Nintendo World Cup


Back in the day, I played in a small community soccer league. To prove it, I still have the yellow pillowed jersey with my number on the back (#2), the smelly shin guards in the hallway closet, and a number of broken league trophies somewhere in a box mixed with parts from my Playmates Technodrome.

Nintendo World Cup brings me back to my more active, youthful days, but now in the comfort of my own home, with food crumbs on my stomach and a dogbone controller squeezed between my paws. Those were the old days when I was fit and healthy and used my coordination for things other than sitting-ass activities like writing and videogames, before the development of my Oreo belly. But then Nabisco had to release those holiday-themed Winter Oreos, the ones with the seasonally red cream (fancily spelled as “creme” on the packaging) inside, and my ass blew up like a balloon.

The team I played on christened me with the nickname “Bigfoot” because, though I was actually the smallest and the youngest of the ragtag bunch, despite my size, I could kick a soccer ball so high and so damn far that it’d usually fly over the goal net and land on the windshield of some soccer mom’s minivan, setting off the car alarm. That happened on at least two different occasions that I can recall, and I’m happy to have the memories.

I guess that explains why I was put on defense most of the time: it’d be hard for the ball to reach the parking lot from way on the other side of the field. But damned if I didn’t try. The coach couldn’t believe how such a small kid with scrawny legs could have hidden such a charged up kick. To borrow a line from He-Man, I had the power.

All this extra attention I was getting went straight to my head, and I felt I had to defend my title, so Bigfoot eventually transformed into Bigasshole when he got out on the field to play. To say I played competitively is so understated that it sounds like a lie; in truth, I was a little monster in black Umbro shorts. I used to psych out the other team by muttering every bad word I knew under my breath to throw them off their game. This doesn’t sound like too big of a deal, but put yourself in the shoes of a pure-in-heart home schooled Christian kid, oblivious to the outside sinful world, as some in the league were, and I think you’d agree to the offensiveness of a string of profanities like “Poopy Christ Vagina” being violently delivered with clenched teeth an earshot away.

That wasn’t all I did. I used to also hustle around the field like a banshee with cleats on and kicked kids in the shins when the ref wasn’t looking. For God’s sake, I got on my knees and held my arms to heaven every time our team scored. I was a little soccer prick, fueled by a nickname, strengthened by a number. I’d fuck you up and kick you in the balls all the way to the after-game party at the Pizza Hut.

Here’s one more typical Bigfoot posturing: at the end of a game, it was customary for the two teams to line up and shake hands and say good game to each other, and I remember pulling back my handshakes when we lost, instead slicking back my hair like the bad ass Bigfoot I was.

Looking back on the experience, I really had no incentive to be so competitive. If we won the game, we had a pizza party afterwards. If we lost, we still had the pizza party. If we came in number one in the league, we won a championship trophy. If we came in dead last, we won the same championship trophy.

Now, granted, the league was admittedly little kid’s stuff – but there was a more advanced traveling team, also, one with actual cuts and competition. If you thought I was an asshole, well, here was a whole team of traveling assholes. I remember a scout or someone invited me to attend a practice with the traveling team one time. What an eye opener. Everyone there had an ego and they looked like trained clockwork Nazis dribbling around neon orange cones. I laid my Bigfoot persona to rest the next season.



This long introduction fits well with the game style of today’s prototype. Nintendo World Cup throws the rules of soccer aside and encourages unsportsmanlike behavior, as there are no penalties or red flags to get in the way of slide tackling for the fun of it. A single kick, too, can easily carry the ball from one end of the field to the other. And special moves show off ball-hogging tricks like bicycles kicks and super headers.

In Nintendo World Cup, you can kick ass without looking like one, as this was originally a Technos title (the makers of Double Dragon) and one in the Kunio-kun series that used those lovable tough guy characters that River City Ransom made popular in the States. You can even globe-trot as part of the ultimate traveling soccer team on the quest for the World Cup. And just look at the sights you’ll come across! The purple mushrooms of Argentina! The flowerpots of Spain! The Old Saloon in Mexico and its English-worded signpost! I’ll never have to leave my house again when all the world is here!

There are two teams that just about dominate everyone else in the game: Argentina and West Germany. My limited knowledge of international soccer tells me Argentina’s superiority kinda sounds right. But West Germany? What’s their secret weapon?

Klaus! Rudolf!

The instruction manual nails down this game better than I ever could: Bring the excitement of International soccer to your home with Nintendo World Cup. Pass … Shoot … SCORE!!! It’s world class fun!


 Guess who’s representing the US of A.

Which reminds me, Nintendo World Cup was one in a handful of game paks to take advantage of Nintendo’s NES Four Score peripheral, which allowed four controllers to be hooked up at the same time for four player support.

Can you count the number of innuendos in that ad? “Get the hottest action… you and a friend take on two others… with 4 it’s more exciting.” All I want to do is play Nintendo soccer, not swing.

Here are the gritty insides of the prototype, with exposed NES-TKEPROM board for you superfreaky types. The problem with buying prototypes is that it’s a crap-shoot: you don’t know when you’ll hit a home run with a proto, or when you’ll strike out. I struck out with this one. This is essentially the same as the released game, except for the word “SPORT” written in black marker on the back of the cart, a helpful reminder in case I hit my head hard on something and forget.

After dumping the game and running it through GoodNES, it is the same as retail.