I may have mentioned this before, but as a young kid back in 2001 to around 2004, the Gameboy Advance was my personal gaming platform of choice. The games on that thing were right up my alley, with bright, comic book-like colors (very appropriate, as I was into 50–60s comic book art at the time) and (mostly) platforming gameplay. Classics like Metroid: Fusion and the Super Mario Bros games occupied many hours of my time each day, on the couch, in the car, or even on the toilet. I must have used over 100 double A batteries during my lifetime with the thing.

Besides playing it, though, my other fascination was collecting and buying new GBA titles. Every year for Christmas I would usually get a few new games, but the more often occurrence would be a visit to the K.B. Toy store. There, encased in a glass display were brand-new GBA titles of every sort and type. To this day, I still love the box art for these –  the colorful natures of the game would often also be represented on the box. Staring into the glass-encased display was like staring into a universe of vibrant, exciting characters. And the best part? In every box was a game to be played.

But also inside that cardboard box of wonder was a booklet, folded in half and stapled along the middle. The long-lost treasure of gaming history –  game manuals.

Now, I won’t pretend that these were the greatest things ever, but as a kid they did a lot for me. There was nothing better than getting ahold of a new GBA title, opening up the box and dumping the contents onto your lap, much like you would with a lego set –  though, this was much more practical since you didn’t have to worry about losing anything important (where’s Boba Fett’s blaster, Dad?!). So, what did you get? Well, the game, first of all, but that was of little importance during the car ride home because I usually wouldn’t have my GBA with me. The next best thing was the instruction manual, which I considered at the time to be the second best things ever. Inside were pages of full-color characters and enemies, maps, backstory, and towards the end, an obligatory “notes” page.

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I loved the things. Obviously getting home and playing the actual game was the highlight of a new game purchase, but for me, the manual was the cherry on top. Each car ride home instantly became that much better as I got a “sneak peek” on things to come in the mini-universe inside that GBA cartridge. It was beautiful.

Years passed and my gaming preferences changed, now to the PC side of things. That’s when I got my hands on this behemoth of an instructional tome, the biggest and baddest game manual of them all:

I remember in 7^th grade I used to bring this guy in for silent reading time during homeroom. I probably read every page at least three times, it was that good. And due to the thickness of it, I never had teachers questioning what I was reading. This thing was 147 pages long, and had detailed write-ups on completely everything in the game. Anything you could think of, it was there. From the basic controls, to emotes, to pages of backstory –  everything. Seriously, if you don’t believe me, go check it out on the official City of Heroes website in PDF form. It’s a shining example of why I love game manuals so much.

Sadly, since then, I’ve noticed game manuals seem to have undergone a serious decline in quality –  in other words, they’re total shit. Of course, there’s good reasoning behind this. Developers incorporate the instructional part –  or tutorial –  in the games themselves, rather than in the box. That makes total sense, this way you’re not using up as much paper, and as a bonus the player doesn’t have to pause the gameplay to go lookup something in the manual. But now with these changes, we get manuals that look like this:

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Even that (from the Black Ops game manual) is generous by today’s standards, actually. Now it’s been cut down to a single piece of paper, or in some cases, nothing at all. This is even the case with MMOs –  the Champions Online manual is a mere eight pages long, in black and white.

When I think “game manual,” I think information on the game. The correct term now is “instruction manual,” and it’s appropriate for what’s included. The real reason I got so much enjoyment out of these things though, was because of the information. You know, the backstory, characters, weapons –  it was enjoyable for me to read up on. In the case of the City of Villains game manual, I got to read about a game I loved when I couldn’t play it. It was something extra, the toy in the happy meal. With today’s black and white, bland and picture-less excuses for “manuals,” it becomes clear things have definitely changed.

I still have the same mentality today –  I love reading up about anything related to the games I’ve been playing, but that’s where the internet comes in. I read blogs, webcomics, watch videos, and listen to podcasts. Yet, it’s not the same. There just won’t be anything better than those freshly-printed, brightly-colored, black-lettered manuals filled with pages of gaming goodness. While some were better than others - thicker, more colorful, and with better pictures –  they’ll all stay with me as an important part of the exciting world that was my gaming childhood.

I know I’m not alone.

-rav4ge