I’ve written ad nauseum about the oddly pervasive Americanisation of Australia’s video game history. The impact it’s had on the perception of those who perhaps weren’t there is a strange thing to witness, as the Nintendo Entertainment System and some of its more rubbish fare like Star Tropics, or the Super Nintendo and an attached reverence for the not-even-released in PAL territories Earthbound are referenced almost as something of official canon, effectively rewriting the experiences of those of us who were walking the Earth, Walkman in tow, during the 1990’s.

Now I say Americanisation, but really what I mean is the Japanification. Because while Duke Nukem and Commander Keen were absolutely mainstays on many a Compaq 386 around these parts, the more dare I say ‘otaku’ wares coming from Japan like Dragons Quest and Final Fantasy were almost non-starters in the Australian market. And for those who did enjoy the occasional sojourn into the digital orient, it was more likely to be Mario or Wonder boy, than Sid and Ness. Basically, there’s ne’er a JRPG in sight amongst our collective cultural memory of the time.

Memories, of course, are fallible. And it’s this fallibility that has seen the ‘Merican domination of the video games media – particularly in the realm of podcasts – muscle its way into our history. All of this white noise has made it incredibly difficult to sort fact from fiction. And just like the ARIA charts, the country that Taylor Swift built has taken over the country.

But it’s when I find myself inexorably drawn to the so-called Euro-jank – in and of itself a thoroughly Yankee-doodle-dandy term – that it all starts to fall into place. You see Western Europe – and I’ll include the United Kingdom in that broad church as much as they desperately want not to be European – has a very particular style. At first, it’s not obvious. A Piranha Bites RPG ditty looks nothing like the brilliantly bleak Blasphemous. But look a bit harder, then go down to the library and borrow any random Tintin, Asterix and Obelix, or Diabolik comic, and you’ll see that it they all have a certain je ne ses quoia that makes them quintessentially European.

It’s a quality that I’m convinced was well and truly set in motion in the early days of Europe’s thriving Amiga 500 demo scene. We all know the Bitmap Brothers, and likely have a tremendous affinity for the art style of the early gaming superstars. But look closely and it’s far from orthodox. The depictions of your Speedball 2 compadres, while beautiful, are askew in a way that feels distinctive yet disconcerting in a way one might expect looking at Francisco Goya’s 18th century painting The Witch’s Sabbath for too long. Similarly, there is something truly maniacal about Digital Illusions’ design on classics Pinball Dreams and Pinball Fantasies, in a don’t look into the eyes of the Billion Dollar Game Show host for too long kind of way. Clive Barker eat your heart out.

What I’m saying here is that Turrican is a work of art not just for what it achieved technically – after all Factor 5 was fueled by witchcraft and sorcery – but also its European-ness. In an era where German, French, and Italian developers can’t outspend their US competition, it’s the art and design that is often left to carry players through the less-than-stellar technical aspects of a game through to the very end. As someone who was absorbed by the world presented in Vampire: the Masquerade – Swansong, I am the embodiment of the idea of being captured by and drawn to an unorthodox art style hanging on the bones of a ropey technical experience.

With the budget though, you get things like Guerilla’s Horizon Zero Dawn, something that looks like nothing else on the market. The colour palette and what looks like a science fiction spin that has taken design inspiration from neolithic and bronze age Europe, backed by a big bag of coin, comes together to be what is without a doubt one of the most visually stunning video games in modern video games. It may draw from other cultures in some places, such is the nature of its narrative, but it still feels steeped in European design sensibilities.

European is a loaded term, absolutely. But the fact is, despite being home to dozens of unique cultures, languages, and histories, Europe has a shared history of the visual arts that transcends national boundaries – and often inspired by lands afar conquered by the ‘great’ imperial powers of centuries past. And while Europe has been shaped by the amalgam of cultures, conflicts, conquests, and cooperation over many centuries there does appear to be a thread that makes something quintessentially European. Anyone who goes to the Louvre – or indeed almost any other major collecting institution around the world – will be able to tell you how special it is to see the works of the European masters in the flesh. van Gogh, Botticelli, Rembrandt may have been separated by state borders, and in some cases many centuries, but they still capture and embody European-ness.

That same intangible, indescribable, irrational something draws me to some video games from that far away cultural melting pot we call Europa. Now if you don’t mind, I’m off to play more Troddlers.