Nostalgia, or "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Mario"

I recently got accepted as a freelance writer for Nintendo Enthusiast. It’s been an interesting experience so far, allowing me to expand my network and communicate with people I’d never talk to. But it’s also given me some ideas for blog entries, and this one’s no exception. I figured that I’d discuss it eventually, given that I first wrote about my childhood gaming experience on ScrewAttack 10 years ago.

My introduction to video games goes back to my early childhood. My cousin’s grandmother owned a cottage several hours north, and every Summer my family would be invited. The cottage screamed mid-, but the one area that was relatively modern was the kitchen TV huddled in the corner. Plugged in was an NES, with a small-but-memorable library of NES games. As expected, that console got a lot of use.

One game in particular stood out, though: Super Mario Bros. 3. I had no idea what its real name was, I was 4, but I’d always ask to play “the game with Captain Raccoon in it”. Captain Raccoon was a reference to Tanooki Mario, but the nick-name stuck with me. I’d constantly take turns playing the game with Captain Raccoon in it, though my turn kept ending quickly because, surprise, I was really bad at it.

Mario was my introduction to video games, in other words. I’d later be introduced to Sonic as well, but Mario was my first true love, so-to-speak. I learned the basic mechanics of gaming with Super Mario Bros. 3, grasping the layout of the NES’s 5-button controller through trial-and-error. I didn’t matter that I kept getting Game Overs ridiculously fast, because I was enjoying myself.

Imagine my shock when, a few years later, I was over at a neighbour’s house and saw a Nintendo 64 in their living room. I had no idea what this was at the time, but, being 6, I was intrigued. The console was flat and top-loaded, not like the NES. And the controller, with had three prongs, was fascinating. But what caught my attention most was the game my neighbour was playing: Super Mario 64. It looked like an interactive movie, and it might as well have been! Everything was clear, crisp and incredibly detailed, with polygonal-rendered environments and characters. I didn’t realize that my neighbour had already 100% cleared the game, so when he beat Bowser and we were greeted to an ending montage, it further confirmed my theory:

Mario, that plucky character I’d known as Captain Raccoon, had done it again! He not only introduced me to gaming, he also introduced me to 3D gaming. He’d shown me how much a video game experience meant. As someone who didn’t have many friends, even at age of 6, Mario also became my first real friend. I realize how depressing that sounds now, but it was true.

Super Mario 64 would remain my unofficial-official best friend for the next 6 years. I’d quickly become familiar with the N64’s library, including Mario Kart 64 and GoldenEye 007, but nothing could replace my attachment to Super Mario 64. There was something undoubtedly simple and pure about the game, and nothing could replace that. Or no one, as I’d soon learn from the arguments I’d have over it.

The attachment I had for Super Mario 64 came to an end in 2002, when Super Mario Sunshine released for the GameCube. It was a game on a new console, and 12 year-old me gobbled it up. Yet while I was enjoying the game, I was subconsciously thinking about Super Mario 64. I longed for that experience again, even though the ship had sailed. Call it naïve, but I was a naïve kid.

It wasn’t until 2007, when I received a Wii as a Chanukkah gift, that I downloaded and played Super Mario 64 once more. Unfortunately, time hadn’t been kind. It was the same game, the same Mario, the same, epic adventure, but it also wasn’t. Something felt…off. Perhaps it was the camera, or the glitching, or even the primal level designs, but it wasn’t the Super Mario 64 I remembered, and that upset me.

I guess the nostalgia bug was responsible. It wasn’t Super Mario 64 I loved, it was my childhood experience of Super Mario 64. It was the joy and ecstasy of experiencing the game for the first time. That youthful feeling was now gone, never to be regained. I was heartbroken, but I’d rather a video game hurt me than a real person. At least a video game can’t be held responsible.

Perhaps it was unfair to want to relive my childhood. I was already 17, nearing the end of high school. Teenaged me couldn’t be that 6 year-old boy again, it wasn’t possible. So while I held on fondly to my memories, memories I’ll always be grateful for, perhaps it was best that I let my childhood fondness for Super Mario 64 go. I still hold that Super Mario 64 is a decent platformer, but, to quote my grandfather, “You can gain back your virginity once you’ve lost it”.

Nevertheless, the Captain Raccoon moniker stayed. That much is for certain.