February 28, 2012 scottcjones 0Comment
Diagram 112-9Z

I dug deeper into the hall closet in my New York apartment, still hoping to cobble together some kind of makeshift gaming set-up for the evening. In addition to the old Dreamcast, I discovered no less than three–yes, three–Super Nintendos, one original PlayStation (original PS1’s, by the way, were rendered in a hideous color that might be described as “old pubes”), and a first generation Xbox. Now, all I had to do was find the appropriate audio-visual connectors and A/C cords, and my battle-station would be fully operational.

I rifled through my Big Box of Random Cords, Cables, and Strange Devices. Everyone has one of these boxes, regardless of whether you realize it or not. Anything that’s tangentially related to electronics goes into the box. Example: I owned a nose-hair trimmer several years back that one day ceased working for some unexplained reason. I kept the trimmer in my medicine cabinet, always intending to repair it, or find the receipt, or send it somewhere to be fixed. After six months, I realized that none of those things were going to happen. I put the nose-hair trimmer in the trash and moved on with my life. A few days later, I discovered the charge cable for the trimmer. Now, a reasonable person might have put the charge cable into the trash as well. I did not. Instead, I put the charge cable for the nose-hair trimmer I no longer owned in the place it belonged. I put it in the Big Box of Random Cords, Cables, and Strange Devices.

I was stunned by the vast amount of oddities I’d accumulated in the box through the years. I found two HDMI splitters, random lengths of coaxial cable (note: every BBORCCASD has coaxial cable in it), and the remote for a television set that I hadn’t owned in more than 15 years. I found an answering machine (complete with Microcassette), a prehistoric router, and the cord for an Eveready-brand battery charger. I found what appeared to be a plastic football player for one of those vibrating electronic football games. I found Nintendo 64 controllers galore, in every shape, color, and state of disrepair imaginable. I found third-party SNES controllers. One controller featured a switch with two settings: “Turbo” and “Super Turbo.” I worked the switch back and forth for a few moments, trying to recall exactly how these settings impacted my games.

I found a Wii Speak, of all things. And–what do you know?–I found a Dreamcast controller, which was much larger than I remembered it being. I held it in my hands–it felt like a miniature loaf of stale bread–wondering how I ever managed to play so much Soul Calibur on this damn thing.

I sat on floor outside the closet in a tangle of cords, peripherals, and remotes. In order to game, I needed three things: 1. a controller, 2. A/V cables, and 3. A/C cables, either preferably for the Super Nintendo or the Dreamcast (my two consoles of choice that night). I found bits and pieces for each machine–I had multiple A/V cables for the Super Nintendo, but not a single A/C cord, etc.–but never located all three parts, even after rifling through the Cords & Cables box a second time.

To my dismay, the only machine I managed to locate all three parts for–A/V, A/C, and controller–was the original Xbox. I sighed, feeling vaguely defeated. Sure, the Xbox and I had some good times together over the years, but I never developed an attachment to it, the way I’d been attached to other consoles. OK, old girl, I said, blowing dust from its casing. Let’s start you up and see if you’ve still got anything left to give.

It’s time to have a go at stage 6-3, people. The virtual wind is strangely absent from this stage, as are any of the AIRPLANE motifs (little windows, wings, engines, etc.) that we’ve seen in the previous two stages. In fact, this stage is so bland and generic, it could easily be transferred to BIG CITY, CONSTRUCTION SITE, or SHIP and look right at home. Why it’s included in the AIRPLANE section is beyond me. 6-3 is a vertical stage, with the game’s third-person camera panning along with you to track your progress. Picture two triangles rubbing their butts together. Go on, picture it. That’s exactly what today’s stage looks like.

Traveling along the flared rims of each of the butt-rubbing triangles are pairs of moving platforms. Like all moving platforms, they travel to one end of their set path, then switch directions and travel to the other end. At the very bottom of the screen is a Pit Of Doom, which, should one fall into it, results in doom. The key is at the very top of the screen, and the one true exit door–there are several fake doors to distract you–is in the very center of the bottom triangle. Pro tip: Pay attention to where Pauline’s cartoon bubble bleats come from at the start of each stage. Without fail, they always come from the one true exit door.

The two switches are basically useless here. Pushing or pulling them does nothing except change the direction the pairs of moving platforms on the flared triangle rims travel in. Pick a direction that feels most comfortable for you, and go with it. Each pair of platforms moves at two distinct speeds: fast and slow. Your first goal is to reach the middle tier of moving platforms. Simply jump onto one of the platforms on the bottom triangle–fast or slow, doesn’t matter which–and ride it upwards. Eventually, as you ride your bottom platform, you’ll notice a Special Moment when it’s possible to jump to one of the middle tier’s moving platforms.

This is where things get tricky. Once you reach the middle platform, you can’t linger; you need to immediately get to one of the upper-triangle platforms. Why? Because when you’re traveling on one of the middle platforms, once it switches direction, it will carry you towards an unmovable block (also known as, The Block of Annoying) in the center of the screen. Like scraping old gum from a shoe, this block will scrape Mario from the moving platform, sending him plummeting back towards the bottom, where he will either be killed (angel halo animation) or have his leg temporarily broken (twitching limb). Or, he could also fall into the Pit Of Doom.

The key is timing it right so that you arrive in the middle tier of moving platforms exactly as one of the upper tier platforms has descended along its triangular path to a point where you can quickly jump onto it. Pro Tip 1: Be patient. This will eventually happen for you. Pro Tip 2: Anyone interested in claiming the umbrella or the hat should do so with care. Both are in the vicinity, suspended in hard-to-reach places. My personal attempts to collect them resulted in two halos and one twitching limb.

Once you’ve reached the upper triangle, most of the hard work is done. Ride the moving platform over to the key. Claim it. Then, taking great care, return the way you came, using the platforms to get back down to the bottom. Remember, any fall of significance will likely jar the key loose, sending it plummeting all the way to the bottom, or possibly even into the Hole Of Doom. Which would be terrible for everybody.

Your final destination is the exit door on the platform located in the middle of the bottom triangle. Key goes into the lock, and kaboom, stage 6-3 is finished.

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