The boy who loved a hedgehog

The year, I don't quite remember. Let's just say it was during the 90's. What I do remember is that Joshua of TCC was the proud owner of a sparkling new Sega Mega Drive. The kid had a sweet opaque console bought for him by his grandad. If you know anything about the halcyon Sega gaming days - then you will know that Sonic was the iconic character that was Sega's top attraction. In those days you either had a Nintendo or a Sega. You were either a super Mario fan or a fan of Sonic the hedgehog. And if you owned both, a Nintendo and a Sega then - crikey! You must have been seriously rich.

So, I was visiting London with my family. A usual occurrence that we frequently enjoyed. Joshua as you can imagine for a young boy was super happy to have something en vogue and cool. (You have to appreciate that this was a boy who was accustomed to wearing unfashionable trainers). Without a doubt my sister and I were impressed with his new gizmo. We had travelled down from up north to find that our friend had the latest computer console. Great! A new console with an amazing game. This Sonic game he had and was playing looked brilliant. A blue hedgehog with suspected ADHD whizzing around the screen at a rate of knots collecting rings and battling obstacles and whatnot was an impressive, mesmerising visual treat to young eyes. 

It looked so crazy, manic. The noises the game made, the repetitive sound those rings made, the music. It looked so much fun. Note, I have used the word 'looked' twice. And for good reason. On arriving at his home Joshua had decided that it would be more beneficial for my sister and I to sit and watch him play Sonic rather than take turns with us and all play it. Our pal, brother, had become one of those children that was displaying tendencies other children just don't dig. Joshua had changed. And it was becoming more apparent every time he switched on the console and the unmistakable Sega logo announced itself and flashed across the screen.

Soon after arriving at his home I had detected something different in my friends eyes. The eyes can tell you so much about a person, and his told me things that concerned me. He had a glazed look which flitted with the hypnotic.  I am afraid to say Joshua had quickly become obsessed with Sonic. He had been hooked by the blue hedgehog. All he would do (when allowed) was play the game, draw pictures - even making an elaborate comic book about Sonic. (Which was pretty impressive). Sonic, Sonic, Sonic...

He had become detached, removed. Monosyllabic. He was simply a different boy when he played his game. We were virtually invisible to him. He didn't want to know us. And on reflection as an adult his behaviour was not too dissimilar to that of an addict. And how it pains me to say that about my dear friend. But such is life. That game had infiltrated his whimsical mind. In an age before internet obsessed dorks Joshua had started to lose grip on reality and how to act in social settings. The enthralling game that he would barely allow me or my sister to play had begun to consume him. 

From what I recall Joshua only had one control pad. (Or so he told us). Consoles rarely came with two. If the consumer wanted two then they would need to fork out more cheddar for the privilege of playing with friends. Further expenditure. I'm not even sure if his grandad received a pension back home on his island, and even if he did I'm sure a big chunk had gone on buying a plane ticket and gift for his grandson. But what about us? (I'm just saying). Joshua (in my opinion) at least could have informed his grandad that we were coming to stay - and could he have had a little more pension money to buy another controller. But he didn't. To be frank he couldn't care less if we had a go or not. His eyes told me so. The boy was more than happy to have my sister and I sit and watch him having a wonderful time playing his game and advancing through the levels. Obviously we didn't appreciate this one bit. We wanted to play. It was hard viewing, actually it was excruciating. We wanted a go. We wanted to play Sonic! So we began to murmur and moan behind his back. Shooting unimpressed looks back and forth as Joshua grinned with glee as he tapped away at his control pad, oblivious to our disgruntled moods. Why wouldn't he share his game and let us have a go. Life was being very unfair indeed.

I'm certain his mother, our aunt had taught him to share when he was a little boy. I'm sure of it. But to me my friend had chosen to forget that valuable life lesson as soon as grandpa rocked up sporting a floral shirt and Panama hat clutching that Mega Drive box. You have no idea how tough going it was back then having Sonic dangled before our noses like that. No idea. To be fair to Joshua his conscious did prick him here and there and he sometimes allowed us to play, but those occasions were fleeting to say the least. He would begrudgingly pass us the hot control pad when he either needed a toilet break, his mum angrily beckoned him or his fingers had begun to tremble or got callous with blisters popping out.

So we would play and begin to smile loving the amazing Sonic experience for a few moments before his unbroken mockney voice to then implore us that we were doing it wrong. Lecturing us through it so much so that he would end up confiscating the controller from either one of us to 'show us how to play Sonic properly.'  Sigh... It really wasn't worth it. Life back then was teaching us a very valuable lesson that we wouldn't forget in a hurry. Do not come between a boy and a hedgehog. We had to wise up fast and accept even as children that when Sonic the hedgehog came along Joshua changed, and not for the better. He had  been seduced by a crazy blue animal and subsequently, because of this forgot about his friends. Realistically, how could we ever compete with the frenzied world that excited him so much? All he cared about was Sonic, his fox buddy, Tails - and defeating the evil hedgehog, Knuckles and that deranged Dr. Robotnic. This was his life for that period of time. So we just got used to it, got used to watching him play on his game with those hypnotic eyes until his mum shouted that he had been playing for too long. That's only when he would semi snap out of his Sonic the hedgehog trance. 

As with most addicts they live in denial but I know, we knew, that our friend just wasn't himself back then. I'm glad those tough days are firmly behind us. 

Demola, TCC