Nostalgia
Last week Beth and I were talking about the internet, and what we did with it at the beginning, before Facebook and Google Reader and video streaming. Back In The Day, in the early 90s, when mice still had trackballs and Windows 3.1 was the hip new thing. From this time period, when we rocked our 14.4 modem and were the only elementary schoolers we knew with email addresses, I remember doing one thing with the internet: I played MadMaze. A lot.
MadMaze, for those of you who are not familiar, was a game available on the Prodigy internet portal, before there was a Web. It was basically a text-based fantasy adventure game, but with pictures. Very basic pictures. And because nothing on the internet ever dies, especially other things from the internet, you can play it here (Internet Explorer required). It isn't quite the authentic experience though, since you don't have to wait for each screen to load line by line.
So I've started playing it again, on and off, reveling in the nostalgia. I don't think I ever beat it, but given that the very first puzzle requires 2-variable algebra to solve and I was just learning my times tables, I'm kind of impressed I didn't just give up right there. Maybe Dad helped. Maybe this time I will conquer, if I don't get distracted by something fancier. Oregon Trail, maybe.
MadMaze, for those of you who are not familiar, was a game available on the Prodigy internet portal, before there was a Web. It was basically a text-based fantasy adventure game, but with pictures. Very basic pictures. And because nothing on the internet ever dies, especially other things from the internet, you can play it here (Internet Explorer required). It isn't quite the authentic experience though, since you don't have to wait for each screen to load line by line.
So I've started playing it again, on and off, reveling in the nostalgia. I don't think I ever beat it, but given that the very first puzzle requires 2-variable algebra to solve and I was just learning my times tables, I'm kind of impressed I didn't just give up right there. Maybe Dad helped. Maybe this time I will conquer, if I don't get distracted by something fancier. Oregon Trail, maybe.