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WII SPORTS: TENNIS
Steven: When I was a young lad, perhaps only of age seven or eight, my father and I would frequent one of the state parks that were in driving distance of my humble abode. Having grown up in a fairly large, industrialized wasteland of a city, parks were difficult to come by, so we would usually just travel to the same two over and over again. One of these parks contained within––or rather, slightly to the side of the main camp––a tennis court. This tennis court was always lonely and covered in dried leaves from the fall before. To cheer it up, my dad and I would grab two tennis rackets from the cabin and have a few rounds. Having barely the developed motor skills to slap the ball over the net, a net which seemed like a skyscraper, miles away from where I was standing, the game was more of a chore than it was an enjoyable experience. Yet, as a few years passed on, we went to the same tennis court, and I kept trying and trying until one day we finally had a real tennis match. A real, honest tennis match between father and son. Perhaps the tennis match that lustrous dreams are made of, where castles sit atop majestic clouds of splendor and might, as a ball falls from the sky and pierces the ground below, creating a fissure that doesn't harm, but instead, signifies great accomplishment and perhaps even more splendor than the court originally intended. For, you see, my first honest tennis match was something of a wonderful anomaly.
We cannot successfully recreate these joys once they come and go. They will always be burned into our minds like branding iron into a cow's hide, but they will never happen again. It is the realization of this harsh reality that signifies when a boy becomes a man. For, you see, this transition may be sharper and more unforgiving than a casual tennis player could ever imagine. No, I am no longer that boy, but yet, an informed and productive member of society. If I were still the boy, I would have been able to save that tennis court from the fate it would eventually see years later, after being completely demolished to build a bigger, better, and more ergonomic tennis court. The leaves are always swept off of this court. It's more... pleasing to the eye and a larger attraction for families who will stand up and perhaps attempt to recreate my experiences with the court for themselves. But it is not the same, nor will it ever be. Since this tennis court was so significant to me, in my mind, it stands as a symbol of not only my childhood but the childhood of everyone who couldn't experience the wonders of it. But, as we grow up and forget about all of our tennis courts, we realize what the world really is, and we must step into a corporate world filled with millions upon millions of people just like us. And we all become the lonely tennis court in the end.
Nintendo, unfortunately, signifies this corporate world. This is something that, as a gamer, I have come to swallow (it's bittersweet) and accept (it puts me in a tight spot) as if this is how it has always been. Because it is how it has always been. The tennis court makes us oblivious to that fact.
The corporate world that we've fell into, like a straight line into a Tetris or a yellow block into a Klax, has a cold, hard embrace. The experience is not unlike a can of tuna giving a back massage to a portable rich steamer, wasting away the rest of its life in solitary confinement for us, the consumerist society. The rice steamer, of course, signifies Nintendo while the tin can is all of us who have and will buy their products. Nintendo cannot control its own fate, yet, the consumers can, and they will. But, is Nintendo's ultimate goal to isolate themselves from the flashy world of traditional interactive entertainment? Do they really need faceless tin cans like us to really unite and play together, or are we their "Happy Idiots"? Is the next wave of massaging backs (playing games) really the next wave, or is it just an undertow in the sea of conglomerates––the gamers? These are all questions that cannot be answered until it's too late. For, you see, Wii Sports: Tennis isn't so much of a game than it is a brutal struggle to survive.
As happy idiots, I strongly urge you all to consider this before you pick up your Wiimote for the first time. I made the mistake of being sucked into the glamorous and high-time life style of video gaming and ignoring this mantra. I promise I won't do it again. And once we all unite together and consider the possibility that Nintendo only exists because their endless struggle to survive ends in vain, I want them to remember these words and rue this day:
Wii Sports: Tennis doesn't work. It didn't recognize half of my swings properly and the fact that the characters automatically run after the ball totally crushes any semblance of a good party experience. Please fix it.
Continued on page 6Previous Page
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