I’ll be honest – when the Nintendo 64 launched in 1996, I wasn’t exactly queuing up at Dixons to get one. I was twenty-one, had my beloved Amiga 1200 humming away quite nicely thank you very much, and thought consoles were still a bit beneath proper computer gaming. What an absolute muppet I was. The N64 didn’t just change gaming – it basically rewrote the entire rulebook whilst I was off playing yet another session of Sensible Soccer.
Back then, I was still in that snobbish European computer gamer mindset where anything that didn’t come on floppy disks wasn’t “real” gaming. The Mega Drive had won me over eventually, but I kept thinking 3D was just a gimmick that would pass. Shows what I knew, doesn’t it? The N64 was busy creating the foundation for everything that came after, and I was too stubborn to notice until years later.
The first time I properly experienced the N64 was at my mate Dave’s flat in 1997. He’d managed to get one along with Super Mario 64, and I remember thinking the controller looked like something you’d need an engineering degree to operate. Three bloody handles! Who designs a controller with three handles? But then Dave handed it over and said “just try moving Mario around the courtyard.” Within five minutes, I was completely hooked. Mario wasn’t just moving left and right anymore – he was running in circles, doing backflips, climbing walls. It was like watching a cartoon character come to life.
That analog stick changed everything, though it took me ages to admit it. After years of digital joysticks and D-pads, having proper 360-degree control felt revolutionary. I spent probably an hour just running Mario around in circles because I could. The precision was incredible – you could walk slowly by barely touching the stick, or sprint by pushing it fully in any direction. Sounds simple now, but back then it was like discovering fire.
Super Mario 64 was the game that made 3D platforming work properly for the first time. I’d seen attempts at 3D on the Amiga – games like Alpha Waves and Hunter – but they were clunky affairs that felt more like tech demos than actual games. Mario 64 solved the camera problem, the control problem, and made navigating 3D space feel natural. Those castle paintings that served as level entrances? Genius. Each world felt massive and full of secrets, encouraging the kind of exploration that 2D games simply couldn’t match.
The camera system deserves special mention because it was absolutely crucial to making 3D work. Those C buttons let you swing the camera around Mario, giving you the view you needed for precise jumps and navigation. It wasn’t perfect – there were definitely moments where the camera would get stuck or give you a rubbish angle – but it was light-years ahead of anything else at the time. Without that camera control, 3D gaming would have remained a frustrating mess.
Then there was Ocarina of Time, which basically redefined what adventure games could be. I’d grown up with text adventures and point-and-click games on the Amiga, so my idea of adventure gaming was typing “examine lamp” and reading descriptions. Ocarina turned Hyrule into a living, breathing world with day-night cycles, NPCs who actually seemed to have lives, and that incredible targeting system that made combat in 3D space actually work. The Z-targeting was brilliant – lock onto an enemy and you could circle around them whilst keeping focused. Simple concept, but it solved the fundamental problem of how to fight things in 3D.
The music in Ocarina still gives me goosebumps. Playing those ocarina songs with the C buttons, hearing them echo across Hyrule Field… it was magical. The way the music would change based on what you were doing, how it would fade between areas, the way Zelda’s Lullaby would calm down agitated characters. The N64’s sound chip wasn’t as sophisticated as what we had on the Amiga, but Nintendo knew how to use it properly.
The controller really was something special once you got used to it. That weird three-pronged design actually made perfect sense – you held the middle prong and right prong for most games, using the analog stick and face buttons, but could shift to the left prong for D-pad control in certain situations. The Z button placement was genius too – having the trigger where your index finger naturally rests made shooting games feel intuitive in a way that face buttons never could.
GoldenEye proved that first-person shooters could work on consoles, which seemed impossible before the N64. I’d been playing FPS games on PC for years – Doom, Quake, Duke Nukem 3D – and thought mouse and keyboard were essential. But GoldenEye’s control scheme, using the analog stick for movement and the C buttons for aiming, actually worked. The single-player campaign was brilliant, but the split-screen multiplayer was what made it legendary. Four-player deathmatches on Facility or Complex became a weekly ritual at Dave’s place.
The Rumble Pak was another stroke of genius that nobody saw coming. Star Fox 64 was the pack-in game, and feeling your Arwing shake when you took damage or fired weapons added this extra layer of immersion that we’d never experienced before. It seems obvious now – of course controllers should have rumble – but back then it was revolutionary. Made you feel connected to the action in a way that visual and audio feedback alone couldn’t manage.
Rare was absolutely on fire during the N64 era. Banjo-Kazooie took the Mario 64 formula and added their distinctly British sense of humor and character design. The game was massive, colorful, and packed with the kind of collectathon gameplay that became addictive in the best possible way. Every level felt like a playground full of secrets and challenges. Then they followed it up with Banjo-Tooie, which was even bigger and more ambitious.
Conker’s Bad Fur Day was Rare at their most unhinged – a cute-looking platformer with absolutely filthy humor and gameplay that switched genres every few minutes. One moment you’re doing traditional platforming, the next you’re controlling a tank, then you’re in a third-person shooter section. It shouldn’t have worked, but somehow it all held together brilliantly. The technical achievement was impressive too – some of the best graphics and animation on the system.
Mario Kart 64 became the definitive party game, replacing whatever multiplayer games we’d been playing before. The rubber-band AI was infuriating and brilliant at the same time – you could be in first place for three laps then get absolutely destroyed by a blue shell just before the finish line. Those shortcut discoveries were incredible too. Finding the massive skip on Rainbow Road that cut out most of the track felt like uncovering a conspiracy. Battle Mode was equally addictive – those arenas were perfectly designed for four-player chaos.
Pokémon Snap was completely different from anything else on the system. Instead of the traditional RPG gameplay of the Game Boy games, you were basically a wildlife photographer in the Pokémon world. Sounds boring, but it was absolutely captivating. Getting the perfect shot of a Pikachu, discovering hidden Pokémon through clever use of items, unlocking new areas – it was gaming’s most relaxing experience. Professor Oak rating your photos added this competitive element that kept you coming back to improve your shots.
The N64’s influence on modern gaming can’t be overstated. Every 3D adventure game owes something to Ocarina of Time’s Z-targeting system. Every 3D platformer learned from Super Mario 64’s camera and movement mechanics. First-person shooters on consoles all trace their lineage back to GoldenEye’s control innovations. The analog stick became standard on every controller that followed. Rumble feedback is now expected in every gaming device.
Looking back, the N64 represented this perfect storm of innovation and ambition. Nintendo wasn’t content to just make a more powerful 2D system – they completely reimagined what games could be. The cartridge format was expensive and limited storage compared to the PlayStation’s CDs, but it meant zero loading times and rock-solid reliability. Those games booted instantly and never crashed, something that couldn’t be said for CD-based systems of the era.
I eventually got my own N64 in 1998, finally admitting that Nintendo had created something special. Kept my Amiga setup running alongside it, naturally, but the N64 earned its place in my gaming rotation. Spent countless hours with Majora’s Mask, which was even darker and weirder than Ocarina. The three-day cycle mechanic was incredibly ambitious – this living world that reset every 72 minutes, with every NPC following complex schedules that you had to learn and manipulate.
Super Smash Bros was another revelation – taking Nintendo’s beloved characters and letting them beat the hell out of each other was such a simple, brilliant concept. The fighting game mechanics were accessible enough for anyone to jump in, but deep enough to reward serious practice. Seeing Mario throw fireballs at Link while Pikachu used Thunder attacks was surreal fan service done right.
The N64 proved that innovation trumps raw power every time. The PlayStation had better graphics capabilities and CD audio, but Nintendo’s games were more creative, more polished, and ultimately more memorable. Quality over quantity became Nintendo’s calling card, and it started with the N64’s incredible software lineup.
Even now, going back to play N64 games, they still feel fresh and exciting in ways that many modern games don’t. The graphics have aged, sure, but the gameplay mechanics and design philosophy remain timeless. Super Mario 64 is still one of the best 3D platformers ever made. Ocarina of Time remains the template for 3D adventure games. GoldenEye’s split-screen multiplayer is still incredibly fun despite decades of online gaming evolution.
The N64 taught me to stop being such a gaming snob and appreciate innovation wherever it comes from. Whether it’s on a computer, console, or handheld doesn’t matter – good game design is good game design. Nintendo took enormous risks with the N64, creating something that looked nothing like its competitors but played better than anything else available. They gambled on 3D when it wasn’t proven, invented controller innovations that seemed crazy at first, and created games that redefined entire genres. That takes serious courage and vision, something the industry could use more of today.
John grew up swapping floppy disks and reading Amiga Power cover to cover. Now an IT manager in Manchester, he writes about the glory days of British computer gaming—Sensible Soccer, Speedball 2, and why the Amiga deserved more love than it ever got.
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