Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island

By Jimmy Takacs (@jimmytakacs)

I REALIZE I’m about 20 years late on this one, but I finally got around to starting this game. The first thing that hit me was that it felt very much like an import title, not meant to be released in NA. The art style, the color palette, and the choice of interactions with the environment all screamed Japan. The second thing that was immediately apparent was the baby Mario crying sample. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!?!?!?! I found myself desperately trying to avoid contusions from enemies, all for the sake of never having to hear that interminable chromatic scale which is Mario’s weep. I completed the introduction and first level. In such a short time I was able to do so much. Egg hatching and throwing is a blast. It’s assuredly much more fun than egg hatching in modern times (refer to: Pokemon Go). Yoshi is also a lot more fun this time around, since you’re controlling him entirely, instead of just punching him in the back of the head when you need to eat a coin or enemy.

By Jimmy Takacs (@jimmytakacs)

OVER THE PAST YEAR, I’ve taken a bit of a break from gaming overall. I’ve been back in school, working towards my computer networking degree, focusing more time on my family, and spending time organizing and building my game room and basement. I’m just about ready to get back into it this quarter. This is the best time of year for it, too. With the Master Chief Collection on November 11th, GTA V launching on the 18th, Smash Bros. on the 21st (the 3DS already released), Pokemon Alpha Sapphire & Omega Ruby on the SAME DAY, Geometry Wars 3 on the 25th, and the Halo 5 beta at the end of December…there are too many other titles to even list or to have time to be interested in.

SOMETHING TO KEEP IN MIND: I have a HUGE back log of games. I’m talking like 5-600 games I’ve never completed. Some games I’ve never even played. After realizing how much I’m missing out on, I intend on picking back up the NES and getting into some games that I just NEED to finish. I’ve been scrolling through my NES wish list, and there are still quite a few games I don’t own that I really want from childhood. I’ve acquired most of them, but it seems every few weeks, I’ll find a cover that is familiar that I used to play regularly. The NES library is gigantic. This happened to me twice in the last month, and got me thinking about my relationship with the NES and my past.

I FEEL LIKE EVERY YEAR, I have this epiphany and get super nostalgic. Maybe it has something to do with the holidays and fond memories of gaming with friends and cousins. For whatever reason, it is always really fun and inspiring when looking back. So to conclude this blog, I challenge myself this coming year to beat ONE NES game a month. I’m allowing myself to use save states on an emulator if I choose, so I can play while at work or on the go. If the game allows for pass codes, I’ll of course be able to switch between Android emulators and the physical console. I’ll try to remember to post updates along the way. I’m looking forward to it, along with all the other new fun games launching this quarter.It will be an expensive one as always. Thanks for reading, and share your favorite games and memories on Instagram (@nerdcoalition) or on Tumblr!

By Andy D. Wright (@theandydwright)

THE NBA LIVE SERIES, which spurred out of EA’s early basketball games and failed poetry of titles (compare 1994’s NBA Showdown with 95’s NBA Live ’95, and, conversely, to their late 90’s resurgent marketable nihilism toward rhyming (i.e. NBA Live ’96 – 2010, 14)), was the pinnacle of gambling on gaming realism.  More simply put, the NBA Live games were the alternative to harsher “real” games, and part of a larger harbinger of the success of soft-reality games.  Sports games were dominated by the ridiculous, absurd, and surreal, despite successful series like EA’s very own Madden and NHL.  Games like Wayne Gretzky’s 3D Hockey, NBA Jam, NBA Hang Time, Cruisin’ USA, and NFL Blitz dominated the market and arcades; interspersing lite-reality with questionable morals and super human abilities, these games simply were more fun for and sexy to the gamer.  Reality and realism were making a comeback through violence (seemingly exclusively), so it couldn’t have been expected for realism to make itself known in softer, more regulated ways (consider the freedom of gunning down civilians in the streets of St. Petersburg with getting called for three seconds in the key).  The NBA Live series, however, was a mainstream success early on which spoke greater volumes about a gamer’s narcissism than a gamer’s desire for reality.  (A side note: the game received extremely high scores from video game authorities – if you’re one for any video game authority rating and thus presuming for you that being a video game authority also means being an authority on what you as practitioner and consumer won’t like.)

I HAD PLAYED the NBA Live games starting with ’95 but the first one I would own (for the PC), and not only have a glimpse of from my friend’s possessive first-player fetish, was NBA Live ’98 – ceremoniously decorated in a painstaking Tim Hardaway finger roll.  The game, knowing all too well it would be reincarnated next year, focused on graphics, 3D interactivity, and commentary by Verne Lindquist.  The faces of players blew me away – they were all too fat but they most certainly resembled all the players, especially had there been a lockout the season before.  New features to gameplay were prominent as well and shouldn’t be neglected from mention, like the 3-Point Shootout and GM Mode – which granted you the ability to control a franchise, most likely at a time in your life when more responsibility is as off-putting as sitting still in wet clothes but I’m sure it had its target market.  This was still a time when graphics could be groundbreaking in one year’s time, so despite fat faces, it was difficult to imagine that it would get better than this for the predicted NBA Live ’99. 

AFTER PLAYING MY FIRST EXHIBITION as the Indiana Pacers (then, a strong team capable of taking home a championship) and failing to grasp the controls on a mid-90’s clunky-ass keyboard, I created a player who was based on me.  I should specify he was based on the contemporary spirit of me but physically was based on the futuristic me – the version of futuristic me that doesn’t stumble upon super powers.  He was a shooting guard, coming in just shy of six foot (I had no delusions about my height) – which is where I was at the time and would remain for the remainder of my non-shrinking life – and at around 180 lbs.  I didn’t (and still don’t) know if this was a safe or even good weight for a daily exerciser at 5’11’’.  Say what you will about him physically (you had the ability to alter the player’s build and, I believe for the first time ever, haircut) – I gave a modest projection and fully expected to be stronger and have better sideburns than my character and present day me; he had the ball handling skills of a Rafer Alston and a jumper matched only by a very clutch Ray Allen.  I gave myself a little dunking ability; just enough to touch the rim and not feel scared to give the crowd a show when they asked for it.  My dunking inadequacy didn’t bother me because I was dependable, and thus “money,” from outside the arc.  My face was even handsome and resembled me – in the way any white face pixelated face with ocular necessities would.  The Pacers in an unannounced one-team draft, of course, picked me, up.  The Pacers already had a team that appeared to have a contractual quota for more white players; I joined the ranks of Reggie Miller, Travis Best, Fred Hoiberg, Rik Smits, Austin Croshere, Dale and Antonio Davis, Mark Jackson, and, my all-time favorite and potentially closet racist-tell, Chris Mullin.  I clearly played off the bench and didn’t feel the least bit slighted doing so – the Bird was calling the shots afterall.

THE 3-POINT SHOOTOUT was an incredible new feature, especially during the time when sports games were still the first to capitalize on the “mini-game.”  I spent hours recreating past All-Star Weekend shootouts and seeing the alternate realities play out.  Ray Allen almost always won out right.  I also spent a considerable amount of time running Mullin through the ringer, trying to get his shot back from a couple years before.  I also created a team called the Snowmen, consisting of only the white players in the NBA at the time, as a joke between my friend Alex and I, but soon became incredibly surprised to find that there were more than could fit onto one franchise’s roster – so-called “reverse” racism proved to lose that day, clap it up white people, you did it.

I TOOK TO THE PLAYOFFS, knowing I had to get serious about the game, battling my own teenage ambivalence and affinity for boredom and getting myself to sit down to play more than one game.  Clearly, a full season was out of the question.  It was then that I began to really love myself.  My friend, George (who also created a character of “himself” – compare his actual 4’10’’, 90 lb. body to his hopeful 6’9’’ 220 lb. power forward), played for so many spring and summer beautiful hours, taking the Pacers to the finals, battling the Jazz – a cake walk when compared to the conference finals against the Bulls (although MJ was in absentia, a nameless player who was overly skilled and in-defendable was in the Chicago starting five).

IT WAS DURING THE FIRST SERIES against an over-ambitious Knicks team that I realized not only were we missing strong defensive presence in the back court but also a sure shot; the aging Reggie Miller and Chris Mullin were not as endowed with their real world abilities (editorializing, I’m sure).  I began to experiment with the starting line-up, and Andy Wright was no longer the sixth man – he was looking down the barrel of a starting position.  I first replaced Mark Jackson at point guard, but we needed the speed and superior ball handling; I tried coming in a shooting guard, moving Reggie to power forward, and taking out Dale Davis – making us an overly small team (unless George was over, but then we oft found ourselves playing a near xenophobic style of gaming where Miller was the only non-scarily pale player).  Finally, after many 3-Point Shootouts and a tough executive decision, I pulled Mullin.  I then put Miller at small forward, pulled Mark Jackson for Travis Best at point (he was just simply faster, it was an easy decision), often rotated Dale Davis, Antonio Davis, and Rick Smits in the paint, and put myself at shooting guard.  This experimenting took hours of indoor time but I struck chemistry gold – which is usually juts referred to as gold.  Even though I retained full coaching and freewill control, I was still blown away at what I had created.  They all fit so well together – why was I not a real player in the NBA?  It was simple to me then – I was definitely going to be at this rate.

AFTER ADVANCING IN A DEFINITE 3-0 run against New York, I quickly became my favorite player.  I still idolized Chris Mullin but, my god; he couldn’t keep up with this youth out of Livonia, Michigan.  The plays ended with me; I was always shooting better than .800 from the perimeter; I could drive the lane with ease and finesse; I was out boarding the most aggressive depth the league had to offer.  I was even modest enough to share the Player of the Game title with one of the many other all-stars the team had to offer.  It’s no wonder why I, and every other flat pixelated fan and Verne Lindquist were so partial to me.

ONE TITLE WASN’T ENOUGH.  More series were played although with more reluctance from George, who wanted to transition our newly learned talents to the outdoor courts and challenge real three-dimensional players.  I was still honing my other talents and was convinced this simulator was what I needed in the late, humid summer rather than exercise and real practice.  What good would two hours of exercise and working the same post moves on George that I had proven time and time again do me?  I needed to develop more motion plays to move the ball to the post more and get fed deeper than having to always drive; I needed to utilize Hoiberg and rest me up more; I needed to watch the fluidity of my textbook jumper in slo-mo from all the angles my dumb, imperceptible eyes couldn’t capture when out on the concrete.  George’s constant desire for exertion and adventure in plebian pick-up basketball was becoming annoying so I stopped calling him and started calling Joe, my less physically active friend who didn’t even care to create his own player – I was finally able to keep the rotation down low simple.

3-POINT SHOOTOUT HIGHS, decimating exhibition games, championship titles – Andy Wright was clearly a player to watch for many years to come; his skill was indefatigable, his style was relevant and necessary, and his haircut made him look like he was in a good ska band.  Andy Wright’s knowledge of the game was only surpassed by his instinct.  He was a phenom on the court (also known to be a Gateway Windows 95 machine); however, off the court (also known to be reality) in Andy Wright’s gym class’s basketball tournament, it was all too real.  Basketball season began shortly thereafter, lacking a consistent J; the next summer’s basketball camp kept him as a face in the crowd; and midway through high school freshman year’s basketball season, Andy Wright realized he fucked up.

By Andy D. Wright (@theandydwright)

ONE OF THE MOST CREATIVE GAMES I’ve ever come across in my gaming history is “A Boy and His Blob: Trouble on Blobolonia.” The plot is simplistic in the way standalone games for Nintendo always are, and the mechanics are familiar to anyone who knows two dimensions better than three. Your duty (and I choose that word without accident) is to save a planet inhabited by blobs using only a bag of variously flavored jelly beans (this game came out in the early 90’s, and if anyone remembers, jelly bean flavoring technology was still in its infantile stages, so these beans were slight variations and mixtures of cherry and mint at best). Your only help was an overambitious, self-sacrificing snowman-looking blob who loved jelly beans and would alter himself into utilitarian shapes to help you on your mission. There are bouncing centipedes, falling cherry bombs, razor sharp stalagmites and stalactites, and bone crushing marshmallows to deter you, but the real enemy is you. The blob follows you with the same loyalty found in most fictional otherworldly characters, never questioning your actions (echoing the same relationship Neo and Trinity romanticized for the all too trusting in the Matrix films), and he will bounce to your feet in a hurry if you whistle for him. All the blob wants is freedom for his people and jelly beans. He’s there wherever you are and behind you when you need him to transform into a trampoline or blowtorch. The blob never shirks his duty. However, like any pre-adolescent with a desire for adventure and staying up too late, you can sometimes overthrow or toss away jelly beans, and when the blob misses out on a jelly bean (and he will always know when this happens) he frowns. I promise you this: thefirst time you see this happen, you will not feel bad at all but laugh, cruelly.

NOW YOUR MISSION IS CLEAR: Save Blobolonia or torture the blob at the expense of what a bag of jelly beans cost during the first Gulf War? Whether traversing the grassy fields of Blobolonia or the cavernous, treasure-filled world below the subway, you will find yourself struggling not to take your gaming and sexual frustrations out on the blob, who has done nothing wrong but put his faith in the wrong ambassador of Earth. The blob will never fight back and until your parents wake up, which they never do, there are no consequences to the boy’s actions. It is like a Nietzsche work, Milgrim experiment, and college debate final all rolled into one – succumb to sadistic pleasure through innocently evil means, or fight for the greatest honor, a good death.

FOR CHRISTMAS, my father bought me A Boy and His Blob: Trouble in Blobolonia for Nintendo, while he got my brother a generic MLB game. It was clear to me that he understood I would be different. I wasn’t quite sure how he knew because at the time I was very much into sports, just not good with names and faces. However, I lost myself in the imagination of early game programmers for hours even after owning a Sega Genesis. The game even inspired a remake 20 years later – I’m not sure if it was in apology or to satisfy a new generation of gamers’ evermore complicating and confusing sexual desires, because I never played it. The originality of the Nintendo version continues to loom over the heads of video game studios and their overly circumspect and cynical CFOs. A Boy and His Blob is dated, looks gross by contemporary standards, and a whole night wouldn’t be made of it, but it deserves one sincere shot before terrorizing an amorphous blob to combat one’s own inferiority complex. The gameplay keeps one intrigued as one tries to mentally form the bigger picture of the level frame by frame, hopefully dying only in places one doesn’t have to come back to or are completely walled off in the other three directions. Without any scrolling text or animated scenes as a precedent, your adventure will constantly beg the question, “what is all this treasure for?” But it’s treasure, and your natural greed keeps you going. Soon, you’ll begin to wonder what’s beyond the splendor of gold and diamonds, finding better re-playability than can be feigned by most current games. When one’s thirst for power in the craggy underworld of the city runs weary, the choice between continuing on with the mission and finding new ways to prove your power becomes most real. I assure you that when that fleeting gratification is gone, you will be back feeding your grotesque compatriot to contention whilst defeating subtle evil in a war that isn’t yours.

By Matt Gawne (@MttGwn_OFFICIAL)

I’LL NEVER FORGET my first experience with the Game Boy. I was 5 years old, which would have made the year around ‘92 or '93. I was stuck, bored out of my mind, at my Grandma’s house. As I sat there, my Uncle handed me this big gray brick. Barely fitting in my hands, I proceeded to stare at its pea green screen for hours, until it was time to go home. From that point on, Game Boy was the only thing that mattered at Grandma’s house. My Uncle only had one game, Metroid II, and I really didn’t know how to play it. I mostly just got lost and shot the enemies I could find. Despite those hurdles, it was still an amazing experience. At the time I began playing the Game Boy, my Mom and I had an NES at home. All we had were Mario games, so I was truly blown away to see something beyond a “platformer” or Dr. Mario. In (Metroid II), I didn’t care that I was lost. It was crazy that there was more than just moving left to right. I view this as a big revelation in my young career as a gamer, because it shaped the way that I would play all future games. It’s not all about points or collecting things; it’s about getting in the game. It’s about escaping into things you’d never see in your own life. It’s about the exploration of strange worlds, and appreciating all the details you can find in them. It’s art—immersive art.

http://youtu.be/iocYigIibs8

Produced and Edited by Gavin Ringquist.

Visit us at nerdcoalition.com and follow us on twitter and facebook.

“The Last Of Us” composed by Gustavo Santaolalla from The Last Of Us (Video Game Soundtrack). 

The soundtrack can be found on iTunes @ itunes.apple.com/us/album/last-us-video-game-soundtrack/id655118434

All properties, trademarks, or otherwise belong to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

This video was developed for entertainment purposes only.

By Matthew Cotter (@THEMattCotter)

SO THE XBOX ONE’s reveal has come and gone, and has been met with almost nothing but negative feedback from the gaming community at large. Take one glance at any gaming blog, or search social media on the subject and you’re sure to be bombarded with posts about how Microsoft has abandoned its core audience in favor of appealing to certain sect of TV watchers who are so lazy that they’d rather use voice commands to change the channel rather than exert the energy required to pick up the remote and press a few buttons. As witty* as these observations may be, I can’t help but think they miss the point entirely.

LET’S FACE IT; despite how Microsoft presented their new system, it’s still a piece of gaming hardware. Xbox One will have increased processing power that will deliver better visuals and smarter AI than what the current generation of consoles is capable of (not to mention the cloud processing backend). It’s still going to have the next iterations of Halo, Madden, COD, and The Elder Scrolls. There’s little doubt in my mind that those games will look and play amazing. It’s also worth noting that the new Kinect is now standard with the console, which means game devs can add Kinect integration into the core gameplay mechanics, instead of just tacking on mostly useless features and gimmicks like “voice commands”. With all this in mind, why a vocal majority of the gaming community jumped to the conclusion that Microsoft had abandoned them is beyond me.

WHAT MICROSOFT’S XBOX ONE reveal communicated to me was not an abandonment of its core audience, but a somewhat desperate attempt to appeal to the mainstream. Microsoft, the company as a whole, is in a bad way. Windows 8 adoption has stagnated, iPads and Android tablets outsold Surface nearly 25 to 1 last quarter, and Windows Phone’s market share just only recently broke 4%. Microsoft is scrambling to gain ground against Apple and Google, and they see Xbox One as the product to do it.

THIS FORMULA MAKES SENSE. The Xbox brand is easily Microsoft’s most popular at the moment, with the type of name value that resonates with gamers and non-gamers alike. By tweaking the way they present the Xbox One (as a media hub that let’s you watch live TV while you Skype with your friends, for example), they immediately have piece of hardware with features that other set-top boxes, like Apple TV, just can’t match. By targeting a broader demographic, Microsoft has effectively turned Xbox One into a Trojan horse for their ecosystem. I think there’s a very good reason why the Windows kernel is running alongside Xbox One’s native OS: cross-platform apps. Microsoft’s hope here has to be that users of Xbox One apps would be more open to upgrading to Windows 8, or purchasing a Windows Phone since they’d be able to use those apps across devices.

WHETHER OR NOT this strategy will work is anyone’s guess. If it does, the Xbox One may work as a different type of Trojan horse; one that brings the capability of quality gaming to those who, otherwise, may not have given it a chance. If a traditional non-gamer suddenly finds themselves in possession of a console for the first time then, who knows, maybe they’ll take a chance and pick up a game. Now, you can call Microsoft’s plan disingenuous as it relates to the “hardcore” contingent, but if it means more people get the chance to try a hobby that I legitimately love, I’m all for it.

*hack

By Jimmy Takacs (@jimmytakacs)

“The journey is the treasure.”

-Lloyd Alexander

IN THE SUMMER of 2012, I began seriously collecting video games. It was a midway point between discovering my wife and I were expecting our first child, and the subsequent birth of our beautiful girl. During the process of the pregnancy, it became apparent that I needed an outlet to deal with the myriad of emotions and thoughts that were flooding in. Up until that point in time, gaming was just an entertaining hobby. It quickly developed into a life changing experience. I can’t state specifically one reason that led me to collecting video games, but collecting has become one of my passions and brings me great joy.

THE COMMUNITY that goes along with collecting video games is initially quite daunting. When I started researching what types of collectors there were, how many existed, how long they had been in the business, and other factors, I quickly learned that this was no short game. If I was going to be involved with this type of a project, I needed to be in it for the long haul. You see, the thing I’ve learned about collecting is that one can never be hasty. I have yet to speak to a collector that has both a solid knowledge base as well as great content—that hasn’t been collecting for at least five to ten years. I’ve found there are a few reasons for this phenomenon. First, it is expensive. There is not a single collector out there that will tell you that they have a cheap hobby, especially when dealing with “retro” content. Secondly, since there are truly hundreds of different platforms to collect for, there is an exponential amount of information available and really required to learn. Additionally, when dealing with “retro” systems, as I mostly do now, the availability becomes scarcer as each day passes. There are simply only so many pieces available on the market at any given time, and they won’t ever be produced again. Some items are so rare that they never show up on eBay or Craigslist. At this point, most people would be thinking, “Why would anyone out there want to get involved with a super expensive, exhaustive, difficult to manage hobby? Wouldn’t it just be easier to take up model planes or something?” Probably. For that reason, however, it seems to motivate me even more.

THE INTERNET has made me a wise man. It’s a self-proclaimed wisdom, of course. I can be frugal while still getting what I want because of access to websites full of people searching for the best deals, social networks of users that post best practices, and mobile internet access while on the hunt. It also allows me to collaborate with others in the business and promote my web community, Nerd Coalition. I’ve come across many generous people, who are willing to trade for games, give away stuff for free, put me in touch with other collectors, and also just be a source of support. I have a lot left to learn, and now that I have resources online, I’m not sure I could go without them and continue to be successful. I’ve spent countless hours scouring through YouTube subscriptions, watching videos of great game finds, reviews, projects, and just plain cool stuff people are doing with gaming.

SUPPORTING LOCAL VENDORS is one of the best decisions I have made throughout my journey of collecting. Any chance that I get to purchase locally, I will. There is just something special about walking into a store that you know and trust. Also, there is value to being able to walk out with a purchase in hand that you know you got a fair price and a guarantee if something goes wrong. For too long I’ve supported monsters like GameStop and Wal-Mart. Don’t take offense by the monster statement. I used to work for GameStop. They serve a purpose in the community, which is to cater to the masses. However, when it comes to building relationships, they are just terrible. You cannot get the same experience out of a store that has 100 employees versus a local vendor that has 2 or 3. I’ve been very fortunate to get some great deals on products that I could have very easily purchased on the Internet. However, at the end of the day, I can look back and tell a story about each of the times I made a purchase, and how each one was a unique experience. There is nothing unique about clicking a button or typing in a credit card number. Each relationship I’ve built with a vendor has meaning, and because of that, I have a really hard time buying anywhere else. (A side note about online purchases: one thing I really enjoy about ordering online is getting mail. Getting mail that you actually look forward to is really rare, so I feel justified for that experience alone.)

WHEN SOMEONE ELSE WHO LOVES GAMING gets to see my collection in person, it is really exciting to me. I look forward to every week when my dear friends come over for Nerd Coalition and I have something new to open up and share. Gaming has shifted to online multiplayer and a P2P digital experience. When it comes down to it though, there is no replacing the “living room” experience of my childhood. I’ll paint a picture for us. Dig back to your memories of sitting around a crappy TV with your best friends, your cousins, your siblings, or whomever you cared for the most as a kid. Your eyes were sewn open as you battled to finish the last level of whatever Nintendo game had you hooked that week. Every time you died, you’d pass off the controller to the next player in the room. Perhaps you were wearing neon shorts and a Surf Style jacket. You’d get a refill of your Kool-Aid and slip back into a late night of gaming. The pattern would continue every weekend, and every summer vacation. I’ve been dying for years to get that experience back. Because of collecting and getting back into retro consoles, I’ve been able to connect with others and restore my inner child.

WHEN I THINK OF COLLECTING and the community, I see it almost as a fraternity, not simply a hobby. I’ve been so fortunate to meet awesome people that have the same passion as me, and that would help me out any time I need something. It goes beyond stuff on a shelf. As I mentioned before, each item has a story to tell about a situation, a person, and a dollar sign (or Yen as of lately!). Social networks like Instagram and Twitter have allowed me to engage with a huge audience of fans and followers who are just as much into gaming as I am, and otherwise I would have no means of talking to these people. I really look forward to a time when I will be able to help someone out like others have done for me in the gaming community. I’ve found throughout this whole process of collecting that it is really about the journey, and that the journey is indeed the treasure.