The glow of the television illuminated my face and the aging speakers sang a now increasingly taunting tune. I readjust myself so I’m sitting more comfortably and move closer to my mother. I sit idly to her left as my brother can barely contain himself to her right, all of us huddled in front of the television. It had grown dark outside with the only source of lights being a lamp positioned on a lone corner table in the corner and television that had everyone’s attention in the room. My mother holds the controller to an old Nintendo 64 console with the game cartridge “Paper Mario” slotted firmly in the top of the console, a slight scowl across her face as she sits utterly focused. We had been in this area of the game for quite some time with several failed attempts at defeating the boss at the end. The candy land scene filled with cartoon cakes and pastries filled the screen as my mother guided our hero through the level yet again to face the boss one more time. Discussion of what items to use and which sidekick to bring into the battle filled the air. “We need to wait to use the Fire Flowers till it’s just him left,” my brother argued as we checked our item inventory one more time. “No, we should use them right away to get rid of the smaller enemies,” I retorted, looking to my mother. “I’ll use one at the start, and we’ll save the rest,” my mother replied in a calmer tone than either of us. The anticipation grew as we drew closer to the end of the level, final strategized from me and my brother almost yelled to my mother with her reassurance that she would try to use both of our strategies as well as some of her own. With only a few steps to the boss we grew silent as the fight begun to let my mother concentrate for hopefully the last time.
Fast forwarding a year or two to my father, brother, and I all in front of a different screen in a different room. A war game now filled the screen and my dad holds the controllers. Mom was fast asleep, and it had become commonplace for the three of us to head upstairs to watch dad play the kinds of games mom would not let us play ourselves. We sit eagerly watching as he works his way pushing the enemies back. We had done this part several times and had always tripped up at one specific part of the game. Exactment still filled the air as the digital German soldiers were cut down by my dad and tension was drawn tight when the screen beat red as his health drew low. “Watch out for the guys on machinegun turrets Dad!” I yelped as he sent his character scrambling to the nearest wall to hide behind. “Yes, I know I can see them,” he replied, his tone seemingly asking that his concentration not be interrupted. After a while we finally made it to the trouble section. The game used the motion controls of the console to simulate fighting an enemy your character was in a grapple with. The controls were difficult to have function reliably and lead to us failing the section multiple times. With my dad annoyed at the constant failures, he handed me the controllers to have a try at the fight. The scene played as I readied myself for the motion control scene. The same suspenseful score plays as the player character locks with the enemy, his face only inches from the players. His features are muddy and blurry as the game could only produce low quality images compared to today’s standards, but the stress in the room was all the same. Franticly swinging the controllers as the game instructed, I tried to push the rifle between us and the soldier to force him off me. A moment of joy crosses over the three of us as a new instruction flashes on the screen. It tells us to swing the remotes like we are trying to hit the soldier with the butt of the rifle. Another set of frantic swings follow, and the hero finally knocks the soldier unconscious. A wave of cheers from the three of us ring out as we relax. We had finally passed the section and could continue our campaign.
Where the details have faded through time and some of the specifics forever lost, the memories still stand solid after nearly a decade later. A memory of bonding with my parents not with any fancy expensive outing or dramatic occurrence, but together in front of a screen on any old regular day. It showed me that the activity of playing a video game could be made into a social experience rather than just a solitary one and had forever changed how I perceived and played them. Over the years of my life I’ve met many of my closest friends because we shared the same interest in the hobby and grew ever closer over countless hours playing that latest and greatest game together or ones less popular than others. These many evenings spent conquering kingdoms, solving complex puzzles, or soaring through the galaxies with my friends could have never been made possible without those peaceful days sitting with my parents and watching them play, wishing they could pass the controller to me.