Anyone who considers themselves a true retro gaming warrior has probably fought the endless battle of upgrading RAM just to satisfy the ever-growing demands of new video games.
It was 1993. Every day I powered on my trusty 386 DX-40 MHz equipped with just 2 MB of RAM, and it felt like starting a high-performance motorcycle. As soon as it came to life, I could race down the road of technological evolution, with the wind blowing through my hair as if it carried an endless stream of new discoveries.
Then came the good news.
Mortal Kombat was finally released for PC.
This wasn’t just another fighting game. It was the first real challenger to Street Fighter, a game that dared to threaten the throne of Ryu, Ken, Blanka, and the rest of Capcom’s legendary cast.
I couldn’t wait to play it.
I installed the game, launched it… and was greeted by a mysterious memory error.
Back then, I had never seen anything like it.
It was as if my powerful motorcycle suddenly started sputtering. The engine lost power, the speed faded away, and the exhilarating wind of technological progress no longer rushed through my hair. Dark clouds gathered overhead, rain began to fall, and I simply couldn’t understand why such an incredible game refused to run.
My brother became a detective overnight. We searched everywhere for answers. We might as well have called the FBI, the fire department, or even the guy on the street who claimed he could read your future from the palm of your hand.
None of it helped.
Eventually we discovered the painful truth.
Mortal Kombat required 4 MB of RAM.
Today that number sounds ridiculous. Back then, it was a small fortune.
To make matters worse, our PC had only one memory slot available. Upgrading meant removing the existing RAM module entirely and replacing it with a larger, more expensive one. As a kid, I didn’t fully understand the technical details, but I understood one thing perfectly: hardware requirements had become a form of tyranny.
There was a time when programmers pushed hardware to its absolute limits, squeezing every last drop of performance from the machines people already owned.
That philosophy slowly disappeared.
Instead, we became prisoners of an endless upgrade cycle. RAM, processors, and graphics cards started becoming obsolete faster and faster. Buying a new computer was no longer enough—you already knew you’d have to upgrade it sooner rather than later.
My motorcycle now had to be modified before even leaving the garage, because sooner or later the road would become steeper, and without more power I’d inevitably slow to a crawl.
Fast forward to today.
RAM prices are once again climbing, this time fueled by the explosion of artificial intelligence and the massive demand for memory in data centers. Different era, same nightmare.
We still need that motorcycle to keep moving forward.
Technology should make the road easier to travel, not force us to buy a more powerful engine every few miles.
We can’t stop progress, but perhaps we should ask whether there’s a better route—one where software and hardware evolve together instead of forcing users into an endless race to keep up.
Long live RetroGek…
…and long live Scorpion, with his unforgettable spear and the immortal cry:
“GET OVER HERE!”