The term ‘virtual reality’ conjures thoughts of a future that never arrived. A false promise predicated on Gibsonesque ambition, anyone following videogames throughout the 1990s will scarcely have been able to ignore it. Between features on GamesMaster and appearances in movies like The Lawnmower Man, VR was about to explode. Almost a decade into the new century, shouldn’t it have happened by now?

That depends on what you think ‘it’ really is. Head-mounted displays and gaping mouths typify popular perceptions of what VR gaming looks like, thanks in part to the arcade presence of Virtuality machines in the early 90s. Public interest at the time was high, but those curious enough to actually try the technology would come away with the impression that the hype did not match the (virtual) reality. VR technology just wasn’t ready and, before long, Virtuality Limited was filing for bankruptcy.

Initially, difficulties in the already shrinking arcade sector did little to deter the likes of Nintendo, Sega and Atari. That three major home platform holders were making moves towards VR says much about popular interest in the concept. What’s more, their distinct approaches show how young the technology was and, more importantly, it illustrates how much significance was attached to VR as a marketing device over its viability as a working product.

Following Sega’s extraordinary success with the Megadrive, their forays into VR were amongst the first signs that the company had lost its way. Two such products were developed for release in 1994: the Sega Activator was an octagonal ring that used infra-red beams to replace the functions of a regular controller. Supported by various fighting games, the suggestion was that it would simulate actual fighting by reading your kicks and punches. In practice, throwing jabs directly behind you wasn’t the most intuitive of interfaces and – needless to say – it didn’t sell.

Faring even worse, the Sega VR helmet (intended as an adjunct to the Megadrive) never even made it to market. A head-mounted unit with colour screens and stereo sound, it was an ambitious project that used head-tracking to control the in-game view. It was reportedly binned for being so realistic that users would attempt to physically walk around, but concerns over its graphics and the poor performance of Nintendo’s Virtual Boy are more credible explanations for Sega’s change of heart.

The Virtual Boy wasn’t anywhere near as high-minded, however. While it resembled an HMD, it was not head-mounted. Motion-tracking was of course out of the question, given that it remained stationary on a tripod. Its credentials as a virtual reality system were limited to its stereoscopic display, offering perceived depth in 3D vector environments yet, for the most part, the games available were functionally two-dimensional. In essence, it was Gameboy through a microscope.

The failure of Atari’s Jaguar VR system is less well known but perhaps all the more pathetic; closer to synergising with the popular notions of VR than its rivals, it too had a motion-tracking HMD together with a gun attachment. Atari died along with the Jaguar before their VR unit could prove itself, and it remains as the last attempt at traditional VR development by a major platform holder.

Such disappointments characterised the sector as VR-related companies disappeared and the expectation of those promised immersive environments faded. Following on from the Virtual Boy’s example, HMDs today are little more than screens with a head-strap. But are HMDs the defining aspect of virtual reality? Does the concept live on in other forms?

If the Oxford Dictionary is to be believed, virtual reality is a “computer-generated simulation of a three-dimensional image or environment that can be interacted with by using special electronic equipment”. Now that’s a pretty broad definition, but the key phrase there is ‘interacted with’. Looking back at the VR systems we’ve discussed, a common theme emerges; they are generally preoccupied with modes of sight – not interaction.

Sega’s Activator may not have worked properly, but as a concept it predated similar devices that we now take for granted. Today, the dance-mat arguably represents the kind of physical interface that matches virtual reality’s original aspirations. This takes the argument to a polar extreme, of course; despite granting complete physical immersion, Dance Dance Revolution offers no world to navigate and explore.

Somewhere between the physical and the visual, however, it could be argued that virtual reality is currently undergoing a kind of rebirth without us even realising it. Significant advances in console technology have put paid to the problem of stuttering and poorly rendered worlds, albeit they still appear on a traditional screen. Titles like Oblivion demonstrate just how far we have come.

And again, the three major platform holders are pursuing a common goal, not all of them quite sure how to achieve it. Motion control is today’s VR, imbued as it is with a desire to immerse the player, translating movements directly into the game world. The Wii is setting the agenda with its remote, the balance board and its forthcoming Motion Plus.

Coupling similar interfaces with the superior hardware of Sony and Microsoft would allow a depth of engagement with videogames not previously possible. Rumour has it that they are both working on new motion control technologies. When combined with the graphical fidelity of this generation’s consoles (or indeed the next generation, as seems more likely), there will be almost limitless possibilities. Only time will tell if the control revolution will make amends for the broken promise of VR. And on the day we hang up our joypads and natural control is a reality, who knows: maybe we’ll see head-mounted displays once more. But then, isn’t an Xbox Live headset embarrassing enough?