Mega Man 9 provided a rush of nostalgia unrivaled by much else in the current gaming spectrum. Retro reboots or remakes are great, especially when they’re as close to the source material as a game like Bionic Commando: Rearmed, but nothing else crafted by modern design could reach out and touch my childhood like Capcom’s 2008 reissue of their Blue Bomber. Waxing nostalgia about Mega Man is hardly unique, (I’m aware many others, fellow editors Greg and Steve Schardein included, share similar sentiment), but it’s still special.
Mega Man 2 was a frequent rental, but receiving Mega Man 3 for my eighth birthday in the summer of 1991 probably changed my life. Everyone remembers their first true love, and while that sense of intimate adoration is typically expressed toward another human being, I gave everything I had to Mega Man 3. I played that game every day (literally, every day). Waking up and beating Mega Man 3 was a Saturday/Sunday staple for years. Mega Man 4 was a kind mistress and had the distinction of featuring my favorite music in the entire series, but it didn’t have the same sort of impact 3 had on my young mind. 4 was a game a played sometimes, rather than all the time. 5 and 6 followed into my collection, each with growing complexity but seemingly less endearing intangibles. I never picked up anything in the X series (or 7 and 8, for that matter), but “classic” Mega Man always did it for me, even into the 32-bit era.
Mega Man 9 was marvelous time paradox; a gift from the past to everyone in the future, and completely self-aware of that fact. The game was brutally difficult, even after bolt farming at Dr Light’s store, but it wasn’t enough to stifle my relentless determination to not only relive the childlike excitement of a nearly identical sequel to my favorite 8-bit series, but also to prove that I still had what it took to conquer a legitimately hard game.
Mega Man 10, in my head, was supposed to follow the same path; another chance to relive the days of being nine years old with eyes permanently fixed toward the next Mega Man on the horizon. When it was announced I was delighted, and when saw Spike Man’s level at CES and I grinned, but then I played it and nearly destroyed everything in my living room.
Mind you, I was well aware that demolition of personal property was the intended reaction to a Mega Man game. While I will maintain that Meg’s recent consciousness toward its difficulty resulted in an overly punitive and/or bastardly experience, I won’t shy away from admitting my relative lack of patience in dealing with its prescribed bullshit.
Sometime after Sheep Man I decided to start “live blogging” my experience, which last for a grand total of three levels before I considered destroying my laptop. Originally I intended to run the whole liveblog transcript on this blog, but at some point the profanity was too outrageous for even the internet, so here’s a quick sample.
(7:40:30 PM):That wasn’t the way to go. That was a bottomless pit.
(7:43:33 PM):Did the thing where I completely missed an attempt to jump on Rush and fell in a hole. Game over.
(7:52:19 PM):Fell down a ladder, down to another screen, and the exact spot where I land is where a robot spawns. Nice.
(7:52:25 PM):bottomless pit. profanity,
(7:53:14 PM):seriously, i want to bite into a living animal. raw flesh, that would cure every problem I have right now
(7:53:28 PM):chasm
(7:53:33 PM):Beer #4
-=-=-=-=-
(7:54:39 PM):zero lives left, its ok, as long as I make it to Pump Man I should have a pretty decent shot
(7:56:48 PM):just mistimed a jump for the…eightH time in a row
(7:57:26 PM):WHY CAN’T I DO THIS GOD DAMMIT
(8:00:03 PM):alright, at the boss with zero lives and 1/10th energy. Let’s do this
(8:00:42 PM):a clean death. a soldier’s death.
(8:00:45 PM):game over
-=-=-=-=-
(9:03:32 PM):Nitro Man
(9:03:40 PM):Loving the city theme, hope it stays consistent through the level
(9:04:58 PM):WHAT WAS THAT, A CAR? WHERE THE SHIT DID THAT COME FROM? JESUS.
Beyond that my rage jumped past adolescent whining and went straight into infantile screaming. All I wanted to do was yell and punch things. Despite my lack of composure I pressed on, defeated all of the robot masters, and made it to Wily Stage 2, where I promptly died a million times on or before the boss before deciding that, in order to beat the game, I had to quit the game. Otherwise, the game was going to continue beating me.
Could I have actually made it through? Probably, I had the patience to complete Mega Man I-IX, the skill to beat God Hand (mostly on level DIE), and the unrivaled dedication necessary to make it through Sonic the Hedgehog 2006, but I couldn’t sit there and rationalize endless failure when I have so many other games/movies/girlfriend competing for my attention. Death may only set me back a few minutes, but each time it started to feel more and more like an eternity in hell. I liked Mega Man 10, and even when I was getting my ass kicked I was thinking about how much fun it might be to go back through as Proto Man or Bass, but my time had officially passed.
Like Jordan playing for the Wizards or Jenna Jameson regressing into girl/girl exclusivity, you have to know when the walk away from the game. Mega Man 10 was my catalyst. There is no further need to humiliate myself. I don’t belong here anymore.
