February 22, 2012 scottcjones 4Comments
Your map to glory. Study it well.

Once the dead waterbug was tucked away in his pocket, I looked the Mikael Blomkvist doppelganger in the eye, letting him know that I had seen what he had just done. He had tried to hide something from me, and I’d caught him in the act red-handed. Now, I’m no wheeler-dealer when it comes to real estate or business transactions, not by a longshot. But I was savvy enough to recognize leverage when I saw it.

He showed me the rest of the apartment. It was without a doubt the most expansive New York City apartment I had ever seen. I couldn’t believe that, after years of living in cramped conditions, I’d finally have all this room to myself. In real estate vernacular, the layout was known as a “junior four,” because the fourth room in the apartment–a bonus room just off the kitchen in the front of the apartment–was small, or “junior,” when compared to the rest of the rooms. People typically used the room as a dining room or an office.

The apartment needed work. The bathroom walls were covered with a depressing wallpaper that was–no kidding–black and featured a design that looked like horse skeletons. The kitchen stove stove dated back to the ’70s. One of the bedroom closets smelled like stale cigarette smoke. And there was the waterbug question. Was the building infested? I’d dealt with bugs before, in my old apartment in Brooklyn. I’d be sitting in my living room enjoying a TV show or playing a game when I’d notice something on the wall and realize, to my horror, that it was a silverfish. I’d grab a nearby shoe and the chase was on. These hunts would last up to five minutes. Once the silverfish had been introduced to the heel of my sneaker, I’d go to bed and pull the covers up to my neck, wondering if there were more of them out there, crawling around my apartment in the dark.

That creature in Mikael Blomkvist’s pocket was the size of a scarab, I thought. I worried that I’d simply be trading my silverfish problem for a waterbug problem.

Then I reminded myself that this was a top floor apartment. (I’d stopped living underneath people 10 years ago. All the clomping around drove me crazy.) It was in a neighborhood that I wanted to live in. It was close to not one subway line, as my apartment in Brooklyn was (the cursed F train), but six or seven different subway lines. There was that sunken living room to consider. And, when I looked out the windows, I realized that I would have a view of the New York City skyline, including the Empire State Building.

That’s what sealed it for me. I could deal with a waterbug or two if I got all this in return.

I asked Mikael Blomkvist what the apartment was selling for. “Well, it’s not on the market yet,” he said coyly, “but it’ll probably go for around X amount of money.”

I was taken aback by how low his asking price was. I’d seen around 20 other apartments in the neighborhood prior to this one, so I had a good idea of what things were worth. I promptly offered him $10K less than what he was asking, and when I did, I made sure to glance at the pocket where the dead waterbug was currently residing. “And can you also have the windows in the kitchen fixed?” I asked.

“We’ve got a deal,” he said. “I’ll send over the paperwork first thing in the morning.”

So, in the end, the dead waterbug saved me $10,000 and got my kitchen windows fixed for free. I’d assumed that Mikael Blomkvist was blissfully unaware of the bargain I’d gotten, until several months later, long after the closing, when I phoned him up to badger him about the kitchen window repairs. In a moment of frustration, he said, “You know I could have gotten a lot more money for that apartment!” I didn’t say anything. I grinned a victory grin into the phone.

Did I see waterbugs after I moved in? Of course I did. About once every six months or so, a waterbug the size of a gravy boat would make a beeline through the apartment. This is all just part of New York life, I’d always tell myself. Then I’d grab a shoe and track that bit of hell-spawn down, simply doing what New Yorkers have to do sometimes.

And now, I give you stage 5-9. Buckle up, people. This is the most challenging stage I have encountered in the game so far. Solving it, i.e. getting the key to the exit door and getting out alive, should not be attempted by anyone who is 1. pregnant or 2. suffers from a nervous condition. Before you go any further, know this: Marios will be sacrificed, despair will set in, and approximately 20 to 25 minutes of your life will be lost to this unholy abomination of a stage.

In the film about videogames that I will one day produce and possibly star in, one character (Jimmy) will say to another character (Frank): “Hey, you don’t need an FAQ for this game. You need an exorcist!” That line, which will become a classic line, and will be quoted for years to come, could easily describe today’s stage.

Let’s begin.

At it’s core, stage 5-9 breaks down to three switches that need to be tended to. Now, whenever I encounter a switch in Donkey Kong, or in any videogame for that matter, I push it, then perform a cursory investigation of the area to see what’s new and different. The stage starts with Mario/me standing next to switch number one. I push it. What’s new and different? The elevator immediately to the left of the switch changes direction. By default, it goes up. But after pushing the switch, it goes down. Make sure that this elevator is going down before you walk away from it. Trust me, later on in the stage, you’ll be very glad that you did this.

Now head for switch two, which is at the top of a somewhat lengthy ladder. Look at Mario’s fat little legs climb! Ha, ha! Pushing switch two retracts a long, accordion-like shutter at the top of the screen. This shutter/bridge seals off the top third of the level. Once it’s gone, after you push the switch, LOOK OUT! There are two monolithic falling-rising stones up there. When the shutter/bridge is retracted, these stones can be triggered like booby traps whenever Mario is nearby. Keep an eye on these stones or else you’ll be pancaked early and often. Pro Tip Confession: I was pancaked at least twice while sussing out the solution to this stage. It’s a terrible feeling.

Now, head for switch three and give it a push. What switch three does is it removes the vertical shutter below you that is preventing you from reaching the key. Pushing it, however, also has an unfortunate side effect: it causes a barrier/shutter to appear just above the exit door. The result: now you can reach the key, which is great, but you can’t get it to the door (which is terrible).

If you are wondering what emotions you are feeling right now, let me put some words out there for you: frustration, despair, anger. My advice: don’t panic. Remain calm, and keep following my lead here. I found my way out of this godforsaken labyrinth, and so can you.

With key in hand, head for the upward-traveling elevator on the far righthand side of the screen and climb aboard. Once you’re close to the top of your elevator ride, note the group of platforms to your immediate left. Use the platforms to break your “skillful falls” off the elevator. Remember, if you fall too far, you’ll become separated from the key.

Your goal here is to return to the same general area in the middle of the stage where switch two and three are located. Again, keep an eye out for the rising-falling rocks. Go to switch three and push it again. The shutter will close in front of the area where the key once was, but the barrier above the exit door is now open. Remember: protect the key at all times! You’ll have to put it down whenever you deal with the switches. Don’t let it sit for too long before you pick it up again, or else it will teleport back to its original spot and you’ll have to begin this mess all over again. Now, return to the elevator on the righthand side of the screen and ride it. Yes, again.

At the top of the elevator, do some skillful falling back down to the central area. This time, return to switch two. Press it. This causes the long accordion-like bridge to re-appear. Those small platforms just above your head? Toss the key up to the one on the far right. Quickly scramble up the nearby ladder, leap across the gap between the two platforms, then reclaim the key. Now, board the righthand side elevator for a third time. This time, get off on the accordion bridge. Cross it from right to left, being mindful of the always dangerous rising-falling stones.

Once you reach the lefthand side, you will be thankful that you pressed switch one all the way back at the start of the stage. That downward-bound elevator? It will carry you back to the start of the level, where the un-shuttered exit door has been patiently waiting for you and the key to arrive.

Congratulations. Stage 5-9 is nothing but a somewhat troubling memory now.

4 thoughts on “Man Vs. Donkey Kong: Day 53

  1. Ugh. Wish I had known about the not living underneath people rule last year. My girlfriend and I purchased a condo in Victoria on the second floor of a brand new building. When we first moved in, there was nobody living above us, so all was great. Two months later, a nice couple moved upstairs… Unfortunately, the petite blonde girl practically runs everywhere in the house all day long. I can only imagine that she walks on nothing but her heels as she zooms around the house tidying and doing laundry. Fast-forward to November of 2011 when strange scuffling type sounds are coming from upstairs. These go away, but after a while they’re replaced by loud whining and yipping noises. Turns out it’s a new puppy… a new GREAT DANE puppy. Needless to say, we’re looking into purchasing a top floor condo someplace nearby.

  2. I’ve been pretty lucky in my apartments, with the exception of one where I lived below some guy I affectionately came to refer to as “Thunderpee”.

  3. I have had issues with silverfish in the past! even found one crawling on me one night… that was the final straw, only put up with that for a few months! #CityLiving

Leave a Reply