"a childhood longing"

Memories of Earthbound, a loving tribute to the greatest video game of all time.

I remember sunny days and rainy nights, in the midst of which I was playing this game. I can still recall my childish appraisal of the game's box, standing there with my parents in a small rental store in the small town which I grew up in. The first weekend I spent with Earthbound was so foreign to me, I was utterly astounded when I approached the counter to check the game out for that weekend and the clerk provided to me the game's brilliant strategy guide (it resembles a newspaper in its construction, it's genius). For many years, I would rent the game as often as I could, hoping rather openly that in the interim, no one else had rented the game. Oftentimes, when someone else did, I would come to find my save file erased the next time it was in my possession. It was a painful dismissal of the time I'd put in to it, to see my hard work erased by some know nothing jackass who could never appreciate the game like I did.

Everything to set Earthbound in motion happened as the result of childhood fascination. Oddly enough, the fixation of my childhood has now become a crown to the adulthood which I'm beginning to nurture. Nowhere in the world is there anyone who has the same connection to Earthbound as I do. Many video games nowadays are beloved and acclaimed due to what they do. Earthbound never did something so extraordinarily well that it would jump out to me, but the effects it had on me are exclusive. I can't really remember it perfectly, but I'm going to guess that somewhere in the ending of Earthbound (which I shall mention as being as perfect a video game ending as there could ever be) that tears streamed down my cheeks.

What I do remember, for certain, is the first time I finished the game, sitting in my cousin's house, his entire family, himself included, sleeping the night away as I sat there, controller in hand, sweating all over. There was an apprehension there in those moments; I knew how to beat Gigyas, and here I was, drawing closer than I'd ever had. Ready at any point to begin using the otherwise unnecessary Pray command with Paula (more on that later), set up to revive her at a moment's notice. I was as ready as I could have ever been, if I couldn't do it then, I'd never do it.

I didn't want it to end. What would I do with myself, having finished the game? Would that be the last time we'd be together, the thought crossed my mind. My cousin the next morning would ask me if I had beaten the game. I pressed forward and I started to use the Pray command, just as the strategy guide had told me. Many prayers later, something remarkable happened. It was terrifying. In the heat of battle, your prayers stop working. The only way of damaging the final boss becomes useless, your prayers lost to the void surrounding you and this struggle.

This just brought about more nervous perspiration, a sense of overwhelming dread. At this point, though, you've got no other choice. You pray again. Now, the prayers start to get through and Earthbound grows a sense of consciousness, something that seemed novel to me at the time but now astounds me. Earlier in the game, you are consulted by a non-player character for your name. It goes so far as to tell you that it means YOU, the one in front of the TV. You decide to enter your name, unsure of its purpose. It seems like such a throwaway at the time, you can't imagine it being important.

The last prayer delivered to defeat Gigyas is that of the player themselves. As I sat there, wondering whether I wanted the battle to be won, the game decided that for me. It is the will of the player which conquers Gigyas in the end. You may be amused by seeing your name up on the screen, for me...I don't possess a vocabulary capable of describing what I truly felt. The battle is won as it approaches a chaotic mood, the background pulsating, the music becoming erratic and truly desperate, before the screen crashes into static and a single dot in the center of your television.

I remember talking to my uncle in the hours that approached the day as he got up to go for a cigarette. He stopped in to talk to me, amazed that I was still here, playing the same game I'd spent nearly all day playing there. I told him that I had to beat it, I wanted to beat it there and then. He didn't quite understand me, I think. That's fine by me though.

The ending of Earthbound begins immediately after the defeat of Gigyas and I could still say that the game is ending for me, even to this day. Once a few small scenes play out, you're basically given the reins to do all that you want to do. My first time, not understanding truly what it meant, I just returned straight to Paula's house in the town of Twoson, bidding a painful goodbye to her before returning to Onett and initiating the final credits sequence. There must have been a few tears in my eyes at this point. I saw it end and a wave of satisfaction came over me, but it was not until years later that Earthbound truly became something of true value to me.

When I revisited the game years later, there was something inside me that welcomed it back with open arms and an open heart. I looked upon it with an amount of respect, remembering how much I had enjoyed the game as a child. This time, it went beyond simple enjoyment. At this moment, it carved itself a special place in my heart.

When on your way out

Be sure that you say goodbye

Then lock the door tight.

There was certainly something new when I played the game as a teenager, like I'd opened a door that I had previously not only been unable to open, but I couldn't even see it. As I walked into the room behind that door, at first; that room was nearly empty. It had been a long time since I'd even played this game, but it felt like in that room, there was a certain part of me that had been left there all that time.

It was indeed in there, something belonging to me, which I have now reclaimed. If I had to approximate it to anything, I guess I'd call it the essence of my childhood. I was never a very athletic kid, I was stricken with asthma so a lot of things were out of the question for me, so video games turned out to be a very prime factor in the development of my young self. Grasping what I'd left behind, I finished Earthbound for the first time as a teenager, growing ever away from adolescence and closer to this adulthood which I, at this moment, couldn't care less about.

The ending sequence that time cemented itself as the greatest moment of video games, period.  It was so psychologically fulfilling to be able to just do what you wanted. No more battles, but you could go wherever you felt; talk to whomever you want, see the world you changed and hear the praise you earned. So often it happens where a game ends and you feel left out, but not here; Earthbound lets the player themselves see and feel the appreciation for what you've done. 

Somewhere I heard that in the original Japanese (when the game was known as Mother 2), Shigesato Itoi, the game's mastermind, wrote every text box in the game himself. That's a scary amount of dedication, but it's incredibly admirable. Itoi, by trade, is a writer, so that's really not too surprising. He probably did it with ease. He's a man who probably never once thought to himself that he'd ever be making video games, yet the few he has worked on, he has done with such skill and thought that I feel a deep respect for him.

Every once in a while, my mind will remember something from Earthbound that will put a smile on my face. Whether it's a particular moment or line of dialogue, it cascades into my mind from the deepest recesses of memories and brings me back to a happy place. This is absolutely true, too. Other days, that feeling of despair while wrapped in the midst of the final battle will pull me deeper. Truly, the nostalgia which guides my feelings grows ever larger each passing day. Days like today, writing late at night; my body remembers the shaking and sweating when I beat it the first time, that night at my cousin's house. Every human being has a moment of cultural identity; Earthbound is mine. I know someday, after I graduate university and maybe leave this country, in the midst of carving a little existential niche for myself, my mind will wander invariably back to Earthbound.

Maybe there's someone else out there that feels the same as I do. For a multitude of selfish reasons I hope that there isn't, I want the experience that I had to be mine and only mine. That thought I had as a child still persists: I'm the only one who understands this game. I've played so many games and this is the only one which sticks with me for so many reasons.

Thank you, Shigesato Itoi. You gave me the greatest gift, a powerful exclamation mark on my childhood and a lingering effect on my coming adulthood. Without this game, I'd probably have drifted off that path a long time ago.

Thank you, Earthbound.

Why am I still playing video games?

Years ago, while I was still a kid, I theorized that when I was an adult that all I'd want to do is play video games. Somehow that prediction ended up being right, maybe the only guess my childhood self had that came true when I grew up. I've alluded to it, hell, I've outright mentioned it in other articles that I'd always thought that way.

Even now I still just really want to play games. I've turned myself inside out lately, drinking too much coffee and sleeping far too little. As an adult, I figured out that I do want to do a bit more with my life than play them damned video games all the time. I want to eat good food, preferably that which I cook myself. I want to listen to the music I want to listen to, at the decibel level I want to hear it, without ever having anyone complain about it. To accomplish that, I'd need to buy a house. That's out of the question for the time being (the time being amounting to roughly...the next ten years of my life, I guess).

To buy a house, one needs money, and to get that; I need a real job. Most days, I sit around on my lazy ass, in my underwear, hoping to walk outside and have a big bag of money fall on me. I'll take the concussion as long as it makes me rich. That's a really lazy way of thinking. If life is that easy, I'd be considering turning in my card. That kind of shit is the cheat code of the real world. Right now, I work a crappy part time job and seem to be losing hours every week as we continue to do worse business. I think it's reached the point where our owner reaches parity or makes a very slight profit every week. I guess my job isn't what anyone reading this blog wants to hear about, especially given this entry's title, but I haven't written anything in April so this update comes attached to the hip of my personal happenings. (i started this article before my small update making fun of Zelda: Spirit Track's obvious...*ahem*...successes in the Japanese market)

As I write this sentence, I am sitting in my parent's house, in the midst of a break from my "life". The life that basically contains work and video games. Less of the former, more of the latter as of late. I'm watching television for the first time in months (coincidentally, the last time I was here at my parent's house), swapping furiously through channels to avoid the anguish that is an episode of Friends. In my existence, my nineteen and three quarter years (birthday in July, folks so start contemplating gifts, I am open to anything that compliments my natural awesomeness) I've watched about one half an episode of Friends. A day later, here I am, back at my apartment; amidst what I call "mine". I have watched a half episode of Friends in my lifetime, let's hope to keep it that way.

Never once did I ever consider that I'd grow out of playing video games. It was always something I'd do, and I'd always be happy doing it. Is that true, even now? It's getting progressively harder to tell, but I don't think I've lost that ideal yet.

I guess I have to work tomorrow night, and that's kind of unsettling right now. I just took a nice vacation from that shit. This isn't random complaining either! This is me trying to make a point. I don't want to do anything for the rest of my life when it comes to work. I don't want to work until I die! I'd love to work a great job, but even then I'd have to give it up someday (mandatory retirement or otherwise).

Would I give up video games? This is a question I ask of the me of today, much like the I of yesterday. The only real difference is that I'm roughly a dozen times more tired today than I was yesterday. Days ago, would I have even been considering that question? Giving up video games, that's tougher than quiting smoking (i think). I hate to quit anything, to be truthful for a second. The good or the bad, I hate just throwing it to the wayside. Fuck am I ever tired, though. Giving up video games, maybe that's the way to a better future. Pondering the future can be kind of boring!

I really need to unpack from my trip home. I am so spastic all of a sudden, worse than ever before. I've got caffeine in me, more than I need. I feel my body being twisted upon like waves hitting me from all directions. My first order of business upon returning home tonight was to start playing a new video game (Resonance of Fate for the PS3. I'm trying to see if tri-Ace can make a GOOD game). Is that dedication or an addiction?

Let's try to make a focused point for once. Video games are at their simplest form a facet of the entertainment industry. We play them to be entertained by them. Thinking, most times, is optional. Out of the three primary media forms, video games probably require the least thought. Movies and music border on the desire to tell stories or enlighten the audience. Story or narrative in video games is, like thinking, purely optional. It exists, more often than not, although often times we could argue that it doesn't need to. Perhaps games are trying too hard to be something that they have no obligation of being. When done right, a video game is a truly unique entertainment medium. It is an experience that you are incapable of having outside of the medium. A lot of the instances in which I praise a particular game is directed towards its experience and how well it stands. Such games which I have "panned" such as NSMBWii are experiences which I can't help but feel are flawed; it's a fun video game but I can't say I had a fun time playing it. It felt off, it was too derivative of the previous games and had no idea what it wanted to be.

Strangely enough, the older I get causes a certain desire to swell within my mind; instead of playing video games, wouldn't it be interesting to design one? There's a bit of mature thinking attached to that, as a kid I didn't know I had these kind of ideas, or that I could apply my creative mind. As a young adult, I realize now that I can think for myself. What kind of game would I make, well it'd be something I personally would want to play. Something interesting enough without being totally pretentious. My favorite video game of all time, Mother 2/Earthbound challenged the dynamic that the game and the player are theoretically separate. I'd love to do something of the same, utilize the medium against itself, I guess. If this is going over your head, I apologize!

I guess to answer the question which this article asks; the reason I'm still playing games and have no intentions of stopping any time soon; I want to find my game. I know, realistically, that I'll never make a video game. There's always an off chance, I guess. I'm still pretty young. Thinking at ground level, though, I'm gonna say that I'll likely never get the chance to make my video game. So I'm just going to keep looking for it. That's why I'm still playing video games.

Want Zelda: Spirit Tracks?

How about 480 yen? Does thats seem like a reasonable price?

That new Zelda is SO good, man. The Japanese are selling it for five dollars, it's SO good man.

as seen on: http://blog.esuteru.com/archives/256319.html