Why Game? 1 - TextFiles.com

My birthday drew near without ceremony. I was
now many kilometers removed from the house
I’d set up for myself in Itabashi, perched over
a highway ramp on Nakasendo that marked a
place where Miyamoto Musashi once crossed
a river, and staying in a little square room in
a small-sized four-story apartment building
overlooking a street where Miyamoto Musashi
had once killed a bandit by throwing a golden
coin at the back of his head. Wherever I go in
this world, wherever I decide to hang my jacket,
it seems a far greater man has already been
there, and done far greater things.
I fell ill under a kidney infection weeks
before E3. With a fever of 106 degrees, I almost
died, twice. I went to the hospital and received
(expensive) emergency treatment. I was told
to keep my activity to a minimum, and then
got winked at by an elderly nurse. I went to
America, where my appetite was dreadful and
pathetic, and then returned to Japan, triumph-
ing at the immigration checkpoint, only to fall
violently ill the day before my birthday. I had
planned a get-together with some of my friends
for my birthday. I’d imagined we’d get together
and eat a curry buffet in Shibuya. It was my
birthday, my twenty-sixth, which marked the
beginning of my “late twenties.” Just four years
ago, I reasoned, I was in Rome feeling despon-
dent about love. Now, I am here, engaged in a
long series of interviews for a trivial job position
at a law firm, and seriously trying to run a rock
band. Who knows what I’ll be in four years,
aside from thirty years old? I can’t think of
myself as that old. The first time I ever asked
my mom how old she was, she replied, “Twenty-
nine.” I suppose I could wonder, here, how old
I was when I asked her, though I honestly don’t
remember. There used to be a time when I
remembered everything. Now I only remember
SMB3.
On June 6th, the eve of my birthday, I
figured it out. I’d drop in on Kevin, my drummer,
who was living in the house that had been mine
until that fateful night a jar of bean dip arrived
from my brother Roy in Indiana and tore us all
apart, exposing the seams of our allegiances,
forcing me to take flight. (Bean dip is a big deal
here, and it was an exceptional brand. A Frito-
Lay brand, even.) Kevin had a top-loading Fami-
com with a semi-working Disk System. The Disk
System didn’t interest me - I just wanted to play
his SMB3 cartridge. Kevin had a week off school,
so I’d gladly play a little with him, maybe even
a two-player game. I’d already completed the
ultimate goal as regarded my aspirations with
that game. I might as well keep playing it. I’ve
been playing it too long to quit.
I emailed Kevin about the idea, and he
said he was leaving for Kamakura early in the
morning to look at temples he’d been neglect-
ing to look at until then. I revised my plan, and
decided I’d do it like this - with a little flair for
the dramatic: hours before the curry party, I’d
go down to that Famiclone kiosk at that crappy
little duty-free electronics shop in Akihabara,
and beat SMB3 standing up, non-warp, on that
2,000-yen Famiclone.
It was perfect. I’d passed the stage where I
can beat the game without getting hit, and now
I’d hone my skills, like Heath’s friend from one
of his computer classes, who could totally beat
NG without looking at the screen. I wouldn’t try
to beat the game without looking at the screen,
yet - for now, I’d just try to beat it standing up,
with a terrible controller.
I fell violently ill in the middle of the night,
and got up violently ill in the morning. I was
vomiting base and shitting acid. I called off the
curry party. I rolled over in my futon and stared
at the wooden ceiling. I was thinking of SMB3,
and wishing I would sweat, anything to break
this fever. I slept the sleep of the long-dead for
five more hours and woke up pissing popcorn
butter. I was dehydrated. I drank a big tall
ice-cold pitcher of barley tea and sat on the
futon. My head was still swirling. I checked my
temperature - it was only 102. I looked over the
videogames I had, with a sigh. The two newest
titles were Killer7 and Namco X Capcom.
I played Killer7. In my very ill state, it
didn’t make any sense. It hurt my head. It’s
Life Non-Warp:DX 83