I came into this game with a simple goal: see a horrifying Bowser sprite play a funny accordion. I've gotten better at puzzle games, all I need to do is clear 25 lines, how hard can it be?

Three hours of intense work later, I now understand. You are not at the mercy of the blocks, but neither do they exist to be conquered. It is up to you to boil down each block formation - two, three, four across, to clear the lines to lead to your salvation. How they can end up jutting out and how they can end up sliding in perfectly. The NES version lacks any modern sensibilities - no t-spin, no piece hold, not a single moment to catch your breath. It doesn't even have the decency to let you hold the button down, you simply have to mash to get things in their places. And these pieces STICK - at Level 9, the moment you make contact, you feel the sickening weight of placing something incorrectly, your failure freezing time itself for you to go through every stage of grief before the game begins raining your demise. And it's only if you can recover from the most profound depression humanity has to offer within an instant that you survive. This version of Tetris is crusty, unforgiving, and a test of reaction just as much as forethought. I think, more than any other version, this one has taught me what the feel of Tetris is about, how to see with eyes of tetrads, how to become one with the clear.

I saw Bowser play his funny accordion. And I smiled. This isn't my favorite version of Tetris, but I think it might be one of the most appreciable.