Excuse me while I show my geekitude.
Through a Wikipedia tangent (going from the number “10” to the old NES game “Crystalis” in just three moves) I had a sudden flashback. Not of the Nintendo Entertainment System. Not of Crystalis itself, which I loved at the time of release. No – something even more secluded in my thoughts – more hidden and buried than anything else I saw on the page. A discovered nostalgia that sprung forth with more power than I’d have imagined it would.
It was Nintendo Power. The magazine that dominated my youth. I had forgotten all about it, somehow. I don’t know how I ever could have.
From third to seventh grade, there was little else that I’d read. I studied every Top 30 list, secretly rooting for my favorite games to rise in the standings. I fell in love with the Super Mario 3 Strategy Guide – the first time I’d ever seen an entire game spelled out in whole, from beginning to end, every level opened up, like coming across a treasure map or an ancient hidden text.
I loved everything that Nintendo Power had to offer, from Howard and Nester cartoons to the secrets and rumors that came with new games. I loved the contests. I loved how you got a free copy of Dragon Warrior with any subscription. I loved that there was an entire magazine devoted to the one thing I cherished above everything at that point in life – my Nintendo Entertainment System.
I thought back through my mental Nintendo Power archive. It all came rushing back – from the unnatural love that the magazine had for StarTropics to the first ever, sneak peaks of the Super Nintendo (complete with a poster that showed screenshots from various games.)
I can’t believe I forgot about it. Before I had ever subscribed to The Believer, before National Geographic, Vegetarian Times, Popular Science, Time or any other magazine I received in the mail, I anxiously waited each month for my new Nintendo Power.
It’s not the same anymore. I grew up and realized that it was a magazine that pandered to Nintendo only, a bought off entity of a larger corporation. But for a few years, it was as close to a Perfect Magazine I’d ever found.