At my big age, being a Dreamcast kid once upon a time feels almost too achingly Y2K to believe. No word of a lie, I haven’t met anyone else who went home to that silly, lovable (and bizarrely lightweight) cube. As a cultural artifact it perfectly embodies the pre-millennium optimism that every early 90s baby remembers being in the air those times. In the same vein as 9 PM (Till I Come) and New Labour, these relics formed a giddy tapestry of utopian possible …