Inflation calculator
Joystiq is the latest to gripe about the high cost of video games, and the probability that A-list titles will go for $60 when the new consoles come out.
Most of the commenters pile in on Joystiq's side, but near the end one voice of reasonable opposition chimes in to note that game prices haven't changed much in 20 years when you adjust for inflation.
I wanted to double-check his figures, so I turned to my faithful research assistant, Mr. Google, and asked him if there were any online calculators that could adjust prices for inflation.
Bingo.
I remember buying an Atari 2600 for $150, the day after Christmas. I forget the exact year, but I figure it must have been 1982 or maybe '83.
My best friend had, months earlier, bought one with his own money. This was a startling concept, that I could save my weekly allowance (about $1 at the time, I believe) instead of spending it instantly on whatever bauble caught my eye on our weekly Friday visit to the local Fred Meyers department store.
Not only that, but I could even perform extra labor to earn additional cash to be deposited into an Atari fund.
My parents had obviously worked out that, at going market rates for 12-year-old labor, it would still take me approximately 75 weeks to earn enough to buy the coveted machine outright. They kindly made me a deal, that if I scrounged up $75, they would foot the remainder.
I can't recall how long my savings program lasted, but it surely lasted several months. By Christmas, I had amassed the sum of $40, a gargantuan fortune to my pre-teen sensibilities, but still far short of the magic amount needed to bring the pleasures of "Space Invaders" and "Combat" into my home.
Then came Christmas morning. Christmas was always an extravagant affair at my home, and that year was no exception. I know what you're thinking but no, there was no Atari under the tree.
But there was an envelope perched on one of the branches.
Inside was a check for $35.
It was deus ex avia, salvation through the sudden and unexpected intervention of my grandmother.
I can't remember any other gifts from that Christmas, but on December 26, we headed to the mall to get my real present. The Atari came with the title "Combat" and just for icing on the cake, my father sprung for "Space Invaders", too.
In the following years, my game collection expanded slowly but surely. Birthdays and Christmases were always good for a new title, but in between I was left to my own devices to procure and save enough money to keep myself entertained.
It was also during that time that I first experienced buyer's remorse to a degree that nearly made me physically ill.
After having spent weeks or months scrimping and saving (my allowance was eventually raised to a whopping $5 a week), I would finally have enough -- $30 -- to buy a new game.
The first time I bought my own game, my mom drove me to Toys R Us. They didn't just stock the games on the shelf. You had to figure out what you wanted, then tear off a piece of paper with the product information. You then took that up to a special counter that was enclosed in plexiglass like a covenience store teller in a bad part of town. The clerk would take the piece of paper and go fish the game off their heavily guarded shelves.
I'm not sure but I think the first game I bought was Activision's "Laser Blast". By the time I walked out of the store, parted with my money, I was already having regrets.
Thirty dollars! That was a hell of a lot of money. When "Pac-Man" finally came out for Atari, they charged $40. The same amount could buy untold numbers of Star Wars figures or enough sugar to wire me for a marathon.
Playing the game didn't help. In fact, by later that night I was nearly in tears over my folly. How could I have been so stupid? What was I thinking? Later that night, mom drove me back to Toys R Us and I returned the game.
Eventually, I overcame such fears and learned to live with my purchases. I was very careful about the games I bought, and no cartridge I owned had to worry about collecting dust while his buddies had all the fun.
You know, there's really no point to all this, except this:
$150 in 1982 = $290 in 2003.
$40 in 1982 = $77 in 2003.
$30 in 1982 = $58 in 2003.
Most of the commenters pile in on Joystiq's side, but near the end one voice of reasonable opposition chimes in to note that game prices haven't changed much in 20 years when you adjust for inflation.
I wanted to double-check his figures, so I turned to my faithful research assistant, Mr. Google, and asked him if there were any online calculators that could adjust prices for inflation.
Bingo.
I remember buying an Atari 2600 for $150, the day after Christmas. I forget the exact year, but I figure it must have been 1982 or maybe '83.
My best friend had, months earlier, bought one with his own money. This was a startling concept, that I could save my weekly allowance (about $1 at the time, I believe) instead of spending it instantly on whatever bauble caught my eye on our weekly Friday visit to the local Fred Meyers department store.
Not only that, but I could even perform extra labor to earn additional cash to be deposited into an Atari fund.
My parents had obviously worked out that, at going market rates for 12-year-old labor, it would still take me approximately 75 weeks to earn enough to buy the coveted machine outright. They kindly made me a deal, that if I scrounged up $75, they would foot the remainder.
I can't recall how long my savings program lasted, but it surely lasted several months. By Christmas, I had amassed the sum of $40, a gargantuan fortune to my pre-teen sensibilities, but still far short of the magic amount needed to bring the pleasures of "Space Invaders" and "Combat" into my home.
Then came Christmas morning. Christmas was always an extravagant affair at my home, and that year was no exception. I know what you're thinking but no, there was no Atari under the tree.
But there was an envelope perched on one of the branches.
Inside was a check for $35.
It was deus ex avia, salvation through the sudden and unexpected intervention of my grandmother.
I can't remember any other gifts from that Christmas, but on December 26, we headed to the mall to get my real present. The Atari came with the title "Combat" and just for icing on the cake, my father sprung for "Space Invaders", too.
In the following years, my game collection expanded slowly but surely. Birthdays and Christmases were always good for a new title, but in between I was left to my own devices to procure and save enough money to keep myself entertained.
It was also during that time that I first experienced buyer's remorse to a degree that nearly made me physically ill.
After having spent weeks or months scrimping and saving (my allowance was eventually raised to a whopping $5 a week), I would finally have enough -- $30 -- to buy a new game.
The first time I bought my own game, my mom drove me to Toys R Us. They didn't just stock the games on the shelf. You had to figure out what you wanted, then tear off a piece of paper with the product information. You then took that up to a special counter that was enclosed in plexiglass like a covenience store teller in a bad part of town. The clerk would take the piece of paper and go fish the game off their heavily guarded shelves.
I'm not sure but I think the first game I bought was Activision's "Laser Blast". By the time I walked out of the store, parted with my money, I was already having regrets.
Thirty dollars! That was a hell of a lot of money. When "Pac-Man" finally came out for Atari, they charged $40. The same amount could buy untold numbers of Star Wars figures or enough sugar to wire me for a marathon.
Playing the game didn't help. In fact, by later that night I was nearly in tears over my folly. How could I have been so stupid? What was I thinking? Later that night, mom drove me back to Toys R Us and I returned the game.
Eventually, I overcame such fears and learned to live with my purchases. I was very careful about the games I bought, and no cartridge I owned had to worry about collecting dust while his buddies had all the fun.
You know, there's really no point to all this, except this:
$150 in 1982 = $290 in 2003.
$40 in 1982 = $77 in 2003.
$30 in 1982 = $58 in 2003.
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