As a person who avoids anything that feels like “working out” at almost all costs, I was amazed and surprised to wake up Sunday morning with muscles so sore that I was making little grunting noises with every move. There are areas deep within my torso that I didn’t even know participated in movements associated with exercise. I had not even broken in my newly acquired gym membership; but I had engaged in at least four competitive sports — in front of the TV. I had finally experienced the true power of Wii.
My husband spent nearly a month calling local stores to find a Wii in stock. One weekend morning he came flying in the den while pulling a T-shirt over his head exclaiming, “I’ve gotta go right now! Best Buy only has two in and I’m the first one they called!” Within seconds he was out the door. I didn’t think much of it; he always pines after the newest technology and electronics gadgets. He was giddy upon receiving a Garmin GPS system for Father’s Day. He took off without even putting shoes on just so he could drive around with computerized navigation assistance (maps are so passé). I figured I would find the new gaming system about as much fun as I did the Xbox. Interesting at first, but too challenging for an uncoordinated non-techie like me. Shoot-’em-up games actually make me nervous — I’m too clumsy and shaky for fear of getting shot by the bad guys to remember the button/trigger/toggle combinations to crouch/fire/sidestep all at once.
Sure, I marvel at the graphics and the advancement of these video games. It is my generation that set this fascination in motion. I had an Atari that I loved, but excelled at strategic games like Qbert over those that employed hand-eye coordination like Pac-Man. Sad, but true. This continued to be the case when I graduated to the first Nintendo system. I saved the princess once. I was better at Tetris, unless the pieces stacked too close to the top and the music started speeding up, in which case I was transformed into the bumbling, trembling basketcase who couldn’t hit the right buttons. My very best skill is to cheer on those with the gift of joystick manipulation, reminding them which course yields each surprise and what the level’s objective is. I also discourage cheating, forcing my husband to master the game before looking up code up, right, down, down, left, up, right to discover the hidden wonders in the Tony Hawk game.
But, alas, to be blunt, I suck at video games, even more so with every new console and updated format. As the controllers themselves become more sophisticated (read: impossibly complicated), I become all thumbs, or more precisely in terms of A and B buttons, all pinky fingers. I can’t win to save my life, literally — I die within seconds of starting a James Bond mission. I’m not a sore loser, but no one has fun when their side of a split screen is darkened two minutes into an hour-long game, and their opponent plays on and on and on…
Then came Wii. Days after it arrived in our home, I reluctantly tried my first game. My husband invited me to spar with him in the boxing game. I remember the total crap that was Nintendo’s Rocky game over a decade ago, and expected the same thing, only with a more recognizable and lifelike Stallone. Instead, he hands me two “nunchuck” controllers, connected via a USB-type cord and cautions me to tighten the wrist strap (more on that later). I learn that I will be physically shadowboxing while my little Mii (your computer-generated self, which can be designed to eerily resemble you) bobs and weaves on-screen.
I’m definitely intrigued. I think I might have a chance to play well — all I have to do is hold the controller and act out my character’s moves. Plus, I once took a box aerobics class (okay, I went twice). Halfway through the match I have managed some very decent punches and jabs, and my husband mutters something about not taking it easy on me anymore. In that last round, I deliver a KO and his Mii goes down. Victory at last! Then I stagger upstairs to get some water, drawing labored breaths. I have a stitch in my side from the exertion, having ignored the pain during the “match” and keeping pace. My husband can’t believe how winded I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I smoke nearly a pack a day and couldn’t run around the block unless something fierce and dangerous was chasing me. But it was fun. I like Wii!
For the next couple of weeks I studied for the bar non-stop, slightly jealous at the sounds of others playing Wii in the basement. I hear that my four-year-old daughter has quite a knack for bowling. My mother-in-law got a kick out of playing while she visited. I read a few web pages about people using the Wii as part of their weight loss programs. I was excited about getting down there and trying again. My chance came this past weekend. My husband gave me a tour of several different games. I did well at bowling, which came as a surprise since I “granny-bowl” in real life (I can’t master letting go of a heavy ball while my fingers are in it). I couldn’t figure out the timing in baseball, ironic as softball was the only sport I actually played growing up. It’s confusing to swing when the ball gets to your Mii, not through the TV screen and in front of your physical self. I kept waiting on the ball to get in front of me! Tennis was by far the hardest, mainly because my little Mii ran up to the net while I was frantically trying to back up. My reflexes just weren’t quick enough for the volley. I thought something I was doing was making the character charge the net, so I started moving erratically, attempting to back the Mii up while returning serves. It was not a pretty sight. My husband was laughing hysterically.
We had a great time playing all the games, and even played a few that were not as physically challenging. As usual, I found that I do not do well with the war games; my role as a battle tank was a disaster. Fortunately, there were still plenty of fun games for someone with my grace and athletic ability. There are some blunders that could ruin the game: I was reminded repeatedly of the importance of the wrist strap. Apparently there have been many, many people who have accidentally launched their controllers through their plasma screen TVs. I can definitely see how that could happen. And even though the graphics have nothing on Xbox and PS2, the cartoonish characters and simple backgrounds are just fine for Wii — it’s the action that makes it so engaging. Best of all, the muscle soreness I felt Sunday, almost worse today, lets me know I actually did something. No, I still haven’t made it to the gym. Gyms are intimidating. But I definitely exercised, in the privacy of my own home, while giving each sport everything I had.
Most importantly, I had a blast. I know couch-potato video games aren’t exactly going the way of the dodo now that the Wii has arrived, but I certainly won’t be playing them. I have a new mission: to get my Wii fitness age down from an embarrassing 64 to a fit and trim 18. It’s the only way I’ll get to be 18 again! And I have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t be just my Mii that improves; my “Me” should starting looking and feeling better, too.
