One of my earliest memories is watching my mum and dad play the opening level ofSuper MarioBros in cooperative mode on the Nintendo Entertainment System. This was the early 1990s, and they were joined at the hip on the sofa, laughing at the idea of two portly plumbers becoming gigantic after consuming copious amounts of magic mushrooms.View image in fullscreen‘An ordinary human being rather than the tragic myth he became’ … family photo of Thomas Hobbs with his father, Jonathan.Photograph: Thomas HobbsIn this moment I sensed their natural chemistry, while the intoxicating mix of 8-bit visuals and perky, synth-heavy music blew my toddler mind. Although it was irritating seeing them constantly fail to jump high enough to hit the top of the flagpole at the end of the level, I remember being transfixed by the TV screen, and I’m pretty sure this was the first time I connected properly with a video game.I was only four years old when my dad died. It happened suddenly, a heart attack when he was just 37, and I witnessed it on a bike ride ... It left my family for ever broken. But the formative image of dad at his most carefree and in love, clutching a rectangular controller hooked up to a grey slab of Japanese joy, remained. It was something I could utilise whenever my grief became too much. Most importantly, the memory allowed me to visualise my dad as an ordinary human being rather than the tragic myth he later became.Ours was a working-class household with limited space, so eventually the NES disappeared: no one could work out whether it was gathering dust in an old plastic bag in a relative’s loft, or if it had been accidentally thrown out. So I was shocked recently when my mum unexpectedly handed me the console after finding it during a spring clean. She asked me if I could try to fix it, so that we could keep it in the family.It had no leads, games, or controllers. It was also filthy with sticky clumps of dirt, particularly around the AV slots, and judging by the rust collecting at the cartridge slot, had serious water damage. After giving it a deep clean, hoovering all the damp dust out of the inside and buying a pricey device that converted the games into HD, I switched it on. Somehow, it still worked. Clearly, like most consumer devices produced in the 1980s, the NES had been built to withstand a nuclear winter should the cold war heat up.View image in fullscreenA retro ‘Nintendo Family Computer’, sold in Japan as a forerunner to the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES).Photograph: Oli Scarff/AFP/Getty ImagesThe last few weeks of rebuying games and getting lost in their fuzzy charms have been genuinely restorative for my mental health; a chance to reconnect with my roots. It took me about 15 minutes to figure out how to make a jump on the Fortress level of World 1 in Super Mario Bros 3, with spikes descending from the ceiling just as my squirrel suit was on the verge of flying to the other side. But by working out I simply had to be patient and duck inside a small space to avoid looming peril, rather than blindly rushing forward, I knew I was experiencing the same glorious lightbulb moment my dad would have enjoyed.I’ve been particularly obsessed with Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! Despite the clunky 2D crowd and square-ish dimensions, there’s a genuine dynamism to the boxer’s movement and a feeling that David can defeat Goliath simply by bobbing and weaving and flipping the momentum with a well-aimed jab to the chin. While later boxing games might have been dripping with life-like bodily fluids, I have yet to find one that better replicates the magic of a boxer tasting blood and moving in for the kill than this 1987 NES game.Double Dragon has also been a revelation. This co-op fighting game gives you a big open space to navigate and – despite the graphical limitations – makes you feel like Bruce Lee: surrounded by foes, but with enough battlefield intelligence to use the environment to your advantage and kick knife-wielding enemies into the dust. With race-against-the-clock tension, one early sequence where you fight a couple of heavies on a moving conveyor belt made me feel like I was in a John Woo action movie.In these games the lack of a save mode forces you to continuously invest in improving, so the next time you hit the dreaded “Game Over” screen you’re more confident of avoiding the same mistakes. This grift is strangely addictive, and it’s easy to picture my dad taking a quick break after putting baby me to sleep, his mind on the allure of the hard-won achievements at the core of this more patient era of Nintendo gaming.View image in fullscreenGenuine dynamism … Mike Tyson’s Punch Out!!Photograph: NintendoKnowing he would have once had the same smile on his face while playing the NES has made him more tangible in my mind; it’s allowed me to see through his eyes. And, as my two-year-old son experiences his own dad going crazy over firing Flower Power-ups or defeating Dracula Duck during the final boss battle of the family melodrama that is DuckTales, I feel like I’m keeping my father’s energy alive.Retro gaming is very much on the rise in the UK and US, with many players rediscovering the delights of analogue-era consoles. Playing these old cartridges on the original machines provides a deeper appreciation of the evolution of gaming and it’s an escape from a world that feels far less carefree than the time in which these machines were thriving. Perhaps they also hope to re-ignite the memories of those who’ve passed, to remain connected to the loved ones who once invested their time into these devices.Rather than letting that old console become a house for spiders in your loft, dust it off, get playing. It might just help you to grieve, or relive a special memory that otherwise could easily have been lost. When I hear the opening chords of the Super Mario Bros theme song, I’m instantly back on that sofa with my mum and dad, smiling, assured that everything is going to be OK.We have opened comments for readers to share their own stories of a console that reminds them of a lost friend or relative.
‘It’s allowed me to see through his eyes’: Super Mario, my dad and me
TruthLens AI Suggested Headline:
"Reflecting on Family and Loss Through the Lens of Retro Gaming"
The Guardian
7.9
TruthLens AI Summary
The author reflects on their childhood memories of playing Super Mario Bros with their parents, specifically focusing on moments of joy and connection that the game provided. They recall the laughter and teamwork exhibited by their parents as they navigated the challenges of the game, creating a lasting impression of their father before his untimely death at the age of 37. This early experience with gaming served as a foundation for the author's relationship with video games, providing an emotional anchor that helped them cope with grief. The nostalgic recollection of their father, paired with vivid imagery of 8-bit graphics and cheerful music, underscores the significance of these memories in shaping their understanding of family and loss.
Years later, the author discovers their old Nintendo Entertainment System while helping their mother clean, prompting a journey of restoration and rediscovery. After cleaning and repairing the console, they begin to play classic games, experiencing a therapeutic reconnection with their roots. The author finds solace in the challenges posed by retro games like Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! and Double Dragon, which require patience and skill, echoing the same satisfaction their father would have felt. This rekindling of past memories not only honors their father's legacy but also allows the author to share the joy of gaming with their own child, thus continuing the cycle of connection through shared experiences in gaming. The resurgence of retro gaming culture highlights the ability of these games to evoke nostalgia and provide comfort, allowing individuals to reconnect with lost loved ones and cherish memories that might otherwise fade away.
TruthLens AI Analysis
This heartfelt article is a deeply personal reflection on the intersection of nostalgia, grief, and the cultural impact of video games. It explores how a simple childhood memory—playing Super Mario Bros. with his parents—became a poignant anchor for the author after his father’s sudden death. The narrative blends emotional vulnerability with the universal appeal of gaming, creating a relatable story about loss and the power of shared experiences.
Emotional Resonance and Memory
The piece centers on the author’s early memories of watching his parents bond over Super Mario Bros., a moment that symbolized their happiness and connection. The sudden loss of his father at age 4 transformed this memory into a lifeline, allowing him to remember his dad as a joyful, ordinary person rather than a tragic figure. The rediscovery of the old Nintendo console years later adds a layer of tangible nostalgia, emphasizing how objects can carry profound emotional weight.
Cultural and Generational Connection
The article subtly highlights how video games serve as a bridge between generations. For the author, Super Mario Bros. isn’t just a game; it’s a vessel for preserving his father’s legacy. This reflects broader cultural trends where retro gaming evokes collective nostalgia, especially among millennials who grew up with early consoles. The mention of the NES’s physical deterioration—dirty, missing parts—mirrors the fragility of memory itself.
Grief and Healing Through Media
A key theme is the therapeutic role of media in processing grief. The author’s fixation on the game’s imagery (e.g., the flagpole jump) underscores how specific details can become symbolic. The article doesn’t overtly moralize but suggests that pop culture can offer solace, a counterpoint to traditional narratives of loss.
Potential Underlying Motives
While the piece appears genuine, its publication in a mainstream platform (implied by the professional tone and photo credit) may aim to capitalize on the nostalgia economy. Retro gaming is a lucrative market, and personal stories like this resonate with audiences who fetishize the past. There’s no overt manipulation, but the emotional appeal could distract from commercial interests, such as promoting retro gaming culture or related media.
Authenticity and AI Involvement
The writing style is intimate and detailed, making AI involvement unlikely. However, if AI were used, it might have streamlined the narrative structure or enhanced descriptive passages (e.g., the console’s condition). The core emotional honesty suggests minimal interference, though AI could amplify the nostalgia angle to maximize engagement.
Broader Implications
This story taps into universal themes—love, loss, and the passage of time—making it broadly appealing, especially to gamers and those who’ve experienced parental loss. It’s unlikely to influence politics or economics directly but reinforces the cultural legitimacy of gaming as a meaningful life experience.
Manipulation and Reliability
The article is highly reliable as a personal essay, with no evident deception. Its emotional rawness outweighs any risk of manipulation. However, the framing (e.g., focusing on the NES as a relic) might subtly glorify consumer nostalgia, a common tactic in cultural journalism.