In 1989, I delivered a proper drubbing to Jenny Miller—fellow nine-year-old and local nemesis—in a tennis tournament on the indoor courts of Muncie's dilapidated YMCA. My parents—always ones to send out the right message for hard work and dedication— celebrated my first tournament victory with Chi-Chi's and a trip to Toys R' Us.

What I wanted was never up for debate—a Nintendo. It was always a Nintendo. But at $199, I figured my parents would never go for it. Still, I made an attempt and when my mom asked if it was a new type of Lego space station, a familiar voice rose from the ether. "Oh no! It's a video game system like Atari!" It was my dad! "Remember the Atari I had when we first met? Well, Nintendo is the next evolution from that and it has a game called Contra that's A LOOOT of fun and it's…uh…see…" As he trailed off in shame, I realized the only battle I'd have over Nintendo would be fighting my 34-year-old father out for playing time.

We bought eight games that night: six for him, two for me. That is, if you count the Super Mario Bros/Duck Hunt combo that came with the system.

And so my obsession began. Once the sun was down and the homework done, I'd set in until bedtime, immersing myself in other times, places, persons and things. In a time when "multi-player" meant four kids on a couch and not four people connected by the Internet, my friends and I experienced a level of excitement that afternoons in the neighborhood simply couldn't provide. Sure, riding bikes, playing basketball and throwing water balloons at passing cars were fun and all, but they were no competition for the adrenaline rush created by saving the princess from Koopa, knocking out Mike Tyson and blowing up the terrorists all in one sitting. The games put us through a gamut of emotions ranging from keypad-throwing anger to chest-thumping triumph and sparked a competitive fire usually reserved for the playing fields. But as much as things have changed in video games over the years, the things that have made it the greatest story telling medium next to film remain the same.

Now, just as then, the rush created by an immersive interactivity unrivaled in any other aspect of life fuels the popularity, obsession and outright addiction for video games. Only now, they're more expensive, more complex and more likely to ruin your life and destroy your relationships.

Gamers play until 3 and 4 a.m., stumbling into work looking like they had three fifths of Jack too many, only to go home to their baby and love her all over again. Plotting and strategizing infect their thoughts, while outrageous game-like scenarios unfold in their dreams. And in the background is some boyfriend or girlfriend that can't figure out what the hell went wrong.

I once got hooked on a game so badly that when I was done, my boyfriend took it away and said, "Can I be your boyfriend again or are you still in a relationship with Crackdown?" I had to spend a few moments weighing my options.

Pathetic scenarios like this play out every day around the world, leaving millions to wonder what type of monster could create a medium so engaging that their loved ones are willing to forego (or delay) food, sleep and even sex just to get to that next level or beat the jerk who keeps taunting them online.

Just like every other problem in life these days, feel free to point the finger of blame at the government. What—like it could have been anything else?

The Beginning of the End

The home video game console was born in 1951 when Ralph Baer—an engineer for a military electronics contractor—came up with an idea for interactive television based entertainment. He was ignored until 1966, when the military came knocking. It seems they needed an electronic device that could improve soldiers' reflexes.

[Fifteen years with no progress? Please. I've seen enough X-Files episodes to know Cigarette Smoking Man was involved in this delay. If you look closely at that picture, you'll see a still smoldering Morley in the background.]

In 1971, Baer found licensing with Magnavox and a year later, the $100 Magnavox Odyssey made its debut with black and white graphics enhanced by plastic overlays for television screens. Though two years away from dedicated microchips and containing only 128 KB of RAM, the system supported a "light gun" as an add-on peripheral and had nearly 30 games (I'd list them but if you actually know what I'm talking about, you might be my dad). But it wasn't long before Odyssey tanked and Atari launched the video game revolution with Pong. A slew of sad sack companies threw themselves into the fray over the next few years, but in 1977, Atari delivered a crippling blow to the competition with the Atari 2600.

Offering better graphics, game play and games in cartridge form, the 2600 used 8-bit microprocessor based hardware and cartridges containing game code.

To see the big players, consoles and games in what's happened since, here is your cheatsheet.

As Benjamin Franklin once meant to say, "Video games are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." I don't know what the next generation of consoles will bring but considering Mr. Franklin's wise words, there is no doubt that with the right downloadable code, these soul suckers will be able to give massages, make plates of nachos and craft apology notes to your loved ones all while allowing you and three friends to play Halo 4 online.