As a child, I remember my parents setting Pong up in our family room (yes, I’m that old) and thinking it was the coolest thing ever. I remember passing the Atari 2600 joysticks around for River Raid or Seaquest with my cousins and trying to beat each others’ scores. I remember playing through Contra on the NES with my father, something we still talk about to this day. My mom right there for Super Mario and Pac-Man and Space Invaders. I remember birthday parties at Aladdin’s Castle Arcade in the mall and my parents always shelling out the cash for every kid to have extra tokens. Christmases tearing wrapping paper off games I’d salivated over in store aisles and in the pages of Nintendo Power. So many memories and so much joy, and through it all my family was there to share it with me. To this day, they still are. Want to know who preordered The Witcher 3 for me for Christmas? Take two guesses.
As a parent, I desperately wanted to do the same for my children. I dreamed of passing the controller to them and saying “Your turn.” I envisioned saying “Hey, heard about this new game?” and not having them roll their eyes at me and walk out of the room. I hoped they’d one day know the difference between Zelda and Link, make virtual friends in RPGs that they’d miss when the game ended, and get lost in the kinds of stories that only video games can tell. And mostly I hoped that one day when I’m gone, they’d have memories of sitting on the couch with their old man and going together to other worlds, places that couldn’t exist anywhere outside the imagination.
Today, I’m the proud parent of two amazing children. How is my dream working out so far?
Well..
This guy just beat Bowser!
My six-year old son today finished Super Mario 3D World almost entirely by himself. I “helped”, of course, if by “help” you mean mostly being dragged along by him. He’s currently saving all his Toys R’ Us gift cards so he can buy Splatoon on his own. This morning he saw me playing OlliOlli and asked to try it. When I went outside to clean the yard he was still struggling through the tutorial. When I came back in, he’d finished all five amateur courses. He’s beaten Unfinished Swan and Battleblock Theater on his own and was my steady partner through both Rayman Origins and Legends. I think the only reason he hasn’t finished more games is because, like his old man, he wants to play everything he sees. He walks around the house humming game music like they’re Top-40 hits. Last week, he said to me “Daddy, I’m really glad you bought Zelda” as he sailed off with Link in Wind Waker. How can that not warm your heart? And don’t even get me started on the bizarre avant-garde genius of his Minecraft world.
Then there’s my daughter. She’s getting ready to turn eleven and her birthday list reads like…well…like one I’d write. She wants a new 3DS (which she’s getting…shhh, it’s a surprise) and then a slew of games for it. And that’s about it. Of course, Pokemon and Animal Crossing are there, but so is Bravely Default just because she thought it looked cool. She’s utterly frustrated waiting for Broken Age Part 2 to arrive and was as excited as me by the return of Grim Fandango. She may not have the resume of my son but she’s also way busier. Which didn’t stop her from pouring hours upon hours into Animal Crossing…and then doing it again after she somehow lost her original save file.
Am I bragging? Absolutely! For all the things I may eventually screw up as a parent, I’m pretty confident that their mom and I are getting this one right so far. I know others may not agree. “Read a book!” they’ll say. “Go outside and play!” they’ll say. “Do something creative!” they’ll add. My kids do all of these and more…and so do. One day I may take the time to address the many mischaracterizations of gaming, especially regarding children, but today is not that day. Today I just want to celebrate what gaming has done for my family. It’s unlocked doors of imagination and creativity in art, music, design and storytelling. It’s taught my kids problem solving and dealing with adversity and teamwork in ways few other things can do. It’s led to other wonderful aspects of “geek culture” from Star Wars to Miyazaki, Harry Potter to comic books. And, most importantly, it’s given us something to share – the laughs, the thrills, the frustration, and the triumphs. They are ours forevermore, and while the memories may fade as they grow, I hope they will always reawaken at the sound of the Mario theme or the feel of a game controller in their hands.
The next generation of gamers will carry forward the history of the medium and then they will write their own. There will one day soon be engineers who built their first project with redstone and ore and pixellated levers. There will be a storyteller who will expand on the tales they first heard by falling through a TV screen, an animator whose characters were born from those they once met in a virtual world. And a game designer who takes this art form to a next step that we haven’t even envisioned yet. I hope I live long enough to see it. I hope my children are part of it.
I owe my parents a debt I cannot repay for allowing me to dream in pixels, for never telling me it was silly or beneath me, even as their child became a man. I owe my children nothing less and I’m proud to pass that along to them. And one day, I hope they will do the same for their children. I hope they will utter those wonderful sentences that always begin with “When I was your age…”. I hope they’ll tell them how they used to walk hand-in-hand with grandpa to visit the Mushroom Kingdom and Hyrule, to fly into the stars and dig deep underground, to fight impossible battles and make even more impossible friends, and I hope when their children ask “How?”, they will say very simply, “Let me show you.”
Old-School Kid Stuff 