It is evident, given the disgust I have expressed in the last few months, how I feel about the corporate world, specifically the technology field. Massive layoffs and the poor management of AI are the first things that come to my mind when I think about the sins of an industry that I am also a part of. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, check my About Page for a little more context.) But this is not the moment to take a side in that aforementioned struggle on the idealistic side of this padawan photographer/writer.

Today I’m going to talk about the video game industry, specifically Nintendo. As a nerd/geek with a very limited circle of friends and zero dancing/partying skills, I always found a refuge in video games. They were a nook where, whether in the pixels of the latest generation or on cathode-ray tube screens (which were highly restricted when I was young—a childhood craving for a home console that I can finally compensate for as an adult), my actions actually made a difference and failure didn’t bring real-world mockery (well, or so I thought). But before diving into this journey, I must ask for your patience. I want to completely AVOID turning this into a cringey, self-motivational LinkedIn post, where people treat opening the bathroom door and sitting on the toilet as a profound organizational introspection meant to inspire everyone chasing their dreams. I just can’t stand that type of content.

Fig 08. The characteristic shared by a gamer and a game developer: curiosity.

Nintendo and the console war they never asked for

Nintendo’s entertainment journey began with playing cards, toys and love hotels, but in the 1980s, they redefined themselves. Right after the first video game crash, the launch of the NES (Nintendo Entertainment System) resurrected an industry stalled by a flood of boring games. This stagnation wasn’t a failure of early technology, but of corporate greed prioritizing quantity over quality. The NES became a massive success, opening the door for competitors eager for a slice of this newly revived pie and triggering the infamous “console wars."

The tech-shouting match truly began with Sega’s aggressive, legendary 90s slogan, “Sega does what Nintendon’t,” setting the stage for a repeating cycle where companies practically yelled at consumers about how the latest hardware would blow their minds. From the iconic 16-bit battle between the SNES and Sega Genesis, to the sixth generation when Sony’s mythical PlayStation 2, alongside Microsoft’s challenging new Xbox, fought against the renewed Nintendo GameCube, the entire industry became trapped in a never-ending promise that “more pixels and more speed equals more fun” an exhausting “spec sheet arms race” discourse that simply kept looping.

Failures, Philosophy, and a Quirky Proposal

Of course, Nintendo hasn’t always been successful with its ideas. Take the catastrophic failure of their first VR attempt, the Virtual Boy—a prime example of investor greed pushing an organization to create a need that didn’t even exist. But keep this in mind: Nintendo also found massive success in portable gaming by using a very specific, brilliant philosophy: “Lateral Thinking with Withered Technology,” coined by Gunpei Yokoi (the creator of the Game Boy). This means using cheap, well-understood, mature technology in radical, deeply creative new ways rather than chasing expensive new specs.

This philosophy perfectly sets the stage for the seventh console generation. While Microsoft consolidated its strategic place with the Xbox 360 and online gaming, and Sony’s PS3 used Blu-ray to barf more megapixels and frame rates onto the screen, Nintendo came up with the Wii. That quirky console, with its motion tracking and completely innovative way to play, was an absolute blast. Soon, all of its competitors were trying to copy its style. Once again, Nintendo revolutionized the gaming industry on its own terms, not with a spec sheet, but with pure, fun experiences.

The success of the Nintendo Wii still echoes today. It’s a lesson the gaming industry often tries to forget, but one we will return to in the second and final part of this article: that essence always transcends form. But before we get there, we must first look at a darker chapter, a second lesson that almost took Nintendo out of the business entirely.