Duck Hunt

It's official: today's video games are way too realistic. The other day I foolishly opted to play some Big Buck Hunter at a local bar, leading to my inevitable cowering at the prospect of repeatedly killing deer that bore ab eerie resemblance to Bambi's mom. What happened to the days of blurrily pixelated hunting? I don't think I could ever shoot a real live deer in the face, yet I'm more than gleeful for a shot (pun intended) at some Duck Hunt mallards or lethargic bison in Oregon Trail. What? I don't want that dog to mock my haul, nor do I want to face the embarrassment of having caught so few pounds of meat that it actually fits in my covered wagon. It's a legitimate justification.

With a sufficient proportion of pixelated non-realism coupled with a totally fake looking red plastic gun, even the most squeamish shooters among us were wont to take out an entire flock in a single round. Old school Nintendo knew a thing or two (in retrospect, I'd say two) about the notion of less is more. The game was incredibly repetitive, requiring us only to shoot at a duck or two per round and to avoid shooting the dog. It may not have held the attention of today's overstimulated child, but many children of the 80s and 90s lost great stretches of time--not to mention the ability to focus our eyes--to this simple electronic endeavor.

In comparison to the shooting games available on today's video game market, Duck Hunt was incredibly tame. Our duck victims never bled profusely from their gaping wounds nor did they ever shake a mangled wing at us while accusing us of poultricide. In fact, we had almost no interaction with them at all. They simply flew overhead to the mesmerizingly hypnotic music, we shot at them, and our loyal canine companion retrieved their abandoned carcasses. No fuss, no muss.


Of course, it wasn't all invisible off-screen blood and guts as we appraised our killing streak. We also had a chance to shoot skeet, which thankfully had no R-rated double meaning to us at the time. The eruptions of clay pigeons in the air was not especially differentiated from the hunting of live ducks, thanks to the primitive mid-80s gaming graphics technology. Whether the bullet contact induced an exploding gray circle or an exploding purple and white circle with wings, it all sort of blended into a generally gore-free exercise.

That dog, though, could have used some serious etiquette training. In fact, many bootleg versions of the game enable the player to shoot and kill the dog, fulfilling the fantasy many of us constructed after enduring his endless merciless taunts at our shoddy aim. You shoot, you miss, the dog mocks you profusely. It was more than enough to grate on our fragile young egos. Plus, he was incredibly annoying. I admit to aiming the gun at him once or twice, but unfortunately in the official game, there's just no getting rid of him.


No matter how easily amused we claim we may have been as children, there's no true justification for having played this game for more than 20 minutes at a time. It is so utterly mindless, prolonged playing may begin melting the softer areas of your brain. There is, indeed, an object to the game: shoot anything that moves; however, that's not quite enough of a motivating premise to keep us engaged for hours a la Super Mario Brothers or Tetris.

Duck Hunt's popularity can be credited to its bundling with the Super Mario Brothers game, both of which came with the classic Nintendo Entertainment System. While Duck Hunt probably couldn't stand alone as a bestselling game, it enjoyed widespread de facto popularity for one reason: because it was there. The plastic gun was still a bit of a novelty for an at-home gaming system, so it didn't matter much to us that the game was a simple exercise in point and shoot. We point, we shot, we outsmarted that damn dog.

It certainly didn't attain the same cult following as its bundle-mate Super Mario Brothers, but Duck Hunt achieved a quiet iconic status by default. Whether or not you were a fan of the game, if you owned an NES, you probably owned Duck Hunt. I still can't see that little red plastic gun without itching to take out some 8-bit fowl. I may not have ever developed the killer instinct, but this family friendly take on a shooting game made the genre palatable to even the wussiest of young gamers. See, sensitive kids can kill things, too! Thanks, Nintendo.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

All of the screaming teenagers out there today who think Twilight is a pioneer in the adolescent vampire genre should really brush up on their 90s TV trivia. Of course, in our day, high school girls weren't quite so impressionable; it was pretty rare for one of them to even entertain a flirtatious relationship with one of these bloodsucking demons, let alone embark on a full-scale whirlwind romance. No, we kept it simple in the 90s. You find a vampire, you slay it. It was just that easy.

Call me a purist, but as someone who has yet to actually give any of the Twilight series a try (for fear of spiraling back into screaming tweenish obsession), I prefer a clearer good versus evil divide. I like to know who is on which side. In Buffy world, vampires are bad, slayers are good, and there's not a lot of room for gray area. Well, okay, except for Buffy's tryst with Angel. Oh, and then it turns out he's a good guy and gets his own spin-off. You know what? I retract my previous statement. It's pretty darn similar. Apparently the appeal of predominant supernatural teen themes stretches across generations. Who knew?

In Buffyland, though, vampires the only bad guys. In her television incarnation, Buffy and the gang had plenty of evil nemeses to battle throughout the series, including but not limited to demons, sorcerers, witches, mutants, and bad-guy little league coaches. That's what you get for building a high school on top of a portal to hell. For many of us, high school was a hell without all of the escaped demons and crazed wizards, so we can only begin to imagine the horror of actual dark forces at play in the midst of our search for the perfect prom date.

The television series was not the first step in the Buffy enterprise; The franchise was born in 1992 as the eponymous comedy horror film starring Kristy Swanson and Luke Perry. In the considerably lighter movie, Buffy is introduced as a traditional popular blond cheerleader stock character--also known as a stereotypical horror movie victim. Creator Joss Whedon subverted the blond-girl-screams-in-dark-alley-and-is-torn-to-shreds horror trope, though, by making Buffy into a strong-willed, self-sufficient warrior. Or at least that was his intention. In the film version, some things did get a bit lost in translation through the editing process, but luckily Whedon got a second crack at the story.



Buffy's TV incarnation transferred her to Sunnydale, California, home of the aforementioned hell portal high school. Charming, no? The show held true to the basic premise of its preceding film, but the tone changed significantly with the shift to the small screen. While the film version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a tongue-in-cheek lightness to it, the television adaptation had a distinctly darker feel.

While the show maintained the same general premise as the movie, many details were altered to better suit the new format. Creator Joss Whedon had been less than pleased with the re-tweaking of his original script, lamenting the transformation of his horror movie into a fluffier comic film. When presented with an opportunity to adapt the concept for a television series, Whedon retooled the show to more closely match his original vision. In turn, the show ended up picking up at a slightly different point than the movie left off, but it was a shift that brought in a broader fan base.



The TV series saw our heroine and her friends through the gamut of typical teenage problems with a major twist: the demons they battled weren't only their identity and social stature, but actual live demons. Talk about hammering a metaphor to death. It's certainly a device that could have come across to viewers as trite and hackneyed. In practice, though, Buffy's emotional struggles were handled skillfully in their translation to external battles.

Lucky for TV Buffy, she didn't have to slay alone. Buffy (Sarah Michelle Gellar) had a crack team of teen sidekicks called "The Scooby Gang." The Scoobies include Willow (Alyson Hannigan), Xander (Nicholas Brendon), and occasionally Buffy's benevolent "Watcher" Rupert Giles. The gang expands significantly over the show's run, growing to include character's like Buffy's younger sister Dawn (Michelle Tratchenberg) and former high school nemesis Cordelia Chase (Charisma Carpenter.) While Buffy is the only true "Slayer", her gang of sidekicks help her considerably in her mission to take out evil, whether through their own powers, their knowledge of their former lives as demons or bad guys, or some other generally awesome qualifying factor.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer gradually acquired a rabidly devoted fan base, beginning the show's run with meager ratings and snowballing into a teen phenomenon. Buffy made a major ratings contribution to the then-fledgling WB network, bringing in hordes of adolescents viewers. The show remained successful throughout its run on the WB, but negotiation disputes landed Buffy on UPN in its sixth season. While the series retained a good deal of its initial popularity and had acquired an extremely loyal group of fans, by its seventh season it seemed to have run its course.

True to Whedon's original vision, it was refreshing to see the young blonde protagonist as a strong proactive force instead of as a meek helpless damsel in distress. It's nice to see a horror film where the adolescent girl finally gets to kick some supernatural butt. Unlike many other superheroes, Buffy was largely just a normal girl who fell into the role of protector of the universe. Hey, it's a tough job, but someone had to do it. If you're still hungry for your Buffy fix, don't worry; Joss Whedon was kind enough to expand the official canon to include a "Season 8" comic book. It's not quite the same as watching the live action unfold onscreen, but it will do in a pinch.

Sesame Street Songs

Some children's entertainment is timeless. If well-executed, a children's show or song has the potential to amuse and engage children across the span of generations. Admittedly, the fact that children are incredibly easily won over may play a part in the perseverance of these songs; most kids tend not to be especially discerning in their taste, nor do they have even a remote sense of what is irritating. Not to mention the fact that many parents are too cheap to replace the old hand-me-down CDs and videocassettes over the years--I know that kept my family watching scratchy VHS tapes for years after their prescribed shelf life had expired. Why buy a new copy of "Follow That Bird" or "Sing the Alphabet" when the original is still in working condition? Exactly.

Whatever the reason for its perseverance, Sesame Street has captured the hearts of children from the 1960s on and its appeal to each subsequent generation has remained strong. The show's music that drew in children in the 70s often remained beloved by children of the 90s and beyond. Many of the versions seen below are from the 70s but have been since replayed or re-recorded for new young viewers. The songs are extremely catchy and make for easy sing-alongs--perfect for children, but as an adult, it occurs to me they would be perfect for my iPod as well. Excuse me for a moment--I'm off to iTunes to add "Put Down the Ducky" to my road trip playlist.

As is the case in everything you see here at Children of the 90s, memory is subjective. Songs that stand out as my favorites probably differ somewhat from your own, so share your own most memorable Sesame Street tunes in the comment section. In fact, you could even link to a video of the song so we can all reminisce along with you! Sound like I'm asking you to do my job? Possibly. I asked nicely, though, so I think we can let it slide.

By the by, if you're looking for your favorite Sesame Street famous musical guests, fear not; I haven't forgotten them as a blatant omission. I've already got a whole post devoted to them. Check it out. See, I'm not so lazy as I might have seemed when I asked for your contributions to this list. I accept your apology for the snap judgment. Don't worry about it.


Rubber Duckie



Now here's a song with some serious mass appeal: in 1970, Rubber Duckie actually charted at a peak number 16 on the Billboard Hot 100. Not too shabby for a song intended to encourage children to bathe.


C is for Cookie



Ah, how we long for the days when Sesame Street's favorite cookie addict was still allowed to freely extol the virtues of sugar-laden snacks. While Snopes has since discounted the raging internet rumor alleging a switchover from Cookie Monster to Veggie Monster, our furry blue cookie consumer doesn't seem quite as ravenous for sweets as he once did. In my day, C was for Cookie and that was good enough for me.


Elmo's Song



Play this one at your own risk. I'm telling you, once it's in there, there's no removing it from your brain. It's entirely likely you will spend at least 24 hours repeating the "La la la la, la la la la, Elmo's soooong" chorus over and over again in your head. Elmo draws you in with his benign cuteness and then BAM! Total cerebral takeover. Well played, Elmo. Well played indeed.


ABC-DEF-GHI



Oh, poor, misguided Big Bird. He sees the alphabet written in chalk on the sidewalk and jumps to the conclusion that it's a long word with a meaning known only to the wise. Children without a comprehensive knowledge of the alphabet are probably equally perplexed by the meaning of "ab-cer-def-gee-jeckle-mernop-kur-stoove-wik-siz," but hopefully they can deduce that they possess an intellectual potential superior to Big Bird and figure it out eventually.


Bein' Green



This song gave Kermit a bad rap for melancholia--his lament of his green hue does seem like a bit of a downer. Apparently a major proportion of child viewers failed to understand that he actually felt okay about being green by the end of the song. That's what you get for trying to engage children through subtlety: total misunderstanding.



Put Down the Duckie



Hoots the Owl tells it like it is. Ernie naively thinks he can play the saxophone while clinging to his dear rubber duckie, but he is sadly mistaken. I suppose you could deduce some sort of anti-materialism message from the song, but most kids probably learned only not to attempt to play the saxophone while holding a small yellow rubber duck.


Sing



"Sing" remains one of the most-sung songs on Sesame Street, which is nearly as impressive as how many versions of the word "sing" I managed to squeeze into this sentence. The Carpenters' cover in 1973 even hit number 3 on the Billboard charts. It's since become a Sesame Street standard; perhaps there's some guest star initiation clause that requires celebrities to churn out a version of "Sing."


The People in Your Neighborhood



This one could possibly stand to be updated for the current decade; the people in our neighborhood have expanded to include the digital cable installation man and the guy in India allegedly named "Mike" who talks us through our Windows 7 installation. That's not to diminish the importance of the postman and the fireman, of course. It's far more likely that kids will still have aspirations of growing up to be one of those than an outsourced technology customer service associate.


I Love Trash



There's not really a "message" in this one, per se, but it stands alone on cuteness. That is, if you consider a garbage can-dwelling monster waxing poetic on the virtues of a good broken telephone or rusty trombone to be "cute." For the record, I do.


I Don't Want to Live on the Moon



Like Ernie, I too feel that I'd like to visit the move, but setting up permanent residence seems like a mistake. That's the lesson here, right? An anti-gravity locale is a tough full-time homestead? Okay, okay, fine, maybe it has something to do with appreciating what you have here at home. Darn you, Sesame Street, and your resonant life lessons.


Monster in the Mirror



We could all take a page from Grover's book: rather than being frightened by the monster in his mirror, he chooses to befriend it. To be fair, he is that monster, but I'm sure there's a nugget of educational wisdom in there somewhere. I think it's hidden in the "Wubba, wubba, wubba, woo, woo, woo" section.


Ladybug Picnic



Learn how to count and delight in watching ladybugs engage in adorable picnic activities? Where do I sign up? Of course, not all of the lyrics are totally relatable for small children. That line about the ladybugs' conversation about the high price of furniture and rugs and fire insurance for ladybugs may have gone a tad over their heads, but luckily they were distracted by the cute animation.