The Ohio State University Marching Band delivered a stunning 10-minute tribute to video games during a half-time performance at the American football match between Ohio and Nebraska at the weekend.
Forget Final Fantasy, Square Enix has invented a miniature arcade cabinet for your iPad.
I challenge anyone to sit and play a Space Invaders cocktail cabinet for more than 10 minutes without feeling the subtle pinch of boredom nibbling at their fire-button finger, though it's equally impossible to walk past that original Taito coin-op and not say "Wow! I'd love to own that machine!". Perhaps it hasn't aged particularly well, or perhaps it's just massively overplayed (I suspect the latter), but there's something about the grandfather of the modern games industry that, despite its limited gameplay and simplistic design, remains disturbingly appealing.
Space Invaders achieved a cult status before we ever coined the phrase "obsessive fan boy", yet the game still holds an appeal that goes far beyond the narrow scope of its coin dissolving on-screen action. It quickly became a symbol of youthful, dynamic recreation, of unabashed escapism and (quite literally) cheap, exhilarating entertainment. For the first time, money spent in arcades wasn't wasted on self-indulgence; it was a legitimate part of weekly leisure finances and was recognised by gamers and non-gamers alike.
It introduced the world to the sight of an arcade machine standing in random corners wherever people gathered, and established the familiar sounds of electronic entertainment with its ominous, pounding metronomic sound effects. Developed quite organically from a combination of mechanical amusement machines and popular sci-fi culture, Tomohiro Nishikado's endless onslaught of ominous, marching aliens posed a brilliantly adventurous quest for kids the world over.