I'm often asked for advice when it comes to raising children around video games, mostly due to the fact that I have of three of the former and a few thousand of the latter. The truth is my kids don't play many video games, and what they do play is tightly controlled. I was older when I received my first video game console, around 12 or so, and I think that's about the right age. My kids are nine, eight, and two, and until they're a few years older I feel better with books, sports, and Nerf. My son is just beginning to get extensive time on portable systems and co-op games like Skylanders.

Then we received the Atari Flashback 3 system for Christmas, and I began to see this strategy bear fruit. My kids don't see blocky pixels and limited colors, they see entire worlds.

I was curious about the reaction I'd see when I hooked the system up to the television. It just used the yellow and white RCA connections, so no stereo sound or high-definition graphics. The controllers were accurate for the time period, using just the one joystick and a button. The box stated that if I had any original Atari controllers sitting around, the peripherals would work on this hardware. This thing is meant to give you the illusion of playing on an original Atari as much as possible, outside of the fact that the multiple games are included with the hardware. Without buying original hardware and games, this was as close as I could get to putting my children in a time machine.

The results were exciting. We first played Surround; a game that's essentially Tron but with a single block for each character. You trail a line behind your block, and if the other person hits it, you gain a point. The graphics are simple to the point of absurdity; the entire screen is an abstraction. To many it would seem boring, or at least punishingly anachronistic. The kids didn't skip a beat.

"We're both on lightcycles," my son told me, as he stuck his tongue out in concentration. I asked him about his lightcycle, and he began describing the vehicles from Tron, with a few changes. His cycle had spikes on its wheels, for instance. We were driving over a grid, and the walls had spikes too, and that's why you "died" if you ran into them. The blocks change directions at right angles, but I noticed that my son leaned into the turn, as if he were riding a motorcycle. He didn't see single blocks on the screen, moving slowly inside a rectangle. Instead, he saw speed, adventure, and danger.

I would ask him to describe the ships on the screen during a game where he shot torpedoes at submarines and destroyers. The ships were barely recognizable as such in the game, and were only made up a few shapes and large blocks. A few were two colors. But my son could go on for long stretches talking about the kinds of guns they had, how they moved in the water, and even whether the simple blue color of the screen meant that the seas were smooth or choppy. The gray figures with what might be cowboy hats shooting at each other in another game were grizzled cowboys with extensive backstories, and my son had any number of theories about why they were shooting at each other.

It wasn't violence for the sake of violence, in his mind. The utter lack of character and context simply meant that his mind could invent any scenario about who these people are and why they want to kill each other. It wasn't a limitation of the technology, it was a runway for an overactive imagination.

While I of course think my own children are special, I don't think my son is unique in this regard. Kids at that age are able to take in a limited amount of data and fill in the blanks with their own thoughts, dreams, and wishes. The games act as a sort of Rorschach test, and by playing them with children and asking for explanations on what's going on you can learn more than you think about what's going on in their minds.

The more expansive, modern games can come later. For now, we're doing just fine with the Atari.