When I was about 8 years old, my brother and I got an original Nintendo with the Super Mario Bros/Duck Hunt Combo. My brother's game of choice was Super Mario Bros. with its story, characters, levels, tools/rewards (mushrooms, flowers, 1-ups, coins), secrets of the game, and infectious music. A natural choice, right? My choice was Duck Hunt where you've got a dog, some ducks, and a gun.
I could spend hours in front of the TV playing it--and I mean literally in front of the TV with the NES Zapper (I think that's the technical term for the non-so-politically-correct "gun") right up against the screen! (Perhaps I wasn't the most adept at hand-eye coordination as an 8 year-old, but if you're right up against the screen, it does the trick!)
Yeah. I did play it for hours on end. It's not like it had a compelling narrative. You're a hunter. Your dog runs into the grass to chase some ducks into the air. You shoot the ducks. If you shoot them, you move onto another level in which the same thing occurs with the ducks moving slightly faster. What exactly kept my restless eight year-old body in one place for so long?
Well, that quick story and question might give you a clue to why I 'm here at the Harvard Gradate School of Education taking a class that studies video games. There's something strange about video games. Why the heck did I do that? And why am I no the only one?
And why am I still thinking about that experience twenty years later?! There's bound to be some answers to this and I'm looking forward to figuring it all out!
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