Shigeru Miyamoto, in an interview with The Guardian’s Keza MacDonald:

When Miyamoto started at Nintendo, video games were still yet to be defined. Arcades and early home consoles were sketching out the earliest versions of what would become possible with virtual worlds. In 2023, most of the world plays video games, and the boundaries of what constitutes a game are once again becoming porous. The corporate world is encroaching on the universes of play that gamers have long inhabited, rebranding them as “the metaverse”. Everything from shopping and language learning to going for a run is being gamified through apps.

“Even grandpas like me know what games are now,” says Miyamoto. “Nowadays it’s very common to use PCs and smartphones, they’re used as pen and paper used to be. The border of video game is becoming less and less set in stone. People are having a broader understanding and acceptance of the term.”

Video games do not exist.

Today, I’m launching Y-Button: a podcast that asks why we care about video games.

Since my previous, short-lived video game podcast Ported went on hiatus in 2016, I’ve been ruminating on what would make a compelling video game podcast. (I’m not exactly sure why Scott Taylor and I stopped recording after only three episodes, but I’m sure we fall into some statistic.) Video games are space I care deeply about, but I’m not exactly sure why. I don’t play video games often, but the majority of media I consume — podcasts, news, documentaries — is video game related.

After seven years of asking myself why I care about video games, it dawned on me that maybe I should ask other people why they care about video games. (The realization hit me when I was listening to the Smartless episode with Rian Johnson and he and Will Arnett went on a tangent about games.)

Y-Button will feature interviews with journalists, enthusiasts, creators, and media personalities covering their origins with video games, why they care about the medium, and what excites them about the future. I’m starting with some friends and aquaintences, but the goal is to branch out to both well known industry insiders and celebrities you may not have known had a passion for video games. Dream guests include Kumail Nanjiani, Emily Gordon, AOC, Chrissy Teigen, Sarah Bond, Reggie Fils-Aimé, Rian Johnson, and Will Arnett to name a few. If you know any of these folks, hook it up! (The late Lance Reddick was also a huge source of inspiration and would have been a great get. RIP.)

Publishing this podcast is a source of immense excitement and anxiety for me. Worst case, I’m very proud of the name and cover art. I spent two nights learning Blender to create the 3D rendered button — my first experience with 3D modeling. I also wrote the theme song featuring my friend Scott Wilkie on a Minimoog with the direction, “make it sound like Steve Winwood”.

I hope you listen, provide constructive feedback, and maybe even suggest or connect me with a guest you’d like to hear on the podcast. It’s available wherever you find your podcasts including Apple Podcasts and Spotify. You can find the RSS feed here.

Enjoy the show.

An excerpt from the book “Range: Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World” by David Epstein:

From a technological standpoint, even in 1989, the Game Boy was laughable. Yokoi’s team cut every corner. The Game Boy’s processor had been cutting edge in the 1970s. By the mid-1980s, home consoles were in fierce competition over graphics quality. The Game Boy was an eyesore. It featured a total of four grayscale shades, displayed on a tiny screen that was tinted a greenish hue somewhere between mucus and old alfalfa. Graphics in fast lateral motion smeared across the screen. To top it off, the Game Boy had to compete with handheld consoles from Sega and Atari that were technologically superior in every way. And it destroyed them.

What its withered technology lacked, the Game Boy made up in user experience. It was cheap. It could fit in a large pocket. It was all but indestructible. If a drop cracked the screen—and it had to be a horrific drop—it kept on ticking. If it were left in a backpack that went in the washing machine, once it dried out it was ready to roll a few days later. Unlike its power-guzzling color competitors, it played for days (or weeks) on AA batteries. Old hardware was extremely familiar to developers inside and outside Nintendo, and with their creativity and speed unencumbered by learning new technology, they pumped out games as if they were early ancestors of iPhone app designers—Tetris, Super Mario Land, The Final Fantasy Legend, and a slew of sports games released in the first year were all smash hits. With simple technology, Yokoi’s team sidestepped the hardware arms race and drew the game programming community onto its team.

The Game Boy became the Sony Walkman of video gaming, forgoing top-of-the-line tech for portability and affordability. It sold 118.7 million units, far and away the bestselling console of the twentieth century. Not bad for the little company that was allowed to sell hanafuda.

Even though he was revered by then, Yokoi had to push and shove internally for his “lateral thinking with withered technology” concept to be approved for the Game Boy. “It was difficult to get Nintendo to understand,” he said later. Yokoi was convinced, though, that if users were drawn into the games, technological power would be an afterthought. “If you draw two circles on a blackboard, and say, ‘That’s a snowman,’ everyone who sees it will sense the white color of the snow,” he argued.

When the Game Boy was released, Yokoi’s colleague came to him “with a grim expression on his face,” Yokoi recalled, and reported that a competitor handheld had hit the market. Yokoi asked him if it had a color screen. The man said that it did. “Then we’re fine,” Yokoi replied.

Maddy Myers, Polygon:

In 2023, it may sound absurd for Blockbuster to stage a comeback. But it should, and here’s why: Video game rentals. Although movies, TV, music, and even books have made the leap to digital subscription platforms with (relative) ease, video games haven’t been quite so lucky. Sure, Xbox Game Pass is great, and it’s only a matter of time before internet access becomes widespread enough that cloud gaming becomes a viable business concept (pour one out for Google Stadia). But we also live in a world where games suddenly become unavailable or delisted from online stores, like the impending Nintendo eShop situation.

I can’t see myself leaving the house to rent a video game, but I love the idea. I enjoy playing bits of games to get a feel for the mechanics, innovation, and splendor, largely because I want to stay in tune with the zeitgeist and the video game podcasts I listen to.

While digital video game demos remain a thing, they are hit or miss in terms of showcasing the actual game. Some demos provide an accurate taste for the game, even allowing players who purchase the game the opportunity to pick up where the demo leaves off (Dragon Quest XI), while others are poor examples of the true heart of a game (Kirby and the Forgotten Land).

The notion (and memory) of renting a game for a limited time to play as long as my heart desires, and progress as far as my time can muster, feels like an unappreciated lost love.

Jack Billings (Billy Crudup), Hello Tomorrow! (Apple TV+):

Explain this to me… we live with miracles at our finger tips. We fly to the stars. We split atoms. We’ve got robots taking out the trash. Why are we all still waiting to live our dreams?

Well, there’s a technical term for that in my business: That’s call a “shit deal”. Our best days: they’re piling up in the rearview. And that hope that keeps us going: it’s wearing down to the bone. Some of us are losing people we love. And just like that “any day now”, that turns into “too late”. Gone forever. Because every day that we’re not living for Now — Right Now — we’re waiting around dying. One empty promise at a time.

I’m not waiting around anymore, goddammit. Neither should you. The time is Now. And regret’s a killer worse than death.

Great writing that shook me out of a funk. Put it next to ”I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this anymore!”