Spyro The Dragon is one of my all time favorite titles, and for very obvious reasons that likely most people would name. It's colorful, it's vibrant, it's got a great soundtrack and it was just a very original game. I've never been a big fantasy fan, so for me to like something fantasy based, even as a child, really said something. But Spyro was just a perfect combination of everything I liked in video games.
It had a cute lead character, it had fantastic surreal levels, was mostly a platformer, with collectibles and a fun collection of tunes to roam around to. It was cartoonish without being over the top cartoonish and it had a story without the story being overwhelmingly obnoxious and in the way.
But you know why I remember Spyro? Because I played it mostly in my grandmothers kitchen. It was summer, I was in elementary school, and I stayed with my grandparents while my folks went away on a vacation. This was sort of rare, as usually our summer trips were the whole family, but this time they left me and my step siblings with my grandparents, and I stayed in the kitchen the entire time playing through Spyro, finding every gem, every dragon, every egg. My eyes were glued to the screen of that tiny television, helping that little purple dragon rescue his clan.
This is why, when finally playing Spyro Reignited this past year, I think I had an even better time than I would've otherwise, because the game is so deeply attached to the nostalgia of my grandparents. My grandmother would cook, or bake, or deshell walnuts at the table while I played and watched me bash through all the various enemy types, never once making a disparaging comment. Spyro Reignited wasn't just an extremely excellent and faithfully gorgeous remake of the old games, but it also was like winning back a small piece of childhood that I'd lost so long ago...my grandparents.
I replay Spyro constantly, and not just the Reignited version, but the original. It's a comforting space, a safe zone almost, where I can retreat back to the mindset of that dweeby, friendless loser I was and feel oddly close to my grandmother again, despite her not being interested in video games at all. But the color, the coziness that encapsulates Spyro, it all really reminds me of that summer I spent playing it during my childhood in her kitchen on that tiny television, and I don't know how to explain it but the whole Spyro franchise utterly reeks of childhood.
In a tumultuous adulthood often suffocated under nothing but grief and frustration and worry, it's nice to run back to that little spot that Spyro holds in my heart and glide through those endless wonderlands yet again to the magical music of Stewart Copeland, collecting all the gems and dragons along the way. Spyro makes me feel like I can overcome insurmountable odds and save the day, even when I feel like I've finally hit rock bottom. Spyro represents that last little bit of hope, that even when someone has stolen all your treasure, someone has encased all your friends in crystal...when your grandmother has died too early...that there's still a way to move forward.
I think I should tell you all something. Something perhaps I should've said a long time ago. Something that may make you look at me differently.
I cannot have children. I'm am infertile. This makes me incredibly sad, because if I were capable of getting my shit together, I'd really love to be a mom, but it also has a weird side effect in that it makes me incredibly protective of fictional characters because they feel like my children. Am I unwell? Yeah, extremely, and I recognize that. But that's one reason why Spyro means a lot to me. You cannot go back in time, unless you happen to suffer from dissociation the way I do I suppose, and so I can only merely carry the things I loved into the future with me, using them to steal back glimpses of the past, a past where I am still a child, a past where my grandmother didn't die too early. A past that can never be.
But by playing old video games - much like reading old books or watching old movies - you can in fact steal back a moment in time. You can regain that sense of childlike wonder again. No, I will never again sit in my grandmothers kitchen. It is owned by someone else entirely different now, and she's no longer among us. But by starting up yet another playthrough, me and my extremely damaged childhood self can once again feel as though we're back in that kitchen that summer, guiding a polygon dragon through enchanted worlds of wonder.
And the worlds of Spyro are magical, that's why I like to spend so much time in them.
Because I've been shown first hand throughout my life time and time again how terrible the real world is.
Leave me and my dragon son alone.
A photo of my grandmother and me after middle school graduation, circa 2004.
My name is Maggie. I'm an artist/author. I make a lot of stuff. If you liked this review, you can support me over at Patreon, buy my books at Payhip or tip me over at Kofi.