Everything I Know I Learned From Nintendo

It’s not easy being a spoiled only child. No, really. From the day I left the womb, I had everything I ever wanted…except friends. I didn’t know a single kid in the neighborhood, had little in common with my classmates, and barely left home. Heck, I never even learned how to ride a bike. Ever. Needless to say, my life was less-than-typical growing up.

This is not to say that it was necessarily bad; this just meant that I had to entertain myself more than the average kid. My imagination ran rampant to avoid going stir-crazy. I would immerse myself in any piece of fiction I encountered, whether it be a television show, movie, or book. I constantly pretended to be someone else because the person that I was seemed so pathetic. In my mind’s eye, being an Ewok was better than being a dorky girl.

To make matters worse, I was a tomboy, but my parents made sure to keep boys at bay. Tragically enough, I was doomed to play with my Star Wars figures in solitude. And let me tell you: being all four Ninja Turtles at once is a very depressing and daunting task.

Come mid-to-late 80s, I was looking for something more to life than action figures. One can only play with Orko so many times without feeling like a loser. Christmas of 1989 brought me everything I wanted and then some: Nintendo. I traded in my spaceships for a pair of game controllers. It was instantly the breath of fresh air that I had sought for years.

I went from pretending I was Princess Leia to Princess Toadstool on the playground. Every other day, I would go with my mother to the video store to rent a new game. I subscribed to Nintendo Power, and studied each issue with more fervor than a monk reading the Bible.

Somehow, all of these displays of affection for my newly found love were eventually not enough to satiate my overactive mind. After intensely studying pictures from the Super Mario Bros. 3 instruction manual, I started drawing pictures of the Koopa Kids; shortly thereafter, I started making little comic books of these creatures whose visages I knew by heart. Then, I graduated to a Castlevania novel. (Yes, novel. This should be a clear indication to how much of a social life I had as a kid.)

Because of the constant mental stimulation that Nintendo provided for me, I became inspired to enhance my natural talents of drawing and writing, fine-tuning them with every new game I played. I was awestruck by the imagination necessary to bring some of these games to life and strived to emulate that. I started inventing my own characters and ideas for games. Once this floodgate of creativity was opened, I have not been able to close it since.

I felt like I had discovered a friend in this console and it made all the difference. Slowly but surely, I found other peers that shared a similar enthusiasm for certain games, and we began playing them together. Finally, after years of sitting in my room feeling like an alienated freak, I shared a common bond with everyone.

Some say video games are mind-numbing, time-wasting pieces of garbage that should be eliminated. I say they made me who I am today: a more vibrant, innovative person with vast achievements. Anything that makes a lonely girl realize all of her talents in a unique, refreshing way can’t be so bad, can it? Thanks, Mario.