Biweekly Music Wednesday! No. 26 ~Balloon Trip~ (Balloon Fight)

Origin: Balloon Fight

Plays In: Title Screen, Balloon Trip mode, Bonus Round

Status: Original Composition

Composer: Hirokazu "Hip" Tanaka

There are those out there who say that we shouldn't mourn Iwata's death through tears, but through the joy we channel from the games he brought to life. Today, I'll be doing just that with this song.

When I revisited Balloon Fight the other night, I was struck by how good it feels all these years later.  As according to the game's balloon motif, the controls are floaty, but feels so naturally light and speedy that they never get in the player's way at all. Like any good Nintendo action game, any error is entirely on the fault of the player. Indeed, the controls are so good that even Super Mario Bros. itself took a lesson or two from it.

All thanks to Iwata's programming mastery, of course. It was also thanks to Iwata that I was even playing it at all that night; after all, if it weren't were his generosity following the 3DS price drop, I wouldn't be playing the ambassador version on my 3DS. I find that the system's ergonomics suit the game quite well, and should a modern sequel ever be made, I thoroughly demand it be on that system.

I think the man even played a practical joke on me that same night. For those who haven't played the game, everyone's worst nightmare revolves around the stray bolts of lightning that sometimes zap out of the occasional storm cloud. I'd knocked down an enemy fighter and was about to pursue, but then got caught from behind from another fighter. The instant I spawned on the ground, one of the lightning bolts zapped my character and I lost yet another life. All the while, the bird-masked fighter I knocked down earlier was chilling nearby. It was as if Iwata was saying "Stop crying! Laugh again!'

But Balloon Fight's greatness can't be solely attributed to Iwata. Indeed, the song you're listening to was composed by none other than Hirokazu "Hip" Tanaka. Balloon Trip is absolutely the goofiest classic on Nintendo's NES catalog of music, perhaps losing only in the "feel-good" category to the Super Mario Bros. theme and the entirety of Kirby's Adventure. But make no mistake: it's just as infectious as the former and will permanently remain an earworm.

Tanaka himself seems quite fond of the song. Above is his spectacular arrangement for the latest Smash Bros. games, designed particularly for the 3DS version's Balloon Fight stage. Easily one of the finest remixes in the new games, Tanaka's chiptune direction fully retains the original's spirit (that climax!) If you listen closely, you can hear traces of the game's other songs mixed subtly within.

And here is a version Tanaka created shortly after Iwata's passing. It's a tad more composed, but the mixture of techno and chiptune let it come alive as a beautiful tribute. It was hard to listen to upon its arrival, but now that the news has sunk in, it's become far more cathartic. I can just feel the nostalgia in the air.

I wonder how high Iwata's flying up there.

Final Thoughts: I demand an orchestral version. We had a great slow-paced version within one of Smashing...Live's medleys, but I'd love a dedicated suite. What a wonderful tribute that would be.

In Loving Memory of Satoru Iwata (Nintendojo)

Article Here

Nintendojo was kind enough to share the Iwata tribute I wrote last night. It's largely the same barring the flood of pictures and no music.

I said the review would be ready today, but it still doesn't feel real. It could be tomorrow, it could be Thursday. And uh, heh, considering what the game is, it should be no surprise I'd be in no mood to write about it. You'll see what I mean. In any case, this week's Biweekly Music Wednesday! will be dedicated to him.

In the meantime, I'd like to share something I wrote on NeoGAF.

"I just sprung up the courage to read the Iwata Asks for Kirby's Epic Yarn. Is it wrong that I bust out laughing the first time I saw "Iwata: (laughs)"? 

I'll never forget the first time I read this. Kirby means so much to me as a series, and Epic Yarn was the first console Kirby platformer in ten years and I was worried to death it wouldn't live up to my childhood. Yet reading that entire exchange--what with Iwata's teasing over the original character's similarity to Kirby, footage of Hirokazu Ando playing Green Greens on a toy recorder, and how much I just wanted to hug Jun Ishikawa's frown away--had all but melted my fears away.

I happened to start replaying that game very recently and was dreading to revisit it following Iwata's death. It's not a game he personally worked on, but I knew the moment I heard this, I'd be a mess. And I almost was, especially when I got to the part where Kirby attaches himself as a bead to a rising dandelion, swaying back and forth without a care in the world. The face I'd come to associate with innocence channeled Iwata's warmth in that moment, and I almost couldn't bear to let go.

I know he would've wanted us to remember these games with joy, but it's no easy feat. Playing Kirby's Dream Land and Balloon Fight in the wake of all this, however, have provided much comfort, particularly the latter (it's amazing how butter-smooth the game's controls are 30 years later). Best part was when right after I lost a life, I was instantly struck by a bolt of lightning and died again as one of the bird guys just chilled on the ground; it was like Iwata himself saying "stop being sad! Just keep laughing." I was immediately reminded of how much I thoroughly demand a modern sequel. Maybe they should do that as an Iwata tribute."


Leave Luck to Heaven will plug through the rest of Ten Years of Kirby in Iwata's memory.

In Loving Memory of Satoru Iwata

In 2013, Hiroshi Yamauchi, the former Nintendo president and the driving force behind what made them the video game giant they are today, died of natural causes at the age of 85.

To think two years later we'd lose his successor at the age of 55. I'm choking up as I type this.

Nintendo's CEO, Satoru Iwata, has passed away from complications following a growth in his bile duct.

As of this moment, I'm sitting here listening to Space Junk Road from Super Mario Galaxy -- nearly the first in a long line of melancholic/sad Nintendo music I'll be listening to tonight -- while trying to direct my eyes from the endless stream of shocked NeoGAF comments. Here in my soon-to-be writing office, I'm thinking how on earth I'm going to bear making it through the night without collapsing in tears.

One of the many things Mr. Iwata represented to me was an unbridled, genuine passion that didn't just drive Nintendo, but forged the face of their company. When I say genuine, I mean that in the nicest, heartfelt way possible because that's exactly what the man was. Iwata was the CEO who took it upon himself to relay Nintendo's latest announcements in the beloved Nintendo Direct videos so no misinformation from the press would be possible. He was the CEO who, upon being greeted by a poor fiscal report when the Wii U failed to penetrate the gaming market, took it upon himself to halve his own paycheck instead of throwing his own employees under the bus. He was the CEO who took the time to sit down with his developers and discuss the design philosophy behind their latest creations. These interviews slowed down following his diagnosis, but he kept up with them until the end. I remember how happy the Kirby's Epic Yarn one made me feel.

He was the CEO whose last public statement involved his apology for not meeting fans' expectations at this year's E3.

In short, he was a CEO not after money, but whose number one priority was to make fans happy. In a cynical world where individuals in his position come across as faceless entities, Iwata came across as a real, living person who exuded such gentleness, warmth, and humor in achieving his goal of reaching out to fans. Be it making us laugh by randomly staring at fruit in Nintendo Directs, reporting news on Nintendo's twitter, or, as seen in this touching NeoGAF story, actually taking the time to return StreetPass messages, proves just how much he cared in making people smile.

That he achieved all that is no coincidence, since he started out as a former programmer. He's the legend who programmed Balloon Fight, helped get Kirby and Super Smash Bros. off the ground, was responsible for compacting the data within Pokemon Gold and Silver so the Kanto region could be included, ensured Smash Bros. Melee wouldn't be delayed past the holiday season thanks to his coding magic, and singlehandedly saved my favorite game of all time, EarthBound, from cancellation.

He held such love for both his fans and co-workers; in particular, one of the most touching tidbits that've come up tonight was the trust and camaraderie he held with Mr. Masahiro Sakurai, the creator of Kirby and Smash. His showering of praise for Sakurai--in who he entrusted development of Super Smash Bros. Brawl--is one of the deepest expression of friendships I've ever witnessed, one I'm sure Mr. Sakurai is looking back upon at this very moment.

The always-smiling, banana-loving Iwata. I'm really going to miss him. And now we're in a time where Nintendo is certainly in their darkest hour. In a time where they're still reeling from the Wii U's failure, are already forging plans for its NX successor, and are about to open a branch for mobile game development, the leader who brought such mirth and compassion is suddenly gone. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like there now.

And for the gaming world, it's the end of an era, one that I'm not sure anyone was ready for.

I won't lie and pretend Iwata was the perfect president, because he wasn't. But that didn't matter to me. That Iwata cared so deeply about satisfying his fanbase brought the same warmth I've associated with Nintendo games all these years. The same warmth from whenever Mario would giggle in glee in his latest adventure, or when I left Pallet Town for the very first time with my Charmander, or whenever Kirby flew in the soft starry skies that recalled the sleepy car rides of my earliest youth, or when Ness would return home to taste his mother's home-baked cookies.

Iwata brought the spirit of Nintendo alive, and for that, I will always remember him with the fondest of smiles.

Leave Luck to Heaven, Mr. Iwata. You left us far too soon, but that warmth we cherished so much will undoubtedly fuel Nintendo's direction from here on.

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To respect the passing of Mr. Iwata, I'll be posting my next review, which was ready for today, tomorrow sometime in the afternoon. I'll see you then.