July 3rd, 2024. Frisco, Texas is hot and humid, and the National Videogame Museum’s1 parking lot is packed, as expected.
Summer vacation. I assume I’ll see moms and dads reliving their childhood, while their small kids, who’ve only ever gamed on mobile phones and Switches, run around and glare at old technology. Then there’s me, a lone 38-year-old in a Katamari Damacy shirt. No wife (she’s at home in Arizona), no kids. I presume I won’t stick out too badly, but you never know.
I walk inside and the cool air is a glorious gift. Already I’m at ease. Even if the museum sucks, I’m surrounded by unnatural, lifegiving cold and that is enough.
The admission price is $12 per adult, which seems unbelievably reasonable in our current inflationary times. Maybe I’m just used to being surprised by absurd prices everywhere I go ($20 for a burger, ahahahahaha), but 12 bucks for entertainment that has the potential to last several hours seems like a win to me. With admission, you get a wristband that allows you to leave the museum and come back, and you also get 4 tokens for the on-site arcade, with the option to purchase more tokens if you wish.
At first glance, the museum is overwhelming. On my left is a giant Pong display, complete with enormous twiddle knobs. Right in front of me are Mario, Sonic, Mega Man, Donkey Kong and others in mascot statue form welcoming you into the museum. Behind the statues is a Console Timeline, with consoles from the Odyssey to the Playstation 4 hung on the wall. Enormous Super NES controllers allow you to scroll through a virtual console timeline on several monitors. And on my immediate right, a wall full of consoles, games, and people playing them, both young and old.
Where to begin?
THE HIGHLIGHTS
The Typing of the Dead display
After twenty-three years of waiting, I finally got to play Typing of the Dead on a Dreamcast with the official Dreamcast keyboard. It’s as hilarious and ridiculous as I hoped it would be. Typing out words and phrases to kill horrific undead creatures is a joy. Much more satisfying than light guns.
All the Rare Games, Consoles, and Computers.
The museum is full of cabinets displaying all sorts of gaming trinkets, oddities, and curios. Sega CD and Playstation dev kits, the Vectrex, incredibly rare and pricey NES games like Little Samson and Flintstones: Surprise at Dinosaur Peak complete in box, the Japan-only N64 DD with every game, Atari Jaguar buttons and patches, a Sega Saturn stand-up display that probably resided in a Target in 1996. The museum doesn’t have everything, but it has enough.
The Head-to-Head Game Wall
10 old consoles, monitors, and games set up and ready for people to play by themselves or with others. On the day I visited, I personally witnessed The Ninja for Master System, Super Mario World, Mario Kart 64, Halo, Sonic the Hedgehog 3, and TMNT II: The Arcade Game. If I’m not mistaken, I think they rotate these games out at least once a month, if not more often. Either way, a solid lineup of games for people to play.
The 70s and 80s-Themed Bedrooms
Depeche Mode and Madonna posters, tacky carpet, a Betamax player, and era-appropriate consoles. I witnessed a grandma playing Burgertime on the Intellivision like a champ in the 70s room while her grandson watched her. A beautiful sight.
Pixel Dreams Arcade
A small, wonderful arcade. Most of the cabinets are late 70s/early 80s – Pac-Man, Centipede, Donkey Kong, etc. – although there are a few 90s cabinets like the quintessential SNK Neo Geo MVS Cabinet (complete with Metal Slug and Samurai Shodown), Street Fighter II: Champion Edition, and Mortal Kombat II. They also had Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker, a three-player beat-em-up that’s very different from the Genesis and Master System versions. The arcade is appropriately dark, but not seedy, and the sounds of Journey and Foreigner ringing above players’ heads are most welcome.
ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT
Too Much Stuff/Empty Exhibits
Should there be less videogame memorabilia in a videogame museum? I’m not sure, but the consoles and computers and rare games in glass cases were largely ignored by nearly everyone.
Now, as an OG videogame lover from “the old days,” I loved the bulk of the exhibits. Whether it was the handheld nook that featured nearly every handheld gaming device ever created, or the Virtual Reality section that showcased VR throughout the decades (Battlezone!), each exhibit was wonderfully themed and well-executed.
Unfortunately, the bulk of the crowd didn’t seem to care. Kids and adults alike quickly walked through a lot of the exhibits and mostly remained in the areas where they could play games with their friends and families.
Heck, even the Pokémon exhibit - which featured every Pokémon game ever complete-in-box along with a ton of memorabilia, cards, and Pokémon Stadium ready to play on the N64 - was empty.
A RANDOM STORY
At one point, I sat down at the Head-to-Head wall and started playing Super Mario World. Donut Plains 1, the first stage in the second world, the first stage with the cape, a stage I’ve played dozens of times over the last 30 years, and I suck. Maybe the energy of the people around me threw off my game, but I couldn’t keep a power-up to save Mario’s life. Flying Koopas and football players who for some reason are throwing baseballs litter the screen, and then there’s a-me, Mario, acting like I’ve never saved the princess before. Inexcusable.
On my left, a small male child, around 8 or 9, asked, “Do you want to play this game?” I was unsure if he meant me or someone else. I looked up from my Mario bloodbath to see what game he’s playing. It was the Master System chestnut, The Ninja, a game I have played and generally dislike. No one was standing near him, so I decided to answer.
“You don’t want to play it?” I asked.
After I asked my question, he said nothing and continued playing the game. His ninja character was overwhelmed by enemy ninjas, then died quickly. “That game looks pretty hard to me,” I said.
“Well, that was a later level,” he proclaimed, defending his honor. Once he made his point, he ran off without a word to parts unknown.2
I wrestled with Super Mario World a bit more before I gave up, ashamed. Thankfully, no one was watching me, a grown man, fail with one of my childhood favorites.
I peered at some of the other games on the wall. Most of the games were being played by others, but then I saw her: Sonic the Hedgehog 3 sans Knuckles, alone, waiting for a friend. I took a seat and started playing Angel Island Zone.
“Caitlin!” A young girl, around 7 or 8, sat on my left. “I need help with this game!”
“I can’t help you, I’m playing my game.” I looked over at the girl calling for Caitlin. She was playing the original Halo and seemed to be having trouble getting past the intro sequence. I thought I could probably help if need be, but I held my tongue. She was asking for Caitlin’s help, not mine.
“Caitlin!” This time, Caitlin budged. She came over and looked at the screen. “What do I do?” the girl asked
“I don’t know,” Caitlin replied. Pause. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m scared to ask. Plus, he’s a stranger.” I presumed they were talking about me at this point, and I secretly applauded her answer. I am a stranger, and unfortunately, kids should be wary of strangers.
Caitlin sat back down, but the girl next to her kept whining, “Ugh, I don’t know what to do,” several more times.
Stranger or not, I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Do you need some help with the game?” I asked
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know where to go.” She handed me the controller, and I realized that I too didn’t know where to go. Friendly NPCs looked at me and blocked various doorways, probably wondering why Master Chief couldn’t seem to get to his destination.
I walked up some stairs and saw some enemies beyond a shattered window. “There’s enemies out there!” she says.
“Yeah, I think you have to go fight then. Do you want to try?” I handed her the Xbox controller. She went out the window, all guns blazing, but quickly got shot down by some grunts.
Caitlin came back a moment later. “Did you figure out where to go?”
“Yeah, he showed me. He’s really smart,” the unknown girl said.
To the girl’s credit, she tried facing the enemies couple more times, but the end result was always Master Chief’s death. Eventually, she and Caitlin ran off as well,
Back to Sonic 3. After failing spectacularly with Super Mario World, I completed Angel Island Zone with no hits and no lives lost. Not wanting to hog any one controller for too long, I decided to move on and left the Gaming Wall on a high note.
Beyond my own gaming exploits, I felt strangely honored by the two interactions with these children. I can play Super Mario World and Sonic 3 at home any time, but I can’t help a young girl get unstuck in Halo.
I’d love to come up with some profound reason on why these brief encounters struck me, but I’m not sure. Maybe I just want to have kids and share experiences with them. I don’t know. Whatever the reason, my heart was full. I felt like I did the right thing, even though I didn’t really do anything.
Kids don’t know how cool they are.
WHAT REALLY IMPRESSED ME
Families were everywhere. Kids were everywhere. More importantly, both the parents and the kids engaged with the games. Everyone seemed happy, like they actually wanted to be there. Everyone seemed to be getting along. No child was acting up or yelling. The vibe in the museum was excellent, much better than I expected.
I loved seeing families experience something and have fun together. Moms played with their sons on the Giant Pong screen and on the Virtua Fighter II Sega Saturn display. Dads taught their daughters about old computers, like the Apple II, in the 80s computer exhibit. A family played 3-player Mario Kart 64 together. Sensational.
Maybe the bulk of the National Videogame Museum’s exhibits don’t appeal to families, but as long as the families are connecting with one another, who cares? Healthy family time is an increasingly rare thing, much rarer than all the museum’s gaming paraphernalia.
If bringing mom and dad together with their kids for an afternoon away from the daily grind is all that the National Videogame Museum really accomplishes on this planet, then I’m glad it exists.
And hey, they have Typing of the Dead! Every one should type “MOTHER” on an old 90s keyboard to kill a zombie at least once!
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1
It’s "video game” to me, not “videogame", but maybe the museum knows something I don’t.
2
Remember when you were a kid and running was your main form of movement?
