"I was sharpening my understanding of story via this new symbiotic form of story-audience coordination, where I was both witness and author at the same time."
I was hooked on stories before I could read, write, or even talk. Maybe you were too. My first memories of storytelling came from my parents reading riveting children’s books to me at home. By the way, a LOT of those stories were about bears. But friendly bears. (BTW, why do we try to convince children that bears are their friends? Okay, I’m already on a tangent.)
After just listening to bear propaganda and other heartwarming children’s tales, what followed was the critical ability to read stories for myself. And while reading was an imperative milestone, the next flood of exhilarating storytelling came in the form of cartoons—whether Saturday morning, any morning, or after school—TV sitcoms, and mostly (albeit not always) age-appropriate movies.
By the time I was in grade school, however, I happened upon an even newer dimension of storytelling, and this one was a literal game changer. I’d connect that Atari 2600 adapter to the back of our television, and boom! Now not only was I watching stories on the TV, I was genuinely driving the action. If storytelling was a sport, VIDEO GAMES had come to play. And of course, we all play to win.
From Atari to the NES
Pitfall! was the first Atari 2600 video game I recall that felt truly cinematic. Looking back at the graphics limitations of the time, my kids would dispute that previous sentence. But I didn’t just believe it back then, I felt it. Man against nature, danger at every turn (venomous snakes, synchronized alligators, scorpions, raging campfires, even runaway logs for some reason). There was high-flying action, ridiculous riches for the taking, and by Pitfall II: Lost Caverns, a soundtrack that had no words but screamed adventure. Running from the end of one screen into the next, it felt both like turning the page of your favorite book and a director cutting to the next scene of your favorite movie.
And there were stakes! I vaguely remember taking a photograph of my high score and mailing it in, hoping to get back a Pitfall! reward patch that probably never showed up. I also read later that there was a promotion where you could actually play Pitfall! for a chance to win $5,000... in real gold. The 80s.
A few short years later in the Price household, the Atari gave way to a new console: the Nintendo Entertainment System. One of my favorite games (again not entirely age-appropriate) was Elevator Action. Basically, John Wick for kids. But in hindsight, probably not for kids. Not so much because of the jump-kicks and the knocking out of enemy agents with falling light fixtures. But pretty much because of all the close-range shooting, and the crushing of people with elevators (look it up in your spare time). In the 80s, games where you unloaded rapid-fire weapons and dispatched your enemies by committing premeditated elevator-ial (?) homicide were Rated Everyone.
Okay, some video games weren’t too heavy on plot. They basically required you to punch or kick (or shoot) your way out of a fight, the origin of which they didn’t even attempt to explain. Sometimes you got a fair one (Urban Champion). But sometimes you got jumped by a whole crew (Kung Fu). Probably as karma for the elevator stuff.
Mario Enters the Storytelling Pipeline
But just like I’d eventually learn there are songs for the club versus songs for the whole mind, body AND soul, I’d also come to distinguish there were some video games that felt like they took the responsibility of storytelling more seriously than the punchy/kicky ones. Enter (often through a clay pipe of some sort) Mario.
In games featuring Mario, I’d experience a franchise where I saw a hero break bad. First fighting to free someone from captivity (in Donkey Kong), only to become the villain himself after subjecting his adversary to the same captivity (in Donkey Kong Jr). I didn’t know enough to call it a character arc. But I learned the hero and the villain often want the same thing. Later, the same hero-turned-villain would find his way to redemption again, but only with the help of his confidante and family (in Mario Bros.). Most heroes, no matter how strong, need an ally. With each new Mario game, the forces of opposition grew stronger, and in turn the hero (Mario) had to find new external tools and internal powers with which to overcome.
By the time my nine-year-old self was discovering how to conquer the worlds of Super Mario Bros. in 1985, its side-scrolling gameplay introduced another important story concept. Once you accepted the challenge and advanced toward your goal (to the right of the screen), there was literally no going back (to the left). As soon as you pressed that Start button, you were no longer a reluctant hero. You were in the journey now. And each new step was a point of no return.
Super Mario Bros., The Legend of Zelda, Metroid, Castlevania, Mega Man, Ninja Gaiden, these games were my new stories. Some even introduced dialogue. And whether or not I’d stay at the beginning, progress toward the middle, or ultimately reach the end was in my hands. More than just improving hand-eye coordination, I was sharpening my understanding of story via this new symbiotic form of story-audience coordination, where I was both witness and author at the same time.
The Next-Generation of Gaming Stories
Not sure exactly when or why it happened—just life, I guess—but now it's 2024 and for better or worse, Mario is no longer who I rely upon to experience new stories. But just like I recently created a list of some of my favorite 80s movies to re-watch with my three kids, I know there’s something special about how almost 40 years after I first played Super Mario Bros., today my three kids are still able to experience the excitement of Mario games. And now with a whole new cast of characters that didn’t even exist when the franchise was the main attraction in my childhood living room.
Even when I have to force my youngest son to put the game down and take a break, I’m heartened when I see him so immersed in Mario’s story world, intently using the game controller to turn new pages, cut to new scenes, and write new chapters of his own. Because it’s not just Mario’s story, it’s my son’s story now too. He is the author and the witness, and that part is still fascinating to me.
8-Bit B
Inspired by Super Mario Bros. for the NES, I used pixels to design a videogame character in my own image. I call him “8-Bit B”, and he appears on Brandelabra’s website, media kit, social posts, all over the place. 8-Bit B represents something I always wished I could’ve seen as a kid in Indiana (a playable Black character in the Mario universe). But the main reason I created 8-Bit B is because he’s a reminder that I’ve been a storyteller since the 80s.
Like Mario, I know what it means to respond to the call for adventure, be the hero, to slip up and be an occasional villain, to rescue others, to need others’ help, to feel small, to feel big, to feel invincible, to suffer defeat, to face the forces of opposition, to press on beyond the point of no return, to break through barriers, and the most fun part: to LEAP (Did you just hear that springy sound? I did.) at the chance to plant your feet at the next level.
Beyond Mario Day
This Sunday, March 10, is Mario Day. It comes once a year, and each year it lasts just 24 hours. It’s a fun day to celebrate everything the games and the characters have meant in our lives, as well as to acknowledge Mario’s legacy.
And yet, the legacy of Mario—and the many game developers who fashioned these games to do more than just train our eyes and hands—is not just a legacy of gaming. It’s a legacy of storytelling.
True storytelling is not a 24-hour proposition. It’s an “on-fire” proposition. Because storytelling that travels on the wind of our emotions to reach our hearts, is a force that enters our minds under fire and remains there securely. For decades. Forever.
Next level indeed.
Get Into the Storytelling Game with Brandelabra!
At Brandelabra, the ssscorchin’ hot Branded Content & Creative Storytelling consultancy, we believe the same powerful storytelling values that have made the Mario brand captivate audiences across generations for five decades can be harnessed and expertly deployed for the success of virtually any consumer brand or entertainment property.
To make an audience stop, connect with a brand, and truly FEEL something, brands must go beyond ads, placements and mentions. Storytelling is the key. And fortunately, we’re masters at the storytelling game—creating standard-setting branded entertainment content that drives results. After an award-winning, 25-year career as a senior advertising executive at places like Disney, NBCUniversal and Kevin Hart’s Hartbeat, I launched Brandelabra to integrate brands into game-changing stories, set ablaze by uninhibited imagination and disruption, burning bright with real cultural experiences, forged to kindle the very core of our humanity and ignite the full spectrum of our emotions.
Ready to light your brand on fire? Level up today and contact Brandelabra to get it cracklin’.
WARNING: Brands on fire.
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