You could hear the Crossfire commercial from the kitchen and get back to the couch before anything important happened. You can still hear “Crossfire! Crossfire!” echoing in your head.
“Sometime in the future…”
Two kids took part in the ultimate challenge. The action got intense. The music made it seem cooler than a board game had any right to be. Somewhere in your house was a perfectly serviceable Sorry! Nobody ever advertised it like this.
You wanted Crossfire.
You knew the song. You knew the box. You knew where it belonged under the Christmas tree.
Your List Was on Nickelodeon
The Christmas list could start in July.
Between Doug and Rugrats, Nickelodeon kept showing things to ask for. Crossfire. Mouse Trap. Skip-It. Half an hour on the couch with a Snack Pack could produce another birthday request.
Toys R Us had aisles full of other options. From the couch, it could feel like there were about ten things worth having.
The same commercials kept coming around. A few seconds in, you knew which one it was. At school, someone could sing the beginning and another kid would finish it, which was more cooperation than the teacher usually got.
Neither kid needed to own the game.
Getting an adult to watch required timing. “Come here! This is it!” might bring someone into the room before the commercial ended. Or they’d arrive during a cereal ad. No DVR, no TiVo, no rewinding to show them what they missed. When it was gone, it was gone. Until the next commercial break, when you’d yell sooner.
Mouse Trap Sold Every Ridiculous Piece
Cartoon mice ran through the commercial while the song followed a ball through the contraption. There was a boot, a bathtub, a little diver and a cage waiting to drop. You knew the song. You wanted to turn the crank.
Candy Land didn’t have plumbing.
The whole arrangement belonged on the kitchen table. Every time the commercial played, it made the same promise: all those pieces could come out of a box at your house.
How did anyone win Mouse Trap? That could wait until after Christmas.
Skip-It Had a Counter
The Skip-It commercial made an empty driveway look like somewhere worth being.
The kids kept hopping. The ball kept going around. The counter kept climbing. You could picture your own sneakers clearing it, over and over, without once catching the cord.
The number was the part to check when someone else owned one. Was that all from today? Did they reset it first?
Before getting one, there was the song. That was free, and it could follow you into the bathroom while you brushed your teeth.
A Skip-It hanging in a store needed no demonstration. The commercial already played in your head.
It Commands. You Obey.
Bop it. Twist it. Pull it.
Three commands. Keeping up looked easy from the couch. The hands on television went to the right places, and yours would too, once there was something to grab.
Bop It went on the list.
John Elway could throw a screaming Vortex farther than any football in history. You wanted the one he was throwing. Just as long as nobody threw it by the tail at recess.
Devil sticks looked easy in someone else’s hands. A set of your own and an afternoon in the driveway seemed like enough to catch up.
In your head, you were good at everything on the list.
Bugs, Goop and Six Seconds of Recording Time
The Creepy Crawlers commercial left you wanting a bug oven. Then the Gator Golf song started, and there was something else to ask for before the cartoon came back. Perfection’s timer was ticking. Crocodile Dentist’s mouth was open. The Polly Pocket compact opened to reveal another whole world that could fit in a pocket.
Some toys got a song. Talkboy got Kevin McCallister. No other demonstration was necessary. Yak Bak needed six seconds—enough to record a burp and play it back until someone took it away.
And Nickelodeon had Gak. That splat-shaped container opened, and the stuff stretched between someone’s hands. It looked like slime. Who didn’t want slime?
Circle It in the Catalog
The commercial didn’t always come on when someone asked what you wanted for Christmas. A catalog could stay open on the kitchen table.
Circle Crossfire. Circle Mouse Trap. Make sure the name was readable through the pen marks.
The pictures sat there, but the songs started anyway. One look at the Crossfire box and the chorus came back. Mouse Trap had that whole chain reaction playing in your head.
The catalog gave an adult something to take shopping. The commercials were why those pages were open.
Everyone Knew What You Meant
At school, a toy’s name was enough.
Other kids knew the song, the counter, John Elway launching that football. Someone else wanted the same thing. Someone claimed they were getting it for Christmas.
How did they know?
At your house, the answer was still “We’ll see.” This kid sounded certain. Did they find it in a closet? Did their parents tell them?
The same toys came up at lunch, on the bus and during recess because the same commercials kept interrupting everyone’s cartoons. Nobody needed to explain Crossfire before arguing that it was better than Mouse Trap.
Some kids got the toys. Everyone got the commercials.
Years later, it can be hard to separate the things that lived in your house from the things that spent enough time on television to feel like they did.
The Commercial Can Last All Afternoon Now
Kids still watch something and want what’s on screen.
Now the package opens, every piece comes out and another kid plays with it. The toy can fill the whole video. Another video is waiting afterward.
Research into young children’s viewing finds toys and product promotion throughout the videos they watch. An unboxing has time to get underneath every layer of cardboard. A demonstration can last longer than an episode of Doug.
There’s more time to want something, and more things to want. A personalized feed can keep showing one kid toys that the kid beside them never sees.
Nickelodeon kept bringing the same commercials back around. Rocko’s Modern Life went to a break, and kids in different houses paused with a Dunkaroo halfway to the frosting. Crossfire was on.
The next day at school, everyone knew the song. Even kids who never owned the game shared that part of it.
Two kids watching Paw Patrol now might get different ads, or no ads at all. Watching the same show doesn’t guarantee they’ll want the same thing when it’s over.
Sometime in the future, Crossfire just went away.