World Record Folly

Last fall I saw a great little documentary called "The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters" which chronicles the epic showdown between the world's two greatest Donkey Kong players as they battle to set the world record for highest score. The film prominently features Twin Galaxies, the official governing body for judging and recording world record attempts for video games (when the Guiness Book of World Records wants to include video game scores, they go to Twin Galaxies as their source). Ultimately the film is about the futility and vanity of pursuing world records because someone will always come along and beat you, your great accomplishment will be forgotten, and the brief satisfaction that comes with attaining a world record is probably not worth the sacrifices you made to achieve it.

Obviously I missed the point of the movie, because when I left the theater all I could think about was how cool it would be to have a world record in something, if only for a little while. So I went to the Twin Galaxies site to see if there were any world records that I could plausibly set. Most of the records are completely untouchable, but I noticed that no one had ever submitted a world record attempt for the fastest full completion (no warping) of Super Mario Bros. 2, a game which has always been a specialty of mine.

So I hooked Conrad up to the VCR (see this previous post for info on Conrad) and spent a couple of months practicing the game and timing myself, pushing myself to keep cutting my time. I realized that since there was no record to beat, I could have just sent in any tape of me completing the game, regardless of the speed and that would have been god enough. But If I'm gonna set a world record, I want to send in my very best, dangit! My initial attempts clocked in at about an hour, but I soon cut that down to about 38 minutes. I decided that I would send in my tape as soon as I broke 35 minutes. After a few more days I had done it: 34 minutes and 17 seconds. It was a thing of beauty to watch - every jump perfectly timed, nary a wasted motion, and I only died once - on the very last level.

Two weeks ago I carefully packed my precious tape in a bubble-wrap insulated envelope and mailed my tape off to Manitoba to be reviewed by the "referee" (that's the official title of a video game record judge). I finally heard back from him today when he sent me the following email:

Brian,
I am writing to you with regretfully bad news. I
recieved your tape in the mail on Monday and due to
the current queue, I've just got to it at the moment
and was going to watch it before going to bed.
Unfortunately, when I took the tape out of the
jiffybag, the front panel of the tape fell right out
into my lap. As a result of this, nothing is there
protecting the tape and I am unable to view the tape
in its condition.
I can't say I've had this happen before.. so I am
at a loss for words... aside from wishing to offer you
an apology in accord to this, as there's no way I can
verify your tape in its condition or repair it either.
[The sides were too brittle to try and put things back
on.]
I'm sorry I have to be the bearer of such news as
I was really pumped about verifying this run. :(

Just like the videotape, my dreams were crushed. Maybe this will teach me the lesson I should have learned from the documentary - that pursuing a world record is a grand folly.

Yeah right! As soon as finals are over, I'll be right back at it. Plus, the Dr. Mario points record seems within my grasp as well. But this time I'll be smart and submit my scores digitally.