Three objects–a sombrero, an umbrella, and a diamond ring–have appeared without fail in all 16 levels of Donkey Kong (Game Boy, 1994) that I’ve played thus far. From the start I have assumed that these objects were nothing more than evidence of the type of surrealist logic typically found in videogames a la eating a mushroom to grow in stature, or shooting a snake which turns into an egg which one can eat for a health boost.

Yet this morning, as I collected the sombrero, umbrella and ring for the 17th consecutive day in a row, an entirely new theory occurred to me. What you are about to read is a fictional transcript of a meeting that might or might not have happened in the Nintendo offices in 1993, approximately one year before Donkey Kong shipped.

“OK, guys, we need something for the player to collect in this game,” the lead designer says to the rest of the team. He holds a pencil above a pad of paper. “Let’s hear the ideas, people.”

“What about an apple?” one programmer says.

“No fruit,” the lead designer says. “Too much like Pac-man.”

“Bananas?” a second programmer offers.

“What did I just say about fruit?” the lead says.

“I thought it might be OK because the game is about an ape. So, bananas would make sense.”

“Bananas would make sense, if you played the game as Donkey Kong,” the lead explains. “But you don’t. You play as Mario. And Mario does not want any bananas. Mario does not need any bananas. You know what? You’re f***ing fired. Get out of here.”

“For real?”

“Yes, for real. Get out. That was the stupidest thing I have ever heard. So long.”

[Second programmer exits.]

The lead cups his hands around his mouth and says in the direction of the exiting programmer, “I HEARD SEGA IS HIRING!” The team erupts in raucous laughter.

A third programmer says, “Hey, what about things that ladies might enjoy?”

The lead scratches his chin. “Things that ladies might enjoy,” he says. “Hmm. I’m listening.”

“The game is about Mario’s love for Pauline, right?” the third programmer explains. “So wouldn’t it make sense for Mario to collect things that she might value?”

“That’s it. Now we’re cooking with gas. Everyone, give me a list of things that ladies might enjoy, quickly,” the lead says.

“Shopping?”

“I hear you there. My poor wallet.” (More laughter from the team.)

“Shoes?”

“Oh, my wife is completely obsessed with shoes.”

“Mine, too.”

“Jewelry?”

“Too abstract. We need something more specific.”

“A diamond ring.”

“That’s it. A diamond ring. Hiro, make something that looks like a diamond ring for the game, chop chop.”

“On it, boss,” Hiro says, hurrying to his nearby desk.

“A hat?” another programmer offers.

“A hat!” the lead says. “HIRO. WE’RE GOING TO NEED A HAT, TOO.”

Hiro answers from the other room, “Already on it.”

“Now, we only need one more thing that ladies might enjoy,” the lead says. “Someone step up and save us. Someone be the hero. Who’s going to be the hero today? It is you? You, maybe?” The lead looks from face to face.

“An umbrella?” a voice calls out from the group.

“That’s it!” the lead says. “We’ve got a ring, a hat, and an umbrella. Those are all things that ladies might enjoy. HIRO: DID YOU GET THAT? THE LAST GUY SAID ‘UMBRELLA.’ ”

Hiro says, “Got that, too, boss.”

“Great work, everyone.” The lead looks over Hiro’s shoulder. “Hiro, that diamond ring looks too much like a handbag and that hat looks like something I’d wear to a bullfight after my siesta.”

“That’s the best I can do,” Hiro says.

“Goddamn this Game Boy hardware,” the lead says, shaking his head. “How do they expect us to program on this wretched device?”

END SCENE

One final confession before I get to today’s level: the diamond ring is, in fact, not a diamond ring at all, but a handbag. For 17 weeks, I have operated under the notion that it is a diamond ring, when it has been a handbag all along. To echo the sentiments of the fictional lead programmer one last time: goddamn this Game Boy hardware.

Today’s level (2-5) opens with Mario standing on the edge of a small body of water. Yes, water has officially been introduced into the game world. Woo. First startling and somewhat sad realization of the day: I have spent many more hours of my life splashing around in virtual water in videogames than I have swimming the real thing. Ah, modern life.

Under the water is a pair of rogue, fish-shaped enemies. Like all enemies in Donkey Kong, they patrol the area methodically, on a horizontal plane. Then, suddenly one fish-thing goes rogue, leaving its horizontal plane behind. He briefly travels–get this–on a diagonal. Note to self: Keep an eye out for that.

In the water, Mario is even more sluggish than he is on land. Still, the fish are easy enough to avoid. Moving left to right, I gather the following objects: the 1-up heart, along with the usual Things That Ladies Might Enjoy (ring, umbrella, sombrero). On the far righthand side of the screen, I trigger a put-it-anywhere bridge power-up. I position the bridge at the top of the level, building a platform from 1. where the key is on the right to 2. where the locked door is on the left. I climb out of the water and onto the bridge, while listening to the bridge theme song, which is one of those songs that is written to induce panic a la the time-is-running-out theme from old game shows.

I grab the key, hustle across the temporary bridge, then leap into the air as the bridge begins to vanish beneath my feet. I make the jump, arriving safely back on the cliff where the level began. (Whew.) The key goes into locked door, and level 2-5 is finished.