It's not just that each piece is primitive singularly. It all plays out like a war in a remedial geometry class.
Your survival relies on your ability to fight off the warheads by firing missiles of your own and creating giant "splotches" (read: explosions) in the sky to intercept oncoming missiles. Now and then an enemy cruiser, represented by a small basic rectangle, speeds onto the screen, threatening to kamikaze into one of your bases. Basic blinking dots drop from the sky, leaving jagged lines in their wakes. Jagged piles of pixels make up bases you must defend from oncoming missiles. The graphics haven't just "aged," but they're downright ugly. I knew the game had aged, but that didn't prepare me for what the minimalist visuals would stir in my mind. Missile Command caught me off guard, something few 2600 games do these days. You are the only remnants of a civilization, and once the bases you're defending are toast your only existence will be in the pages of a history book."Īpril, 2012.
It's disquieting because you get the sense that you are it. There you sit, alone, vulnerable, no discernible geographic advantage, waiting in anticipation for those rockets to arrive. Most of the screen is wide open nothing: a blank night sky and a bleak environment. "No, Missile Command is not easy on the eyes whatsoever, and yet somehow that's incredibly beautiful.
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