It’s Christmas morning, and amidst the thick haze of food already cooking for lunch and the soothing laughter of our children enjoying their new toys, my wife approaches me with a small, square package. I hadn’t seen this under the tree. “That’s your last one,” she says. I instinctively go to shake it – she knows me well enough to catch my wrist. “Don’t do that!” she interjects. Clearly this is an item of some delicacy.
I unwrap it carefully, and as I slip the box free of its decorative coat, I am filled with both giddy elation and a crushing sense of shame: Shame at the sheer averageness of the gifts I have offered her this year compared to the magnificence I hold in my hands; elated, because said magnificence is a boxed, Japanese copy of Mario’s Tennis for the Virtual Boy with manual inside. It’s a Christmas miracle. Eat your heart out, Dickens.
I have long been an enthusiast of Nintendo’s forgotten child, having snapped one up for an absolute bargain from a charity shop in my teens. After spending the day periodically thumbing through pages of artwork I’d never laid eyes on, I finally had the opportunity to fire up the little red curio once the children were tucked up for the night. I already own the US version of Mario’s Tennis (the console, which was never released in Europe, is not region-locked), but must admit I hadn’t indulged in a game-set-match of it for a long time.
Considering it is 30 years old, it holds up incredibly well – it’s solidly built, as you’d expect from a Nintendo title, and the 3D effect is beautifully realised. You can really feel where the ball is on the court and although I was never so immersed in the illusion that I would try and duck my head away from the incoming shots (I remember practically giving myself whiplash trying to ‘dodge’ incoming enemy fire playing Star Fox 64 3D with the slider cranked up) I still felt that ripple of excitement you get when you feel like you’re actually in the playing space.
I’ve always thought it was criminal that Nintendo never released a Virtual Boy collection for 3DS, or at least a ‘best of’ collection of titles they developed and/or published. Not remakes, just porting the existing titles with the stereoscopic 3D effect intact. I suppose the company is at least acknowledging it these days – allowing it to pop up in various games as a reference point, but it isn’t keen to let the system’s software live a life unshackled from the console. There have been community efforts to realise this and though there are ways to play the catalogue of games with the 3D present, it is an ethically grey area and doesn’t always translate as it should. It’s never the same as playing natively on original hardware.
So as I sprinted across the tennis court with Toad on this weirdest of Nintendo machines I began to ponder, ‘Are you truly a Nintendo fan if you haven’t experienced this console and its unique games the way Nintendo envisaged?’
Do self-respecting Nintendo fans owe it to themselves to play the Virtual Boy?
Firstly, it wouldn’t be fair to pose the question if the Virtual Boy were basically impossible to obtain, and they’re certainly a rare and expensive item these days. A cursory search shows that they are around – you could be firing one up by Valentine’s Day if you really wanted. Unboxed units will set you back somewhere close to £300 and boxed examples start in the mid-400s. A large whack, but not totally obscene.
But its 22 official games – that’s where things get messy. The prices for these vary wildly, from pocket change to listings in the thousands, and of course this is generally reflective of the quality or rarity of the titles. As with any console, the games are where the fun is — if they aren’t worth experiencing, then neither is the console.
So let’s take a look at the games, or at least the ones I have and can offer a personal take on. I by no means have a complete collection but it’s certainly a varied one and I’m just going to touch on the experience they offer. If you want a more in-depth look, check out our excellent ranked list of Virtual Boy games.
