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As
I have mentioned, within a few days of my hire, I had
heard that Nintendo was open to the idea of a new spokescharacter
to add a state-of-the-art pizazz to their other mascots—something
along the lines of a superhero. I polled my co-workers
for information about the company (history, attitudes,
goals, desired image, etc.). And I set about creating
this character. At night. On my own time. On my own
computer.
Some
of what follows is not necessarily that important to
the events of autumn 1988, but I relate it here to give
you an idea of personal context and I think there is
a certain interesting irony that it gives those events.
I
was able to read at near 2nd grade level when I entered
kindergarten having learned to read (when I was just
3 or 4) on the Superman comics that I could con my parents
into buying for me. I read Batman and a few others of
the time, but Superman was always my favorite. Next
to my dad, Superman was my first role model. Like millions
of kids, I wanted to be a superhero when I grew up.
I just couldn’t imagine anything cooler than having
some super power that no one else had and using it to
do good for humankind at large. Or save a life. That
was the ultimate service a superhero could perform.
I just couldn’t imagine anything cooler. Honestly, I
still can’t.
But
I knew that the only way to acquire such superpowers
was to be born on another planet or to be in an accident
that involves radioactivity (because, as everybody knows,
being in an accident with radioactivity will stimulate
some dormant metagene in you that will give you abnormal
abilities--and not cause your body to decay as the silly
government scientists think). Well, despite claims from
my mother, I pretty much knew that the distant planet
option was “not in the stars” for me (pardon the pun).
That left the accident with radioactivity. And I couldn’t
wait.
I
waited my whole life for that momentous event, but it
never came. So I grew up like the rest of the normal
society with no discernable superpowers. Indeed, the
closest thing I had to a superpower was the ability
to put words on paper that could inform, entertain,
and/or move people. Not even remotely as cool as flying
or X-ray vision or sticking to walls or a spider sense.
It wasn’t even as cool as invisibility or even turning
green and kicking the bejeezes out stuff. But, later
on, I realized that if I couldn’t emulate the superhero
part of Superman, I was at least unintentionally emulating
his nine-to-five identity. And I was to learn just how
powerful putting words to paper could be.
Having
an authoritative understanding of how superheros are
created and operate and live their lives, creating a
superhero character for Nintendo was a task that was
seemingly ideal for me. Unconsciously or subconsciously,
I could make him the superhero that I always wanted
to be.
Still,
there are important considerations to creating a spokescharacter
superhero as opposed to your common garden-variety superhero.
The spokescharacter superhero has to be a reflection
of the company and its product. He has to convey the
image and attitude that the company wants to project.
He has to blend with and enhance, if not formulate,
product branding. There were others at the company who’d
voiced some casual ideas about the kind of character
they’d create, but there was waaay more to creating
a company spokescharacter superhero than just making
up fun adventure stories and no one had ever formalized
any of their concepts.
Within
three weeks of first pouncing on the notion of creating
this character, I had him. What you eventually saw on
Saturday morning television was somewhat removed from
my original vision. I’ll try to relate the evolution
of the process. Or de-evolution depending upon your
perspective.
Originally,
the character was involved in an accident (Okay, I saw
no reason to completely re-invent the wheel. However,
there was not a trace of radioactivity to be found anywhere.).
I chose to use magic, mystery, and technology to create
Captain Nintendo’s powers. The source of his powers
came from special microchips that came from an island
steeped in voodoo and magic. Not just any microchips,
mind you, but biometric microchips that were in part
made up of living biogenetic tissue. (This idea of living
tissue as technology was used later on Star Trek: Voyager
as many of the ship’s systems operate using bioneural
gel packs which organize, store, and transfer information
much like a humanoid nervous system. You Star Trek geeks
reading this please explain it to your less-informed
neighbors. We’ll wait… Thanks.)
Having
been manufactured on an island known for its magic-influenced
culture, there was speculation that the chips may have
had some magical properties as well. Which would explain
why, when the chips fused with the body of the game
technician, he gained abilities and was completely unharmed,
instead of being scarred for life or dead. Just go with
me here. Remember, I was aiming this at 8 to 14 year-olds.
When creating superheroes, you are allowed to bend the
laws of physics a little. Not too much, but a little.
Hey, at least, if he put on glasses, you’d still know
who he was. (Sorry, Clark, but that was the one part
of the mythos with which I always had a problem.) But
there are just some things you ask your audience to
just accept. It is called the suspension of disbelief.
You just have to be careful not to ask too much of your
audience or your story will be deemed weak. And rightfully
so. But there was definite method to my madness.
The
whole point of the character was that he would be a
reflection of the company. Therefore, it made sense
to give him powers that would allow him to interact
with video game characters. It was important, however,
that he originally be born of the real world. This allows
the reader/viewer a conduit through which to relate
to the video game characters, i.e. how would he, the
reader/viewer, interact if he came in contact with these
other characters. Hence, the purpose for the fusing
of man and video game microchips. From there, it is
just a natural step to “actualizing” video game characters
(bringing them to 3-dimensional life from out of the
television set) or entering their domain. The whole
point of that is to allow the company to promote any
video game by having Captain Nintendo have an adventure
with the star of that video game. The consumer is introduced
to this new video game via an adventure with the Captain.
And, as every marketing guru will tell you, the more
familiar people are with a product, the more apt they
are to purchase it. That is what advertising is all
about. Captain Nintendo was made to order.
In
addition to his powers, his weaknesses were also identical
to a game cartridge, i.e. succumbs to extreme temperatures
and an allergy to dust—the very things that will hurt
your game cartridge). This gave the Captain immediate
product identification and at the same time educated
the consumer in how to protect and preserve his purchase.
Every
hero must have a villain. This was a little tricky.
It must be someone who is a match for the hero, but
someone that he is capable of beating. At the same time,
I don’t want their struggle to get in the way of the
purpose, which was promoting the game du jour. It should
be an entity with almost the same powers as the Captain,
but who interacts and even controls the bad guys from
the video games. And then, I hit on a bit of genius.
Hey, from a marketing standpoint, it was. Sheer genius.
The villain would be an actualized Mother Brain from
a Metroid game that was caught in the explosion and
fused with a few of the magic bioneural microchips.
The giant cerebral cortex of Mother Brain could easily
control the villains of other video games. Mother Brain’s
programming is that of complete relentless domination
so the battle will be neverending. The battles of Mother
Brain and the Captain then became a device through which
the heros and villains of the game du jour could take
center stage and be introduced to the consumer. Beyond
this, game tips could smoothly be introduced within
the context of the story allowing the consumer greater
enjoyment than simply telling him to go here and jump
while pushing the B button.
So
I wrote the origin story. And a nine-page marketing
campaign proposal. It wasn’t about a boy and his freakin’
dog who get sucked into their television. It was about
a regular Joe who just happened to work as a game technician
at Nintendo. And like the rest of this whole concept,
there was a definite purposeful reason as to why I made
him a regular Joe that worked as a game technician at
Nintendo. Read the early issues that contain the two-part
origin story. Listen, I knew this wasn’t War and Peace
or Tom Sawyer, but from a marketing perspective, this
WAS “It’s a Wonderful Life” and every Saturday morning
was Christmas. There were layers and dimensions to this
marketing that worked together and fed each other. I
wasn’t trying to win Pulitzers. I was trying to sell
video games. And I did. A whole lot of them.
Media*
Captain
Nintendo - Nov/Dec 1988 Nintendo Power (Issue #3)
Part
I; This issue: The origin of Captain Nintendo, the "birth"
of the Mother Brain,
and the beginning of... the promise
Captain
Nintendo - Jan/Feb 1989 Nintendo Power (Issue #4)
Part
II
(*copied
and typed by tsr of tsr's
NES archive)
Next chapter: Captain Nintendo Lives
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