Nostalgic Nintendo

I am posting my newest piece, "Nostalgic Nintendo" here on my blog. You can also check it out, with some of my other work, on The Onanist web e-zine. Enjoy.

Nostalgic Nintendo

I am fond of nostalgia. It’s like a security blanket and a warm glass of milk. It’s safe. It’s what I know. I take a walk down memory lane as I unwrap my first ever purchase from Ebay. As I push away the protective styrofoam peanuts, I unearth a slightly ruffled but, still magnificent, Nintendo Entertainment System. I plug the controller in, push in the power button, and memories of my youth flood the screen.

I grab the controller and reconnect with my childhood. The simple square controller fits nicely in my hands. Although it is smaller than I remember, I see the real genius behind its design—a simple and direct system for control—a directional pad, Select, Start, A and B buttons. It is perfectly designed for saving the Princess, rescuing Hyrule from the evil clutches of Gannon.

Tonight, my main fascination rests with conquering Super Mario Brothers. Mario. Luigi. Bowser. I brush away the dust from their names. These two dimensional characters have rusted and been replaced by the gaudy and overly violent characters of the PlayStation and Xbox. Years have passed, but Mario—the sweet, Princess-saving Italian plumber—remains faithful in his mission.

The violence is simplistic in its form—no blood and no guts. Turtles, walking mushrooms, and man-eating plants in pipes are my enemies tonight. I have no designs for killing other individuals, rampaging through the streets in a stolen car, or immerging myself into an “online world” filled with bleary-eyed, insomniac fifteen year olds getting their nightly fix of Halo. I simply want to save the Princess.

I press the A button lightly and jump onto a turtle. He quickly slips into his shell to save himself from the onslaught of my attack. Hastily, I kick the turtle shell and it slides smoothly into a row of walking Goombas. 100 points. 100 points. 100 points. It’s almost too easy.

Although Mario has an unorthodox method of jumping—he raises his left leg slightly as he punches his left fist into the air—it is perfect for breaking bricks and dislodging coins, mushrooms, and plants that grant fireball throwing abilities. There is no need for an AK-47, flamethrower, or grenades this evening. All I need are Mario’s feet, an 8-bit graphic fireball, and my wits. My body contorts and twists as I guide Mario through the first level.

It has been a number of years since I have accompanied my brave plumber through the square world looking for the Princess, but it seems as though I never left. Hidden boxes, passages, and warps to other levels come to mind as if I were reliving my childhood. These secrets haven’t changed. They haven’t moved. It is comforting to know that I can still find those extra lives where I left them.