Ghostbusters — that NES classic we grew up calling the “ghost-catcher game.” Fire up the NES and that upbeat theme with the shouted “Ghostbusters!” drops you straight onto Manhattan’s night streets. Ecto‑1 blasts out of the firehouse, lights flashing, siren wailing; the city map lights up with alerts and suddenly you’re part of a New York rescue outfit. Take a job, roll out, drop a trap, lace a spook with proton streams—just don’t cross them—and pull the ghost into the box. Between runs there’s a shop: stock up on traps, buy upgrades, even bolt a roof‑mounted vacuum for stray phantoms. Cash rolls in with every clean capture, and somewhere nearby the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man is thundering down the block. The movie’s vibe comes through in every sprite: catchphrases you know by heart, green slime, and that anxious urge to beat disaster to the punch.

This Ghostbusters is remembered for the feel of the grind and the road: building a crew from scratch, cruising the city, looping that iconic theme, and gearing up for the final push into Zuul’s skyscraper—the staircase that turns your legs to jelly. The legend hit home via Activision cartridges, spread through multicarts, and became a calling card of the NES era. Why it stuck and how the versions evolved—check our breakdown in history, and for port oddities and trivia, see Wikipedia. Call it what you want—Ghostbusters, ghost-hunting, “the one with the traps”—it’s all about the buzz: Ecto‑1 at the curb, the trap’s crisp snap, and the thin whine of proton streams that still sends a pleasant nostalgic shiver.

In Ghostbusters — yes, those Ghostbusters with proton packs and deadpan quips — you don’t play missions so much as ride the city’s pulse. You roll out in the ECTO‑1 and Manhattan stirs: windows flicker, spectral fog drifts over blocks, the siren unspools down the avenues. The rhythm is simple and sticky: call to call, through gridlock and sly cut‑throughs, following the tang of slime. Choices snap like a trigger — where to turn, who to save, risk one more gig for a few bucks and a run‑in with Slimer. Your knuckles clamp the wheel while the ghost counter ticks up. And every time that huge white silhouette of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man looms ahead, your adrenaline meter spikes: can you slip to the entrance before the marshmallow bruiser stomps out your last hope.

The on‑foot beats are the salt. Three of you move like a sprung trap: one covers, one rides the proton stream, the third snaps the box — and the spook, shrieking, gets dragged into the light like a fish into a net. Miss a beat and the game punishes instantly — the spirit tears free, smearing the screen with goop. Ghostbusters don’t waste words: a pause, a breath, “don’t cross the streams,” and push. Money rustles in the background — store runs, a fresh trap, an ECTO‑1 upgrade to hoover street wraiths at full tilt. The loop hooks hard: drive — bust — shop — drive again. Then the long, stubborn climb to Zuul: palms slick, every flight a small fight, hanging onto the tempo while the music hammers your temples. And when the door swings open, you know it was a clean hunt. For the nitty‑gritty on the nuances, hit our gameplay breakdown.