In 1989, I became the proud owner of the Japanese version of Super Mario Brothers 3. I remember it very vividly; it was a creamy mustard yellow Famicom cartridge. It came in the typical card-like box of Japanese games. I became the talk of my class. “How did you get it?” “Can I come over and play it?” “Is it AWESOME?”
Yes, it was a great moment that kicked me into an obsession with video games.
It was only the second time I had been to Hong Kong; the first time I was only six and it was all a bit hazy. This time, I had just turned nine. Hong Kong had become a bustling shopping mecca. I was also able to spend more time to see the sites and experience a culture far different from the Midwest. One day, in one of the giant super stores that sold everything, I laid my eyes on a red and white dream machine: the Nintendo Family Computer.
Having only vaguely heard of this machine through tiny articles in the backs of video game magazines, it was a special moment. I became a quivering mass of excitement. I knew I HAD to have the machine. I barely even opened my mouth before I heard the words shoot out from my mother’s lips, “No way we’re getting one of those.” For the whole month I stayed in Hong Kong, I agonized over the machine. My face obviously read, “I want a Famicom and I will die if I don’t get one.” Nothing had ever empassioned me like this.
It was one day before we were flying home. As I sat down for one of my favorite snacks, a friend of my mother’s popped by to say hello, whilst carrying a mysterious package. as if I had a thousand candies. I calmly asked about the mysterious package. “None of your business!” “Just kidding, you can take a look.” I could swear a light had shone in from the ceiling right onto the shiny white box. It was as I had suspected; I had my very own Famicom.
I knew I would be the kid everybody wanted to hang out with because I had the system nobody else had. I owned Super Mario Brothers 3 before most journalists had even played it. When it was prominently featured in The Wizard, everybody wanted to play it. They wanted to see the level that was featured at the end.
I had preempted The Wizard. The fame was palpable—it was as if the choir was singing for me. For that school year, I was The Wizard.
In case you need a refresher, here’s the grand finale of The Wizard.
