Sega Mega Drive
Sonic, Streets of Rage, and a marketing campaign aimed squarely at making Nintendo look like it was for children.
The 1990s
Dial-up, Britpop, and a Tamagotchi dying in your school bag.
The decade of the Mega Drive, the Discman, Sunny Delight and a modem that sounded like a fax machine falling down stairs. Saturday morning telly was appointment viewing and the shops shut on Sunday.
How the decade went
Sonic, Streets of Rage, and a marketing campaign aimed squarely at making Nintendo look like it was for children.
Nintendo's handheld sold on Tetris and battery life, and the link cable made trading PokΓ©mon possible five years later.
Lycra, foam pugil sticks, and the Eliminator. Saturday night ITV at its absolute peak.
The Escort was everywhere, and the modification culture around it (dice, spoilers, sub-woofer) defined a certain kind of British car park.
Saturday afternoon spent hitting the reveal button and waiting for a score to change.
A character from Noel's House Party who became a genuine Christmas number one and then a theme park.
Blank E-180s with three films on them and a label that had been crossed out four times.
The BBC's Saturday morning block, with games, bands, cartoons and a competition where somebody got gunged.
A portable CD player that skipped if you walked, ran on batteries for two hours, and was carried perfectly flat like a waiter.
Saturday night television stopped for the draw, presented live, with Noel Edmonds and a machine called Guinevere.
Light-up trainers were the most desirable footwear in any primary school, for roughly six months each.
The ritual of choosing a film as a family, which took forty minutes and ended in a compromise nobody wanted.
You stacked them, slammed them, and kept whichever landed face up. Then every school in Britain banned them.
Looney Tunes and PokΓ©mon discs given away in crisp packets, which drove sales to extraordinary levels.
An entire encyclopedia on one CD, with video clips that ran at postage-stamp size and a "Mind Maze" game nobody finished.
Before whiteboards and projectors, learning happened via a bright box that hummed and got hot enough to burn.
Microsoft launched Windows 95 with a Rolling Stones track and shops opening at midnight, and people actually queued.
56k modems, per-minute charges, and a household rule that nobody used the phone after six.
Sticker albums moved to the new Premier League, and the badges were foil, and everyone needed the same three.
An egg-shaped keyring with three buttons and an alien creature that demanded feeding every few hours, forever.
Rewritable, skip-proof, and you could name every track. Sony's finest format and a commercial disappointment.
A drink marketed with extraordinary aggression that briefly became the third best-selling soft drink in Britain, then collapsed.
A small chocolate frog that cost 10p and has become the standard measure of how much worse everything has got.
The first phone that was genuinely a mass-market object rather than a business tool, with an internal aerial and a game everyone played.
The Friday Rewind
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