The orange barrel of the zapper moved along a ricocheting path, hovering only inches from the TV screen. Panicked quacks echoed throughout the living room. Nine feathered companions had already fallen to my crosshairs, and this one was the last on my list. I pulled the trigger, and with a metallic clang and flash of the screen, the duck fell to the grassy field below. Perfect! It was a worthy score in the eyes of my canine companion. But more importantly, did I impress my uncle who had been watching from the kitchen? I turned to him expecting a resounding applause, or at the least, a congratulatory smile. Instead, all I got was a frown.
“You didn’t win. You cheated…”
I was 4 years old, and that’s the first memory I have of the stigma around cheating in games.
Easy difficulty. Cheat codes. Turbo controllers. Save states. These are ubiquitous terms in today’s gaming era, yet the mere mention elicits heckles of “git gud” and eyerolls from the hardcore elite. The self-righteous, tasked with keeping the weak-blooded n00bs from encroaching in their exclusive circles are admittedly the minority. And accessibility has come a long way since the 8-bit days, as well as the tolerance for gatekeeping waning heavily. But there’s no denying the faint shadow of disgrace that’s still associated with taking the “easy road” to completion.
Those “real gamers” will still criticize with an air of besmirchment. Yet a game’s experience is more than just a display of skill. It becomes a conversation on the playground, a fond memory from your childhood, and part of a dream that sparks your imagination. Cheating is, ironically, what allowed me to have those moments.
The NES, home to notoriously difficult titles like Castlevania, Battletoads, and Ghosts ‘n Goblins, was my first game console. Choose any letter of the alphabet, and you’ll no doubt find a near unwinnable game on the console. Thinking back, I’d love to have been able to point to a game and say “that’s my Mount Everest!” THAT is the game I’ll dedicate my youth to conquering. But the reality was, of the 11 NES games I owned as a kid, I couldn’t beat a single one. Not one.
Sunsoft’s Batman has an amazing soundtrack. “Streets of Desolation” has captured the hearts (and ears) of millions, and the rest of the OST is equally fantastic. Sadly, I wasn’t able to discover any songs beyond the Stage 3 sewers of Gotham.
Top Gun allowed me to pilot an F-14 just like Tom Cruise (okay, so I hadn’t seen the movie quite yet, but shooting MiGs out of the sky was fun). It wasn’t long before I’d run out of fuel… every time… and crash into the ocean.
And even Amagon, considered a “baby’s version” of Contra, was too much for me to handle. I never once got past the dark forest to see what was on the other side.
Adding salt to the wounds, stories in the schoolyard would allude to a new quest in Super Mario Bros. after trouncing Bowser. Or a creepy twist in the ending scene of Monster Party. Once, I tried to fit in by playing along when my friend, Jordan, said that the end of Batman had you fighting the entire rogue’s gallery of the Dark Knight’s villains. This, of course, not being true, made me the laughing stock of recess. Lots of frustrations. Lots of tears. They say failures build the staircase to success, but my legs were tired of climbing, and I just wanted to fit in with the cool kids.
That all changed in the Fall of 1993 when my father brought home a gift. A rad, blue backpack with the words “Game Genie™ CAMERICA” displayed across the pouch.
“Open it” he insisted.
My recollection may be fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure there was a radiant light and angelic hymns emanating from the bag. Inside was the answer to ALL of my problems. I held in my hand a white book, with a flaming genie on its cover.
“Unlock the power for your favorite video games! GAME GENIE”
I cracked it open, and began flipping through the pages. There were no pictures. The pages were crowded with walls of French and English text, and a bunch of fine print that was making my head spin. But taking a breath, I began to parse it out. There was a list of games. And below them, codes!
Invincibility
Moon Jump
SUPER Moon Jump
MEGA Moon Jump
Each code was accompanied by a string of jumbled letters, a description, and category icon. As I went down the list, I discovered my entire game collection was there!
As gaming-educated as I strived to be, even at the time, I couldn’t recall a single friend mentioning this contraption. Not a single commercial on TV. Not a single advertisement in my Scholastic book fair catalog. Nothing. There was only one explanation. Only one Game Genie existed in the world, and thanks to my dad, it was mine!
As clear as day, I remember the first game I chose was Batman. Grabbing the cart, I slotted it into the deck enhancer. It was a tight fit, required a good push, but it worked. And after turning on the NES, rather than Naoki Kodaka’s usual composition that I’d heard a thousand times, a keypad with 16 letters and 3 blank rows appeared.
I flipped open the Game Genie codebook and opened to the B’s. Bad Dudes. Bad Street Brawler. Balloon Fight. Aha, Batman! Nine codes were at my fingertips. There were codes to make it easier (infinite ammo), codes to make it harder (half ammo on pick-up), and codes to make things interesting (mega jump). There was also a code to finally see what sort of ending Jordan was hiding (infinite lives). Space-like sound effects followed each button press as I typed these magical sequences.
The game started, and exactly as the Genie promised, I was unstoppable. Within the hour, Joker was dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight. I had done it. I had finally beaten a game, seen its story from beginning to end, watched the credits roll, and got to share my experiences with friends in the schoolyard. Sure, I cheated, but the Game Genie opened the door to a whole new world of experiencing games.
Within days, I had piloted my final mission in Top Gun, fueled my nightmares with the ending of Monster Party, put an end to the cackles of Mr. X in Kung Fu, and got to experience the (rather underwhelming) new quest in Super Mario Bros.
But it didn’t stop there. The Game Genie came with me to the rental store where I discovered franchises like Mega Man, Ninja Gaiden, Double Dragon, and Contra. The best that Nintendo had to offer was at my fingertips, without the threat of inadequacy. It’s these early experiences that cemented gaming as my primary hobby for decades to come. It was because of the Game Genie that I was brave enough to set off on these adventures, that allowed me to take part in the playground conversations. And the knowledge and experience and bravery I gained has allowed me to grow into the gamer I am today.
Gaming is and will continue to be an enormous part of my identity. When given a choice, I will ALWAYS play first on Easy/Story mode if it doesn’t impact the content. And I have no qualms about save-stating my way through a tough run. But I also have some badges of my own. Games like Cuphead, Dark Souls, Celeste, Super Ghouls ‘n Ghosts were all beaten fair and square.
So for those that have an appetite for challenge, I tip my hat to you. I appreciate the patience, dedication, and skill that comes with mastering a game. But just remember that fun comes in a multitude of flavors, and the more accessible we can make gaming, the more people we can share our experiences with. You don’t need a (Game) Genie to grant that wish, but it doesn’t hurt!
Dean Guadagno is a lifelong collector of video games and gaming memorabilia, with a particular love for RPGs. Gaming literature has always been a defining passion of his; reading about the history, development and universes of all the worlds he grew up loving. To share this passion with other fellow gamers, he founded www.thevideogamelibrary.org, a resource wholly dedicated to the thousands of books written about video games.
