1. I didn’t know what to do. I felt alone and
heartbroken. All I could truly think about was
whether I could go another day feeling like
I did.
These thoughts careened through my
mind as I sat alone in my room the night be-
fore my graduation from the Missouri School
of Journalism. This pain was something that
had plagued me since my teenage years.
Just about everything was bare in my
room, aside from two boxes of clothes, a
backpack, and my notebook of notes from
my Advanced Writing capstone class. With
so few items around me, a simple whisper
was able to be echoed, so I tried to keep
quiet as a few of my friends continued to
party downstairs. At this point, I was sobbing
silently in order not to draw attention outside
of my door. I was a wreck and I had enough
of being treated like I didn’t have anything
substantial to say or write. No, I wasn’t crying
my eyes out because my time at college was
finally coming to an end. I was crying be-
cause I was on the verge of doing something
unspeakable: ending my life.
This
wouldn’t
be the first
time I contem-
plated the act.
Several times in
high school it crossed
my mind, but I never had
the strength or mentality to
go through it all. This time, in
a low-rent college duplex room, I
felt I was going to go through it. But,
I didn’t. Why? Well, my explanation goes
deeper beyond just wanting to live, but rather
wanting to finally face my personal demons
and exorcise them for good.
Now, you might be asking yourself,
“What does a story about someone deal-
ing with suicidal tendencies have to deal
with Nintendo?” A lot of things actually, for
reasons that will take a bit to tell.
Like any good friend, a company such
as Nintendo was there for me in my darkest
moments. It was and forever will be the only
product that made
me forget about the
horrors of the world or
my personal troubles. For
a while, I’ve held off on tell-
ing this life story about the one
hobby I love so dearly. But with the
changing landscape of my life and
my personal demons trying to resurface
recently, I needed to spew something out
immediately.
This is how Nintendo shaped my life,
but also saved me from absolute destruc-
tion. Like any good story about dealing with
depression and loneliness, it’s best I start
from the beginning.
A love and bond of
Nintendo is born
Tracing back the exact moment that
I fell in love with Nintendo is like trying to
figure out when I began to be enamored with
writing. The memory is there, yet it’s slightly
By Harrison Milfeld
EX
TRA
LIFe
036 EDITORIAL EXtra LiFE

2. faded. But, if I were to choose, my love for the
company was most likely conceived the day
my older brother was forced by my parents
to hand over his NES controller to me to play
Super Mario Bros.
At age three, I didn’t know what to do.
My basic motor skills were accustomed to
throwing veggies off my plate during dinner
or grabbing the nearest stuffed animal to
snuggle with. A plastic controller with a few
face buttons felt like sorcery to me. Still, even
with this play time relinquished by my par-
ents, my older brother was able to guide me.
“Just push the T-shaped button right or left
to move and use the A button to jump and
hold the B button to dash,” said my brother.
“It’s easy. Just don’t run into a Goomba on
the first try.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about,
but I somehow made it through World 1-1
without a hint of frustration. I did however
find myself in trouble maneuvering through
later levels. I mean, once you encounter
hammer-throwing turtles for the first time,
you tend to freeze up and panic.
Early obstacles aside, I was hooked,
and I thank my brother for planting that love
inside my mind for it grow as more games
were released. Next was Zelda, Metroid,
Punch Out!!, Kirby, and non-Nintendo proper-
ties like Mega Man, Contra, and Castlevania.
I was beginning to see the power of what
video games could do, and so did my parents.
Nintendo became somewhat of an inani-
mate babysitter for me when my parents
couldn’t find one. It was here my concept of
imagination began to grow, even right before
I watched movies such as the Star Wars
Trilogy or Jurassic Park, which I owe a lot to
loving film. My imagination would continue
to grow, even as I focused on school work.
However, outside of the classroom, I
needed to be taught the know-how of Nin-
tendo. So the one guide my brother had for
me was Nintendo Power. That monthly mag-
azine granted me the knowledge I sought,
and I read it cover-to-cover each month
with a smile on my face. This was where I
got my news about Nintendo and when the
next great games would be released. The
days leading up to a new issue tested my
patience, but it made reading them all the
sweeter. With every issue, I was learning
more and more about the company and the
characters they created. I was able to catch
up with my older brother in terms of gaming
knowledge. I felt like an equal to him on any
game, but also I became the envy of my own
classmates who’d ask what I thought about
a certain game. It was overwhelming, but
satisfying.
Eventually, as each console generation
passed with our purchase of a Super Nin-
tendo and then the release of the Nintendo
64, my brother’s love for video games began
to fade away. He soon didn’t have that same
fire in his eyes to play a game of Mario Kart
or a round of GoldenEye with me. No longer
would we defend Nintendo console gam-
ing on the elementary playgrounds from
kids who swore their allegiance to SEGA
platforms. I vividly remember spouting on
and on about Nin-
tendo, while my
brother stood
by my side.
Even as my
brother stopped car-
ing about video games,
I knew deep down that I
wanted to continue playing
games on Nintendo consoles.
They were not only my personal
babysitter, but they were also my
guide to exploring my imagination
and developing my personality. Sure, my
brother may no longer be playing alongside
me for the ride, but I continued to thank him
(and my parents) for wisely putting that
NES controller in my hands all those
years ago.
Growing Pains
Much like Nintendo,
I too suffered from
fatigue and some
growing pains
as I got older.
That is to
say that I was
beginning to
see problems with
myself I was trying to
hide them from every-
body. You see, I considered
myself a shy individual when I
progressed into my early teens. I
had friends, but I never hung out with
them due to focusing on my studies
and finishing my homework. All I really
cared about was getting by and listening to
my parents about how to go about one’s life.
That’s not to say my parents were strict, it’s
just that I always listened and was rewarded
through my school work.
I was a dorky kid who really didn’t know
any better, but my parents believed I held
a lot of potential, and I made sure not to let

3. them down. However, I couldn’t let go of
video games. Video games became that
escape from my usual day-to-day activities.
At school, I worked hard, while at home I
played harder on a game console. I was more
entranced at what video games could do than
what the outside world provided. As my mind
grew with more knowledge from a school text
book year after year, it also gained more with
gaming.
By the time I reached junior high, I was
starting to grasp more and more the concepts
of how games worked and what made them
good or bad. Whether it was gameplay me-
chanics, visual style, textures, or flow, I was fi-
nally getting beyond using the age old litmus
test of critiquing games: Are the graphics
good or bad? Not only that, but I was reading
more gaming magazines to help decipher
my views of the industry as a whole. Game
Informer, Electronic Gaming Monthly, and
Edge were the magazines I’d read weekly
whether it was before or after class, at lunch,
or the bus ride home.
Considering how these magazines
covered every console maker, my appetite for
them grew, which led to me one Christmas
receiving my first non-Nintendo console ever:
a PlayStation 2. This was a year removed
when I got a Gamecube (cleverly hidden in a
tree outside my parent’s house on Christmas
morning), marking the first time a Nintendo
console was my own. Armed with two new
gaming machines, my eyes were finally open
to what I aptly called “cross-console rela-
tions,” and I enjoyed every bit of it. That is I
enjoyed it for the sake of my own sanity.
Video games were the catalyst for help-
ing ease the pain of loneliness, and Nintendo
was still a part of it. When the Gamecube was
about to launch in North America, I’d carry
along any gaming magazine to read up on it
in class. I was obsessed with reading up on
the industry. Friends would ask what they
should get for the upcoming
holiday: A PS2? An XBox? A
Gamecube? I didn’t know what to
say, and this wasn’t without a few
detractors claiming to me that Nintendo
was a quote-un-quote “kiddie com-
pany.”
While I would combat these
attacks, it soon became both
annoying and frustrating
to defend. This was
especially turbu-
lent when SEGA
soon exited as
a console
maker and
became
solely a
publisher.
Not only that,
but Microsoft
was entering the
console race and
Nintendo was coming off
a cycle where they weren’t
the top brand in the market.
The thought of Nintendo leaving
the console market frightened me.
I truly believed what made Nintendo
hardware greater was its software.
To ease my worries, I’d regularly talk
with GameStop or EB Games employees
when my mom would go shopping at our
local mall. Some of the employees were sur-
prised at how much I knew, and even asked if
I wanted a job. I was 14 at the time, and ready
to accept the offer until my mother intervened
to remind me that I didn’t even have a car to
drive. Aside from that, I learned more about
games from a few of those individuals. This
was my therapy of sorts, yet something else
loomed that was more daunting than one’s
favorite video game company going through
038 EDITORIAL EXtra LiFE

4. an odd transition: high school.
As I mentioned earlier, I never really
hung out with many people. I had friends, but
I never reached out to them on the week-
ends. I stayed in and just chilled with the
likes of Mario, Link, and Samus. Even with
my homework finished, I was too introverted
to go out. I would soon come out of my shell
late in my freshman year, but as the years
progressed, it became the same. No girl-
friend, sluggish performance in varsity soc-
cer, being teased constantly, and just being
out of the ordinary. Basically, I was just weird
and goofy. Yet even as I became slightly
more outgoing, I felt like I wasn’t getting
the best out of high school. For years, I was
lonely in both mind and spirit, and something
like Nintendo was what kept me company.
However, you could say I was out of
place, despite being friendly to anyone who
crossed my path. I was still a smart kid with
big ambitions to find their right career path.
I wanted it to be involved with video games,
yet testing or programming felt too compli-
cated. I soon found my true calling in writing
about video games.
This career goal was later accelerated
when my high school English teacher told
me that my essay writing could be useful in
college. It was here that journalism became
my emphasis. With hard work and a well-
made application letter, the Missouri School
of Journalism accepted me directly into their
program during my senior year. I was be-
yond ecstatic, yet still terrified at what lied
ahead. I made sure to continue to work
hard and still enjoy the passion of
playing video games and reading
and writing about them. What I
didn’t know was that every-
thing I kept hidden from
my friends and family
would soon get the
best of me and
almost derail
my life alto-
gether.
Nintendo is not just a
company, it’s family
As I blather on and on about why I felt
the way I did throughout high school, it’s
important to know that some people never
believed in me. Even weeks after my
birth. My own mother, whilst wiping
away tears, refused to believe from
doctors that my diagnosis of a
learning disorder would keep
me out of regular class-
rooms. She, along with
my father were the only
people who believed in
me. Long story short, with
the help of my mother, I was
able to be taught alongside other
kids my age and soon graduated
high school in the top 8 percent of a
220-plus class.
I made my parents proud, even though
I was known to stress them out with spastic
panic attacks or fits of rage that bottled in me
over petty high school drama. I was pathetic
at times, but even in the midst of chaos, I still
turned to Nintendo, which acted as another
part of my family. But unlike any Nintendo
console, I couldn’t take my parents to college
with me for guidance.
When I mention that Nintendo is al-
most family to me, I’m mostly referring to
the people involved with the company
and the characters they created. To
any hardcore fan, we know these
people as those responsible
for making Nintendo what
they are today: Hiroshi
Yamauchi, Shigeru
Miyamoto, Gunpei
Yokoi, Masahiro Sakurai,
Genyo Takeda, Eiji Aonu-
ma, Minoru Arakawa, Reggie
Fils-Aime, Howard Lincoln, Bill
Trinen, Howard Phillips, and Satoru
Iwata are all but the many names I
039EDITORIAL EXtra LiFE

5. knew from reading magazines or paying
attention to the credits of Nintendo titles. I
could recite these folks’ names from memory
more than I could care to remember who my
own state senators were.
I cared for each of those individuals
because of the effort they put into hardware
and software. They were basically some of
my best friends, and I never met any of them
personally. But their presence was made
through their dedication to great games and
products to ensure a fan like me was left
smiling and wanting to spread their love.
Yes, throughout all these paragraphs
you can tell I am obsessed with Nintendo, but
it goes way beyond what some may deem
unhealthy. It’s more what I could call as a
bond that helped shape me into a person
who would see the world through a different
lens. Even with my learning disorder being
labeled as a curse, I found ways for it to be
a blessing. That is, I approached things dif-
ferently. I deciphered a situation, yet made a
thoughtful conclusion. I garnered the good
grades in school, but found time to cool down
with a gaming session or two. But, good
grades in college were not enough for me. I
wanted to be truly happy and rid myself of
being unwanted. In my darkest of moments
in college, whether it was contemplating my
future or wondering if the new friends I made
were trustworthy, I felt alone. Instead, I im-
mersed myself with Nintendo titles.
When no one was around to help me,
a product like Nintendo was there to get me
through a terrible time. To some this sounds
like a plea for help, but it’s a declaration of
one’s love for a company that made their
childhood. Sure, I could have went to my fam-
ily or friends for help, but I continued to hold
in all of that pain of being a kid who always
came up short. I needed help, and I didn’t go
to the right people to mend with my mental
state. All I could do in the meantime was
play, and finish the next level.
Always remember those
you truly love
It was quite difficult to let go of myself.
Here I was on the floor of my room wailing
in agony and ready to end my life. At that
moment, I was giving up on the hard work
I achieved through a grueling four years of
journalism school. I was giving up on the
friends I held close. I was also giving up on
my family.
It was an embracing defeat at the hands
of those personal demons that continuously
told me I wasn’t good enough or that I didn’t
have a chance.
All throughout my life, potential was
what I possessed. Yes, I was smart enough to
get grades or seek out something, but I never
executed it well enough. Anytime I felt reject-
ed or put down, I would hurt myself mentally.
I’d tell myself that I was a failure. This alone
would get in the way of my passions such as
writing and even video games. However, I did
my best to make sure it didn’t, but it felt like it
was too late.
Then I remembered what defined
me as an individual growing up and
how I act accordingly to this day. It
wasn’t just only the family I love
with how they raised me or
the good and caring friends
I made along the way.
It was Nintendo. It
didn’t just raise me, it
helped me through my
darkest moments. When I
didn’t hang out with friends
on the weekends, I played
Nintendo to entertain myself and
be amazed. When my family wasn’t
there, Nintendo made it easier for me to
work harder and achieve one’s goals. They
made me fall in love with color, imagination,
creativity, and how you can create simple
ideas into a cornucopia of fun and joy.
I may be hard on myself and suffer from
being put down too many times from others,
but Nintendo was there for me. It was equally
valuable to my upbringing as it was to how
I live my life. Nintendo is just as important
as my family and friends, and the memories
I wanted to continue with them was what
made my life meaningful.
Suddenly, everything I’ve just described
was coming back to me that May night in
Missouri.
I thought hard about what life meant to
me and what memories I held dear as I was
about to hang myself that dreadful night.
With a makeshift noose in hand, I looked
down and saw my DS Lite near the remaining
belongings I hadn’t packed up. I sat down,
cried, and threw the noose on the other side
of the room. I was ashamed of myself and
what I had even thought of doing not only to
me but to my friends and family. I picked up
my DS Lite, started playing a few
games, and went to sleep.
All I could do now was
rest and dream. Dream of
good things to come, and
how family, friends,
and Nintendo would
be like on the
ride. It was
time for
040 EDITORIAL EXtra LiFE

6. a rebirth of my soul and to be free of these
demons once and for all.
Without Nintendo, I wouldn’t have lost
not just my personality, my character, my wit,
my kindness, and my heart, but my battle
with life’s challenges. Many challenges still
await me today, but I still thank a company
like Nintendo every time for showing me that
life doesn’t need to be dark and dreary all the
time. There’s light and there’s darkness, and
one must go through both to appreciate what
life give us. As cliché as it sounds, I wouldn’t
be the same (or alive) if it weren’t for their
presence.
A new lease on life.
It’s been five years since that night, and
knowing that I have a new feeling on life, I
always think about it. I remember just how
precious life can be and how the things you
love are always there for you on the journey.
As each day passes, I do my best to keep
those personal demons at bay. All I can do
is continue to play and enjoy what Nintendo
has to offer as they go through a tumultuous
period. In a sense, I’ve been doing the same
for the last few years.
Armed with a journalism degree, a
good heart, and a ton of ambition, I applied
to multiple job openings. In the meantime, I
developed a bigger role as a podcaster and
blogger for various video game sites. Some
of these I enjoyed, while others did not fit in
line with my thinking or writing style. But, for
those five years, these sites were the only
thing that resembled a writing career. I was
rejected from every job I applied to, and each
time I lost hope. The only thing that kept me
in check was anticipating new things Ninten-
do had to offer, even if I felt like the fanbase I
belong to was starting to dwindle.
When Nintendo is attacked for its
business philosophies or game develop-
ment decisions, I was usually there
to help defend them. Of course,
I’ve had my fair share of times
where I couldn’t defend them.
These were the decisions
where I was even furi-
ous at the company
and how they
had lost their
way. But, for
every time I scream or rant about them, I
still embodied passion and an undying love
for a video game maker that I hope never
disappears in my lifetime. When Satoru
Iwata passed away suddenly, I broke down
completely. At the time, I was unhappy with
a part-time job and now a guy who I haven’t
met but left a lasting impact on me and a
company was gone. It felt like I had lost a
best friend...one of which I regret never meet-
ing in person. Like my real life family and
friends, when tragedy struck Nintendo, I felt it
as much as losing a loved one.
All of these words may feel like I’m
trying to tell two different stories: one about
my struggle with finding sanity and hap-
piness, while the other details my love
for a video game company. In all
honesty, it’s a story that encapsu-
lates what it felt like growing
up when the world was
always at odds with myself.
I felt alone growing up and
now I’m in a period of transi-
tion where I continue to find some
success in today’s job market. I now
see the importance in life, but still ward
off those troubling thoughts that once
plagued my mind years ago. Whether it’s los-
ing a job, a loved one, or interest in the things
you enjoy, I needed to fight away the pain.
The pain may still linger in my mind to-
day, but I at least know that every time I hold
my Wii U GamePad or any other Nintendo
controller that I am somewhat at peace. No
matter how much I put myself down over the
course of five years, I knew I had support and
my family was there. Nintendo, like myself,
has been through a lot, and I want to live
longer to see what the future holds for both
of us. There will be peaks and valleys, but
I am not alone for the ride. At one mo-
ment in time I lost hope, now I was
reborn and looking toward the
future. Thank you, old friend.
Thanks for being there
when it mattered most
and when I felt alone.
You truly are some-
thing timeless.
041EDITORIAL EXtra LiFE