Video Games as Art: Analysis of Super Mario Bros. (1985)

Maybe it’s because I grew up with video games, but I don’t really understand this thinking that video games are not art. History is replete with examples that when new media are first created, people look at them with disdain, then reverence. This isn’t to say that every example of a medium instantly becomes art. Grocery lists scrawled on florescent Post-It Notes should not be compared to The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; a Walmart training video shouldn’t be compared to Back to the Future; and likewise, not every video game is a work of art.

Understandably it was hard to see video games as art back in the 1970s when we had very few competent examples of the medium (even a highly-regarded game like Pac-Man was shamelessly ported and remade dozens and dozens of times, and many of these ports diluted and degraded the vision of Pac-Man, like the disastrous Atari 2600 port). However, the video game medium now has thousands of examples of games, and it’s had enough history that it is now very easy for us to look back and identify which games are art and which are not.

What makes video games unique as an art form is their non-linearity:  the art is not static, like a painting, or linear, like a novel or movie. The game has to be played to be appreciated, and it’s in the playing that we experience the art.

Super Mario Bros.

The first game I ever played was Super Mario Bros. for the Nintendo Entertainment System. This game introduced millions to a fantasy world unlike any we’d ever seen before, a place inhabited by floating bricks, evil mushrooms, brainless turtles, and a mustachioed man who could jump many times his height with ease.

Super Mario Bros. World 1-1 Opening

The famous opening scene, featured in World 1-1, a stage many people have memorized. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been creamed by that first goomba.

At the end of the first stage, you enter this castle and go underground, experiencing a completely different landscape.

Super Mario Bros. World 1-1 Castle

The first castle, complete with an ambiguous peace sign / skull flag outside.

The third level gets even stranger, placing us high above the clouds on the tops of mushrooms. It wasn’t until the 3rd or 4th day playing with the NES that my brother and I finally reached this level. I remember a sense of vertigo making these perilous jumps, and falling over and over into that great blue abyss. It was on this level that my dad introduced me to the word “suicide” because of my tendency to fall down the hole (though for years I thought the word was “sewer side” and it made me think of Ninja Turtles).

Super Mario Bros. World 1-3

Standing on those floating girders were the trickiest. To me, the two coins looked like eyes, and the girder moving left to right reminded me of a man playing a harmonica.

Once on this level, my brother and I experienced incredible difficulty. We died over and over, and as everybody back then remembers, these games had no save points: we had to start all over again (hence the memorization of those first few levels). At this time, our dad actually played video games with us, the first and last time. One morning, a week after we bought the NES, we awoke to a great surprise. Our dad woke us up at 6:30 and promptly brought us into his bedroom and turned on the 13 inch TV. He had made it to the end of the third level after we went to bed, and before completing the level, paused the game, leaving the NES on all night long. My brother and I were shocked to see the following image:

Super Mario Bros. World 1-3 Big Castle

What that castle held within filled us with wonder, and dread.

It is at this point that Super Mario Bros. became, upon reflection years later, a work of art for me. And the reason why is that our repeated playing of the game, of failure after failure until finally success, imbued the game with personalized meaning. If this image of a giant castle had been printed on the back of the box, it probably wouldn’t have been that impressive once we reached it. But we did reach it after hours and hours of play, trial and error. Much (digital) blood had been spilled and lost falling into holes and crashing into goombas. The fact that our dad paused the system over night (we learned later it is a bad thing to leave the system running so long), and had to show us this castle first thing in the morning added to the importance of this scene.

My dad played level 1-4, and promptly died in the fire, the final touch that added enormity to the castle’s sinister style.

Super Mario Bros. World 1-4

This castle’s imagery, plus the music, made this level a little scary to me as a kid.

The assault on World 8

The game would continue to surprise me over the years. The game was difficult, and it wasn’t until I was in my teens, probably 6-8 years after we first got the game, that I was finally able to beat it. I’d never made it to World 8 before. The assault on Koopa’s final castle caused fear in my soul.

Super Mario Bros. World 8 Bullets

Bullets, bullets everywhere.

The most dreaded enemy I’d faced in the game at this point was the Hammer Bros. And this level doesn’t just have 1 or 2 of them, but 8! It wasn’t just the unpredictability of their hammers that scared me. It was the fact that I’d never made it to this world before, after trying dozens and dozens of times, and I was low on lives. I didn’t want to die and have to do this all over again. I had to complete this world on the first try.

Super Mario Bros. World 8 Hammer Bros.

In level 8-3, the castle walls appeared, the last background change in the game. I knew I was getting close to something.

Super Mario Bros. World 8-3 Castle Walls

And then, the last set of stairs. Climbing the stairs shouldn’t really be difficult. It’s not like the jumps were higher than before. There were just some blocks missing. All of that empty space, those blocks precariously floating in midair, somehow made them feel unsteady, unsafe, forbidden.

Super Mario Bros. World 8-3 Stairs

Finally, the last castle, a maze of sorts that includes a brief water section. Koopa was the same as before, jumping and throwing fireballs, but he never ceased to amaze me with his eight hammers thrown all at once. What power! Look ye upon my hammers, and tremble.

Super Mario Bros. World 8-4 Koopa Showdown

After you defeat Koopa one last time, the quest is over. Instead of giving you a moment to catch your breath, the game immediately throws you into a second, more difficult quest, one I’ve only played for a few minutes. I must rectify this oversight in the future.

Super Mario Bros. Ending

“Aren’t you a little short to be a princess?”
“Huh? Oh, the dress.”

Of course, art is subjective, but I’m probably not alone in finding certain video games moving, not only because of their imagery, sound, or story, but because of the play experience. Have you had an experience playing video games that moved you in an artistic way? Comment on this post and share your story!

Game on,


Setting Up My Odyssey2

In Summer 2013, I taught the inaugural session of The Cultural Impact of Video Games, a class I developed at the University of Florida. In this class, we examined how video games have developed over the last 50 years, as well as all the controversies about video games.

We began the class by talking about the origins of video games, spending ample time studying the earliest consoles. I posted something about the class on Facebook, and my friend’s dad sent me a message:

Would you like an original in the box Magnavox Oddessy II with a bunch of games?

Would I! Born in 1985, I missed the Odyssey² completely as it was discontinued in 1984. The Odyssey² competed against the better-known Atari 2600, which sold 30+ million units compared to the Odyssey²’s measly 2 million.

By the way, they pronounced it Odyssey “Two,” even though it’s written Odyssey “Squared.”

I tried to impress upon my students how revolutionary these earlier games were, even if they haven’t aged well. I thought the Odyssey² would be the perfect teaching tool, so I went about setting it up in my office.

Outdated plug-ins

Modern video game systems are plugged into TVs using a variety of cables, such as Component HD AV cables or standard AV cables (the three-pronged Red, Yellow, White one). I opened up the Odyssey² box and was surprised to find this:

Odyssey2 Switch

This switch is supposed to attach to an analog TV antenna, something my current digital television is not outfitted with. The audio/video was connected through an RCA cable, yet even that was outdated:

Odyssey2 RCA Outdated Cable

Notice that little notch at the end of the cable? Yeah, that makes it incompatible with modern hookups. I showed the guy at Radio Shack the cable and he says he’s never seen such a thing before. Such is 1982 technology!

Hacking the system

Luckily, I found this tutorial on how to hack/modernize the Odyssey²’s hookups. I’ve never hacked a gaming console before, so I was a little nervous but confident I could do it (even though the instructions look like they were created back in 1997).

The procedure was actually pretty simple.

Odyssey2 Hack Step 1

First, I removed the back cover. Notice all the empty space inside.

Odyssey2 Hack Step 2

Next, I unplugged the old RCA cord. Unlike modern consoles, the a/v cord could not be removed from outside the console: it was attached internally.

Odyssey2 Hack Step 3

Unfortunately, the modern RCA cord’s end was too fat to fit in the little space. So instead of having the cord come out the back of the console, I drilled a hole for it to exit the side.

Odyssey2 Hack Step 4

Finally, to connect the Odyssey to my television, as all of the other video inputs were in use, I used the coaxial cable. Connecting the RCA to the coaxial cable was simply a matter of using an RCA female to F female adaptor, purchased from

Testing the Odyssey²

Next came the big moment: firing it up! I remember fondly the days of playing with a half-broken NES. My brother and I often began our play sessions with a half-hour trial in getting the thing to work (procedure: blow on the cartridge, turn on machine, turn it off, remove cartridge, blow on it again, insert, turn on machine, hit reset, hit reset, try hitting reset a third time, turn off machine, repeat). I envisioned a similar thing happening with the Odyssey². Fortunately, about 75% of the games worked on the first try, and the others just took a little fiddling to get them to work. Success!

Odyssey2 Test 1

Odyssey2 Test 2

This game, Blockout, is similar to (a rip-off of) the arcade classic Breakout. The difference? Those little men walking around inside the rows will slowly rebuild the blocks if you aren’t fast enough in destroying them.

I spent the next 2 hours playing through my pile of games with my roommates. As these kids were all born in the 1990s, about 6-8 years after me, this technology is even farther removed for them than it is for me. I at least remember playing a 2600 a few times as a kid, so I knew what to expect. One of my roommates, an avid gamer himself, had a hard time imagining how anybody could’ve enjoyed these games. He remarked, “If I had been born back then, I don’t think I ever would’ve become a gamer.”

Even though my friend’s dad gave me tons of games, only about half of them were playable. Why is that? Well, my Odyssey² is one of the original models, which did not have detachable controllers. Yep, the controllers are hardwired into the system. Weird, huh? And unfortunately, the right controller doesn’t work.

And why is that unfortunate? Two reasons:

  1. Some games are only playable with two players, like racing games and sports games. They don’t have single player modes. I can still turn them on and start them up, but Player 2 sits there helplessly while Player 1 has all the fun.
  2. Some single player games require the right joystick, not the left, to play! This just blows my mind, but I guess it makes sense when you think about it. In the early days of video games, everything was being created for the first time: industry standards were a few years away. The Odyssey² was released at a time when Player 1 wasn’t standardized as the left controller. My theory is, the designers thought that most people are right-handed, so it only makes sense to use the right joystick for single player games.

Despite the unplayability of many of my games, I still had a blast with the system. It’s a great reminder how far video games have come in such a short period of time.

Now the real test: Students

After getting my fill of the Odyssey² at home, I brought it to school and set it up in my office.

Odyssey2 in Office

Yes, everything’s connected to a cute little 13″ CRT television, right next to my Super NES and Atari Flashback 3. I’ve already showed it off to some students and colleagues. Even though the games suck by today’s standards (let’s be honest, they haven’t aged well at all), everybody’s had a lot of fun so far.

If anybody has any memories of the Odyssey², share them below!

Game on,