An analysis of title screens: Metroid, Mario, and... Spec Ops: The Line

Title screens are obsolete in today's gaming industry. They're a holdover from the days of arcades, when the screen had to show something even when no one was playing it. Today, games could easily cut straight to the main menu. But in reverence to their roots, virtually every modern video game still has the classic title screen, with the game logo in big letters and "PRESS START" beneath it, replacing the "INSERT COIN" of yore.

And it's kind of beautiful. Why do we need title screens in 2014? They serve no practical purpose. I guess they just look cool. They're gaming's equivalent of the title page at the beginning of a novel--unnecessary, but a time-honored tradition.

When you think of your favorite games, even ones you haven't played in years, you can likely conjure up the image of the title screen in your head. They usually play with iconic, mood-setting music in the background, and when they sit idle for a few seconds often go to "demo mode" or "attract mode," where they show video of gameplay or a cutscene introducing you to the storyline.

As games have progressed, they do new and wonderful things with their title screens. Let's take a gander at title screens over the years, beginning with my favorite series.

Metroid

The title screen for the original 1986 Metroid is most notable for its music. In an era when game soundtracks were all about upbeat, hummable melodies, Metroid was the first to go for dissonance. It sets a foreboding tone for the whole game, particularly interesting considering it was made by Nintendo, best known for family-friendly fun. If you wait long enough, though, the dissonant music evolves into a memorable tune. Metroid's title screen also gives you the only story information you ever get, aside from the game's instruction manual.

Super Metroid's title screen is a work of art. It begins with an intro. "1994" flashes across the screen, proudly displaying the year the game was made. Not many games do that. "NINTENDO"... "PRESENTS"... "METROID 3"... and then the main title screen with the huge SUPER METROID logo finally appears. The ominous music coalesces into a revised version of the creepy piano tune from the original Metroid title screen. How great is that! I enjoy that "METROID 3" appears before the title screen; Super Metroid is never referred to as "Metroid 3" apart from this little intro sequence. Something about it makes the intro more cinematic and epic to me.

And then there's the actual content of the title screen. We see what looks like a laboratory, with an infant Metroid encased in glass. It's the baby Metroid that Samus saved at the end of Metroid II! It's so tiny and harmless! But... there are dead bodies strewn across the lab floor. What happened here?! Like a great opening line in a novel, this title screen hooks you in to the story.

It gets even better. In the opening level of the game, you walk through the very room depicted in the title screen... but now the glass is shattered and the Metroid is nowhere to be seen. STORY SYNERGY!

Mario

Nintendo's sliiightly more popular franchise, Mario, also has an interesting history with title screens. From early on in the series, the title screens have presented the games as theatrical productions. Here's the opening of Super Mario Bros. 3:

This changes the dynamic of the entire franchise, implying that everything happening onscreen is actually a staged show for an audience. I guess that explains why Mario and Bowser are arch-nemises but then they go golfing and go-karting together the next day. The Paper Mario spinoff series would take the theater concept a step further and actually show the audience watching your gameplay.

When Nintendo finally took the leap to 3D with the Nintendo 64, it launched with the seminal Super Mario 64. The game didn't hesitate to introduce players to the third dimension immediately: the title screen consists of a giant three-dimensional Mario head that you could poke and prod to your heart's content, showcasing the new console's graphical capabilities.

This was mind-blowing in 1996.

Spec Ops: The Line

Fast forward to the twenty-first century. Modern games do all sorts of nifty things with their title screens. My favorite in recent memory is Yager Development's Spec Ops: The Line.

At first glance, Spec Ops is a generic dudebro military shooter like Call of Duty and Army of Two. But as I've written about here and people have talked about elsewhere, it's much, much more than that. The title screen captures it perfectly. On the surface it seems like a standard war-torn Middle Eastern background. But huh? The American flag is upside down! The title screen changes depending on how far into the story you are, and the music... is Jimi Hendrix's famous live performance of "The Star-Spangled Banner." In the late '60s it sparked huge controversy, seen as a twisted version of patriotism and a commentary on the Vietnam War. Spec Ops is in many ways a modern-day adaptation of the iconic Vietnam War film Apocalypse Now, so the song fits the game on multiple levels.

Do we need title screens in 2014? No. Do we want them? I couldn't live without their logo-filled goodness. What do you think is the role of the title screen in modern gaming? What title screens are particularly memorable to you?

Nintendo's Future, Re-opinioned

One of the things I kept coming back to in Jake’s and my argument about the future of videogames is that I just don’t see the future being too terribly different from the present. In other words, I don’t think that the technological singularity is going to happen as quickly as Jake is afraid it’s going to. I do think it will happen, but not soon.

In our “discussion,” I referenced the incomparable Mr. Stephen Fry and his BBC radio show “Fry’s English Delight,” specifically the episode about the future of the English language as compared to today. I brought up one particular point made by one of the guests on the show about how, obviously, it is impossible to predict the future (hell, the singularity could happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year), but you can make predictions based upon precedent, specifically, how things have happened in the past. In the show, Fry posited the question about whether in, say, 200 years, the English language would be, to contemporary speakers and readers, completely indecipherable or not. The answer was a definitive “no.”

What the f...?

And here’s why: the only thing we have to go on is history, and, looking back at the history of the English language, we can go back much farther than only 200 years, in fact. We can go all the way to Shakespeare or Chaucer and still understand their English, albeit with some difficulty, especially with archaic words and word spellings and meanings. If we can understand them, it’s likely that we will be able to understand our future language, albeit with difficulty. There’s more to it, but that’s the relevant idea. We should be able to understand and get along. And I think that is directly applicable to the future of video game consoles.

Again, it’s my opinion that the technological black hole will happen, I’d be shocked if it didn’t, but I don’t think it will be as quick as it’s feared. And the reason why is both the past, and people.

People don’t change much, all considered. Look at the older generation: how many of them play video games? Very few, I’d wager. Is it because they just don’t understand all these new-fangled gadgets, or is it because they don’t understand why kids these days can’t just go outside and play, or is it because they’d rather just read a book, or keep a garden, or any other number of excuses they give? Well, yes, exactly. It’s not because they think games are inherently stupid (well, they might, but they’re wrong), it’s because it’s not what they grew up doing. It’s not what they're used to.

"I've been googling 'Jenna' all day, but only
 one of them was my granddaughter."

And we’re all like that. I remember looking at the original Wii, thinking, “man, I just don’t want to be forced to wave my arms to play a game.” And, to a degree, I still feel that way. And, apparently, so does everyone else. Of course, the action games like Wii Sports or Wii Fit that make you flail like a 5 year old still exist, but the casual game that anybody can pick up and play is, more or less, a gimmick. Most gamers, the so-called hardcore crowd, are used to using old-school control schemes, and are thus more comfortable with that kind of setup. The Wii U is a response to that (even if a slightly cumbersome one), and the overall de-focus on wand-waving is evidence as well. Wand-waving is around, but it will never replace classic controls… Until the kids today grow up and become video game company leaders who only want to play games where flailing is a necessity.

But, I’d say, where this is really important, the whole “used-to” factor I mean, is with the Game Boy.

Portable gaming has come a long way. A long, long way. Portable gaming is everywhere from Apple and Android devices to popular Nintendo and Sony handhelds to little 3^rd party screens that play Pong and other older games, usually sidescrollers like Contra­ or 1942. Jake thinks – fears – that portable gaming will be taken over completely by the iDevices and that the Game Boy (and DS, and 3DS) as we know it will cease to exist. This is where we completely disagree.

It doesn't look 30.

Did you know that the Game Boy has been around nearly 30 years? Good god, that’s a long time for a gadget to live. Granted, they’re not all the same, we’re talking Game Boys, GB Colors, GB Advances, DSes, and now 3DSes, but the fact remains that, despite the upgrades, it’s the same device that serves the same purpose: portable video games. The demand for which has not only not decreased, but has remained so outstandingly popular that every kid everywhere ever wants or has at one point wanted one, especially in 2013 (supported by factual basis). Kids, known for being fickle bastards, have remained loyal to Nintendo for all these years, and Nintendo kids like Jake grew up and continue to be loyal even as adults. Regardless of how amazing and powerful new cell phones and tablets will continue to become (and what emulators they employ), they simply don’t replace holding a proper Game Boy and booting up Tetris or Pokémon in the car on a family trip or on the train going to work.

But here’s where it gets tricky: languages are living, breathing entities that change as people change; technology is dictated by the speed of progress, and isn’t dependent on rate of spread. There could very well be a new tech in the next few years that will entirely replace the need for a Game Boy in any sense (a perfect, and I mean perfect cell phone virtual control pad, for instance). But that’s impossible to predict. It might happen, it might not. You could argue cell phones and iPods already have replaced Game Boys, and there’s valid argument, but, as Jake argued and with which I agree, Nintendo’s catalog of games is not to be trifled with, and I don’t see Nintendo giving up its exclusive publishing rights to Mario, Pokémon, Metroid, Donkey Kong, Zelda, etc. If for some reason they ever decide to give up in the proper console war, they’ll be able to focus solely on building their own proprietary Game Boy hardware (and software) and still succeed.

But if they want to win this console war (which they don’t appear too troubled about, honestly), they’ve got to utilize the Virtual Console intelligently. Why is the Wii U cupboard so bare? Why did it take years and years for EarthBound to come to any VC, and then only to one VC? Why in the world are they treating each specific system’s VC as separate and individual? If Nintendo is smart, they’ll take a page out of the PSN manual and merge the VCs together, actually get their shit together in regard to back catalog game releases, and use every single resource at their disposal, namely the Gamecube, N64, and Dreamcast licenses they no doubt have access to. Jake’s mention of getting Shenmue on the VC? That came from me, yo. I would gladly pay for the ability to play Shenmue on a console I still currently own and use (my Dreamcast in my fluent language is across the sea), but I don’t appear to have anywhere to throw my money to make that happen. Why the fuck not, Nintendo?!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Oh.

Or Sony. Or Microsoft. I’m not pressed.

Non-Mario Mario: top 10 Mario spin-offs

Mario has some of the most spin-offs in gaming history. Some of the spin-offs are so good, they're up there with mainline Super Mario platforming games. This list was incredibly hard to rank. What do you think?

10. Mario Tennis - Camelot / Nintendo - Nintendo 64, 2000

Camelot is one of Nintendo's most trusted studios. In the early '90s they created the venerable Shining Force series for Sega, but since sparking the Mario sports craze with Mario Golf in 1999, they've been partners with Nintendo. Also created the much-loved Golden Sun RPG series for Nintendo's handhelds.

9. Mario vs. Donkey Kong - Nintendo Software Technology - Game Boy Advance, 2004

This may be more of a Donkey Kong spin-off than a Mario one, but Mario is the protagonist and headliner, so I'll let it slide. Based on the highly successful 1994 Donkey Kong Game Boy game, it's a puzzle-platformer through and through. Created by Nintendo Software Technology, Nintendo's Redmond, Washington-based studio focusing on games that appeal specifically to the North American market.

8. Mario Paint - Nintendo R&D1 / Intelligent Systems - Super Nintendo, 1992

One of the strangest games on this list, Mario Paint was part of a string of Mario edutainment games during the late '80s and early '90s, along with games like Mario Is Missing! and Mario Teaches Typing. But Mario Paint was the cream of the crop. It came with a mouse and mousepad and provided a basic drawing application for the Super Nintendo, but also had a slew of other "minigames." Most notable of these was the music editing program, which may be even more famous than the painting program.

Mario Storytelling as Theater

Mario creators Shigeru Miyamoto and Takashi Tezuka sat down with Game Informer this week to answer a few questions about the long-running Nintendo franchise. A couple of Miyamoto's answers caught my eye.

GAME INFORMER: Time and again, Bowser kidnaps Peach. Why do Mario and Peach still race go-karts and play tennis with him?

SHIGERU MIYAMOTO: If you're familiar with things like Popeye and some of the old comic characters, you would oftentimes see this cast of characters that takes on different roles depending on the comic or cartoon. They might be businessman in one [cartoon] or a pirate in another. Depending on the story that was being told, they would change roles. So, to a certain degree, I look at our characters in a similar way and feel that they can take on different roles in different games. It's more like they're one big family, or maybe a troupe of actors.

Clever of Miyamoto to specifically reference Popeye here. His seminal 1981 arcade game that ushered in a new era for the industry, Donkey Kong, began life as a Popeye game. When Nintendo couldn't acquire the license to use the characters, Popeye became Jumpman (later renamed Mario) and Bluto became Donkey Kong.

When you think about Miyamoto's "troupe of actors" comment, it's really been there in the franchise all along. And not just in the figurative sense that gives arch-rivals excuse to play golf and throw parties together. The Mario series is literally a theatrical production.

The first hint is death. Starting with Mario Bros. in 1983, Mario didn't actually die--instead, he simply fell off the stage. In an animation that has since become iconic, the Mario sprite actually came unglued from the environment of the game and fell outside the gameworld. Is this breaking the fourth wall? Perhaps it was a way to explain why one man could have multiple "lives": he wasn't actually dying. Like a long-running theatrical production, he was just doing another run-through of the same scene.

There have been blatant hints sprinkled throughout the series, getting less and less subtle with each subsequent title.

In Super Mario Bros. 2, Nintendo introduced a character selection screen that took place behind curtains:

With Super Mario Bros. 3, the entire title screen was a play:

In Paper Mario, the RPG interpretation of the Mario universe revolved around "battles" staged at a theater, complete with applauding audience members (fully realized here in the sequel, The Thousand-Year Door):

Not only are Mario, Luigi, and Bowser familiar to video game audiences, but most of the bit-role characters are as well. From Koopa Troopas to Shy Guys to Bullet Bills, the Mario franchise has built up a huge stable of otherwise inconsequential minions that fans know and love. No other series in gaming has accomplished this feat. Because of Miyamoto's "troupe of actors" approach in which characters recur in different roles, even casual gamers know what a Goomba is.

But are all Mario's roles created equal? There was another answer in the interview that perked my ears up:

GI: Mario has been a boxing referee, a doctor, an Olympian, and a carpenter. Are all these official careers in Mario lore? If he has a medical degree, why does he continue his plumbing business?

MIYAMOTO: There's really only one rule in terms of the things that Mario does. Generally, it's that he's more on the blue-collar side. He's hard-working, and certainly much more physical in nature. So, I think that a doctor is sort of an unexpected and perhaps unbelievable role for Mario. Perhaps the Dr. Mario you're thinking of was maybe, in some way, not necessarily legitimate.

I love this idea that Dr. Mario was a strange role even for the character's creator. This reminds me of films where you see actors cast against type in a role they don't quite fit--like Robin Williams in horror movies. The fact that Williams comes from a comedy background makes the horror that much more creepy. With Mario, the fact that he's normally a working-class guy means a role as a doctor doesn't quite ring true. Miyamoto himself gets the impression Dr. Mario isn't quite "legitimate." After all, all he seems to do is pop pills!

With the Mario franchise having an extensive canon of mostly self-contained stories, Miyamoto tells us there's no overarching plotline at all. In fact, perhaps the events of these games aren't happening at all--they're simply all part of stories told by a jolly troupe of performers. It's as if... Mario is a fictional character.

Is this breaking the fourth wall? Is Mario acknowledging he's in a game? This medium hasn't quite learned how to convey gripping plots, but designers like Miyamoto have forged the way for memorable characters. With the same ones in each game, the ensemble cast becomes familiar to us. It's like actors you see onstage or in film. You know Meryl Streep isn't really Julia Child or Margaret Thatcher, but you like the cut of her jib so you'll go see anything she's in anyway.

Mario is Meryl Streep.