The end of summer '89 was the beginning of the TurboGrafx-16


The summer of '89 was a scorcher, folks. But now it was coming to an end. Cicadas, those tireless harbingers of summer's demise, sawed their mournful dirges from the sycamore trees, each rasping note a cruel reminder that the season of freedom, of sun-drenched idleness and forbidden midnight escapades, was drawing to its inevitable, dreaded close. The days, once endless and shimmering with possibility, were now starting to fray at the edges, the shadows lengthening a touch earlier. Sprinklers hissed on lawns, cars idled in driveways, the predictable cycle of aspiration and disillusionment playing out in countless living rooms. And then there was this machine. The NEC TurboGrafx-16. It dropped on August 29th, like a brick through a plate-glass window, shattering the quiet monotony of another fading summer.

You saved your lawn-mowing money and your allowance, counting out the crumpled bills and jingling quarters. You went to the store, and you bought that strange black box. It had a tiny, credit card-sized game called a "HuCard" that slid into the front. You took it home and plugged it in, and the first game you played was Keith Courage in Alpha Zones, because it was the one they gave you for free. And the world was brighter, sharper, with more colors than your old NES could even dream of. It was a sweet dream, for a while.

The NES had already staked its claim, a kingpin in every living room from Bangor to Burbank. Sega’s Genesis was clawing its way up, all sharp edges and attitude. But the TurboGrafx? It was the outsider, the one you’d see leaning against a wall at the edge of the arcade, cigarette dangling, eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite name.

Consider Blazing Lazers, a torrent of light and fury, a blisteringly-fast ballet of destruction that pushed the boundaries of what a home console could achieve. Or Alien Crush, a biomechanical nightmare, all pulsating organs and chittering horrors, disguised as a pinball game. J.J. & Jeff splashed Oscar-worthy cinematography and complex character development across the boob tube screen.

TurboGrafx had more - and more vivid - colors, smoother controls with built-in rapid fire Turboswitches, bigger sprites, and faster animation than the rival Genesis. Its music and sound were unmatched for 1989-1990, especially with the TurboBooster accessory installed. But the fix was in, with the game magazines' reviewers strangely biased in favor of the weaker Sega machine from the get-go. Along with a lack of big-time game licenses relative to the NES and Genesis, and inexplicable NEC gaffes such as not porting its Japanese Batman game over to the U.S. TurboGrafx at the height of Tim Burton 1989 Batmania, the unsparing impact on TurboGrafx console sales was clear.

Yet, for those who dared to embrace its dark allure, it offered a communion unlike any other. It was a secret society, a clandestine cult of gamers who understood that true pleasure often lies on the fringes, in the places where the light barely touches. On no other system could you play the ghastly forbidden fruit of Splatterhouse, shotgun-blasting, chainsawing, and 2x4 splattering your way through Dr. West's mansion, parental guidance be damned (two sequels would later show up on the Genesis, though). The next year would see that and other titles like Bonk's Adventure, Ninja Spirit, and Bloody Wolf, epic adventures without parallel in the 16-bit era. Slick shooter Gates of Thunder and a Japanese import of Castlevania: Dracula X would later render the Sega and Nintendo machines mere smoking piles of plastic, but, alas, the victory was only a moral one by that point. But this was August '89, and the video game crown was still up for grabs.

And so, as the leaves began to turn, and the nights grew longer, the TurboGrafx-16 began its quiet work, corrupting minds, igniting passions, and forever altering the landscape of digital entertainment. It wasn’t just a game system; it was a siren’s call, promising escape from the looming dread of algebra tests and locker room humiliations, its HuCards whispering tales of starfields and cavemen heroes that could make you forget, for a little while, that summer was dying.

You didn’t talk about the way the days were shortening, or how the wind carried a chill that hadn’t been there a week ago. The TurboGrafx wasn’t just a machine; it was a door to somewhere else, a place where you could outrun the calendar and the creeping certainty that nothing stays golden forever.

And sometimes, even now, when the leaves start to turn and the air gets that crisp, autumnal bite, you can still hear the faint hum of that slim black box, promising a future that was, for a fleeting moment, within our grasp.

Location: Elk Grove Village, IL, USA

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