Archive: 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 and 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 These two-dimensional characters have rusted and been replaced by the gaudy and overly violent characters of the PlayStation and Xbox.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 immersing 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.