But I do - W00T! Life Story! *cracks knuckles and begins typing furiously*

I find it strange that my memories about Jazz Jackrabbit are so vivid. (Is it a coincidence?) but at six years old, I didn’t remember much. School was still fun (probably because I didn’t do anything), and traveling to my aunt’s house was still boring (probably because I didn’t do anything). But what I do remember is how I was introduced to Jazz Jackrabbit. One fateful day, that very same aunt allowed me a little glimpse at her (Ohhhh!) Personal Computer. The only other computer I was allowed to touch was my dad’s, hidden away in the elusive corner of his bedroom. He wouldn’t let me do much with it. He wouldn’t install any of my games ever since Toy Story “screwed up his hard drive.” (yeah, I don’t get it either). I was mostly confined to watching him play his games (Doom and Heretic, mostly) from my kitchen chair that I dragged into his room. So back at my aunt’s house I was in a giddy cloud of childhood bliss, playing games on my her computer like Ski Free, pinball, and this weird one that I think was called Hoover. But my best discovery, by far, was Jazz Jackrabbit!

I don’t know where she got it and I don’t know why, but does that really matter when you are six years old? All that mattered was that I was playing it. And I loved it. It was like the coolest thing. Ever: The original Jazz. What six-year old was not to like an 8-bit green rabbit who munched on carrots and had a sweet gun? My favorite level was the one that was made of Lego blocks. I also remember the TubeElectric eyeballs (They always got me! Every time!) and that cool 3D part where you, as Jazz, ran around a track collecting things once you found the big red gem. I also can recall, after beating the first handful of episodes, that the chapter was over. I had to purchase the next ones. What kind of lame, stupid game was this? What kind of six-year-old has money to buy the rest of it? How could I ever play any more of this glorious game?

Truth was, I never did. In my subsequent visits to my Aunt’s house, I would re-visit the few episodes I had beaten, and sometimes watch my older cousin help me on the harder parts. But eventually, my aunt got a new computer. The old one was thrown out, and along with it, Jazz Jackrabbit. I was convinced that I would never see it again, and it slowly faded from memory. It may have gone completely, had it not been for encounter number two, this time in the game aisle of Fleet Farm.

Four years later, when I was ten, my aunt’s house was fun. Her daughter (my cousin) and I had forged a friendship through our Jazz-Jackrabbit playing, and had now progressed to furious games of hide-and-seek and whack-the-balloon-around-the-house-with-paint-stirring-sticks (never found a good name for that one). School, however, had taken a turn fro the worse. Now, I had subtraction facts to memorize. And I hated it. What was the point of having to think about something when you could get a calculator to do it? In desperation, Mom carted me to the local Mill’s Fleet Farm. You see, this was before Wal*Mart moved in to out neighboring town. Before then, Fleet Farm was the place to go.

She was dragging me through the games section, feverishly looking for flash cards or something else she could use to burn those annoying subtraction facts into my head. I followed timidly in the wake of her warpath, keeping my eye out for a good game (computer or otherwise) that I could try to beg her into buying for me. And what do I happen to glance at, lost among the shelves, but a small, white, CD case - and what was on this CD case but a small green rabbit!

“MOM!” I hollered, stopping her in her tracks, “Can you please please please buy this game for me?” I continued my plea in that characteristic child whine, clutching the game and rambling on forever and hardly stopping to take a breath. “Remember the one at Aunt Jean’s house, that I played all the time, it’s the same one, I love this game, and please please please could I have it? It’s the last one here, and that’s probably because it is so good, and if we don’t get it now, someone else is going to buy it right away, and then I’ll be really really sad, and can I please have it Mom I love you!” I finally had to stop to breathe.

“Why, yes, honey, of course I’ll buy it for you, but…” I groaned inwardly. There was always a but. Still, how bad could it be? I was about to own my very own copy of Jazz Jackrabbit 2, which, upon closer inspection, looked even better than Jazz Jackrabbit 1. However, I had to snap back to listening to Mom, hearing out her conditions. After all, Jazz Jackrabbit could be hanging on the line. “…But you can only play it the same amount of time that you study your subtraction facts,” She finished, flashing me a mischievous grin and holding a pack of flash cards in her outstretched hand.

Needless to say, I had those subtraction facts memorized in three days.

Throughout the years, Jazz Jackrabbit has held my attention as so few games can do. As I grew up, I inevitably forgot about it for a stint of another two years, until I got a computer of my own. It was time for Dad to get a shiny new one, and he of course gave his old “piece of junk” to me. I then proceeded to stamp stars all over the side of the monitor (not the screen, doofus) and install the first game I happened to dig out of the pit of CDs. You can all guess what game that was.

With this new installation of this old game, I discovered a feature that was previously overlooked. This new thing, Jazz Creation Station, reminded me way too much of Mark Kissler’s Imagination Station to be left alone. I soon opened it and discovered that it was much, much more complicated than a television drawing program. But still, I wanted to learn how to use it, as I had gleaned as much entertainment out of the single player adventure that I possibly could. So I began an arduous self-training program in which I finally, finally learned how to work the darn thing. I opened levels with it, studied how they were made, and tried to replicate it. My first levels were made with the Castle tileset, and were completely contained in level four. But as I got older, I soon learned how to make them better.

Upon my discovery of Jazz 2 Online, my interest in this game creation engine increased exponentially. There were so many people out here making so many things - it was like I was six all over again, sitting in front of my aunt’s computer and discovering Jazz Jackrabbit for the first time. You must understand that I didn’t even have an inkling that something like this even existed, so when I stumbled upon it quite by accident I was blown away. (New tilesets!?! You can make those??) I used the school’s high-speed Internet to download as many things as I could and put them on my jump drive, immersing myself in Jazz Jackrabbit all over again. Then, after playing EvilMike’s glorious single player odysseys, I thought “Maybe I could make something like that too.” So I tried. With my upload of O Brother and a sequel coming, (slowly but surely) Jazz Jackrabbit has managed to stay with me almost my entire life like no other game has.

So now, as I watch my eight-year-old sister play this game, I can’t help but smile. It takes a true masterpiece to entertain two generations like this, and how this game is still enjoyable ten years later is a perfect example of its timelessness. So that is why I loved, and still do (a present-tense love is required) love Jazz Jackrabbit two.

“Hey!” My little sister calls from my bedroom, where she had been happily holed up in for hours, “Can you help me get up here to this ledge? I can’t free the bird that’s in the cage! I bet he really wants to get out of there, and guess what! When I let him go, he follows me and shoots things! Isn’t that cool? I need your help please!”

“Of course kiddo,” I say, hopping up the stairs and taking my place at the keyboard, “See, when you hold shift, Jazz runs faster and you can make him jump farther, like this. Now you try…”

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How was that for a life story! Hoo boy, I emphasized the story part a little much, but I assure you that everything is true. This really happened to me, every single part of it.