As college students, most of our time is spent not opening up that dusty old textbook, but sitting in front of our video game system of choice and simulating season after season of Madden. That’s a simple truth, and like most simple truths, it must be exploited. Well, they tried at least. Who are they? Why, obviously it’s the same evil consortium of greedy, manipulative marketing hacks whose products have been chronicled in these very pages.

What did they come up with? Quite simply, their very own gaming console, known as the “baX-BOX 450.” Combining the processing power of an old Apple II GS with the graphic capabilities of ColecoVision, this ‘leet gaming rig promised at least two hours of pure adrenal gaming goodness per $75 cartridge. It supported up to four colors on screen at one time, and a full 8-bit, monaural sound card. It also cost $399. Pretty sick, right?

Still, the strength of any video game system relies on the software, and this is where the baX-BOX 450 stood out. Its release line-up was amazing, on par with the original Mario Brothers/Duck Hunt combo of the NES. Three games were released with the system, and they were all hyped beyond belief before the launch date.

First on the list of killer-apps was “Al Walker’s America East Conference 2006,” an exclusive from BU Sports (it’s in the game!). In this Basketball sim, you take the role of the underdog Binghamton Bearcats in their quest for Final Four glory. You get to set the rosters, play through each game or simply simulate every game of the season and watch attendance drop. Career mode lets you recruit kids from high schools and build an even more awful looking Event Center. Unfortunately, the game sticks to a strict story mode where no matter what you do, your team is always beaten in the first round of the America East tournament. Critics panned the game as being “too realistic.”

Marketing realized the popularity of games where you had to match your movements to prompts on the screen via a “dance pad.” It was with this concept in mind that they developed CCR, or “Cheer Cheer Revolution.” Using a complicated control scheme where you’d have to wear motion sensors and bend your legs behind your head, it was nearly impossible to get past the first level where you had to battle against a Japanese man with an onion-head. If at anytime you missed a beat, your pyramid would collapse and you would never attain a skill ranking of “gnarly.” It was far too difficult for anyone who wasn’t actually on the cheer team.

Finally, the baX-BOX’s flagship title: Resident Assistant Evil. You played the role of T-Bone Kennedy who had to navigate a stoner-infested residence hall on a Saturday night. This game was literally scary as shit. Armed with only four write-up slips, you had to do your final rounds at the stroke of 12. Starting from the bottom floor, you had to avoid doors being thrown open by drunk freshmen going to puke, belligerent seniors angered by still living in a dorm and the dreaded “cannabis cloud” that spewed from underneath suite doors. At any given time you might be presented with a situation you should frown upon. You might enter a room and find two kids not harming anyone by enjoying a single beer and write them up, but then witness three kids head butting an exit sign and decide to look away. It’s all about conservation. Remember, you’re nothing without those write-up slips. Eventually you make it to the roof, when, in a startling twist, you are thrown to your death by the very residents you have sworn to protect.

As was mentioned previously, the strength of a system is based upon the software, and honestly, all these games sucked a fat one. No innovation, poor design and each game cartridge weighed thirteen pounds. The baX-BOX 450 sold approximately four units, which, to be fair, was far above expectations. Still, after the initial trial run, all development for the platform was cancelled, and this bad boy was given the big, ugly reject stamp.