"First, let’s take a look at the advertisement. Slogans such as "Forging a Legend in 8-Bit Gaming!" and "A Declaration of 'Homegrown Pride' for Domestic Games!" are the first things to catch the eye. Judging solely by the ad copy, one gets the distinct impression that this is a brand-new console created right here in Korea.
The moment confusion sets in, however, is when we see a photograph of the device itself. From the rectangular base unit to the circular lid that flips open, and even the buttons positioned on either side—at a casual glance, it bears an uncanny resemblance to Sony’s ambitious flagship console, the PlayStation 1, which was the cutting edge of gaming technology and all the rage at the time. In fact, the design is so similar that one might wonder if Sony could win a lawsuit over it; questions like "Is this even allowed? Can they really get away with this?" naturally arise. However, considering the climate of the 1990s—an era that was, shall we say, somewhat "lenient" regarding copyright enforcement—it isn't particularly surprising.
Yet, there is a strange sense of incongruity. A true PlayStation, by all rights, should reveal a disc tray for inserting game CDs when its lid is opened; somehow, however, this particular product features a slot for game cartridges sitting right there instead of a CD drive. Upon closer inspection, the controller bears a curious resemblance to that of the Super Famicom, while the cartridges themselves are clearly from the original Famicom. It feels rather like picking up what you thought was a smartphone, pressing the power button, only to find that the screen is a calculator-style LCD display and its actual functionality is limited to that of a pager.
The true identity of this console is what was commonly known at the time as a "Famiclone"—in other words, an unauthorized clone of the Famicom. In the mid-1990s, despite being a console from the previous generation, the Famicom continued to enjoy immense popularity worldwide. Thanks to its affordable price point, simple hardware architecture, and the sheer abundance of available game titles, it had—by the mid-90s—solidified its status as the quintessential "people's console."
However, this "national game console" had one notable blemish: although exact figures remain elusive, a vast number of people—enough to be described as the "majority"—played their games on illicit "Famiclones" rather than on the authentic Famicom console. Despite Hyundai Electronics officially releasing the Famicom domestically in 1989 under the name "Hyundai Comboy," these "Famiclones" sold like hotcakes because the original rights holder, Nintendo, did not actively spearhead efforts to crack down on counterfeits. It was, after all, an era when even relatively large-scale companies—such as Haitai and Youngtoys—were vying with one another to churn out their own "Famiclones."
Among that multitude of "Famiclones," the "Noriteul" stood out in particular. While typical Famiclones often took the form of toys—such as cars or tanks—or adopted awkward designs that were similar to the Famicom yet distinctly different, the "Noriteul" went so far as to benchmark (or rather, illegally plagiarize) the PlayStation—the absolute cutting-edge console of the time. Although the actual content consisted of Famicom games, playing it somehow gave you the sensation of playing a PlayStation CD-ROM title.
Perhaps for this very reason, the "Noriteul" sold exceptionally well, even within that crowded market. It ran advertisements multiple times in magazines and newspapers, and even went so far as to hire a celebrity model—a marketing tactic that was quite rare for such products at the time. Subsequently, its manufacturer, Unitech, even released a "Noriteul 2"—a model featuring a host of built-in games (which were, naturally, also pirated copies); whether or not one should call this a "happy ending," however, remains an open question." ~Ryu Jong-hwa, GameMeca ("[90년대 게임광고] 플스? 패미컴? 이 혼종의 정체는…") [BMT🤖]
