That Inexorable Draw of Tetris : Part One

Tetris, for me, is a way of life. It’s one of those yardsticks by which intellect, time and the value of one’s secret worth in the world are measured. Being a Tetris master is like being a ninja, except made of squares. Brightly colored squares. It’s like being one of those freak-brained guys who can solve the Rubik’s Cube in 14 seconds, yet still cannot manage to brush their hair in the morning. It’s a little sexy, it’s completely impractical, but it’s somehow deeply rewarding, even if you can’t quantify it.

It’s an intimate, fast-paced digital game. As you play, (alone, against a computer or against a human opponent), you lay your intellect bare. You say ‘These are my naked analytical skills – how do they compare to yours? Please ignore my various moles.’ And all for the love of fitting blocks into rows and not leaving any little gaps behind. Tetris brought on a wave of puzzle-solving based videogaming that hasn’t faded away since.

Tetris existed well before it arrived on the original Nintendo Entertainment System, having been created by Russian native Alexey Pazhitnov in 1985. In 1989, after countless legal battles between Nintendo and Atari for the rights to distribute Tetris : The Soviet Mind Game, Nintendo released the game for both the new Game Boy and the NES at around the same time, in a move that can only be described as ’stealing my soul forever’. Not long after the release of Tetris, the Soviet Union dissolved and the Cold War ended. There is no coincidence in this. The US lifted its ban on nesting dolls and those tall, furry hats, and all was right with the world.

Perhaps the exotic appearance was some of the allure of Tetris. Nevermind that Nintendo was directly a product of Japan – any of the games that were brought over were highly Americanized. Nintendo never even released the second volume of Super Mario Brothers over here in the states, deeming it ‘too difficult’ for us to handle. Russia, however, was forbidden, and Tetris game didn’t bother hiding its Russian roots, neither in music or the strangely domed buildings in the title scenes. Did turnips give the Russians super powers? Did they really eat a black bear every morning for breakfast? Could you honestly import their wives? And would Tetris hold the answer?

I got my Game Boy in the early 1990s. Being from a single-parent family, getting a video game system was a really big deal, given the expense of it, so I valued these rare and precious things immensely. Part of this process of appreciation was playing Tetris and Super Mario World until my thumbs fell off and to the exclusion of eating and sunlight, all for months on end. I could bring the Game Boy anywhere (despite the early Game Boys being as large as a forearm and running on four quickly-depleted AA batteries), but the NES version of Tetris had more vibrant music and fancy little scenes with folk dancers if you did a really good job. I still oft think that life would be nicer if a small troupe of Russian folk dancers appeared and did a little jig every time I did something positive.

This love of Tetris did not end there, but by 1990, America was so taken by this new experience of Tetris that Nintendo decided to capitalize on the puzzle gaming genre and released Dr. Mario, as ‘the cure for Tetris’, a game in which one must match colored pills with viruses to eliminate them. This caught on with almost as much fever as Tetris, and I quickly borrowed both Game Boy and NES versions from my neighborhood friends. The Game Trade was powerful in those days. A copy of Super Mario Brothers 3 could often be bartered for all three Mega Man games and The Adventures of Bayou Billy. Puzzle games were given to kids by oblivious aunts who followed the recommendations of oblivious toy store employees, but I was still pretty stuck on Tetris, even with the strange appeal of Low G Man and silent, monotonous vistas of Xenophobe.

My attic holds a copy of the original Tetris board game. The mechanics of the game relied upon players blindly reaching into a box of pieces and presumably NOT trying to feel or peek out the right piece to fit into the empty spaces on their board, which is something that you simply can’t trust a little sister to do. The pieces didn’t get played with so much as ‘whipped at high velocity across the room at eye level’. Still, many survive and have made a grudging peace accord with my retinas.

Nintendo followed up Tetris with other variations of Tetris, while other gaming companies created clones of the game with small changes in game mechanics, looking to capitalize on the popularity of puzzling, but things faded. Hatris was confusing and fairly unrewarding, and Tetris 2 tried to improve on an already perfect formula. Bomb blocks were added and game physics were tweaked. The short-lived and migraine-inducing Virtual Boy introduced Tetris 3D. Tetrisphere for Nintendo 64 was a valiant effort, but system after system, original Tetris always won out. Wordtris never seemed to give you enough vowels, and often had creepy Russian circus photographs as backdrops. And Tetris Worlds for the Game Boy Advance? Don’t even waste your time. It feels like playing with your favorite pet, except your favorite pet is suddenly made entirely of hot dogs. You want to love it, but all of your 5 senses are being assaulted with WRONG.

Still, I’ve made it a point to try my hand at as many of these variations as possible; even online, Flash-based versions, such as this one. As of this month, Tetris has found new life in the form of Tetris DS, a cart for the revolutionary Nintendo DS handheld system. Please stay tuned for part two of my Tetris obsession, when it’ll become even more clear why I don’t socialize that often.