Life and the "Contra" Secret Code

A friend of mine just sent me a link to a story about a cool trick temporarily available on the "Newsweek" internet site. If you type in a portion of the secret code for the old Nintendo game "Contra" (up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right B, A, select, start), then the front page switches to in-depth coverage of a fictional zombie attack.

I haven't tried it yet, but it sure sounds fun. The forwarded article also mentioned that the Contra secret code trick has been fairly regularly used in similar tricks since the creation of the internet. In fact, that's why the article caught my attention. I love the fact that a secret code for a semi-obscure game on an out-dated video system remains in popular consciousness 20 years later. Among those of us in the original Nintendo generation, I think this tells us something about ourselves. I used to think this particular brand of nostalgia was just a rite of generational passage, but the more I think about it, the more I think it's actually something much more.

First, just a quick note about the video game. I've never been a video game junkie, but I did own a used copy of "Contra," and a friend once shared its secret code with me (if you entered the code at the start of the game, your character got 30 lives instead of the usual 3, making successful completion of the game almost assured).

The game (which consisted of people shooting at you as you navigated as series of obstacle courses in the effort to purse some noble but vague cause) was so difficult that without the secret code, almost no one could complete it.

Which is why whoever programmed the secret code to enable 30 lives scheme was a genius. Had the code allowed for 300 lives, it would have been so easy as to be a pointless achievement. But most the great majority of players, 30 lives allowed for just enough of a challenge to be compelling, but enough margin of error to ensure they rarely failed. It was a still a challenging pursuit, but is was almost guaranteed to end in success.

Isn't that what we all want in life?

Wouldn't it be great if that code worked not only for a video game, but for everything? Imagine if you could just punch in a code and get 30 shots at whatever opportunity you had upcoming. I might blow one job interview, but I'm pretty sure I could make a good impression once in 30 tries. I might have said something regrettable in an argument last week, but if I got to do it over 29 more times, I would have phrased my thoughts more eloquently. I could have done the right thing instead of the wrong; been the hero instead of the goat; minded my own business when I interloped; helped someone instead of acting selfishly. And I certainly wouldn't have wasted money on that seemingly cool gadget I saw on that infomercial.

Here's the thing: people don't regret failing to do the things that never seemed realistic anyway. People regret the opportunities that just slipped by, the chances they should have taken, but didn't, the one bad decision that started an avalanche of unintended consequences. If we all had 29 do-overs, that would never be an issue. The dreams just out of our reach would be just inside them. I think that's part of the reason widespread nostalgia for this video game still exists 20 years later. We all identify with the promise that code represented.

Most of us would love a long line of do-overs. And the compelling thing is that life would still seem somewhat challenging, even if we had them. There are some things I could never pull off (winning an Olympic medal, being the life of the party, politely eating pasta) no matter how many attempts you gave me. So 30 chances wouldn't turn us into superheros who lived boring lives because we were incapable of being challenged. It would just let us accomplish everything within our abilities, and generally with the peace of mind to know we had a few chances left to spare along the way. It sounds lovely.

I know there's a reason God doesn't want us to live like that. We'd all be overly pleased with ourselves, and we'd never have the chance to grow by learning from a meaningful failure.

But I'd sure like another shot at that case I lost in January. There's no way I'd lose it 29 more times.