If I was going to make the most of my one-minute shopping spree, I had to get the lay of the land of the Zayre department store. So, on Saturday night, after dinner, my father drove us into Rome so I could perform some reconnaissance on the store’s floor plan. I brought my sketch pad and roamed the aisles, drawing rough diagrams of the store’s various departments. I planned on getting things for my mother (a wok) and my father (a metric system socket set), so I needed at least a cursory understanding of the layouts of Housewares and Hardware. Of course, the department that I sketched out in the greatest detail was the Toy Department. By the time I was finished, my Toy Department sketch was so elaborate that it resembled something from Leonardo da Vinci’s notebooks.
This was where I planned on spending the majority of my minute. I drew long, rectangular shapes in my sketchbook to represent each aisle. Then I put X’s on all the major toy destinations. One X represented the Star Wars action figures. Another X represented LEGO. A third X represented a talking robot named JO-DOOR 12, which I had only a marginal interest in, but which was the most expensive toy in the Toy Department. That’s what my business-minded brother kept pushing for—getting a few expensive toys rather than a cart-load of small, cheap toys. “They expect you to get all of the cheapest junk in the store,” he said, looking over my shoulder as I kept adding X’s to the rectangle. “What we should do is figure out where all the priciest items are, then figure out the most efficient route through the store for you to get those items.”
I didn’t disagree with him. I did feel like there was an opportunity here to do more than simply run around like some dumb kid jacked up on Fruit Loops, grabbing at a few junky toys. What my brother was proposing was this: we could make a statement here. We could really put it to the Zayre department store, and take them for all they were worth. “By the time you’re finished next Saturday,” he explained, lowering his voice, “these people won’t know what hit them.”
We added dollar signs next to the X’s indicating how much each X was worth. The Star Wars action figures merited a single dollar sign, but JO-DOOR 12 received three dollars signs. The biggest X of all, of course, was reserved for the VIC-20 Machine Code Monitor cartridge in the Electronics Department, which received the maximum amount of dollar signs, which was five. Then we drew a line through my floor plan, connecting the X’s and dollar signs together in what I was confident would be my path to glory.
Stage 8-7. Today’s stage is one of those rare stages that I managed to solve on my very first attempt. Bully for me, I suppose. Except it doesn’t feel like a good thing. I have this nagging feeling that I left a lot of stuff on the table here, including Pauline’s dumb umbrella. What I’m trying to say is this: I did not suss out all of the nuances of today’s stage before completing it. But that shouldn’t stop you from doing so.
Today’s stage is a horizontal endeavor stretched across two gameplay screens. It features an upper and a lower tier. Mario is in the top right, the key is in the top left, and the door is in the bottom right. Let’s begin.
That diaper-wearing bastard Donkey Kong Jr. is back in this stage. His Hitler-style bunker is down on the bottom tier, where he does his diaper dance and occasionally yanks a switch back and forth which changes the direction of the stage’s conveyer belts. There are a pair of oddly mobile plants in this stage, which eerily creep left and right while occasionally spouting fountain-like sprays of death-dealing seeds. What you want to do is this: make your way all the way to the lefthand side of the level, avoiding the seeds (they move slowly and are therefore relatively easy to dodge). Grab the key on the platform.
Notice the shaft that leads all the way down to a bed of sharpangles? There’s a portable platform power-up suspended in the center shaft. Pro Tip: It has arrows pointing left and right inscribed on it. With the key in hand, hurl yourself into the shaft, triggering the portable platform. Position the platform all the down at the bottom of the shaft, then deploy it. This platform will break Mario’s fall and save him from being impaled on the sharpangles. Mario will lose the key during his long-ish fall. No matter. Quickly collect it, and get off the portable platform before the “Doot De Doo/De Doot De Doo” song runs its course.
Just above DKJ’s bunker you’ll find a pair of conveyer belts. Notice the small opening at the edge of the right-most conveyer belt? You and the key can’t fit in there while standing up straight. But if you’re crouched and the key was on its own, you’d both fit. So what you want to do is this: Wait for DKJ to get the conveyer belts moving left to right. Drop the key onto the belt–trust me here–and watch as it’s carried through the small opening all by its lonesome. Then crouch—press down on the D-pad—and let the conveyer belt take you on the same exact journey.
Yes, at the bottom of this shallow videogame cave, Mario, the key, and the exit door will all be reunited. The stage is over…or is it? Again, I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I left a lot on the table here. For example: there’s a hammer-time hammer hanging just above DKJ’s bunker. And there was a bunch of breakable bricks in the area just above the exit door. Oh, and there were two portable ladder power-ups scattered about as well. What the hell was I supposed to use the ladder power-ups for? Anyway, tomorrow is another boss stage—and the 84th day of our run—so be sure to get a good night’s sleep tonight. We’ll need to be at our best tomorrow.
