26

09/07

8 Bits of Love.

2:33 pm by Karl. Filed under: Moi

In conjunction with the list of “things I’m introducing my wife to that will ruin her life,” I have successfully gotten her addicted to the Wii as noted in this post from about 2 months ago. It would appear that the Wii is something of a gateway drug, as a boring nothing-on-TV evening turned into me digging through the closet to track down this:

It feels like home to me.

The one that started it all. The 800-pound gorilla of home gaming, beating the ass of that sissypants little chimp Atari. Dominating over systems like Colecovision and Sega Genesis, and taking a huge place in the childhood of just about every kid my age and up starting in about 1984. The original Nintendo Goddamn Old-School 8-Bit Entertainment System.

When I was but a youngun’ and freshfaced lad, new to the world of videogames and electronic entertainment in general, I fought tooth and nail to get my hands on a Nintendo. It was a bright bright day in my little life when that grey box entered my world. Presumably it was a good day for my folks, too, who didn’t have to listen to my cry my little eyes out anymore.

“Whaaa! I want to improve my hand-eye-coordination!”


My best friend, my teacher, my party favor for many years, my NES was who I turned to when I wanted to hang out with italian plumbers, Ninja Turtles, and ass-kicking twin brothers called the Double Dragons. Hours upon hours were spent trying to jump the gap, kill the bosses, figure out the solution to the puzzle. I don’t consider these wasted hours – rather, the time spent away from video games was time spent in vain. Grade school? Fuck that – I’ve got vampires to slay.Since then I’ve spent a hell of a lot of times playing video games. It’s the natural refuge of the kid that isn’t athletically inclined, like myself. If you can’t kick ass playing football, you kick ass playing Tecmo Bowl. If you’re not a natural fielder or hitter, you can play some RBI Baseball or Bases Loaded. Winning is winning – field or screen doesn’t change that feeling.

Dating Oneself: you could play as Walter Payton in this game.


The average age of the “gamer,” for lack of a less loserish term, continues to go up and up. I think it’s around 32 right now. Which, mathematically, probably figures to being about half of all males my age that started growing up with the things and never let go, followed by the kids younger than me, and a few seniors playing Brain Age on their DS while they get bussed to walk around the mall.

Which leads to another of my now inevitable you-damn-kids moments, except The Girl is the kid in this situation: “You don’t have any idea how hard this shit was when I was 8. You kids with your internet and your chat rooms and your cheat codes and your magazines! All I had was too much time, a few friends to figure these things out ahead of me, and maybe a stolen Nintendo Power!”

“The first hit is free, for the second one
you need to hit up mom and dad to subscribe.”


When I was suffering through The Legend Of Zelda, it took me months to figure out where Level 8 was. I had to have a friend of mine, who had beaten the game, come over and explain to me where the hell it was. After that, it took me somewhere around 6 weeks to figure out where Spectacle Rock was, and how it Hid the Secret.

The wife, who up until now has suffered the wrath of only one 8-bit Nintendo game, that being Super Mario Brothers 2 (which she now hates), has already kicked ass up to about level 5. We’ve found the Master Sword, gotten the Blue Ring, and reaffirmed my status as Lord of the Dorks for remembering all this shit a dozen or so years after putting it down.

I’m still not sure why the sky is pink. Was it always sunset?


Even without me around, she would have found the places with the maps online. With the locations of all the Heart Containers and different levels. Where the bosses are and what kills them. Step by step instructions to get you through the game. Now, in my day (he says as he grabs his cane and adjusts his suspenders), we didn’t have all that jazz.

Odd to think that what used to be railed against because they were taking us away from each other, taking us out of the back yards and into the basements, created a culture where friends would trade games, tips, and help each other out through this part or that part. Whereas now there are forums galore for people to post questions and answers, sites where you can post every single turn you make and bullet you fire. And don’t even get started on multiplayer over the internet.

When I think back about complaining about a level in Castlevania, or could I borrow Metal Gear again, or can I trade Rygar for American Gladiators, mom? I feel like no matter how much Zelda has addicted The Girl, that she’ll never be able to have it like I did – horribly frustrating and endlessly painful.

This game sucked.


And it’s a damn shame. I’m happy I can find her the Power Bracelet, and teach her how to kill Dodongo with the Bombs. I find it hilarious that she’ll be able to understand this whole schpiel but her mom will ask “What’s a Dodongo” when we meet up out of town next week. It’s a new language, a new world that I’m dropping her into head first. But it’s still different from mine, in a way that you can’t know without completely ignoring the culture that these late-80s games came from.

Maybe the language comparison is the most apt. Same words, different accents. You say to- may-toh, I say to-mah-toe, let’s play Ninja Turtles II and I’ll tell you about the Pizza Hut coupon that came with it. Then maybe I can tell you about purchasing add-on levels through some weird-ass e-store hookup. It’s a brave new world, which might be what keeps the 8-bit one so appealing.

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