Sometimes good things come in very small packages. That's what I learned when I was first introduced to the Game & Watch series of games.
Up until that day, I'd never heard of or seen the name "Game & Watch." As far as I knew, the LCD-handheld market was home only to products made by Tiger Electronics, which was clearly the market leader, and a couple of second-tier players like Coleco and Namco. Whenever I'd come across an electronic handheld game while browsing the aisles of a toy or department store, I'd undoubtedly find that one of those names was printed across its box's surface. These few companies comprised the entire market, I was sure.
That's why I was so surprised when I learned that Nintendo, about which I thought I knew everything, not only made LCD-handheld games--it had a major presence in the electronic-games market! Somehow, for the first 12 years of my life, I remained oblivious to these facts; somehow I never once came across a Nintendo-branded LCD game.
I suddenly became aware of Nintendo's electronic-games business when I received Game & Watch: Mario's Cement Factory as a Confirmation gift during a dinner celebration that was being held for me at the Italian restaurant New Corner.
Though, this particular visit to New Corner was extra special because there was one major difference: My father reserved an entire room just for our group! It was one of the establishment's party rooms, all of which were located way in the back, in a part of the restaurant upon which I'd never laid eyes. We needed that much space, he said, because the whole family had been invited.
This was a completely new idea to me. "You can do that?!" I thought to myself after being told about the nature of the reservation. "A restaurant will let you have an entire room to yourselves?! A room in which everyone can freely move about and in doing so partake in all sorts of nonstandard dining activities?! That's wild!"
Dozens of family members showed up that day--aunts, uncles, grandparents, in-laws, cousins. It was the largest family get-together I'd ever been a part of. In the hour preceding the meal, people continued to crown into that party room and shower me with kindness. I was blown away by the scene--by the idea that all of those people considered me to be worthy of their time. Their presence meant a lot to me.
What also meant a lot to me was that almost all of them showed up bearing gifts! All day long, I was handed greeting card after greeting card, each containing either money or a check. We're talkin' about dollar values somewhere between $50 and $100. Oh yeah: I made bank that day.
Though, I also received a rather interesting non-monetary item from my aunt and uncle (the guy who showed us how to find Adventure's secret room), who would always throw in a little toy or gadget: It was an LCD-handheld game called "Mario's Cement Factory."
Upon seeing it, I was quite surprised because, as mentioned, I never knew that Nintendo manufactured this type of product. "Since when do they make these kinds of cheap games?" I wondered. In that single moment, my view of the industry was significantly altered; Nintendo's business, it appeared, was much broader than I realized.
Seeing Mario's face depicted on a product that had no relation to any of the company's NES or arcade games was honestly kinda shocking. I spent about a minute staring at the game's packaging, trying to make sense out of what I was seeing. "How long have these games been around?" I wondered. "And how many more of them are there?"
Looking back, I'm surprised that I didn't do my usual: instantly dismiss Mario's Cement Factory as something archaic--as something too dated to be taken seriously (it was, after all, originally released in 1983 according to the text on the box's side). I didn't do that, no. Rather, I was intrigued by it, partly because I was fascinated by the idea of a uniquely themed Mario game being tied not to the NES but instead to a comparatively simple, rudimentary LCD-based device.
My curiosity was such that I removed the game from the box and started to play it. And to my surprise, it was actually quite engaging! Usually LCD-based games were only able to hold my attention for two or three minutes, since there was never much to them, but this one managed to defy that expectation. This one was different: It had real substance to it. Its gameplay had a certain flow and rhythm to it. Its action was active and dynamic. I was absorbed by it, so much so that I continued to mess around with it all throughout the day--during the downtime between courses and in every other pocket of time I could find. It was such a surprisingly cool game. I never would have thought that a game of its type could keep me so entertained.
I was happy to get all of that money, yeah, but it was Mario's Cement Factory that I considered to be the best Confirmation gift I received that day.
In the years that followed, Mario's Cement Factory continued to be a valuable part of my video-game library. It was a game on which I could rely to provide me a few minutes' worth of frenzied, engrossing entertainment whenever I was waiting for food or for my parents to pick me up, or whenever I was in a situation where I was concurrently bored and without access to my NES (mainly any time I was at my aunt's house and none of my friends were around). That was it its job--one that it performed very well. It'd keep me occupied and do so in a way that made me feel genuinely interested in the idea of enduring as long as possible and consequently setting a new high score. "Who would have guessed that a game about dashing back and forth and dropping layers of liquid cement into a mixer could be this much fun?!" I'd think.
My future interactions with Game & Watch devices weren't quite as memorable. They were all quality games, certainly, but none of them were quite as good as Mario's Cement Factory; none of them could keep me engaged for quite as long. I'm thankful that Mario's Cement Factor happened to be the one that caught my uncle's interest, since it led to me owning the best game in the series--one that provided me hours of entertainment and some fond memories.
I shouldn't be surprised, though, since my uncle always did have good instincts. And once again, for what seemed like the hundredth time, he pulled the shiniest gem out of the sack. The result was my being introduced to Mario's Cement Factory--a cool little handheld game.
I'm sad to say that I haven't seen my copy of Mario's Cement Factory in over seven years--not since I packed it into a box when I was preparing to leave Brooklyn for Long Island. And worse yet, I haven't been able to find the box in which it's contained (it's probably buried in either the storage room or the garage). I'm hoping that it'll turn up someday and that finally I'll be able to place it where it belongs: in my game closet with the rest of my old LCD games. I'm not sure if it's capable of functioning anymore (and even if it is, I don't have any batteries to power it, and I'm not sure that they even make those little round batteries anymore), since I failed to keep it in good condition, but still I'd like to have it around; I'd like for it to serve as a memento--as an object whose presence helps me to form a more-tangible connection to my past.
I should have taken better care of it. Hell--I should have taken better care of all of my old systems and games. If only I'd known how valuable they'd one day become.
The good news is that I did find a way to access to Mario's Cement Factory albeit in a different form. In 2010, mostly for sentimentality's sake, I purchased the digital recreation of Mario's Cement Factory from the DSi's shop. And I have to say: It's impressive how faithful it is to the original; it's just about a perfect replication. Its action holds up pretty well, too; it's still just as engaging. I've returned to it a bunch of times over the years, and I've done so for the same reason I did back then: it provides me short bursts of reliably fun entertainment whenever I have 5-10 minutes to fill. And I'm certain that I'll continue to return to it the future.
I'm happy that Nintendo is making these games available because they're such an important part of the company's history. Anyone who discovers them will appreciate the story they tell--what they reveal about the company's earliest systems and the philosophies that guided their creation. I hope that Nintendo continues with the practice of reproducing Game & Watch games in digital form and that eventually it finds space for them on its Virtual Console services, which is where they truly belong.
And when people discover them, they'll learn, as I did, that limited technology is no barrier to fun. That a game can be entertaining even if it's really old and if its presentation is formed from nothing more than a few grid-based sprites and some beeps. And that indeed good things can come in very small packages.
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