It must have been 2005 when a miniature me ventured for the first time with my mother into one of the many shopping centers in Rome, during a strangely mild July. I had recently acquired a fresh PlayStation 2 Slim and the only games I owned were Air Ranger: Rescue Helicopter and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. For months I went on like this, owning only these two titles and renting others to the late Blockbuster, because, although they cost less at the time, video games still remained a very substantial expense (especially for a child), which was usually associated with “large events” such as birthdays, school plays or special holidays. Consequently, on the few occasions that I had the opportunity to find myself in a place that sold video games, I spent a long time scanning all the shelves, searching only for games under my age, immediately avoiding the gaze of those that had a 12+ rating. , a 16+ or, God forbid, an 18+ (it was just like that, I swear, mother), looking for my next wish to express to parents and relatives. But, in that warm July, in that shopping center which is a sort of summary of all the shopping centers that have merged in my memory, my existence changed radically. That was the day I saw him, mirage among mirages, holy protector of wallets: the video game bin.
What is meant by “basket”?
If you had the opportunity to grow up in the 90s or, like me, in the early 2000s, you probably know very well what I am referring to when I talk about video game bins. But, for the record, it seems right to me to explore the topic a little more deeply for all those who are (rightly) thinking about the baskets with discounted titles that can be found in places like GameStop and the like. The concept is not too far from that. Indeed, the baskets in shops specializing in the buying and selling of video games are a direct evolution of the ones I am referring to. But there are some key differences.
Today we are accustomed (or, at least, we were until some time ago) to seeing games positioned more or less in an orderly manner in these iron lattice containers which act a bit like shelves, where the “minor” products are positioned , older or used. But the bins I’m referring to are in a whole other league. There was no order, there was no precision, there was just pure chaos.
The baskets were a gray area of the shops that housed them. While everything else was on the shelves, where the only people who disturbed the order were people who didn’t remember where they had got the object in question or some young man intent on committing the usual mischief, the bins were an apparently bottomless well of video games launched in bulk, violently tinkered with, carelessly rummaged through, explored by some bored parent just for the sake of it.
A video game bin it was a kingdom of anarchy, where even prices were thrown around a bit haphazardly, as if they had been thrown onto the chaos of securities and mixed vehemently, leaving all the work to chance.
In this limbo, games never heard of before and famous titles coexisted (if the seller was not sufficiently accustomed to the value of the products he had purchased, in all likelihood, wholesale). Thus, here appears Jak and Daxter for a few pennies among loads of Black Market Bowling or the Spanish version of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (I’m not joking, Ubisoft’s Tigre y Dragon, I have it right here, before my eyes, unaware to have had it in my collection all this time).
A different world
But let’s get back to me and my story, shall we? Not that you have much choice, after all. So, yes, I arrive at the hypermarket inside the shopping center and I notice from afar this large container full of plastic cases. At first they look like DVDs to me, but as I get closer I realize that it’s one mountain of video games. There’s everything: PlayStation 2, Xbox 360, PC, maybe even something from the GameCube. I look at my mother as if seeking approval to start digging into that gold mine and, fortunately, I get her approval.
So I dive into that video game swamp and search, search, perhaps for ten minutes, but in my memory those few moments have crystallized in the form of hours. And here I come back a winner. From that mastered well I pull out, like Excalibur, my first basket game: Superbike GP. But how? All this mess for Superbike GP, a racing game developed by Phoenix Games, the same ones who published the video game adaptations of the Dingo Pictures films? Well yes. To a kid who didn’t care about motorbikes, who had only tried racing games on the demo discs that came with magazines, that box with €1.99 written on it seemed like the Holy Grail.
I finally had the chance to expand my game collection and try new things, regardless of the quality of the product. I would only arrive at critical thinking a few years later. For the moment it was enough for me to play, try and create stories on top of those imposed on me in the individual games. And this is where, for better or worse, my passion began: from this low price entry in the world of video games.
The decline
The baskets accompanied me until it became clear that I had dug too deep and now there was nothing of value left. Then, the decline. The baskets started to disappear. Because one of their main peculiarities was that they were not only found in electronics stores, but almost everywhere. They could be found in the supermarket, among the books and bread on offer. And it didn’t take me long to understand that going shopping with my grandparents and then with my parents, but also with my uncles, meant returning home with another piece for my collection.
When they disappeared from these places I was already an adult, now also interested in the quality of the titles rather than the quantity. But they remained a nice pastime when I was bored while shopping and, therefore, I noticed their gradual disappearance, first in the supermarket, then in electronics stores and, finally, everywhere. Only specialized video game retailers remained, but chaos had replaced order, with list prices and discounts assigned by people who, for better or worse, understood the value of what they were selling. The magic, thus, vanished. But a spark has appeared in recent years. Online stores have taken over. Digital reigns supreme and the basket itself has become digital.
Online store: the new basket?
Today’s video game market has given us many things: the convenience of having an infinite library at hand (wallet permitting), not having to worry about space at home, because everything fits perfectly into the virtual libraries of the various platforms (for arrived without even accumulating dust, except in the ventilation systems of the devices), proposing offers capable of adapting to any type of economic situation (or almost).
Digital has revolutionized the way we see video games a bit, now truly products that are they accumulate voraciously, between free games and mind-boggling discounts practically every month. With €1.99 today you no longer buy Superbike GP, but Inside. I would have jumped for joy if I had had access to so many video games at such a low price when I was little (although I doubt my parents would have allowed me to go on an unrestrained shopping spree). Or not? Because yes, there is a lot on offer, low prices and unlimited accessibility, but there is something missing: the tactile experience.
Video games, in themselves, are one tactile experience. It’s true that they are a purely audiovisual medium, but they don’t stop there, otherwise they would just be a film or TV series that passes passively on a screen. We “feel” the game, we touch it. It passes through our fingers; it lives thanks to the interaction we exchange with it. We receive feedback on every movement, on every blow, on every jump, and the more accurate that feedback is to our reaction, the more we feel satisfied, satisfied with our action, with our interaction. In my heart, I believe that that tactile experience also comes from before, from outside the screen, when you take the case of a game and inspect it, open it, leaf through the instruction manual and take out the disc.
But this is my idea, expressed by someone who has always found objects very fascinating, even just to observe distractedly while writing an article, just to let the mind wander a little. But, ultimately, yes, we can say that online stores have become the new baskets, especially during offer periods: a chaotic agglomeration of titles launched (most of the time) in bulk, which a potential buyer scans in search of the own gem. The world of tomorrow is, in part, also that of today and yesterday. The only difference is that you will no longer experience that satisfaction of digging and digging, until you raise your sword high above your head in the stone.
