How good fortune allowed me to achieve the impossible and consequently attain special status.
Once upon a time, every hotel in Atlantic City housed a sprawling arcade in which parents would drop off their kids whenever they were in the mood to head to the casino and gamble away their savings.
For me, that was the best part about traveling to Atlantic City. I'd look forward to going there because I knew that circumstances would dictate that I'd get the opportunity to wander around one of its carpeted arcade-machine-filled wonderlands for hours on end--up until around 6:00 p.m., when it was time for everyone to meet up at the coffee shop for dinner. It was like taking a trip to paradise.
During one particular visit, I was browsing the arcade at the Tropicana Casino & Resort (which I loved because it contained what was by far the largest arcade on the strip), seeking out my favorite arcade games, when suddenly my ears caught the sound of fanfare that was so thunderous in nature that it managed to rise above the usual arcade cacophony and do so in such a way that I could swear that it was vying specifically for my attention.
So I proceeded to track down the source of those particular sounds. I cut across the arcade's right side and then circled around a group of machines that were assembled in a "+" shape. And when I reached the formation's far side, I came across a really tall arcade machine that featured one of the most unique-looking displays I'd ever seen: It had two monitors, and one of them was stacked on top of the other! "What the hell is this?" I wondered as I stood there gazing at the machine.
The machine's marquee bore the name "Punch-Out!!" I'd never heard that name before. Though, I could say, after taking a gander at the weirdly awesome display to which it was attached, that it was certainly worthy of that second exclamation point!
At the time, I wasn't all that familiar with Nintendo. I'd heard the name before, yeah, but I didn't know much about the company it represented. The only Nintendo games I'd played were Atari 2600 Donkey Kong and arcade Mario Bros. That's why I associated the company's name mainly with "wackiness" and "silliness." And it was why I wasn't surprised to see its name attached to this weird-lookin' machine!
For all of these reasons, I was very intrigued by Punch-Out!!, and I was eager to find out what it was all about!
I don't remember how I performed during that first experience, though I can't imagine that I fared too well, since I'd never played anything like Punch-Out!! (and since I didn't fare too well in my future sessions, either). But what I do remember, quite vividly, is how in awe I was of the spectacle that Punch-Out!! created--of its incredibly powerful sights and sounds. I was entranced by its large characters and how lifelike they were and how they juked and danced and did so while seemingly gliding across the screen. I was both fascinated with and baffled by the protagonist's curiously unique green-wire-frame design; it was weird and interesting, and I'd never seen anything like it. And I was blown away by the depth and quality of its sound design. The entire time, the crowd ceaselessly roared in approval and raised its energy any time the action grew more intense, and the game's very-real-sounding commentator spiritedly called the action and identified every thrown punch (as if he were being paid by the word).
Over the course of that weekend, I returned to that Punch-Out!! machine several times. I dumped dollars-worth of quarters into it. And each time, I spent 20-30 minutes playing Punch-Out!! and thoroughly enjoying everything that was unique about it.
The only problem was that I wasn't able to advance very far into Punch-Out!! It was a considerably difficult game. And it didn't help that I completely failed to grasp the basics of dodging and countering. So winning even a single match was a struggle.
Still, I was very fond of Punch-Out!! I was enamored with its strikingly unique presentation and its novel style of action. During the ride home, images of Punch-Out!! dominated my thoughts. They formed the entirety of my "highlight reel," which was my name for the series of images that would appear in my head as I reflected upon the time I spent in Atlantic City arcades.
And those images continued to resonate with me. For days and weeks, I couldn't stop thinking about my battles with memorable characters like Glass Joe, Piston Hurricane and Bald Bull. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I loved the game's presentation--particularly the commentator's spirited calling of the action, which I felt was the game's most endearing element. "Left! Left! Right! Right! Body blow! Body blow! Body blow!" he enthusiastically shouted whenever I was flailing away wildly. No game had ever been that expressive.
Also, I fondly recalled how he excitedly encouraged me to "Knock 'im out!" or "Put 'im away!" whenever my KO meter completely filled and how he'd warn me of an upcoming barrage by shouting "Come on! Come on!" It was like having a watchful ally at my side!
And, of course, there was nothing more satisfying than the call he made after I sent an opponent to the mat: He'd begin to rapidly count out the fallen fighter, and after reaching 10, he'd deliver an animated-, emphatic-sounding "Knockout!" It made winning a fight feel all the more exhilarating!
In every instance, his commentary was amazingly energizing, and thus it served to make the game's action feel so very immersive. At times, it could even make me feel as though I knew what I was doing!
Eventually Punch-Out!! started appearing in our local arcades. And once it became ubiquitous, I was able to access it more conveniently, and thus I was able to spend a lot more time with it. In that time, I was able to improve, yeah, but still, I couldn't come close to beating it. I could never make it past the appropriately named Kid Quick, who would always pummel me with endless series of quick jabs.
I mean, I had enough knowledge of the game's fighting system to understand that I needed to employ a dodge-and-counter strategy if I hoped to beat foes like Kid Quick, but I just didn't have the discipline necessary to competently execute such a strategy. I was too hyperactive. I was more inclined to spam headshots and hope to quickly max out the KO meter so that I could then land enough right hooks to knock out the opponent. This tactic was fairly effective on the first three fighters, but unfortunately, it never worked on Kid Quick. He'd always destroy me.
Those repeated beatings changed how I perceived Punch-Out!! Now whenever I thought about the game, my head would become filled with images of failing moments. I'd see nothing but mean-looking bug-eyed boxers gravitating toward the camera and belittling me with mocking laughter.
The reality was that I wasn't very good at this game.
I still continued to play it, yeah, but just not as frequently. I drifted away from it for two reasons: (1) In the late 80s, it was being slowly phased out of arcades, so I was seeing it less and less, and (2) in that same period, my attention had shifted to the recently released console version of Punch-Out!!, which was a much superior game (except in terms of visuals and presentation; the arcade version destroyed it in those categories).
I can't tell you when, exactly, that was because I don't remember much about the starting point of my history with Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! As in the case of DuckTales, I can't recall when I first played the game or who introduced me to it. Really, it could have been one from any number of friends, cousins or classmates. The reason it's tough to narrow it down is that Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! was a game that everyone owned, and thus I was exposed to it everywhere I went. So it all winds up blending together.
The only thing I remember is that I was blown away with how well the game translated to the NES and, like I said, fascinated with the very idea of the game--with the idea of a real-life professional boxer like Mike Tyson mixing it up with fictional characters like Bald Bull (I'd always wonder about what would happen if two such fighters were to ever meet in the ring). "This is all insane!" I thought.
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! was a top-tier action game, and I was lucky enough to get the chance to play it everywhere I went.
As usual, though, I was late to the party when it came to owning my own copy of a popular game. I held off on buying Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! until the latter half of 1989, and I did so because before then, I didn't need to own my own copy of the game; all of my friends owned it, so I already had easy access to it. But that was no longer the case in 1989. By that point, they'd largely abandoned the game in favor of new releases like Mega Man 2, Tetris, DuckTales and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Mike Tyson's Punch-Out was now near the bottoms of their game piles, and they weren't going to bust it out just for me.
So my only option was to buy my own copy and play it at home.
By then, I was very familiar with the game. Thanks to friends like Dominick and Mike, I already knew all of the best strategies for exploiting opponent weaknesses and earning stars. But even then, its action didn't feel stale in any way, no; it was still as intense and as exciting as ever! Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! was still one of the most fun, satisfyingly action games around, and that's why I continued to return to it on a regular basis. I simply loved it. I loved everything about it: its gameplay style, its characters, its visuals, and its music. They were all amazing.
The only thing I ever objected to, really, was Mario being placed in the role of referee. He was too small, and he looked so out of place whenever he was standing amongst the game's hulking behemoths. For that reason, it took me a long time to see him as anything but a silly intruder. "Do they have to stick this guy in every game?" I'd wonder whenever he'd run onscreen.
In the months that followed, I established a more-personal relationship with Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! I gained intimate knowledge of its systems. I developed my own special routines and methods (those upon which I'd forevermore rely).
Glass Joe and Von Kaiser were of course pushovers, and I'd easily take them out with alternating-left-right-combo spam. Piston Honda (whose inclusion annoyed me because I felt as though he stole the nickname and the slot of Piston Hurricane, who I considered to be a more interesting character) was a bit tougher, but the same strategy worked well on him, too; when I was fighting him, though, I'd occasionally attempt to sneak in a solo jab and thus break his rhythm.
I already knew that the secret to easily beating Don Flamenco (whose name I originally misread as "Flamingo") was to dodge one of his uppercuts and then counter with a continuous string of alternating left and right jabs, so I just stuck to doing that. And I also knew that you could get King Hippo to expose his weak spot by punching him in the face when he was attempting to execute his overhead jab, so I focused all of my energy on spotting that animation (at times, though, I'd have a lot of trouble distinguishing between his normal and overhead jabs, and consequently I'd get pummeled).
I struggled somewhat against the likes of Great Tiger and Ball and did so for one particular reason: I had trouble defending against their special moves, which would usually fluster me. Over time, I learned how to better protect against the Great Tiger's whirlwind barrage (the "Tiger Punch," as we called it) and thus more easily defeat him, though I was never able to consistently counter Bald Bull's Bull Charge. I could never get the exact timing down, so I was only able to counter the move about 25% of the time.
My success rate against Soda Popinksi was about, say, 50%. Really, how I performed against him depended upon how I was feeling that day (Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!'s action was heavily twitched-based, so if I was tired or distracted and thus unable to focus, I'd have a much tougher time with it). Even when I was having an off day, though, I could always rely on one motivating factor: I had to win, I thought, because it was the only way to avoid being the target of Popinski's mocking laughter, which always made failure feel so much worse! I hated that stupid laugh! (And it would continue to haunt me in the future Zelda II: Adventure of Link, in which it was repurposed as Ganon's mocking laughter. I couldn't escape it!)
The real problem was everything that came after Soda Popinksi. I'd have all kinds of trouble with the Bald Bull and Don Flamenco rematches, both of which added special gimmicks: Bull could only be knocked down with an uppercut (though, you could still lay him out by successfully countering the Bull Charge), and Flamenco, aggravatingly, wouldn't attack until you responded to his baiting taunts; most of the time, though, he'd just continue to taunt and defend, and this would cause me trouble because I'd usually be short on stamina.
In the Bull fight, I could never hold onto uppercut-powering stars, so I'd necessarily have to win by countering three Bull Charges in a single round. And in the case of Flamenco, I'd try to exercise patience and thus do what I could to stop myself from falling back into old habits--from trying to tank my way to victory with headshot spam. The more composed I was, the more success I'd have.
The true source of my pain, though, was Mr. Sandman. This guy was an absolute beast. He was amazingly fast, super strong, and seemingly unassailable. And he'd always obliterate me and consequently end my run.
And in the rare instances in which I was lucky enough to endure Sandman's onslaught and somehow win the fight, it would mean very little because I'd then get destroyed by the next monster in line: Super Macho Man, who would promptly flatten me with his series of seemingly undodgeable Super Spin Punches!
Having to endure all of this just to get to Mike Tyson was just too much. "Screw that!" I said. What I'd do, instead, is skip right to the Tyson fight by inputting the famous continue code that every kid had long since memorized: 007-373-5963.
And, well, you can probably guess as to how that fight would usually go.
"Are they kidding with this?!" I'd wonder, in the most exasperated fashion, after getting abused by Mike for the umpteenth time. "There are no obvious tells, and I can be knocked down with one single punch?!"
It just didn't seem fair.
To me, Mike was the ultimate final boss. He was the most monstrously challenging foe I'd ever fought in a video game. Even the toughest forms of Dracula, Dr. Wily and Jaquio couldn't compare to him. He was mightier than all of them. He was an absolute terror, and I couldn't come close to beating him. He'd annihilate me every time and do so within seconds. And there was nothing I could do to gain an advantage. I couldn't turn to any of my friends for advice because none of them had ever beaten him, either.
For the longest time, there was no beating Mike Tyson. It couldn't be done. So as far as we were concerned, simply getting to Mike Tyson was the victory condition.
I continued to play Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! regularly, and eventually I became skilled enough to reach the Tyson fight without much struggle. Though, even then, the fight would still end the same way, with me being TKOed in under 40 seconds and done in by unpredictable uppercuts.
Oh, there were times when I was able to string together enough lucky dodges to survive the fight's earliest segment and thus make it to the second round, yeah, but in each of those instances, I was so mentally fatigued that I was easy pickings for a still-highly-aggressive Mike. I was just never able to endure.
So it seemed as though ultimate victory just wasn't very likely.
Still, I promised myself that I'd never give up. I'd keep trying and trying. And maybe one day, I thought, I'd find a way to achieve victory.
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!, like every other great NES game, remained popular for years (which is to say that it would never stay near the bottom of any kid's game pile for too long), and I continued to play it wherever I went.
My fondest memories, though, are those I have of playing Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! with my cousins in New Jersey. They were great at the game, and I always had fun watching them play it. They were skilled enough to make it all the way to Super Macho Man and give him a good run for his money.
I remember how we emblemized Super Macho Man because he shared a name with one of our favorite professional wrestlers: "Macho Man" Randy Savage, whose antics were similarly outrageous and amusing. Super Macho Man was an entertaining character not just because of his silly peck-flexing and his surfer-dude personality but also because of how high up he'd fly whenever he was hit with a knockdown uppercut. He'd reach comical heights. That's why I believed my second cousin Anthony (whose family would occasionally drop by my uncle's house while we were there) when he claimed that he once delivered an uppercut that was so fast and so ferocious that it launched Super Macho Man off the screen! And naturally I spent way too much time trying to replicate that feat.
Eventually, though, it became obvious to me that I'd been lied to. It turned out that it wasn't possible to launch Super Macho Man off the screen.
Still, we continued to joke about his high-flying and talk about how hilarious it would be if Mac could knock him so far back that he'd fly over the ring ropes and land in the crowd, which would then crowd-surf him away.
At some point, in fact, there was a rumor going around that you actually could send Super Macho Man over the ropes and into the crowd. People were telling me about it all the time. And when they'd do so, I'd feel bad for them because I knew that it was a bogus rumor. I knew this because, well, I was the one who started it.
Come on--don't act as though you didn't do similar things.
"So were you ever able to beat Mike Tyson?" you ask while in a state of great suspense.
Well, yes, actually. Though, my first victory over Mike was the result of a series of completely random events.
One day, my brother, James, and his group of friends were playing the game in our basement, and they were desperately trying to beat Mike Tyson. They continued to get beaten badly, and soon they reached a point in which they were about ready to give up. Right around then, I wandered down into the basement because I was bored and because I wanted to find out what my big brother and his friends were doing. That's when something unexpected happened: When James caught sight of me, he immediately turned to his friend Ray (the best player in his group) and said, "Oh, my brother can probably do this! He's, like, a master of video games!"
Now, I'm sure that many of you have found yourselves in a similar situation. You've been in a position in which you were watching on while someone close to you--like, say, one of your parents--was conversing with an acquaintance and suddenly began to talk you up as an expert in a field in which you had only a normal level of experience. "Oh, you're having trouble connecting your router?" your mother would say to her friend. "Well, my son can help you with that because he's the master of the Internet!" And if you've been in that position, then you understand why it's difficult to protest without feeling like a complete idiot.
So of course I didn't object. I didn't say a word as I grabbed hold of the controller--an act that James' friends interpreted as a silently confident acknowledgement of my alleged prowess.
In truth, I was pretty terrified. I was in no way ready for this challenge. And suddenly I started to feel a tremendous amount of pressure. In that moment, all I could think about was how embarrassing this could turn out for me. I mean, I was a highly skilled gamer, certainly, but still nowhere close to a "master." So there was no way that I was going to beat Tyson--especially under these conditions. In the past, I'd never come close to beating him. In my best attempt, I knocked him down once in Round 2. That was it. And now I was being trusted to do something far more challenging.
I've never been able to properly explain what it was that happened over the course of the following five minutes. The entire time, it seemed, I was under some of that Shadowgate-like "magical influence." I was able to somehow play well beyond my level. I was able to flawlessly dodge every uppercut, block every jab, and successfully counter every strike. And in the end, I was able to drop Tyson in Round 3 (it was a pretty shocking outcome when you consider how tight and nervous I was).
I remember how James' friends cheered me on as I delivered the final blow.
Truthfully, I didn't do anything special. The entire time, I was just nervously hitting buttons and making the correct moves by accident. And it all just happened to work out.
So, really, my victory was simply the product of dumb luck.
Though, to James' friends, who perceived me as an emotionless robot, it was the calm and cool domination of a thought-to-be-impossible final boss. And I never told them that it was a first-time accomplishment, no. I continued to remain silent and act as though beating Mike Tyson was nothing new to me. (Also, really, it's kinda tough to speak when your current heart rate is well over 200 beats per minute.)
Word of my victory spread far across the land (or at least as far as 86th Street), and consequently I earned a special status: I became the neighborhood's resident "Game Master." And I maintained that status forevermore.
It was just good fortune that no one ever asked me to replicate that feat. Had I been force to refight Tyson, I probably would have failed horribly and thus had my Game Master card revoked. Then I would have had to admit that I wasn't a master. And that was a scenario that I would have gone out of my way to avoid!
What--do you really think that I was going to risk losing the (probably) undeserved label of "Game Master"?! No way, man! I wasn't ever going to let such a thing happen. Not when I had a reputation to uphold. I mean, I didn't go around calling myself "Mr. Perfect" for nothing. No--I did that because I was a fan of a guy who did cartwheels and slapped chewing gum into people's faces. And now he's dead, so I don't know what to do.
Why are you still reading this?
The only thing I'm embarrassed to admit is that it took me way too long to catch on to the fact that the Punch-Out!! games were poking fun at ethnic identities and purposely stereotyping all of their fighters. Up until I was around, say, 14, I assumed that all of the fighters were simply Americans with really silly names. I might have known better had I actually paid any attention to the between-round dialogue, which was filled with linguistic clues. (Don Flamenco was clearly speaking Spanish. How in the world did I not notice that?!)
I bring this up now because it relates to something that disappointed me when I returned to arcade Punch-Out!! and finally made it past Kid Quick. I was hoping that the fifth competitor would be someone special--someone who took humorous ethnic stereotyping to the next level. Instead I encountered an Italian fighter whose only stereotypical quality was his name. He was called "Pizza Pasta." Otherwise, he did nothing Italian-looking or -sounding.
Seriously--was that really the best that Nintendo could come up with?
Well, as an Italian man, all I can say is that I'm deeply disappointed by how unimaginatively my, er, "people" have been stereotyped here. Simply giving a guy a name that's a combination of two Italian delicacies doesn't cut it. What Nintendo should have done is design it to where Pizza Pasta came to battle holding a pizza shield and a spaghetti lasso and wearing a chef's hat. That would've been the respectful thing to do.
And that's exactly what I need to see the next time Pizza Pasta appears in a Punch-Out!! game!
Make it happen, Nintendo.
I can't say much about my experiences with the series' other entries because I don't have any real history with any of them. I've never played the arcade sequel, Super Punch-Out!!, and I could never get into the same-named SNES sequel, which has always felt so comparatively bland to me; its sound effects are muted, its punches lack impact, and its action just doesn't have the same energy. Whenever I attempt to beat it, the same thing happens: After about ten minutes, I get really bored and decide to move on to something else.
Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! is a much better game. Its action is more satisfying and more viscerally pleasing, its characters are more memorable, and it's just a lot more fun to play!
I was the last in my group to learn that Nintendo released a Mike Tyson-less version of Punch-Out!! after its licensing deal ended (at the time, we assumed that Nintendo dropped Tyson because he was convicted of rape, but that couldn't have been the case because the conviction actually occurred two years later). He was replaced with Mr. Dream, who was entirely lame in comparison. I fought him once or twice and only for curiosity's sake, and all I remember is that it just felt wrong. Tyson's absence made the entire endgame feel unceremonious and lifeless.
The fact is that NES Punch-Out!! is Mike Tyson's game, and his is the only version that people are going to remember. As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Dream is nothing more than a generic, uninteresting pretender, and it's not worth playing any version that stars him.
It's just too bad that we'll never again see a legally released version of Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! and so most people will forever be stuck with an inferior version.
Thankfully, though, I'm still able to access Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!, and that's the version to which I'm going to continue to return.
These days, I'm able to perform very well against Mike Tyson. I can beat him about half the time. Though, it's never easy. Mike is super-tough, and his fight is still just as scary and as nerve-wracking as it ever was.
Still, I continue to work toward the goal of being able to beat Tyson 100% of the time. Only then will I be satisfied.
Only then will I truly be worthy of the title "Game Master."
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