You don’t need remasters to enjoy old games

The pixelated blood of the early Resident Evil games, that ruby-hued gelatin burst, still purls in the veins of my imagination. In part, this is because of what it meant: a fleeting sense of calm, mauled by the molars of a zombified policeman; Claire’s defiant gait, reduced to a grimacing limp; and my priorities, realigning from crank handles to first aid sprays. Such fear could be conjured by the crude red squares.

And that is the other reason it still holds residence in my mind: it had…

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