Given all of the things I could be doing out of compulsion, I don’t think my game collection is really all that big. Call it an obsession if you must. I keep all my games, but I never buy any without intending to (eventually) play them, if that helps to make it sound reasonable in some regard.
I’ve always loved portable systems, and the DS is by far my favorite. So, when I woke up one day and realized I had no shame in the game collection I was amassing, I decided that the DS would be my poster child for software hoarding. It is for this reason that any trip to almost any game store usually concludes with me grabbing a game or two for the system.
The problem, at least according to a number of my friends, is that my “collection” is not so much a library of games as it is sad proof that Nintendo let game developers put whatever they wanted on the system.
Yes, I make it a point to find the games that anyone else would not even want lost at the bottom of their storage bins, let alone displayed on a shelf with pride. I would say I can’t help it, but that would imply I have any shame about it at all.
I often take trips to my local game stores to see what they get in that’s new and exciting. Though, nothing I want is ever admittedly “new” or “exciting.” I’ll find their selection of DS games and begin the task of sifting through all of the classic fan-favorites and system staples to find my trashy treasure.
Take for example when I found my copy of Future U: The Prep Game for SAT. It’s a game that is exactly as it sounds: It helps people practice for the SATs, just like any other similar and legitimate program. I found it when I was twenty-six years old. Did I need this game? Not at all. Did one of my friends, who was with me in the store at the time, look at me with bewilderment as I walked over to his spot near the PS2 games while I had the game in my hands and a look of accomplishment on my face? You know it.
That game was odd, but truly weird games aren’t measured in SAT scores. They’re measured in the willingness to bear the confused and disturbed looks that come from everyone else in a shop, even the people running the place. At a different store than the SAT one, I found a platformer I had never seen before. The game, Princess Natasha, caught my eye — like how a car driving down the wrong side of traffic will catch your eye. I picked up the game, looked at the back of the box, and could tell that, despite the “Disney princess meets Kim Possible” vibes it gave off, the game had some potential to be a stand-out among my oddities.
The only thing between me and this acquisition was my willingness to spend three dollars and my ability to withstand the reception I would receive from the store’s owner as I brought the game to the register. I imagined how it would go, and on that day, my imagination was clairvoyant.
I approached the counter with the same caution and patience an animal tamer has as they approach a wary lion. The store’s owner didn’t notice, or, at least I hope he wasn’t aware of my behavior. Regardless, I made it to the counter, said hello like normal, and handed him the game.
He looked at the game. Then at me. Then back at the game. Then back at me. His face, the face someone might give you if they suddenly realized your mouth had food stains all over it, told me that he knew that I knew what he was going to think about my purchase. He knew what I collected, he knew what I was about, so all he did was shrug and ring me out. “Have fun, ya freak,” he said as he handed me the bag. He was only messing with me, but even if he was being serious, I know I didn’t really have a defense for myself.
There’s one more story I want to share, and this one is a good example of just how much of a reputation — a reputation I still don’t know if I’m proud of or not — my collection was creating for me. At another one of my regular stops, a store that was a part of a chain (no, not GameStop), I have felt and continue to feel the weight of expectations. One of the girls who works there, upon seeing me enter the store that hides behind my local mall, knows what I come for and begins to anticipate what I will bring to the counter.
One time while there, I began to believe I was shopping there too often, because the offerings were becoming slimmer. Yes, I could also buy a licensed game and call it a day, but I don’t let those into my collection except under special circumstances. I prefer to be diligent and wait for something unique to come to me. Patience is an approach that continues to surprise me with its effectiveness. This day was an example of this, because much of my desire for DS games stems from nostalgia and a hope to own the back-in-the-day games that I had no actual interest in owning back in the day.
Filing through a stack of games that were piled one in front of the other, I found an example of crud that, to me, sparkled with potential. Sprung, a weird and particularly not good dating-sim game, stared out at me from the pile’s halfway point. What I saw when I first found this game was not the cover. I instead instantly remembered and pictured the cover as I had once seen it in a Nintendo Power article.
In the months leading up to the DS’s launch and the next couple of months after, Nintendo made push after push to explain all of the interesting games and gameplay varieties that would now be available thanks to their new “third pillar” of gaming devices. Some of the games were obvious to promote, such as Super Mario 64 DS. But, with the DS being new hardware, Nintendo needed some games that would prove more than the standard fair could be enjoyed on the system. Sprung was one of these. It was also meant for older audiences, as understood by the scandalous “T” for Teen rating for a game played on a Nintendo handheld.
The game did and has always looked awful. The reviews for it were not kind, and it disappeared from store shelves as quickly and as unceremoniously as a leaf taken away by a fall breeze. I had to have it.
When I took it up to the counter, the clerk met me with a slightly suppressed smile. “What did you find this time?” she asked. I produced my latest discovery, and she, in turn, produced raised eyebrows and a suppressed smirk. She then looked at me, and I looked back with an expression that must have conveyed a mix of satisfaction and obligation I felt because she merely chuckled and rang me out.
This past year has not been my most fruitful for the hunt. I’ve been gradually running out of space to keep the games I find, while other needs, like room for games I actually intend to play this decade, have finally earned their right to priority. But I know I’ll never truly stop fulfilling my need to buy these things I don’t need. There will always be room in my heart for the DS and its library, so I’ll just have to find a way to match that with room on my shelves.
