There will never be another game in my life like Mario Paint.

First of all, in the only instance of this ever happening, I can’t decide whether I should blame myself or Nintendo Power for my initial predicament in 1992. On one hand, there was the propaganda department of the almighty Nintendo correctly identifying that a gussied up Microsoft Paint with a random doodad controller accessory might not be the billion seller that is the usual anything with “Mario” in the title, and their decision to hype Mario Paint from here to the moon was, in retrospect, pretty inevitable. And, yes, as a young lad who was not even old enough to earn a paltry fee for lawn mowing, I eagerly devoured that marketing and demanded my parents purchase Mario Paint right now, I don’t care if it’s August, Dad, I need Mario Paint like the deserts of World 2 need the rain (or at least a less angry sun). Nintendo Power had worked its usual magic on Wee Goggle Bob, and it was kind of inevitable that I’d beg my parents for some sweet Mario Painting from Summer to Winter.

But why did I give a damn? Sure, Nintendo Power is great at riling up preteens on the promise of new Ninja Turtles, but it’s not like I fell for every campaign that showed up in my mailbox. I couldn’t give less of a crap about Ken Griffey Jr., and Nintendo Power claimed he was the second coming of Bo Derek (which, I am to understand, is a good thing?). And, as exciting as a new, two-button controller ever sounded, it wasn’t like I needed that mouse for Gradius or other games like how the Game Genie instantly became my most preferred peripheral. And the general concept of Mario Paint? It wasn’t like I was dumb enough to believe Mario’s presence was suddenly going to make me a better artist.

Oh, wait. Never mind. That’s exactly what I believed

I’m an engineer from birth. My grandfather built cars back when that meant something. My other grandfather literally invented food additives we use today (editor’s note: I feel I should note that this is not actually a lucrative field, and I am not the heir to the immense fennel fortune), and later became a science teacher. Both of my grandmothers ran entire businesses despite receiving what appears to have been the worst education available. And my parents… well… I guess my mother is pretty good at charades. Point being that my heritage seems to be that I come from a long line of people that “figure things out”. And I used this skill from a young age to be a born and bred computer geek. If it had some “computer-y” component, I was good at it, despite the obvious handicap of being a child (and, reminder, all children are dumb as rocks). So, while I was terrible at drawing (a skill I had always hoped to possess innately, as practice is for nerds), clearly Mario would catapult me to artistic stardom. And there’s an animation feature! I always wanted to make my own cartoons, so not only would my new artistic skills generate the next Mona Lisa, I could also create the next Bugs Bunny while I was at it. Mario Paint wasn’t just a videogame (Dad!), it was a ladder to the lofty heights of unbridled artistic expression.

And I can assure you that I reminded my parents of this certainty at every available moment. I’m not convinced there ever was or ever could be a gift that I bugged my parents about more. I remember going to Sears for a live demo of Mario Paint, receiving a free hat, and wearing said hat constantly while begging like a hungry dog. I remember August, and a vacation that consisted primarily of stating how this Disney World is pretty okay, but have you heard of this new Mario Paint? I remember dragging my Mom to garage sales in the Fall, and hoping against all odds and reason that a pre-owned copy of Mario Paint would have found its way into the neighborhood wares. The concept of a videogame-based Halloween “treat” was introduced to my parents. A similar plan may have been hatched for Thanksgiving. Through it all, I was unable to obtain a Mario Paint, so it was all up to Christmas. Surely, by the jolliest of holidays, I would finally have the game that had led to an excruciating, ostensibly infinite four month wait.

And then I got Mario Paint for Christmas. Hooray! Happy ending!

… What? You expected some sort of horrible twist? Come on, this is the official Goggle Bob Christmas Special for the year. You want bad vibes, wait until Wankery Week.

And here’s some further good vibes: Mario Paint might be the most important videogame I ever owned.

Let’s get this out of the way right now: Mario Paint did not make me an amazing artist. Despite the fact that I can find all the secret exits in Super Mario World, somehow welding Mario to the experience did not instantly make me an expert in the rewarding field of properly utilizing the spraypaint tool. Nor did it allow me to create the astounding and inevitable Goggle Bob: The Animated Series, as the animation feature in Mario Paint is comically limited (nine frames of animation can barely animate Mickey Mouse’s tiny shorts). And, frankly, while the music composer section of Mario Paint has always been some kind of low-key remarkable, the fact that it didn’t use proper musical notation always bothered my “concert band”-based brain. My oft-stated reason for needing Mario Paint -that it would improve my own artistic prospects beyond anything a mundane set of markers could ever achieve- was clearly an unmitigated catastrophe. Hell, I would have been better off with those (lame) colored pencils and (boring) paper, as at least you can keep paper. Mario Paint only had one dedicated save slot! Any given masterpiece must be erased if you came up with something new.

Except… that wasn’t completely true. Yes, Mario Paint had a paltry save battery for preserving Mario Paint projects, but it was outputting to a television. And, thanks to Nintendo Power and its Mario Paint strategy guide (how could I resist such a periodical?), I was informed that there was a way to configure your Super Nintendo so it output through a VCR. Thus, with the marvelous power of a VHS tape, I was able to record all of my creations! Hooray! Naturally, my dad and I had to learn how to actually configure this sort of cable setup in our actual home (and still leave everything working so we could tape Quantum Leap), so I picked up a crash course in how cabling works thanks to a desperate desire to record the movements of my modified mushroom sprites (and if you’re thinking “so you learned how to hook up a TV, big deal”, then I will remind you how many people in this country still can’t figure out how to make an HDMI cable produce Law & Order on a proper input channel). And, while Mario Paint never left my console for long, this new configuration allowed me to record other games, too. I was able to record the entirety of Final Fantasy 3! Chrono Trigger! I could review these amazing stories and experiences in a manner that didn’t involve having to deal with a monster encounter every seven steps! I could finally absorb my favorite scenes and moments at my own carefully controlled (with a rewind button) pace.

Yes, I’m saying that without Mario Paint, I never would have gained a greater appreciation for the minutia of particular videogames. Without Mario Paint in 1992, there would be no Gogglebob.com in 2019.

(And I’m also going to claim I invented the concept of a video Let’s Play when I discovered I could hook a microphone into the whole arrangement. But that’s neither here nor there.)

And I suppose Mario Paint helped this author through a few more post-1992 projects. Mario Paint may have been limited, but it was still centuries ahead of any animation or “digital” tools that were available through my public education. I wowed many a junior high teacher with “real” animations on VHS tapes for projects where the best rival students could offer was a dinky poster. Some other kid turned in a clay model of a hedgehog? Bitch, please, I got Sonic on my side, and I can marry Genesis gameplay to Super Nintendo-based fun facts. In retrospect, the lettering tools of Mario Paint allowed me to have Powerpoint presentations a solid decade before that program became the bane of every “working lunch” (It’s just a stupid meeting where we get pizza, Debra). And while we’re talking about future innovations, I never did gain that dexterity to actually freely “draw” something that isn’t just an indescribable blob of pixels, but the general skills of Mario Paint eventually did transfer to skills in Adobe Photoshop. There is a direct correlation between the little paint-fill man in Mario Paint, and the ability to properly magic select shapes in Photoshop, and I will hear no debate on this self-evident fact. And, even as a computer engineer, you would not believe how often I wind up having to use Photoshop (computers is websites, right?). So, yes, Mario Paint, a Christmas gift I received when I was barely even ten, is a straight line to how I earn my living a solid 25 years later.

It may not have resulted in exactly what I wanted, but, against all odds, Mario Paint is the most important Christmas gift I ever received.

So thanks for putting up with my nonsense, Mom and Dad.

And Merry Christmas, everybody. I hope all your gifts are Mario Paints.

FGC #466 Mario Paint

• System: Super Nintendo Entertainment System. There was actually a later version for the 64DD, but, unfortunately, that system is just an urban myth that originated in odd issues of Nintendo Power.
• Number of players: Technically one, but you can fill an entire movie theatre with people that will watch your recorded Mario Paint masterpieces.
• Isn’t there a game in here somewhere? Oh yeah, there’s Gnat Attack, a game supposedly meant to increase your mouse dexterity. However, all I learned from Gnat Attack is that sentient, disembodied hands scream in a singularly horrifying manner when stung by bees. The more you know!
• Just play the gig, man: The music of Mario Paint is permanently glued to my very soul. I hum the “loading” theme when I’m trying to remember something. And, sometimes, all I’m trying to remember is the sound a piggy makes.
• Favorite Tool: I am terrible at free-hand expression, but the teeny tiny pixels of the stamp creation area are exactly my speed. And I can add a set of sunglasses to a Super Mushroom really easily! I am killing it at this creativity thing.
• Tell us about the Mario Paint Nintendo Power strategy guide: Okay, yes, it does sound like the stupidest thing in the world. But! Back in the pre-internet days (or at least pre-56K modem days), this was about the only way to get Mario Paint… templates? Ideas? This was a big book of fun starting points for using easy-to-follow stamps to create your own Marginally Original Character Samus or Marginally Original Character Link. What I’m saying here is that the Mario Paint strategy guide was the secret genesis of every sprite comic, and, for that reason, we should burn every last copy.
• Hey, didn’t Homestar Runner get his start from his creators using Mario Paint? Shouldn’t you have been able to produce something equally timeless? No. Shut-up.
• Did you know? Using the “Load” command when first booting up a new, physical copy of Mario Paint will load a piece of art that actually appears on the back of the Mario Paint box. I’m not certain why anyone would ever think to do that, but, hey, it’s good to see that lil’ car.
• Would I play again: In a way, I never stopped playing Mario Paint. However, in a more accurate way… No. I love this game, and it made more of an impact on my life than I care to admit, but it’s not exactly accessible. I’ll just have to be happy with Undo Dog finally earning a supporting role in Mario Maker.

What’s next? It’s the end of the year, so it’s time for our annual retrospective. Who will win the coveted Goggle Bob Game of the Year award? It’s Kingdom Hearts. Wait, ^&%#, I just gave it away! Dammit! But, uh… there will be other awards? I guess? Uh, please look forward to it.