Day 9: CD's, Soundgarden, and Manual Saves
In March of 1996 the Supreme Court is reviewing whether or not Arizona can endorse English as its official language, President Clinton is urging Republicans to cooperate on the increase of minimum wage from $4.25 an hour to $5.15 but Republican leaders would not bring the bill to a vote, and a study out of the University of Wisconsin showed that the label “parental discretion advised” significantly increased the desire of boys aged 10-14 to watch programs and movies.
“Common ruse, dirty face
Pretty noose is pretty hate
And I don’t like what you got me hanging from”
1996 marked the year I got a CD-playing stereo for my birthday. My days with finicky cassette tapes were over. I would never have to rewind, fast forward, or change sides for my music again. I bravely welcomed my foreseeable future of scratched, shiny discs littering the backseat of my eventual car, but that would come later. This birthday came with a pair of CDs: Aerosmith’s Big Ones and Soundgarden’s brand-spanking new Down On The Upside.
Gone too soon, king.
A few weeks earlier on a bored summer day while wasting time watching hours of MTV, I had seen the music video for Soundgarden’s new single Burden In My Hand, with the band shambling through the hot desert. The song blew my mind and hooked me right away. To this day it ranks high for me despite being largely forgotten in the grand scheme of 90’s era music. That same album also had Blow Up The Outside World, Ty Cobb, Dusty, No Attention, and Pretty Noose, all songs I still love to this day. Fast forward 20-ish years and I’m in the crowd as Chris Cornell belts the hits during Soundgarden’s brief comeback in mid-2010’s. One week later he was found dead in a hotel room in Detroit. An accident perhaps but a suicide nonetheless. It has been almost four years since we lost one of alternative rock’s most talented frontmen and it wasn’t until this month, the month of 1996, that I have been able to go back and listen to Soundgarden or Chris Cornell at all. Some songs hit differently now, like Pretty Noose, despite what its intended meaning may be. In my personal ranking of 1996 music albums, Down On The Upside is slightly above Tool’s Ænema as one and two. Again, if that seems basic it’s because I am and I don’t pretend to be anything more.
Very often the last thing you see before the main menu reappears
I cannot recall exactly when we, as gamers, became accustomed to autosaving but it has done quite a disservice to my 1996 life. In playing Quake last night, I laboriously suffered through several levels rife with horrifying enemies and if I made that sound like I didn’t have fun, I didn’t mean to. The game is an absolute blast! But, I had an oops. I got accustomed to saving mid-level when things were going my way so as not to repeat the entire level once things went a different way (south). As the game progresses, the levels become more complex in their layouts and the difficulty ramps ever so slightly, therefore, saving as you go is necessary for a casual Quake-r like me. However, at the completion of a chapter (in Quake’s case a “realm”), I am accustomed to a game just taking care of saving for me under the assumption that completing a distinct section of the game is a checkpoint of sorts. Well, not in Quake and not in many games in 1996. After I completed the final gauntlet of enemies at the end of Quake’s second realm, I celebrated by shooting both of my arms into the air, thus scaring the cat and sloshing my drink. I accomplished what I set out to accomplish for the night and it was time to move on to something else. After the game placed my character back in the realm selection corridor signifying that I was free to go to the next realm, I absentmindedly pressed “Escape” and then keyed down to “Quit” and pressed “Enter”.
I immediately knew I fucked up.
Pictured: Champion of manual saves
Whispering “no no noooo” under my breath, I reopened Quake, selected “Single Player”, then “Load Game”, and sure enough there was nothing there post-gauntlet for me to load. I would have to play that level over. Saving and saving often is something that mid-to-late 90’s gamers practiced religiously and many still practice today despite modern autosave features. Those of us who grew up in the lost-save era treat autosaves as a glass floor. Sure, you can walk on it and it will hold you, but do you trust it? Glass can break. Autosaves can corrupt, fail, or maybe you didn’t see the save happen just as you might be unable to detect a glass floor. I’m forcing this metaphor.
“I just manually saved in two different save slots. When was the last time you saved?" -Wilford Brimley, Beetus haver, legend, meme, father probably, guy, actor
Like Wilford Brimley’s (RIP) blood sugar, which he checked and checked often to stave off beetus (diabetes, the silent killer), saving and saving often is something I prided myself on throughout the years but last night is evidence that I have been tainted by modern autosave frequency and it cost me.
2021 strikes again.
