New Oregon Trail

Today I learned that there is a new Oregon Trail game coming out for the Wii.

First there was excitement. Then dysentery.

Because after the initial excitement wore off and I wiped up, I remembered that there was the AWESOME Oregon Trail (1992-ish) that I came to know and love in elementary school, and the shitty version (1995-ish) that had better graphics, but was mouse-dependent and everything else about it was total shit.

The new game just didn’t have the same appeal. So what were the appeal factors of the O.G.O.T. (Original Gangsta Oregon Trail)?

1. Naming

Before you could hitch up your wagons, you had to name your family. This small customization is endless fun and can add so much to a game.

I started by naming the characters cool shit. Optimus Prime and his son Galactus were the only ones to make the ford across the first river. Their daughter/sister, Rainbow Brite, unfortunately didn’t make it.

Then, when I got smart, it was time to put in teacher names. This didn’t pay off right away, but when the message “Mrs. Pesja has died of a snake bite” hit the screen, you’d say, Damn right she has. Serves her right for making me MEMORIZE times tables. Barbaric practices, barbaric death.

Of course, then you also hit on the idea of swears. “Shithead has died.” “Fuckface has starved to death.”

And finally, in case you are like me and enjoy giggling in your apartment alone, adding racial epithets to any game adds a bizarre element to any gameplay scenario. All of a sudden it appears as though this friendly shopkeeper has a bad case of the Klansies. OR, if that doesn’t push your button, just add “Goddamn cocksucking” to the front of every character name, transforming every video game into Deadwood: the game.

2. You were in charge

Being a kid, it was like role reversal. All of a sudden, you were like the dad on the road trip, making all the decisions with disregard to this dumb family that don’t really even exist to you off paper. One of the kids wants to stop because he’s ill? Too bad. We’re making good time. Someone needs to be buried? Great, we’ll bury him right here and get on the road. Good thing we were hauling all these tombstones. And if I wanna try and just drive straight through a river, maybe a couple people don’t make it out. Oh well. All part of the adventure!

You also decided to set the pace. Though I didn’t really understand the meaning of the word fully, “grueling” was always the obvious choice. It’s called the Gold Rush, not the Gold Get There When We Get There.

You also got to pick your career. You could be a carpenter (if you were an idiot), a farmer (if you were a bigger idiot) or a banker (which was the obvious choice because you started with GODDAMN MONEY).

3. Hunting

Clearly the best part of this adventure was shooting. I’m certain that we must have been the last generation to grow up in schools that PAID MONEY for a video game that featured the use of GUNS.

Anyway, even a 3rd grader can appreciate the hilariousness of standing in a field with 7 downed buffalo, 4 squirrels, and a couple rabbits, more meat than a family could ever hope to eat or carry. It was enough to make a Native American man shed a single, badly pixellated tear.

4. The Rafting Endgame

The last sequence of the game involved piloting your wagon, transformered into a raft, down a raging river. It was awesome, and all of a sudden you were playing what appeared to be AN ACTUAL VIDEO GAME.

5. It Was Played At School

Probably the most important point.

I’m not sure how schools were tricked into thinking this game was educational, but they were suckers, man. It must have been before people understood what video games were, because I learned a hell of a lot more (almost nothing) from Metal Gear Solid than I did Oregon Trail.

I learned the word “typhoid” but still had no idea what it was beyond the fact that it was fatal to ShitBitchHell, my only son. I still have no fucking idea what a wagon tongue is, nor what effect it’s breaking may have on a traveler.

Oregon Trail was far from a great, great game. But compared to doing anything remotely resembling work, I’d be happy to march pioneers to their grueling deaths, squashing the spirit of American westward expansion one family of unfortunately named travelers at a time.