In honor of Satoru Iwata, here's my most recent contribution to #CIBSunday

I don't often contribute to the social-media phenomenon that is #CIBSunday, but I decided to make an exception today because I recently acquired a copy of Mother 2 for the Super Famicom and showcasing a few photos of its beautifully minimalist packaging here seemed like an appropriate thing to do given the recent passing of Satoru Iwata, who helped whip this classic RPG into shape back when he worked for HAL Laboratory.



As for what took me so long to add this brilliant game to my collection, well, a big part of the story is that my initial plan was to buy a complete-in-box copy of the North American release, which of course is known as EarthBound. In the end, though, setting aside $300 or more for such a purchase was a bit too much for me to swallow, so I put my dreams of owning some form of this classic RPG on the back burner and turned my attention to other titles that would be far easier to obtain.

I returned to this quest a month or so ago after I came across (while perusing eBay, naturally) the copy of Mother 2 that can be seen in the snapshots shared throughout this post. That was mainly due to the fact this particular copy was cheaper than most of the ones that make their way onto the auction site these days, but it also was due to me figuring I've learned enough Japanese by now to stumble my way through Shigesato Itoi's eclectic adventure in its native language.

Anyway, enough about that. The stars of this post are the lovely box, cartridge and instruction manual that make up the entire Mother 2 package. Personally, I'm not sure which element I love the most--the outer box, with its iconic logo, or the inside of the aforementioned manual, which includes some of the most wonderful clay models you're likely to come across in the gaming world.  

Mother 2's cart label (below) is pretty awesome, too, of course.

Sadly, it'll probably be a while before I stick this cartridge into an actual SNES or Super Famicom and give it a go. After all, I don't own either of those consoles at the moment--or at least I don't have one with me here in Seattle. An old SNES is sitting in a closet in my parents' house back in Madison, Wisconsin, but I won't be able to get my mitts on it until at least Christmas.



Sure, I could use this as an opportunity to, at long last, pitch in and pick up a Super Famicom Jr.--a system I've wanted for ages--before then, but the reality is I'll probably just wait until the holidays so I can spend that money on some other game-related treasure that catches my eye in the coming months.

What all of that said, what do you think of this game's packaging, or what do you think of the game itself? Share all of the lurid details in the comments section below, if you're the sort who's open to such things.

A few more words on Satoru Iwata's passing

I know. I should've returned this blog to its "regularly scheduled programing" by now. Actually, that was the plan--until I came across a couple of things today that prompted me to push that back yet again so I could ruminate once more on the passing of Nintendo's Satoru Iwata.

Actually, I think most people would be hard-pressed to describe the post I published yesterday about Iwata's untimely death (due in some way to the "bile duct growth" he first told the world about last year) as some sort of meditation.

In my defense, I was in shock. It wasn't the kind of horrific, gut-wrenching shock that hits you when someone truly close to you dies (or even nearly dies, as the case may be), but it was shock all the same.

So, I cobbled together a few sentences that let the world--or at least the minuscule segment of it that frequents this blog--that this seemingly kind and gentle business leader (I say "seemingly" because I obviously didn't know the man personally, so all I can go on is the persona he presented to the public) had died and also passed along a couple of his most noteworthy professional accomplishments.

What those sentences failed to convey were many of my own feelings on the matter. Of course, what are you supposed to say when someone you didn't really know passes away?

Yes, I respected him greatly, I thoroughly enjoyed watching him "host" many of the "Nintendo Direct" videos the company he led for the last decade-plus occasionally offered the Internet-enabled masses and poring over the many "Iwata Asks" interviews that allowed him to geek out with fellow game creators has become one of my most-cherished pastimes in recent years, but even then it feels strange to admit that I'm genuinely sad that he's no longer alive.

This morning, though, I came across the following farewell message that was penned by Shigesato Itoi, who worked side by side with Iwata to wrap up development of Mother 2 (EarthBound) in 1994, and its tenderness moved to such an extent that I couldn't help but share it here:

No matter the farewell, I think the most appropriate thing to say is “we”ll meet again.” We are friends so we”ll see each other again. There is nothing strange about saying it. Yeah. We’ll meet again. 

Even if you didn’t have the chance to put into words how sudden it was going to be, how far you’d be traveling, or how you went much earlier than expected, I know you went wearing your best. 

You always put yourself second to others no matter what, helping anyone who needed it whenever they needed it. You were that kind of friend. Although you may have been a little selfish for the first time ever by taking this journey. 

The truth is though that I still don’t believe any of it. I feel like I am going to receive a message from you inviting me out to eat at any moment. I wouldn’t mind if you were to ask me like always if I had some free time. Even still, I’d ask you as well. 

Still, “we’ll meet again.” It would be great to hear from you whenever and wherever; I’ll being calling to you too. I’ll call if I have something to discuss or I want to tell you a great new idea I’ve had. 

We’ll meet again.

Then again, you’re here with me now.

(Note: the text above was translated by kamedani.tumblr.com, while Itoi's original words can be read at 1101.com.)