NES Pro Wrestling: 1HN Slam Action

NES Pro Wrestling was one of the first games I remember witnessing being played on the NES during my junior high school days. I recall the day well: I rode my bike to my acquaintance (I'll explain later) Joshua's house. At the time, I looked forward to playing some games with him on his Nintendo Entertainment System because, well, I didn't have one. Anyway, when I arrived, I got to watch him play a game in which wrestlers were slammed, thrown, clotheslined, pile-driven, and back-broken (can I say that?!). I remember being eager to play...

And I waited... For one hour... Two hours...

After over two hours of waiting, I realized dimly that Joshua would never let me play. I'm not sure he was even aware of my presence in his living room while he played. That is not to say that I was angry or even despondent because I enjoyed watching him, but over time I have come to conclude that Joshua was rather selfish and inhospitable (which, in turn, compels me to encourage my boys to share video game time with each other and with friends who visit). Funnily enough, though, those observations were absent in my mind.

Sadly, I ended up getting home late that day and my parents were rightfully upset and worried. In a feeble attempt to perhaps stave off their ire, I had set my wristwatch back one hour; that way, I could offer the excuse that the time on my watch was wrong. Of course, that got them even more upset because I had proven that I wasn't careful enough to keep time accurately on my watch (not to mention, I lied!). Ah, the memories...

NES Pro Wrestling was one of the early Nintendo-brand releases for the NES console. It has the look and feel of the initial NES releases with the black-covered manuals and 8-bit-rendered cartridge labels with the black spines. When I received NES Pro Wrestling for Christmas one year (I forget which one), I recall how oddly pleased I was that the look of the cartridge matched some of my other NES titles, like Baseball and Ice Climber. For some reason, I was really interested in uniformity… Anyway, NES Pro Wrestling features six characters: Fighter Hayabusa, Starman, Kin Korn Karn, Giant Panther, The Amazon, and King Slender. 

Each character can punch, kick, body slam, and throw an opponent against the ropes to either knee him in the face or clothesline him. Yet, what’s really fun is that each character has his own special moves. For example, Giant Panther can either head-butt the opponent or administer the “Iron Claw,” which is when he grabs the face of his opponent with his palm and squeezes. Each time a wrestler performs his special move, his foe collapses into a heap, after which the wrestler can either pin his foe or pull him up… by the hair.

NES Pro Wrestling is still alive and well in my collection and my boys get a kick out of wrestling with each other. For an 8-bit NES game, NES Pro Wrestling does have some depth with all the special moves and strategies one can employ. One of my favorite strategies is to use Starman’s Flying Cross Chop from a standing position. Originally, the move was intended to be performed after an opponent is thrown against the ropes, but I learned that one can fly through the air and chop the opposing wrestler from a standing position WITHOUT throwing him. As one plays, one picks up on these little tactics and misuses of special moves, as well as on the fact that there is a twenty-second limit when a wrestler is outside the ring. I won’t give away the strategy for using that time limit. As an aside, the only stipulation I have made with my boys is that they cannot play with The Amazon because special moves involve either using a dinner fork or his mouth to munch on the opposing player. 

This leads me to a discussion I had started on this blog long ago, when I wrote about violence in video games, initiating a one-sided discussion about the acceptable extent and intent of such violence. At that time, I reasoned that one should consider both how realistic the violence is portrayed and the intent of the violence in the game itself. Over time, though, I have given the issue much thought, especially vis-à-vis the Bible. Now, dare I say that the Bible does portray some violence, whether it be Samson slaying a thousand Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey, Joshua and his armies after the walls of Jericho fell, or David beheaded the felled Goliath after the slung stone found its mark. Considering these and many other examples, violence in war or in defense of one's home may be unavoidable. However, in the context of this blog, the crucial issue is how far does one go with violence for the sake of fun...

In my opinion, one has to look at each case and conclude based on personal convictions in relation to God’s word. In the case of NES Pro Wrestling, just like professional wrestling in real life, the “violence” is so cartoonish and rendered in that vague 8-bit style that the game is more of a stress reliever and less of a desensitizing force. I have observed my boys play the game, I have talked to them about how dangerous professional wrestling really is, and I have discussed how pro wrestlers are trained professionals who practice how to NOT hurt their opponents and yet execute athletically acrobatic moves. So far, my boys have not executed such moves on each other; more importantly, they understand that violence outside of a video game is inevitable in certain situations, such as during war or in defense of one’s home. There will be more on this later.

Appreciating the Great to Discern the Derivative

As time passes, it is confirmed for me, again and again, that the simplicity and pick-up-and-playability of "old" video games is vastly superior to the glitz and graphics of today's three-dimensional offerings. Sure, one may marvel at the visual explosion of garish hues of any PlayStation game, or guffaw at the side-splitting and muscle-tearing action of XBox Kinect or Wii games, or even be wowed by the audio saturation emanating from one's quadrophonic sound system as one plays games... well, on any of those consoles. However, I find that it is difficult to trump the quaint jaggedness of 8-bit or 16-bit sprites, the plip-ploppiness of 25-year-old game sound effects, or even the mind-bending elegance of one D-pad and two, three, or six buttons.

The reason why I am waxing nostalgic and gushing with needlessly verbose prose is because I experienced a moment of peculiar lucidity today. During a work training session, rather randomly, I asked one of the attendees (who happened to be my age) if he remembered the infinite-life trick in Super Mario Brothers for the NES. For a few seconds, the attendee (who was attending via WebEx, actually) admitted some ignorance, but then corrected himself and recalled with impressive clarity that if you jump on a certain creature (in this case, a Koopa) a certain way (on the edge of its shell as it descends stairs made of blocks), you can set up an infinite loop of life gain. Floored by his apparent recall of that tactic, I filled in the blanks of his description by noting that it happens in World 3 and results in cryptic symbols replacing numbers next to the Mario life indicator that is displayed before the start of each level.

As this moment of lucidity passed, I was reminded that though games like Super Mario Brothers were easy to learn and somewhat challenging to conquer, there were arduous aspects of the gameplay that made even seasoned gamers pause, such as trying to advance anywhere in Legend of Zelda; also, there were wondrous moments of revelation that etched indelible impressions in our psyches, such as the infinite life trick. What was revealed to me was that while the simplicity of those old games lured us into becoming fans, it was the hidden and the discoverable that kept us returning to play over and over. There was something eminently rewarding about unearthing such tricks or conquering levels of ridiculous difficulty. I contend that games today, even with their Easter eggs, hidden levels, and downloadable content do not have the payoff of  the infinite life trick, of setting the correct tree on fire, or climbing the once-inaccessible tower to find a 1-UP (a la Knuckles the Echidna). I suppose it's because these games live in the rosy-tinted world of my memories. However, when I watch my sons play the old games or I hear a co-worker describe his son's admiration of Super Mario Brothers, I realize that if we all bring up our children to appreciate the things of the past, we bless them with the gift of discerning what is great from what is derivative.

Retro-Comparo: The Dark Knight Trilogy

As the loyal few of you who follow RetroBeliever are aware, there aren't many things I enjoy more than to wax nostalgic about some anachronistic 8-bit or 16-bit video game, lament about the lost simplicity of the past, or tie my somewhat antiquated interests to Christ. However, today's post is different because... well, it's about something currently popular: I'm talking about Batman, specifically the Dark Knight trilogy of films directed by Christopher Nolan and starring Christian Bale as the titular Dark Knight, aka Batman.

What am I writing about? Just to let you know, it's not a review of The Dark Knight Rises, which I happened to see on July 20th. Instead, I shall briefly compare the three movies as I have written my Retro-Comparos, in which I've compared video games. My comparisons between the three movies will be based on several categories I feel capture the various aspects of movies, such as acting, editing, story, special effects, music, and so on. So, here goes:

Acting: 
It is difficult to differentiate between the three movies because there are the same actors playing the same roles, though I would contend that the acting in Batman Begins was a shade better because the actors were fresh in their roles, working to establish the characters as they might develop in future films. Some may argue that The Dark Knight was the most stellar when it came to acting, but I'd take Katie Holmes' youthful vibrance over Maggie Gyllenhaal's school-marm-like demeanor as Rachel Dawes; and, call it controversial and merely personal preference, but I take Liam Neeson's quiet menace as Ra's al-Ghul over Heath Ledger's just-too-psychotic Joker. That said, Aaron Eckhart's portrayal of Two-Face/Harvey Dent was emotionally affecting. It's really hard to choose... I'll give a shout out, though, to Tom Hardy for his portrayal as Bane; that was a tough role to play with a mask obscuring most of his face. Verdict: BB (Batman Begins)

Characters:
Batman Begins has the advantage of being the origin story for Bruce Wayne and Batman, so there is much character development, as well as introductions of all the principal supporting characters. However, The Dark Knight does not have to spend time introducing characters except for Harvey Dent and The Joker, who is only developed as a diabolical foil for Batman and as an instigator. Despite this, The Dark Knight is important in leading Batman down the path that would lead to The Dark Knight Rises.

Development aside, The Dark Knight presented strong, clearly-defined characters that guided the story, and not the other way around. The most impressive thing is that the movie seems plot-driven on the surface: after all, The Dark Knight is really about how much Batman would bend his own moral laws in his pursuit of the Joker, who is actively pushing Batman's buttons. It's splitting hairs, but TDK prevails. Verdict: TDK (The Dark Knight)

Direction, Action Sequences:
Many have lambasted Christopher Nolan's direction of the various fight scenes in Batman Begins, noting scattershot editing, too-closely-zoomed fist shots, and almost incomprehensible sequences. Nolan sharpened his direction for The Dark Knight, giving the viewer more time to observe fight scenes and action sequences develop. The Dark Knight Rises continued his superlative work. Verdict: TDK

Direction, Dramatic Sequences:
Action and fighting aside, Nolan coaxed out many more moments of emotion in Batman Begins than any of the three: the sadness of young Bruce Wayne, the anger of post-teen Bruce, the focused intensity and sense of justice of Batman, and the sympathy of the various figures who served as fathers to Bruce all served to make Batman Begins an affecting movie. I must note The Dark Knight Rises, which pulls in some of the emotion from Batman Begins and ends with a heroic crescendo that is evocative in its own right, particularly the last five minutes which provides the greatest payoff of all the three films. Verdict: BB

Editing:
As mentioned previously, the fight scenes in Batman Begins were the lone weak spot to the movie. The Dark Knight Rises didn't suffer from this weakness, but there were a few editing gaffes when it seemed like Nolan was forced to cut dramatic sequences for the sake of brevity; specifically, I refer to a romance between Bruce Wayne and one of the female characters because it seemed either inserted as a last-minute decision, disrupting the continuity of the return of Batman, or severely punctuated to cut down on what some felt was an overly long movie.

Of the three, The Dark Knight had the best balance of action and fight editing, as well as the appropriate length of set pieces and dramatic exchanges to establish and develop characters. Verdict: TDK

Music:
Each of the three movies have very similar musical themes, but with flourishes that distinguish them. Batman Begins is a bit more upbeat, particularly in the final third of the movie. The Dark Knight has themes that are darker, featuring more low strings. The Dark Knight Rises features more drum beats, which mimics the chanting in the movie. It's all good. Verdict: Push

Special Effects:
This one is especially subjective, though I must admit that The Narrows in Batman Begins LOOKS like a miniature set. As technology advanced, Nolan and his crew were able to synthesize more convincing special effects. The Dark Knight Rises attests to this, as the bridges exploding and the stadium field imploding were two of the best effects sequences in the entire series (both of these are viewable in the trailers, so I'm not spoiling anything). Verdict: TDKR

The Batsuit:
I am partial to Batman's Nomex Survival Suit-derived armor and stiff cowl in Batman Begins over the much more modular design of the suits in the subsequent movies, mostly because of the relatively simplicity and story-appropriate clunkiness of the first suit. I just think the armor got weirder and weirder with each passing movie. Verdict: BB

Props:
I find it odd that Batman relied on his trademark utility belt in Batman Begins much more than in the next two movies; the grappling gun, Bat-grenades, Bat-throwing stars, and some nifty hallucinogenic gas capsules all make appearances, while we only see a lame gun-barrel-bending/van-door-cutting hand tool (and the grappling gun) in The Dark Knight. Sure, there was that sonar-based internal mapping technology that proved so pivotal in the finale, but that just wasn't as nifty as anything that can come off Batman's utility belt.

Oh, and as I recall, there were NO Bat weapons in The Dark Knight Rises, but we get Bane's medieval gas mask and Catwoman's eye disguise/visor. Verdict: Tie, BB and TDKR

Vehicles:
Batman Begins was about the Tumbler, The Dark Knight was about the Batpod, and The Dark Knight Rises was about both AND the "Bat," which is simply an inverted helicopter with missiles and a dual cockpit. Verdict: TDKR

Sets:
With each successive movie, the sets became more elaborate, though I enjoyed the eldritch trappings of Wayne Manor over the rebuilt one in The Dark Knight Rises. Also, we can rule out The Dark Knight because Bruce Wayne's penthouse in The Dark Knight is sterile and dull, and, inexplicably, there is NO Wayne Tower; instead, we have the monolithic Wayne Building, which appears again in The Dark Knight Rises. However, I won't rule out The Dark Knight Rises because that Indian prison is grimly exotic and the Batcave returns with a revamped raising platform. Verdict: TDKR

Final Verdict: Batman Begins

Though The Dark Knight Rises had the most toys, most complicated and visually-appealing special effects, and most jarring sets, Batman Begins edges it with acting, origin story, a more simplistic Batsuit, and more utility belt gadgets. Sure, it's highly subjective and many people will attempt to discredit me in my preference of Batman Begins over The Dark Knight, but the most outstanding issue I have had with The Dark Knight is that it is a movie largely detached from any positive emotion; for most of the film, we observe the moral challenges Batman/Bruce Wayne has to face and how the Joker prevails on many fronts, even though he is captured. Some may point at this as the benchmark of an exceptional superhero movie, but I watch superheroes to see them overcome great odds to win the day. I suppose, in that sense, that The Dark Knight is an appropriate middle movie, just as The Empire Strikes Back was an appropriate middle movie of the original Star Wars Trilogy. As Harvey Dent says in The Dark Knight, "The night is darkest before the dawn," right?

Anyway, Batman Begins runs the full gamut of emotion, but emerges with a optimism and a sense of hope that always compels me to watch it again. Bruce Wayne truly comes full circle as a character vis-a-vis his father and the memories he has of him: from love to guilt to rage, and then to a deeper admiration for his father. As for The Dark Knight Rises, the movie is mostly dark and grim, but there is triumph, in a manner of speaking. I'll just say that the emotional payoff is huge in The Dark Knight Rises.

Vibram FiveFingers Speed Review: Retro Modern

Today, I published a review of Vibram FiveFingers Speed footcoverings, which is a wonderful combination of road feel, foot protection, retrospective styling, and laces. That's right: laces! From behind and from the sides, the Speed looks like a pair of Airwalk or Vans skater shoes or even old-school Adidas football boots (which is what the British call soccer cleats), but with the separated toe enclosures indicative of any FiveFingers model. Here is a link to that review:

The Best FiveFingers I've Worn

To summarize, the Speed is my favorite Vibram FiveFingers model and is the best one available for overall running performance balanced with an understated, yet funky look. Most of what Vibram has to offer is either gaudily colored, constructed with space-agey materials and design concepts, or both. The Speed is a throwback with minimal style, but with breathable black mesh fabric and strategically placed pads on a 7mm outsole. Thus, the Speed has truly gone "back to the future."

Advance to Boardwalk: 1HN High-Rise Unit Builder

Whenever I go to a retailer like Target or Wal-Mart, I am surprised at the board games I find and how they've stood the test of time. Some games, in my estimation, are worthy of their longevity: Monopoly (in which the outside-the-game-rules negotiations are more fun than the game itself), Stratego, Clue, and Scrabble come to mind. Conversely, there are some games that shouldn't have lasted this long, particularly Risk, which I loathe immensely; I can't count how many times my massive armies have been defeated by "lucky" defense die rolls. Also, games like Sorry! and Trouble seem to make new fans of children every generation because of their tactile in-game elements (like the dice popper in Trouble) and simple rules.

But, some games have come and gone, much to my chagrin. One of those games was Advance to Boardwalk, which Parker Brothers published in the 1980s. It was spun off from the Monopoly universe with Uncle Moneybags prominently included on the packaging and on the in-game cards. The premise of Advance to Boardwalk was deceptively simple: amass more wealth than your opponents by building up units (which are like floors in a skyscraper) that comprise high-priced hotels along a beachfront boardwalk. In the game, you roll a color-coded die to determine which area of properties on which you can build, and another two dice (I think) to determine the total dollar value of units you can build on that color. As gameplay progresses, you can build units on top of other players' units; if your units outnumber an opponent's units, you gain control of the property, which means you move up the boardwalk (which is marked with dollar amounts) and your opponent moves down the boardwalk. Each property has different inherent values, so some properties are more favorable yet more difficult on which to build because a higher rolled amount is required to be able to build on those properties. Along the way, there are "Fortune" cards that either allow a player to gain an advantage (such as "Windfall" cards that provide an infusion of capital for building) or create obstacles for opponents (such as "Hurricane" cards that can wipe the units off a property). Gameplay ends when one player has used up all of his or her units (you get 15-17 units with which to build at the start of gameplay).

As I write this blog entry, I am not aware of the publishing history of Advance to Boardwalk except of what I know personally, but I can safely say that the game was available in the 1980s, but then faded into obscurity. It was only during a recent clearing of my grandma's rafters that I found this game amidst a treasure trove of my old packed games (which included several Nintendo and Colecovision cartridges). I unearthed it, dusted it off, and played a round with my family, who were sadly unimpressed by the game. I suppose that equating units of building to money value isn't as direct or exciting as acquiring a group of properties and then building houses (a la Monopoly). However, I find Advance to Boardwalk to be more rewarding and less time-consuming than Monopoly. Unlike Monopoly, you can gain (and lose) properties each turn; and you can rise and fall so quickly in Advance to Boardwalk, while you tend to amass wealth slowly in Monopoly and then crush opponents quite suddenly until there are two people who own the entire board. Then, it's only a few turns before one player loses his shirt paying the other player an exorbitant amount of rent. While Monopoly games can seem interminable, Advance to Boardwalk can be played in 30-45 minutes and can result in numerous grudges and vows of vengeance, which may spur another game right after it. Okay, I'm joking about the vows of vengeance, but I can see that it would be hard to NOT have a grudge after you watch your opponent build two or three units on your property and usurp the $7 million of value, putting him or her seven spaces up and you seven spaces down -- a 14-space swing!

Anyway, Advance to Boardwalk should've gotten more of a chance at becoming a classic because it really is a fun, addictive game with a deeper layer of strategy than Monopoly, which relies much on dice rolls. In Advance to Boardwark, you do roll to determine how much "money" you have to build, as well as the color of properties on which you build, but you also have to decide (assuming you roll a "10," for instance) if you want to build two units on the $5-million-dollar property (which would move you up five spaces on the board) or two units on the $3-million-dollar one and one unit on the $4-million-dollar one (which would move you up seven spaces). There are many lead changes in the game and, often, it can take one play to reverse your fortunes and win the game, even if you spent most of the game in the back of the pack. If you can find it, I recommend Advance to Boardwalk; challenge even your hard-core gamer friends and let me know how much fun you have from a once-mainstream game.

Simplicity: 1HN Better than Realism

Today, a wistful feeling has overcome me. As I see events unfold around me, I am disturbed and deeply saddened by how my beliefs are challenged and I am viewed as anachronistic and a relic for what I believe...

I'm talking about video games, of course...

Granted, some things haven't changed much since I received my first video game console (a Colecovision) thirty years ago. One thing that hasn't changed is the general popularity of video games. Back in the early 80s, Atari, Intellivison, and Colecovision were extremely popular as game commercials dominated the airwaves, store shelves were well-stocked with games, and most of the kids I knew had at least one of those systems. When the Nintendo Entertainment System came out in 1985, it was an even bigger deal; I have indelible memories of ROB the Robot and Excitebike from times I spent at my friend Brian's house. Fast-forward to now, video games are still popular among the young and now the old, as well. Another thing that hasn't changed is how video games can bring disparate social groups together. Whether it be Starcraft across the Internet or a bunch of neighborhood kids huddled around a Wii, video games unify people. A third thing that hasn't changed much is the characters. Thanks to the staying power of such icons as Mario, Sonic, Snake, Samus Aran, the Belmont family, and Earthworm Jim (he's still popular... right?!), the nostalgia of the past lives in the gloss and sheen of the superior graphics and sound of the present.

However, much has also changed with the passage of time. Some may argue that games nowadays are not as "hard," and that you don't need the practice and precision of past games to master today's games; but some may counter and say that games as less "cheesy" than, say, Ninja Gaiden II or Rush 'n Attack (of which I have a fond disdain). Some may opine about the realism of first-person-shooters and how games just seem more violent today, while some may respond that games are no less violent today than 8-bit shooters like Contra or Metal Gear; "It's not that games are more violent, but that they're just more graphic," some may observe. There is also the complexity of games today, in which you can play for hours on end and barely stratch the surface of a convoluted storyline; conversely, you could finish The Legend of Zelda in eight hours or so (which would be insane, but still...).

One cannot argue with the cliche that "the more things change, the more things stay the same." Yet, as I watch the visual and auditory quality of games escalate with improving technologies, and the sheer number of buttons and analog sticks increase with each new in-game function, I am reminded that today's games lack something that past games had in spades: simplicity. Remember the Atari 2600 with its one joystick and one button? I challenge you to find an easier game to learn, but harder game to master on the Wii than Pitfall was on the Atari with just its one button. Remember the NES with its two buttons, or the Sega Genesis with its three buttons? Remember how easy it was for an inexperienced friend to come over and play games with (or against) you on those consoles because the controls were easier to master? I challenge you to train your inexperienced friend about how to play any current EA Sports game on the XBox and its ten buttons...

Besides simplicity, which factors into what I am about to state, games of the past seem lighter by today's standards. Whereas now one can get lost in a game world and not emerge for days, I could play a Genesis game for a couple hours and then walk away and enjoy the rest of my day. In this way, games today are immersive to a fault. Of course, some may argue that The Legend of Zelda or other older RPGs were the same way, but I could walk away after a few hours. Try doing that with Mass Effect or any of those story-based games... It's difficult.

But, the most apparent difference between the games of the past and today's games is the creativity it took to render great games with such comparatively poor resolution. Compare Super Mario Bros. on the NES to Super Mario Bros. on the Wii; obviously, the Wii trumps the NES big time, but think about the limitations those Nintendo programmers had to overcome to render a classic game on the NES. For the Wii, on the other hand, the developers had much more to work with when it came to graphics and sound.

Upon reflection, my wistful feelings about video games come from remembrances of more carefree times with friends in high school or college when we sat around and laughed at buddies messing up in a game, or discussed strategy or if the Genesis or the SNES versions of games were better. I suppose that kids today may look back on 2012 when they're adults and feel the same. The interesting thing I've observed, though, is that there is a fervent attempt to make games simpler with motion capture, as with the XBox Kinect and the Wii's long-in-the-tooth wand-based controls. Perhaps, we are seeing a renaissance of simplicity in gaming, pulling in a new generation of youngsters, but I contend that the retro-charm of jaggedly rendered 8-bit characters will always transcend the smooth textures of today's sprites because, as with many things in this world, we will always look backwards and remember we could walk away from a couple hours (or less) of play and be satisfied, while one often fills the day with gaming today to get their fix. In this way, realism isn't always good, and I am saddened to see that people today put that much stock in the realism afforded to us by stellar graphics and movie-quality sound when video games are best played as a brief escape from reality.

Minimalist Running: Shameless Self-Advertising

I must admit that I meant RetroBeliever to be a blog that discusses old videogames and other nostalgic items from a Christian perspective. However, I'd like to briefly discuss running, specifically minimalist running. Minimalist running is basically running with minimal cushioning and road protection. The most extreme form of minimalist running is barefoot running, which is done WITHOUT any kind of footcovering. Outside of that, you have running with sandals, Vibram FiveFingers, and shoes with close to a zero-millimeter drop from heel to toe and little cushioning.

In this blog entry, I am simply compiling links to articles and reviews I have written about minimalist running. Here they are:

My review of the Vibram FiveFingers Sprint:
Being Barefoot Without Being Barefoot

My review of the Vibram FiveFingers Bikila:
Being Less Barefoot When Near-Barefoot Running

My review of the Vibram FiveFingers Speed:
The Best FiveFingers I've Worn

My review of the Garmin FR60 Running Watch:
A Fine Watch for the Semi-Serious Runner

Articles about Minimalist Running:

(Near) Barefoot Running, part 1: Tips, Tricks, and Mythbusting

(Near) Barefoot Running, part 2: More Tips, Tricks, and Mythbusting

Please check out these articles and feel free to comment regarding your thoughts about barefoot and minimalist running. Also, for your benefit, here is a video published by Terra Plana about how to run with the most optimal barefoot/minimalist gait:

NES Satellite: 1HN Wireless Non-Necessity

Pop quiz: Was it possible for four players to play one game at the same time on the NES?

The answer: It depends on if you owned the NES Satellite (and if you owned a compatible game).

The Satellite was a wireless peripheral that was released for the NES in 1989. It allowed for both wireless play and for up to four players to play an NES game. All you needed was a boatload of C batteries, up to four NES controllers, and a game that accommodated four players and you were set. Or, if you wanted to play a non-four-player game alone wirelessly, you could do that, too.

Most of this information can be gained from Wikipedia or with a cursory Internet search, so I will share my personal experience with the Satellite. Now, the funny thing about my owning the Satellite was that I was an only child. Of course, I'm STILL an only child, but I often dreamed of having three buddies over to play NES. Outside of one or two occasions, this didn't happen. Also, because my NES and TV were, like, six feet from my bedroom wall and door, playing wirelessly was never really that beneficial.

So, why did I ask for the Satellite for Christmas one year? Because it was cool and, yes, I did dream of a day when I would have a bunch of friends over to play NES Play Action Football or Kings of the Beach. I remember one time when I did have some neighborhood kids over and we played Kings of the Beach, which is a two-on-two beach volleyball simulation. I don't remember how the game went (except that everybody besides me played terribly, mostly because I was the only one with any experience with the game), but I recall the elation of plugging in extra controllers into the third- and fourth-player ports of the Satellite. I think there was also another time when Ed and Tim were over and we played NES Play Action Football... Maybe.

Anyway, the Satellite was pointless for me to own, but was reflective of that childhood desire to play games with other people. This feeling wasn't confined to video games as I was a semi-avid collector of board games. Sadly, as with video games, I rarely had opponents against whom I could play. Ironically, when I did have a friend over, I rarely played the board games because I hated losing. How sad!

In retrospect, if I had made it more of a point to challenge people, I would have played more board games, as well as used the Satellite more often. Nowadays, I have my sons (and my wife, if she's in a gaming mood) against whom I can play games. I don't mind losing to them; and, I've gotten over the hang-up of losing to anyone because I have embraced the mere joy of understanding the dynamics of any game and engaging in the finer points of gameplay. By this, I am much more willing to play games. If I ever get my NES Control Deck working, maybe I'll bring out the Satellite. Unlike my only child days, I have three opponents in my own home.

Comic Book Stores: 1HN Nerddom Fellowship

In the early 90s when I was in the latter days of high school (and even my first couple of years at UCLA), I was an avid comic book collector. I didn't collect EVERYTHING as I didn't have that much money to blow on comics, but I collected a lot of X-titles, such as Uncanny X-Men, X-Men, X-Factor, X-Force, and Excalibur (the British mutant superhero team). You may recognize some of these titles, especially if you are a fan of the X-Men films (Bryan Singer directed the first two; Brett Ratner directed the sub-par third one). I also collected a lot of titles from Image Comics, which was (at the time) an up-and-coming comics studio that boasted a stable of ex-Marvel superstar artists who had their own stories to draw and tell. My dalliance with Image notwithstanding, I was a Marvel homeboy as I expanded into Incredible Hulk and Amazing Spider-Man. However, as artists and writers changed and inferior storylines infected my once-beloved titles (Scott Lobdell, I'm looking at you... how could you ruin Excalibur in the span of three issues?!), I lost interest in comic books until I eventually gave up the hobby for good.

So, why am I writing about comic books? Well, I was driving to work today and my thoughts began to drift wistfully to those days of excitement when I awaited every Friday eagerly. In high school, I used to save my part-time job money for Fridays when the local Comic World would stock their shelves with the newest titles for that week. Sometimes, I would buy one or two comic books with bag boards, which were absolutely necessary for preserving comic books (they were collectible items, you know), but on certain weeks a flood of X-titles would come out and I would clean up... Anyway, what struck me this morning was that comic book stores are harder to find. In my hometown, I knew of two comic book stores (one of which was right down the street from my high school), and I knew of four others in neighboring towns. Now, there are no comic book stores in my hometown, and those four others outside my hometown are (as far as I know) gone.

What contributed to this turn of events? Obviously, the advent of online shopping has killed many comic book stores (and the video store... and the record store... and the big-box electronics store... okay, not yet, but Best Buy is going the way of Circuit City), but I also think that the advent of high-quality films based on comic books (ironically produced by Marvel and DC Comics) has largely rendered comic books and the stores that sell them an afterthought. Oh, and when Marvel and DC pulled artists and writers from titles, those titles became shadows of themselves (why did you let Alan Davis go from Excalibur, Marvel?!). But, I would also contend that the flooding of the market with titles and companies in the early 90s contributed to the downfall of comics and, consequently, comic book stores. Back then, there was Marvel and DC, but then came Dark Horse, Valiant, and Image; titles entered the market at breakneck pace; and the "Issue Zero" trend also came into effect, in which every title seemed to have a prequel issue (I'm talking about you, Valiant!). There were so many choices, so many companies, and so many pencilers, inkers, colorists, and letterers out there putting out mediocre to amazing work. How much could one really collect?!

I'm not a comic book historian, but there seemed to be a point in the 90s when comics declined. For a long time, they were collectors' items, but because of the flooding into the market new comics rarely gained value, and often lost value relative to their cover prices. People seemed to care less about buying comics, but cared more about movies. First, Marvel had Blade, then X-Men, and then Spider-Man movies; DC, of course, had Batman movies going, but the Batman Begins film saw the character reaching a wider audience than even the Tim Burton films did (though some may contend this). And, because of the availability of information and images via the Internet, no one needed to buy comics to follow the story lines; they could just read about how each title was going online.

Okay, so where am I going with this? I must admit that I don't miss comic books, per se. My nostalgic feelings stem more from missing the excitement of Friday: that feeling of buying the latest issue of X-Men; wondering what was going to happen in that issue; beholding the Jim Lee artwork; gingerly turning each page, and then carefully placing the issue into a secure bag board. I miss going to Comic World with Ed and Tim to check out what was on the shelves, and I even miss going to the comic book store near UCLA's campus in Westwood with all the colors and the smell of newly-minted comics. But, what I miss most are the odd, nerdy characters I would encounter in those comic book stores and the conversations we would have about the first appearance of Carnage or which comic was really Cable's first appearance (I think it was in a cameo in New Mutants #86, right?). For a time, comic book stores were the nexus of nerddom and esoteric comic-centric discussions where one felt like one belonged and wasn't rejected because one loved school, D&D, Star Trek, Star Wars, or Warhammer. Now, Facebook, blogs, and forums have replaced comic book stores for such talk, and Wikipedia has become a reliable source of comic book information.

I guess I miss all of that, but not enough to start collecting comics again. Interestingly, I have a place where I am accepted and can have all the oddball discussions I want, and you wouldn't suspect it: my church.

Double Dribble: 1HN Wacky Cheese Shots

(First of all, shout out to Rich for suggesting this game. I hadn't considered writing about it, but I do have some fond memories to share about it, so here goes...)

Double Dribble was a basketball game that was produced by Konami and released in 1987 in the United States. One year later, I got Double Dribble as a gift (I think). At the time, Double Dribble was the most realistic basketball simulation you could get for the NES with 5-on-5 action that at least resembled pro basketball. There were four teams named after cities (Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York), with each city differentiated by colors and mascots. When selecting your team, an on-screen character shot a ball through a hoop corresponding with that team and play began.

Double Dribble plays like any basketball game: you pass, you shoot, you rebound, and you steal the ball... again and again and again. Like many NES games, much of what happens in the game is laden with cheese as steals become rampant, opponents block each other's dunks, and fast breaks happen with alarming regularity because there are no energy meters for players. Oh, and there are those crazy shots that you can make almost 90% of the time...

I remember it well. I flew to Indiana in 1990 to visit my relatives. At the time, I was in high school and had mostly set aside video games in favor of role-playing games, but that's a previous post... Anyway, I went to my cousin's house and she had an NES console and Double Dribble. Apparently, her boyfriend, Eric, was an NES player; he declared to me that he was "pretty good" at Double Dribble. Thinking that I was "pretty good" too, I accepted his challenge to play against each other. After one 5-minute quarter, it was, like, 40 to 2 and Eric was wiping the floor with me.

How? Well, he taught me a shot that almost always worked: basically, you run your player, who is in possession of the ball, into the upper corner of the court, press down the shoot button, and then release while you are well out of bounds (but before you land). As I witnessed his Double Dribble prowess with this magic shot, I was neither embarrassed nor angry, but in sheer awe of Eric. I still hold him in high regard because of that shot. I would go on to incorporate Eric's shot into my game and began recording my scores for games with 5-minute quarters: 197-4 (with a few 2-pointers mixed in), 196-2. I even think I had a couple of shutouts... all because I could steal the ball and immediately make that wacky cheese shot.

Double Dribble is still a part of my family's NES collection, though it doesn't see much play these days. I did try to play it recently and replicate that cheese shot, but I was unable to do so. Wikipedia corroborates my recollection of that shot by explaining how to do it (as well as about other "hot spots" in the game). So, if you're looking to fascinate your friends and thoroughly trounce them with an NES game, practice the money shots and then challenge them to Double Dribble and watch them behold you with a gaze of reverent admiration.

Madden Football 92: 1HN Friend Cash Pool

This blog entry is not as much a review of Madden Football 92 for the Genesis as a recollection of personal events related to the game. Mind you (the reader), I played Madden 92 numerous times with my friends Ed and Tim (who are brothers), so this game is indeed 1HN (first-hand nostalgia) for me. But, what makes this game stand out in my mind is the circumstances under which we purchased it.

It was fall of 1991, and Ed and I were seniors in high school. It was one of those Saturdays when my mom and dad let me crash at Ed's house. There were many great things about crashing at his house: I could be loud if I wanted; his parents were very easygoing; Ed was simultaneously hilarious and mildly irritating; and, Ed had a Sega Genesis. In those days, I still had my NES, but had given up on it because, hey, I was in high school and I didn't have time for that "kiddie stuff." Having said that, the Genesis was certainly NOT kiddie stuff; this was a serious cutting-edge gaming console. I remember the day when Ed brought over the Genesis with Altered Beast to my house. I was blown away, to say the least.

Anyway, I was hanging out with Ed and his family when Ed started to scheme. See, he and Tim knew that Electronic Arts had released Madden Football 92 for the Sega Genesis and they were pooling their cash to buy it. They were a bit short on cash, but I had some. I think now that it was odd that I willingly contributed a share of cash to help them buy a game I couldn't play at my own home, but I quite enthusiastically offered to pay a third of the cost just so that they could buy the game that night. With sufficient funds in hand, Ed, Tim, their dad, and I piled into their dad's battleship of a brown station wagon and made the five-mile journey to some mom-and-pop video and game store.

When we arrived, I noted the dark-wooded trim of the mini-mall dating back to the late 1970s. After we parked, Ed made a beeline into the store where the game was located. I looked around inside the store and considered the relatively small space. There were videos and games lining the walls. I remember thumbing through some CD singles where I found "Nobody's Fool" by Kenny Loggins, which was the main theme from Caddyshack II. I put the single aside and turned to watch as Ed and Tim purchased Madden 92. Ah, our prize... Finally in our grasp!

I remember getting to hold it and looking at the blue-bordered front cover of the cartridge box. There was John Madden with his Super Bowl ring and microphone, mugging for the camera as if he had just finished some color commentary. I also recall going back to Ed's house and waiting eagerly as Tim inserted the cartridge into their Genesis.

Madden Football 92 for the Genesis was a wonderful pick-up-and-play football simulation that amounted to hours and hours of fun. Ed and Tim used to record statistics when they pitted specific teams against other teams. They even kept season standings as if they were NFL commissioners. I marveled at the stats they would keep and their diligence in recording those stats. I could never be so motivated to retain stats from a sports game like they did, though I would certainly fret over rosters in other sports games. In any case, Madden 92 represented for me how video games could bring friends together and, ironically, encourage social interaction. Ed and I used to spend hours playing or watching games, goading each other or laughing at the ridiculous plays that the Genesis CPU would conjure out of thin air. Did Ed ever pay me back, I wonder... Even if he didn't, it was worth the cash just to spend time with my friends.

Doorways to Adventure: 1HN Treasure Hunting, VHS-style

Back in the 1980s, you got to watch the latest movies either on cable TV or by renting the VHS cassette at a local video rental store. I am not including laserdisc or Betamax because hardly anyone owned either medium and Betamax died in the early 80s. Anyway, if you didn't have cable TV, you watched movies on VHS. In the mid-80s, Pressman, among other companies, came up with an intriguing idea: instead of using a video-cassette recorder (VCR) to just watch movies, why not create games that use VHS cassettes, along with game cards and other realia? At the time, this was a novel idea; yeah, we had Atari, Intellivision, and Colecovision (until the NES emerged in 1985), so using a TV for interactive entertainment wasn't entirely new, but using a VCR for a game was unexplored territory.

In 1986, for Christmas, I asked for two games that incorporated VHS: Doorways to Adventure and Doorways to Horror, both created by Pressman. My parents gave me Doorways to Adventure, and I am glad they did. Doorways to Adventure is actually a rather straightforward game: the object of the game is to obtain the highest combined value of treasures by the time the VHS tape ends. Let me describe the format for you. First, you watch the first segment on the tape, which was some amusing or overly dramatic scene from some classic B-level adventure or action movie (such as Abbott and Costello clips). As you watch the movie clip, you are told that there is a particular kind of treasure on which you were to bid, be it precious metals, an art object, a deed to property, or jewelry. Next, you are told that you have to pay a ransom in the form of food, clothing, a shield, or other object (in the context of gameplay, these ransom objects are special blue-backed cards you retain in your hand). If you do not possess the appropriate ransom card, you must pay a bribe from a pool of money you are given at the start of the game. After you have either paid the ransom or bribe for the object, all players put out bid cards (special yellow-backed cards) face-down and then flip the cards simultaneously. Whoever has the highest bid wins the object. After the winning player receives a treasure card corresponding with the object, someone rolls a special color-coded die; the VHS cassette is then fast-forwarded to the next clip with a "doorway" title screen with the same color as what was was rolled. These steps are repeated until the end of the tape is reached. I could go in-depth about the prevalent strategies in the game, such as which kinds of treasure are more advantageous to obtain or the role of the "Key" and how to steal it, but the basic gist of the game is that you try to end up with highest total value of treasure, all the while bidding against other players and watching some hilariously cheesy movie clips of movies dating from the 1930s to the 1970s.

For a 12-year-old, Doorways to Adventures was undeniably fun, but I faced one problem: I was an only child, which meant I didn't have brothers or sisters that I could ask/compel to play with me. Also, my parents weren't the gaming types; they much preferred watching TV or hanging out with their friends when they chose to do so. With this in mind, I didn't have a ready pool of opponents against which I could play. I did have my friend Brian, who was game to play a few times; but, beyond him, the landscape of prospective competitors was barren and lifeless. Thus, the game was largely unplayed and remained in my closet for several years until it was packed up with my other board games and put into storage at my grandma's house.

A few years ago, I rediscovered the game in my grandma's rafters and showed it to my sons and wife. My sons were intrigued, so I relearned the game and played it with them. At first, my sons were confused by the rules, but they caught on quickly and were outbidding each other (and me) by the time we passed through the first few doorways. They began to grasp the concept that, for example, getting a bunch of Precious Metals was more profitable than focusing on Art Objects in the long run. They also enjoyed stealing the Key from each other and stealing treasure from each other whenever one spotted water or fire in a movie clip (note: there are "Steal Treasure with Water" and "Steal Treasure with Fire" cards that allow you to take an opponent's treasure if water or fire are present in the movie clip). We eventually roped my wife into playing a game with us, which can last two hours. Despite the length, when we all have the time to play, we are consistently amused and bemused in equal measure as treasures are gained and lost with alarming regularity.

Doorways to Adventure is an integral part of my family's game rotation, though the game length can be incredibly protracted if bidding and stealing become fierce. This is so much so that whenever one of us suggests that game for Family Night, the other three of us will cringe, look at the clock, and say, "That game takes TOO long." Nonetheless, Doorways to Adventure is one of those games, along with some of my NES games, that is seeing new life now because, unlike the time of my youth, I have a pool of people with whom I can play. Whenever I have the time and mental space to play Doorways to Adventure, I feel like the 12-year-old inside of me gets to do what he never got to do in 1986: play his games with other people. Considering that, I implore you, the reader, to hold onto, or find, your old games because someday you may have a new generation of opponents with whom to play right under your own roof.

The Legend of Zelda: 1HN Epic Questing

What else can be said about The Legend of Zelda on the NES that hasn't been said? It was a genre-defining RPG? It was a wonderfully rich game from a time when such games were rare on consoles? It has two of the most well-known videogame characters out there today -- Link and Zelda? It was easy to learn and fun to play, and yet difficult to solve and challenging to beat? All of these things have already been said, so what would the point be in writing a blog review about this game? Well, there's one reason why I'd write such a blog entry: because, like most blogs, this blog is self-indulgent, right? (wink)

Humor aside, The Legend of Zelda was one of the most important games in my collection and represents the hours of fun I spent playing it. If I remember correctly, my first introduction to The Legend of Zelda was through my friend Brian, who lent it to me in 1987. I don't remember much about how I felt playing the game, though I do remember how colorful and thick the manual was and how informative the enclosed map was. I also remember when, quite accidentally, I pressed down on the game inside my NES console to release the game without turning the power off, which wiped all the data out of memory, including Brian's saved games! When I return the games to him, he was visibly distraught. However, when I got back the Lone Wolf books I had lent him (I'll write a blog entry on these books in the future) and noticed how white-lined and bent-up the spines were, I felt that by accepting my damaged books I had paid my penance for my sad mishap. In any case, I learned a crucial lesson: turn the power off BEFORE you eject a game cartridge.

I ended up getting The Legend of Zelda for Christmas in 1988. I still have the cartridge in all its gold-plated glory, though I cannot find the manual or the map. Recently, I started up a new campaign in the game and made it through the first dungeon. As I played the game, I noted how fun it was to go from screen to screen and blasting baddies with my sword (note: you can "blast" your foes with distant sword shots if Link is at full strength), but I also noted how Link seems to move as if stuck to a grid, which can render fighting more challenging than it should be, and makes dying an all-too common occurrence. I remember beating this game in four games, but I've already died six times in my current campaign! So, it's an understatement to say that The Legend of Zelda is hard.

Even in this day and age of graphically-amazing games, I would heavily recommend The Legend of Zelda as it is on the NES. The graphics are quaint and suitable for younger kids, and even the skeletons and ghosts look "cute." Of course, if you have a conviction against such creatures in a game, then I would consider the appearance of such foes as a chance to discuss if such creatures exist. The one thing I get from this game, though, is that Link is a hero who is on a quest to rescue the princess. There aren't many missions purer than that.

Top Gun: 1HN Old-Timey Flight Simulation

I must make a bold statement: any American born in the 70s (like me) would find it challenging to NOT have some kind of positive feeling associated with the movie Top Gun, an 80s fighter flick directed by (at the time) young director Tony Scott and starring Tom Cruise as Pete "Maverick" Mitchell. Top Gun was a rather straightforward film about a hotshot F-14 pilot and his RIO buddy as they challenged similarly talented pilots and RIOs at a Naval flight school in Miramar, CA. Along the way, Maverick (Tom Cruise) and Goose (played by Anthony Edwards) would engage in dogfights, dangerous flying, and other macho escapades. Of course, tragedy strikes in the middle of the movie, from which Maverick must recover to overcome his own doubts and defeat some MiGs to boot. The movie then ends on an encouraging high note. I know I'm glossing over much of the movie, but that's the basic gist of it.

To cash in on the success of Top Gun, Konami developed the Top Gun videogame for the NES and released it in 1987. In the game, you are the pilot of an F-14 Tomcat, and you must complete four missions, each of which concludes with having to land on an aircraft carrier. All four missions are comprised of much dogfighting from the first-person perspective of sitting in the cockpit. At the beginning of each mission, you have your choice of one of three types of missiles: you can choose 40 of the weakest missiles, 20 of the medium-strength missiles, or 10 of the most powerful missiles. Depending on the mission, some missiles are better than others; for example, for the first two missions, choose the 40-missile option because you will engage in much dogfighting. However, for the fourth mission (if I recall correctly), go with the more powerful missiles. You get a briefing before each mission, so pay attention to the text.

Top Gun has much nostalgia value for me, both because of the movie with which it is associated and because the gameplay is so simple and easy to grasp that anyone can play the moment they press Start. Now, even my sons have taken to the game, if only because it's uncomplicated. That said, Top Gun was a flawed game: dogfighting is terribly stiff and simplistic, you can shoot at missiles and destroy them (really, this isn't entirely bad), you can avoid the action all together (just by going up or down for the entire mission), and landing the F-14 can be extremely difficult for a first-time player. It takes some practice and steady fingers to land your plane; if you cannot land it, you waste a 1-UP but you move on to the next mission. As expected for an early NES game, the graphics are unspectacular and the point-of-view doesn't change much and is largely useless; just look at the unnecessary gauges in the lower-right corner of the cockpit, which have NO bearing on gameplay. Also, does one really need a horizon indicator when you can't roll the plane?

In any case, Top Gun is a fun little game to play for 20 to 30 minutes, but it becomes dull rather quickly. As a teenager, I had acquired this game from my friend Brian in a trade, though I don't remember what I traded. At the time, I enjoyed this game and could play it for a much longer duration than I can now, mostly because my time is too precious these days to spend with this game. Honestly, I'd rather play a Sonic or Mario game. This is not to say that the game is a "dud," especially for younger players; there are just better games to play. One thing, though: there is a music loop that plays before the start of every mission when you choose your missiles. I can't explain why, but I can listen to this loop for hours; there is something soothing and enthralling about it. Listen to it for yourself and let me know what you think:

Super R-Type: 3HN Mindless Frustration

Call it a compulsion to extend my family's classic game collection or an odd desire to expose my boys to the finer, less modern games out there, but I'm always on the lookout for classic Super Nintendo or Genesis games. I read reviews and watch players' recorded longplays to isolate those games that exemplify the best of those consoles. Sometimes, I hit gold with games like Super Metroid or Super Mario World, but I also encounter duds, like OutRunners (which I may review in the future - it's a dull, split-screen racing simulation on the Genesis). Before Christmas, I turned my sights on side-scrolling spaceship shmups (shoot-em-ups) because our collection didn't feature one. There are several out there, including the venerable Gradius series and the R-Type series (both of which spanned the NES and SNES). I vacillated between Gradius III and Super R-Type for the SNES; what swayed me towards Super R-Type was the price on eBay, where it was 50 cents cheaper that Gradius III. I must admit that this is a dumb reason to choose between games, but I bought Super R-Type, wrapped it up, and gave it to my sons as one of many Christmas presents.

Okay... I'll just summarize my thoughts: Super R-Type is poor. Yes, the graphics are colorful, the aliens are eerily eye-popping, and the in-game sounds are crisp. My issues with this game are not the presentation of it, but the gameplay. As one may expect, side-scrolling shmups are no-brainers: you fly, move top to bottom, shoot things with your basic weapon, acquire stronger weapons, and then blast more baddies to smithereens with those powerful, acquired weapons. Super R-Type is no different, but (as far as I can tell) you only use three of the six available gameplay buttons on the SNES controller - that's a waste. Also, I must say that the second mini-boss is just too HARD to beat; I had to watch someone else's longplay on YouTube just to figure out how to destroy that spinning metal gyromite (Do you like the NES reference?). The first level should ALWAYS be a breeze when the game is set to the EASY setting; but, in Super R-Type, I have yet to get past it, so one can imagine how discouraged my boys were playing the game.

Super R-Type is almost exactly what I would expect from a side-scrolling space shmup: one lone ship, some power-ups, endless squadrons of baddies, and loads of mini-bosses. Considering this, I cannot fathom why I felt it necessary to add such games to our family collection because, honestly, I have always found them dull and pointless (except for Zanac, which continues to grow on me). My boys seemed to agree as they gave up on the game after 10 minutes of frustration. I can't blame them, though I will revisit this game in a feeble attempt to pass that second mini-boss. So, don't believe the hype. My advice is to stay away from side-scrolling space shmups, and avoid the confounding, mind-numbing blandness of Super R-Type.