[This post was written by my good pal, Peter Wan. More by him here.]

If you were born when I was, you are probably familiar with the Nintendo Entertainment System. It was the oldest of the family consisting of its younger brother, the Super Nintendo Entertainment System, and the toddler of the clan, the Nintendo 64. Its presence in my life is notable; my system traveled with me throughout the majority of my childhood. To be honest, I have the NES version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles running right now (raise your hand if you beat THAT game). Too many of us remember the glow from the flashing blue screen that told us when the cartridge didn’t register properly. We’d robotically remove it from the system, and as if by instinct, blow air on the hardware and plug it back in. In seconds, you’d be rewarded with sweet, sweet relief. Oh, it gets me going just thinking about it.

So what happened to cartridges, anyway? They seem ancient in retrospect. I admit that I had moved onto a PlayStation 2 when it came out, making the switch to DVDs. I have a stack of cases in my TV stand, a library of PS2 games that replaces my bin of NES games. However, I ooze with nostalgia every time I pull out my NES for a sweet session of Mario Bros. Needless to say, the graphics are a long way away from an Xbox 360 or PS3… but why does the NES still give me so much satisfaction? There has to be an explanation for why these cartridges make me happier than any disc could. Soul-searching reveals the following ideas:

1) They’re indestructible. Just throw a game against a wall to make sure. Place one on your carpet and see if it’s still there if a little brother accidentally walks over it. Sit on it, toss it in a box, use it as a coaster at your next party. It’s still ready to go. I can’t explain the frustration that I feel when a friend carelessly grabs a DVD with his hands. God help him if his fingers smear grease on its fragile underbelly. The fact that a game will accumulate scratches or chips and eventually become inoperable drives me crazy. I’ve had to replace games due to wear and tear. Ask me how many times I’ve replaced an NES game.

2) There is no loading. Loading… Loading… Loaded. Sure, I understand that we’ve been able to place an insane amount of data onto a single disc. I know, I love playing games and being blown away by the advances in graphics or the vastness of a virtual landscape. However, there’s something I’ve realized since I’ve re-discovered my NES. If I feel like playing some video games right NOW, it’s there for me. I pop in the game, press power, and it’s THERE. Oh, you just cleared a level? Don’t stare a loading screen, just move ON. I don’t want my gaming experience ruthlessly interrupted by having to wait for data to be loaded, and I shouldn’t be able to make a sandwich in the time it takes for my game to fire up. Super Mario Bros. 3 back in 1988 had NINETY levels, and not once did you have to wait for action to “load”. Chew on that one.

3) No need for cases. Sure, I could have kept my NES cartridges in their wonderful paper boxes; I love my Darkwing Duck artwork. However, when I don’t want to mess with them, I just pluck them out of the platform and stack them up in my drawer. It’s wonderful, it’s hassle-free. When playing my newer systems, it’s like a game of Operation. I scrub up like a surgeon, don my disposable latex gloves, scalpel, tweezers, etc. Taking painstaking effort to ensure its safe delivery (because may God help you if I see a fingerprint or scratch), I have to look for the correct corresponding case. All too often, I’ll stick the disc into the box of the new game I’ve decided to play. Want to hear a secret? Those boxes take up more space than my cartridges.

4) Cartridges are intimate. Before girls, my relationships were with my NES games. I’d spend hours with them, locked in my room. I’d blow them EVERY time before inserting them. And it’d be a special day whenever I’d get to tag team one of these things. You always remember your first love, and mine were cartridges. One last reminder, folks. Please , always remember to pull out.

I know that video games are a business, and I know we’re all excited to see if our programmers have made it so we can see the Gatorade stains on our football players’ jerseys in the next installment of Madden. I know that cartridges are heavier and more expensive to produce. But when will they find a better way to make a video game that is ready for me in seconds and will last me for the rest of my life? Until then, I’ll cross my fingers and knock off some piranha plants with 8-bit fireballs.