Earth Bound

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  1. Earthbound Trading Company | Broadway at the Beach
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Control codes are interpreted inline and delimited by square brackets []. Unknown or irrelevant control codes are dropped automatically. This is meant to provide an easy mechanism to import text from the EarthBound Text Dump very easily.

Earthbound Trading Company | Broadway at the Beach

EarthBound Text written by Bill Eager. Uses gif.

Source code is available on GitHub, contributions welcome. Save Upload to Imgur. Plain Mint Strawberry Banana Peanut. Input Text This is the input text, where you put in what you want to have show up in an EarthBound text box. Text Speed This changes the text speed. White on black. The Ape Inc. Halken's logo reminds me of something, so I trawl the internet. I search for Terminator 2: Judgement Day, a movie I watched roughly six thousand times in my childhood, trying to find the name and fictive logo of the company that manufactures Skynet, another cybernetic machine that tries to eradicate its master.

The Cyberdyne Systems logo comes up and it's too pyramidal, so I keep looking. I google 'Warner Bros. What's even deeper about this dig into EarthBound's opening credit iconography is that both companies explicitly reference , the movie that blew my twelve-year-old mind more than any other filmic experience, injecting philosophical questions into my kid-sized head that I didn't even know could exist. I grew up in Potosi, Texas. In , when I was three, souls lived there, its windy flat shelf typically oil-laden. Over the next eight years, Potosi's population grew by people.

I grew up among animals. Lots of them. We called it a ranch, and it was functional: my mother rehabilitated wounded animals, no matter the species, and bred and showed miniature horses.

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At one point we hosted Tater Tot, the world's smallest stallion for about a year. My mom drafted an acronym in his name, of course: Talk of the Town.

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Trying to recover some internet-extant record of Tater Tot's miniature prowess comes up blank, but then leads me to another miniature horse named Tater Tot, covered by National Geographic as he visited hospitals and schools in Salmon, Idaho. I'm realizing that more and more of my past doesn't empirically exist if it's not salvageable with a Google search. The point I'm trying to muster is that I can't remember much of my sixth year alive. I mean, I can feel impressionist activities, but they lack climactic punctuation, looped and redrawn a million times by the attempts to recall and sharpen the memory in the first place.

High West Texan winds. Jumping on the trampoline. Watching out the north window, full of fear, for white, spindly clouds. I don't know if I even knew what naughty felt like then, but Pick a number, Scott said. One through thirteen. I paused, no idea what was coming.

Why is EarthBound so Expensive?

Thirteen, I said. Scott smiled, typed something, pecked Enter with a triumphant pointer finger, and revealed to me my first piece of pornography. A hippy redhead, a leather holster loosely arcing across hips and a smooth belly the color of our galaxy's blessed cosmic cream, and then of course there were boobs and a very bare bathing suit area. All said: immediate boner.

Maybe immediate is an exaggeration. Hell, this memory feels like archaeological prophecy.

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I invite you—only this once under a self-enforced penalty of death—to Google my wife. There were only three core stats, only a few possible actions during battle sequences—the mechanics are really simple. The original North American Super Nintendo looks like a pallid tank, a chunky glyph.


The old consoles are undeniably utilitarian looking, as if the rush to get them to market necessitated nothing more than plastic housing and functional controllers. The evolution of gaming consoles is less obviously linear than the march of Moore's law—game console design has oscillated between geometric, slot-full bricks, and sleek, sportscar-esque parabolas.

It's a wild document, narcissistic and riled and a preachy, delivered by an architect-gone-ideologue who was in love with America.

There's a line from the speech that went on to majorly impact architecture: The evolution of culture is synonymous with the removal of ornament from utilitarian objects. Might video game consoles might someday be purely utilitarian? Will screen-based media consumption someday be deemed necessary for psychological health? Just typing that sentence makes me want to start the game on my Macbook Pro.



I plan on plugging my laptop to the TV in my living room, sitting on my The Shining-esque rug, and playing through the entire game for the first time as an adult. You're right—there's something really elegant about EarthBound. It's like they decided to ignore everything that took away from the characters and the story.

And the really weird tone. How casually he can deliver this shit. My favorite advertisement of his came out in June —about a year before Nintendo released the Family Computer in Japan, known as the Nintendo in North America—and it's stark. Presumably reacting to a combo of the Soviet war in Afghanistan and Japan's incoming Prime Minister—Yasuhiro Nakasone, the Ministry of Defense's director general—antimilitarism was rising among Japanese citizens.

Helmets shade their faces into half-anonymity.