Near the end, mortality weighed heavy on the mind of Nintendo’s youngest-ever president. He ached. He was tired. But even as his own body failed, he was preoccupied with the health of his company — one that had shape-shifted through the ups and downs of an entire century — and the well-being of its fans.
When he died, Satoru Iwata was thinking of you.
Iwata began his career at 19, as a part-time programmer at HAL Laboratory in Tokyo. …
Every night for the past several weeks, a cheerful, plump plumber arrives at my apartment and brutalizes me. Sometimes, his overalls are blue, other times red, but his cruel smile is constant. His mustache never changes. Something has gone bad with this version of Nintendo’s enduring, pipe-diving mascot Mario. He’s been modified, his game hacked into a nightmarishly difficult torture chamber that I have foolishly dedicated myself to successfully navigating.
I have decided to learn how to play “kaizo” Mario.
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