A console with soul: an ode to the Switch

As Nintendo’s console passes the torch to its successor, let’s re-examine what made it so special

My Switch has been with me through thick and thin. It has been with me around the world. Most importantly, it has given me and my loved ones so many good times.

The Nintendo Switch needed to accomplish a lot. Its success was existential for Nintendo — and for gaming culture as a whole.

Its immediate predecessor – the Wii U – had been a disaster from a sales and marketing perspective, to the point that Nintendo’s then-president Satoru Iwata took a 50% pay cut to avoid laying off staff.

So the Switch needed to demonstrate Nintendo still had the spark of innovation, and that it had listened to consumers’ complaints about the Fisher Price-ish feel of the Wii U. It needed to reduce the waste of Nintendo’s split focus on home and portable console development, and communicate a USP to audiences who were still primarily concerned with raw processing power for home consoles.

It needed, somehow, to thread the needle of expectation and necessity.

So, in the lead-up to the console’s reveal at a digital event in January 2017, there was endless speculation about what form the new console might take.

Some of which was very silly: I remember a podcast from an otherwise-reputable outlet suggesting it would effectively be a non-phone phone with a priority on Pokémon Go-esque AR games.

Somehow, the launch event delivered. With a strong USP – seamless home to portable modes – married to now-iconic sonic branding, the form of the console was communicated to the industry and audiences perfectly.

Its features, including gyro controls and the ability to use each joycon as its own controller, were excellently demonstrated by trailers like that for ARMS.

The presentation also showed off the latest entries in key Nintendo franchises like Zelda and Mario, and strong industry support from companies including Monolith, Atlus, and indie darlings like Suda51. This was legacy as well as novelty. Nintendo had recognised, and delivered upon, the desires of its publisher partners.

So the scrappy little console that could captured gamers’ hearts, new and old. From fan art of the Switch puppy, to the rabid Animal Crossing turnip hunters of the Covid era, to the joyous experimentation of indie developers on the platform, the Switch has enabled unique experiences in all sorts of ways. It has been an undeniable hit.

At time of writing its lifetime sales sit at over 154m units, within striking distance of the best ever sales for a home console. It deserves it.

If it had not succeeded, the past 5 years of pop culture — bare minimum — would have been very different.

Soul of the system

So what made the little console that had everything to prove a success? I think, in part, it’s because it was the underdog.

I know, that’s a bizarre thing to say of a product from an enormous international tech and hanafuda company, but bear with me.

Nintendo — creator of endless childhood memories — was on the back foot after the Wii U debacle. Gamers knew the company needed a win, and some of that sentiment was transferred to the Switch.

Even at launch, we recognised the new console was underpowered compared to its direct competitors from Microsoft and Sony. It would never be able to run the high-end titles that were possible on PC. Instead, it would live or die on its unique approach to game creation.

It was an experiment, and one that reflected the sensibilities and aspirations of the Nintendo president Satoru Iwata.

“On my business card, I am a corporate president. In my mind, I am a game developer. But in my heart, I am a gamer”

Satoru Iwata

Iwata was a rarity in the tech and gaming industry. He shouldn’t have been — we need more like him — but he was. He was an incredible programmer, as those who worked with him frequently attested.

He was a conscientious and upstanding boss, as the example of him taking a pay cut to spare employees from bearing the brunt of the Wii U failure demonstrates. Perhaps it’s just my own life experience, but I’ve never had a boss who would ever consider taking that responsibility upon themself.

To many gamers he was also the face of the company due to his consistent presence in the consumer-facing Direct presentations.

He had realised that a corporation based on personal experiences needed a personable face — and as this tribute from a former colleague and fellow industry legend demonstrates, he was the correct person to take on that role. He was the right person at the right time, and it was because of his respect for and recognition of his employees.

So when Iwata passed away in 2015 during the development of the Switch, that sense of loss contributed to the overall sentiment of a Nintendo with everything to prove. It had to succeed – not just financially, but also as a tribute to a beloved figure within the industry who had spearheaded the new console’s direction and development. It had to validate his vision.

If you want to see quite how integral Nintendo’s internal team considered Iwata’s contribution, look no further than ‘flog’.

This was an emulated copy of Golf, a game that a young Iwata himself developed for the Nintendo Entertainment System in 1984, hidden within the Switch’s code. It could technically be accessed and played, if players jumped through hoops that made it clear it was a deliberate tribute to Iwata.

Firstly, in order to access ‘flog’, the console’s internal clock had to be set to July 11, the date of Iwata’s death. Then, using the motion controls, the player had to replicate Iwata’s iconic ‘to you’ gesture he frequently used during Nintendo’s consumer-facing presentations.

It has been widely speculated that the inclusion of ‘flog’ was meant as a sort of digital omamori, a protective amulet sold at Shinto shrines.

If true, that speaks to how strong the sentiment towards Iwata was at Nintendo. His continued influence and presence within the very core of the console’s OS was meant as a good luck charm. It was his earnestness and joy, transposed to code, within every Switch.

In many ways, Iwata exemplified what may of us think of when we think about Nintendo: uncynical and earnest about the value of play and innovation. His approach to gaming was the sermon; his code wthin its core software was its inscription.

Nobody should adulate the boss of a multinational corporation. They are all horrendous people.

But perhaps Iwata was the one exception, someone who fell into a role inimitable to his core values, yet still somehow made it fit his ideals; a man whose dedication to his craft uplifted the industry as a whole. And, to some extent, was carried within each and every Switch.

Switch and play

I think everyone who has owned a Switch will agree it is a console with a personality.

It doesn’t sit dumbly in a cabinet, all sleek and monochromatic, a dispassionate monolith you turn on and off as you would a toaster. Instead, it bounces around with you. You carry it with you on your journeys. You play with it on planes and trains, before taking it back and slotting it home in its dock like putting a pet to bed.

In a lot of ways, the Switch puppy image presaged a lot of the feeling around the console as a whole.

If you’re at all inclined to ascribe feelings and personalities to inanimate objects – as I think we all are to some degree – you’ll likely love your Switch as a console and even as a companion, rather than just as a means to load the games you play on it.

I got my Switch within the first few months of its launch. I haven’t upgraded it for the technically superior OLED version, or even for an improved version of the OG hardware.

Pound for pound, I’ve spent more time with my Switch than I have any other console I’ve ever owned. It has been the vector for incredible times with friends and family, the means by which I experienced some of the best single-player games of my life, and has been with me across continents and almost a decade now without failing.

If a console can be said to have a soul, it would be the Switch.

Perhaps it is because it carries the spirit of Satoru Iwata and his uncynical approach to gaming, and because the Nintendo team wished to invoke his attitude. Perhaps it’s because we love a comeback story, or because we appreciate games for their own sake. What matters is that we are richer as a culture, and as an industry, for having had the Switch in our lives.

Perhaps I’m going too far into hagiography, and in eulogising a hunk of metal and plastic at the realistic end of its operational lifespan. Although, to be fair, we do the same for ships, cars, and other vehicles that transport us, for similarly illogical but no less meaningful reasons.

The bare truth is that when I think about my Switch and the experiences I’ve had with it, it makes me happy.

It reminds me of times it’s made my friends and family happy, too, when I’ve brought it with me to play games with them. It has been the source of joy, for myself and others, just as those initial videos in its launch event promised.

And in the end I believe that’s what matters. The Switch is Satoru Iwata’s — and his fellow gamers’ — uncynical, earnest desire to share meaningful experiences with our loved ones made manifest.

If you’ve enjoyed this ode to a console and would like to read more, please do consider subscribing or sharing. Maybe read some of the less earnest posts on here, too! And yes, while there’s much to be said about Nintendo’s less consumer-friendly actions over the past few years, I just wanted to celebrate a console — and a person — responsible for many instances of joy in my life.