They say that you always remember your first love. For me, every blast of Eighties trash or synthcore takes me back to the decade taste forgot and the one I left behind in that decade.

I first laid eyes on him when I was all of eight years old. We met one Sunday afternoon, upstairs in my cousin's bedroom. I didn't pay much attention as my cousin and brother played with him at first. But slowly,
over time, I found my attention drifting away from the My Little Pony annuals back to him, because he was beautiful. I still remember those big, cute eyes that peeped out from under golden curls, and his smooth, smooth bronze skin.

Sure, he about an inch tall, wearing a grass skirt and throwing axes at enemies in a two-dimensional world, but I was hooked. WonderBoy on the Sega Master System was my first love.

The game was a standard platform game, with my eponymous digital amour leaping over land and sea to rescue his girlfriend who'd been kidnapped by the Demon King. He was the perfect gentlemen, collecting presents for her along the way like dolls and flowers. He looked an odd choice for such heroics, a chubby-cheeked cherub with a little protruding belly, but
everyone looked weird in the Eighties. His girlfriend - my love rival - was a green-haired foxy manga chick in a pink minidress. Of course I was jealous, but at least WonderBoy had good taste in laydeez. It was the ultimate in cutesie-cute Eighties computer games and I loved WonderBoy with all my little heart.







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