up and gone corporate. 

I know, I know - Google was always corporate. My teenage friend analogy breaks down somewhat, because Google has always been after my money, and has also always (rather obviously) been a corporation… but it didn’t always SEEM that way. The greatest companies make you forget about that. Apple is a perfect example - they’ve created a corporate personality that makes customers feel respected and even loved. Google has made personality a bottom priority, and it shows in every new development they make.

A side effect of Google’s new identity is my mental inability to let wackiness slide any longer. Google Voice’s poor transcriptions now seem inexcusable. When Gmail times out I want to switch away to a new mail service. If a newly released product is buggy, I immediately grow uninterested. If that overexcited teenager had showed me Google+, I would have been fascinated.

Now, I’m just unimpressed. And that’s a shame.

There is a reason that I find myself hopelessly addicted to Super Crate Box after no game has held my attention for months. 

It reminds me the kind of game my father would play.

Now, the visual style of Super Crate Box certainly alludes to a generation not my own. The initial level looks straight out of Donkey Kong, and the characters would fit into such a game seamlessly. However, when I say I’m reminded of my father, I’m referring to something more.

I certainly don’t meant it to be uncomplimentary (against the game or my father). I mean he’s simply used to a different breed of games than the ones we’re used to. He keeps his cool at the helm of a Galaga cabinet with one credit left. He has seen levels in Ms. Pac-Man that I’ve never dreamed of. 

Super Crate Box is a hard game, much like many classics. In fact, to say it’s a “hard game” is putting it lightly. It’s a really, really hard game. If you finally manage to grasp the normal mode, those which follow are practically murder. I’d imagine the acronym behind “SMFT Mode” is less than pleasant. 

I typically hate hard games. If something is too difficult, it sucks the fun out of the experience. Super Crate Box isn’t that type of game. It has a “just one more round” infectious quality that can keep you playing for hours. You never feel punished, just challenged. It reminds me of games like Sinistar, or other games from the same era, which I spent my youth playing alongside my father.

If he or I had found this game sitting in an arcade, we’d likely be broke. In my opinion, that’s the best compliment I could ever hope to give such a title.

Purchased the first of what will be many Field Notes books for a personal project.