You see that fucking thing!? Look at that horrible, hateful, sonuvabitchin' thing. That wretched visage hails from the ColecoVision port of Sega's 1981 coin-op game, Space Fury, and it's scarred me for life. You see, I was about 3 years old when my dad brought home the ColecoVision Space Fury. I was just getting over my extreme fear of being left alone with video games. What would happen was my parents would play video games and then leave the room. When the attract mode would start, the video games would PLAY BY THEM-FUCKING-SELVES and it scared the shit out of me when I was 2. But now, I was doing okay, I liked video games and I had been playing them for a while. So my dad and I settle into this little cubby hole we used to have the video game TV in, I'm sitting inbetween him and the wall with no means of escape, which is a huge mistake. The innocuous ColevoVision BIOS screen pops up, followed by the standard blue game select screen. All's well so far. My dad hits the 1 key on the Coleco pad and...



OH JESUS MIGHTY MOTHERFUCKING HOLY GODDAMNED CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT HORRIBLE THING!? Of course, being only three, I could not yet string together such profanity, so what came out was AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! TURNITOFFTURNITOFFTURNITOFFTURNITOFF!!!!!!!!!!
But my dad's not quite getting that this thing is scaring several years off of my life and doesn't get up and provide and avenue for me to flee. I close my eyes, but now I notice the incredibly creepy synthesized version of Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man" oozing from the TV speakers. I cover my ears, but to no avail. I can feel this this reaching out of the TV. Reaching out to get me. And then it's all over. My parents finally figured out that it was the giant alien head that was making me so hysterical, turned the game off and seemed rather amused that that green fucking bastard had me almost literally shitting my pants. "Matt, it's just a game, it can't hurt you," they would say "It's funny, look he says 'Another creature for my amusement.' He he, it's cute." What the FUCK is that supposed to mean!? Another creature for my amusement? Why did you negligent psychopaths bring this menace into our home?

A few tries to get me to watch Space Fury had met with heavy resistance. I wanted no part of the fearsome face of the alien commander. Eventually, my dad got rid of the game. I was safe. Or so I thought. A few years later, my dad picked another copy up from a garage sale. He thought maybe I'd gotten over my trauma and would be more ammenable to amusing this crazy alien thing. I wasn't. "I'll watch you play the game," I told him, "but I'm not looking at that alien head. You tell me when it's over." I'm looking down at the floor and breaking into a cold sweat hearing that awful music. Seriously, what's with all that veiny shit in its head? Video game characters are all supposed to squares and blocks and blobs and shit. What's with all those fucking veins!? Jesus, what the fuck!? The music's stopped. Is it over guys? It is? Don't lie. I know you guys are lying, tell me when it's gone I said. You're really not lying? Promise? Okay.



AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I TOLD YOU TO TELL ME WHEN IT WAS OVER! What is WRONG with you guys!? I bolted from the room at a speed at which I probably could've run a 4 minute mile. Fuck this. That thing was out to get me and my fucking parents were in on it! Fucking lunatics! Don't they know that thing is fucking dangerous!?

It took me about another 10 years before I could sit down and play Space Fury. I was probably 15 then. I still get creeped out by "Fanfare for the Common Man," even when it's played on actual instruments. Sometimes, when I'm walking around in the dark, I fell like that alien is behind me. I need help. Anyone else ever been irretrievably screwed up by a video game?

I figured people would bitch about the image, but it fit the narrative, so I decided to leave it in. In my defense, I don't have a sig, post pictures, or plan to in the future. This was an intense mind-fucking done to me at the hands of ColecoVision, cut me a little slack.