Twenty five years ago on October 18, 1985, the video game gods said "Let there be a Nintendo Entertainment System," and there was the NES. And the people of America saw the NES, saw that it was good, and they bought it.
That's the way a lifetime of gaming seemed to begin for much of my generation born in the U.S. during the early 1980s. First there was nothing, then there was the NES and a bounty of pixelated adventures to fill our restless hours. If that sounds like a religious awakening, well, it certainly felt that way even though the NES's ascent into the pantheon of video game legends wasn't exactly predestined.
The "Famicom," before it became the NES
Humble beginnings
During the early 1980s, the U.S. video game home console industry was a barren wasteland littered with the carcasses of fading and failed systems such as the Atari 2600, Mattel's Intellivision and Coleco's Colecovision. While many of these systems incorporated "vision" into their names, none of their creators had the foresight to overcome the industrywide devastation brought on by a glut of poorly designed games and growing pressure from that newfangled craze known as personal computers.
Nintendo, meanwhile, had found incredible success in its native Japan with the original Famicom system (the Japanese take on "Family Computer"), which it released in 1983. But after a preview of its Advanced Video System (which –– get this –– was wireless and used a cassette drive) received a lukewarm stateside reception in 1984, Nintendo chose to wait almost two years before tentatively releasing the Nintendo Entertainment System to a small number of U.S. retailers on October 18, 1985. American gamers more than half-starved for quality entertainment drank Nintendo's Mario-flavored Kool-Aid en masse and the video game renaissance was underway.
Though Sega's Genesis system also deserves some credit for the re-emergance of American gaming in the late 1980s, the NES paved the road that led out of the U.S. video game market's virtual apocalypse. I should know, since my dad made sure that my family did its part to support the recovering industry.
Everybody loves Mario, with the possible exception of goombas
Growing up with Mario
In 1988, I was five years old and just dexterous enough to clobber goombas in Super Mario Bros., assassinate innocent fowls in Duck Hunt and get down on my hands and knees to pound out winning times on the Power Pad in World Class Track Meet (which is on my list of top games, incidentally). All of these titles were packaged in Nintendo's Power Set collection and were among the first video games to enter the Marquez family household.
I don't remember much of my early childhood, but the "Erkgh!" and jingle that signaled Mario's death are just as vivid to me as the time I broke my arm on the school playground. And while my brother never became the gamer I did, we were always pushing and shoving each other to get the next crack at the bad guys in Contra or Blaster Master. My mom must have hated taking us on our weekly video store trips –– they seemed to always end in screams or tears as my brother and I used every unholy trick to get her to rent just one more game for us.
It was just a few short years, however, before the Marquez family upgraded to Sega's Genesis system while our friends moved on to Nintendo's own SNES. When my brother and I sold our NES it felt like we were burying a beloved pet. But that was the price we had to pay to afford Mortal Kombat on the Genesis.
No game system lasts forever ::tear::
The NES becomes history
It is the nature of the video game industry that its legends inspire the next generation, which go on to inspire the next (until the inevitable plea for simpler times brings back titles that pull more directly upon earlier inspirations).
But after two and a half decades, the blaze of the NES's inspirational light is fading into a distant memory that threatens to grow dimmer with each passing year. This is not necessarily a bad thing. Gamers of the 1980s would crap their pants after playing Mass Effect or Modern Warfare. And pine as we might for the original Castlevania, almost everyone agrees that its Playstation successor, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, is its superior in every way except dialogue. And aren't we glad that the continuous stream of handheld Castlevanias draw more from SotN than the original?
Retrospectives such as this one will ensure that the NES is never entirely forgotten, but the system's practical relevance is disappearing rapidly. Already several generations of gamers have grown up without ever having groped an NES controller (they're available on eBay if you do get the urge). Even my fellow Geekologist Josh Harrison –– a die-hard gamer who admitted to me that earning the Warp Whistle in Super Mario Bros. 3 felt better than getting his driver's license –– even he never owned an NES. It's not his fault; Josh was simply too young, and newer, better systems were on the market when he experienced his video gaming awakening.
You don't hear about it as much, but the Atari 2600 also celebrates its North American anniversary in October. Admittedly, the number of candles on the Atari cake (33) isn't as sexy a number as the amount on the NES's, but you won't see me celebrating Atari much on any given year. I was too young to play it just as every generation from now will be too young to have played the NES and, soon, the SNES or N64.
If you have fond memories of the Nintendo Entertainment System, then cherish them. You have a perspective and appreciation for video games that younger gamers can't possibly share. But as difficult as it may be to accept, our memories of the NES don't mean as much to those same younger gamers. For them, the NES isn't the religious experience that it was for us. That's okay. The important thing is that they've also seen the light.
