Posted on: Friday, May 25, 2001

The Homebody Chronicles
Sibling rivalry can be its own reward

By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer

Even in one-player mode, Tetris Attack can tempt you to throw the controllers at the TV. No matter how cute Poochy the Dog, or his monkey friend, may be.

"You're going down."

"Oh, yeah? Bite me."

So it's not the ideal conversation between sisters. Unless, of course, you're engaged in an all-out war of the visual stimulus and quick-finger attack.

Which we were.

"Don't make me hurt you," I managed to mutter between clenched teeth, as I demonstrated the death grip on my controller.

My younger sister just humphed, hurtling blocks at me with an evil grin.

"That's it!" I screamed. "That's it! You're gonna pay!"

I harnessed whatever strength I had left after playing Tetris Attack for more than a hour in our parents' bedroom. For the past four years, we've been hooked on the Nintendo puzzle game that pits characters from the world of Super Mario against each other in a phalange challenge.

You have to organize color-coded blocks into patterns of three or more in a row. Up, down, across — it doesn't matter, as long as the blocks match, causing them to disappear and lessen your load.

And unlike Tetris, the stack rises from the bottom, moving faster the longer you play, until it reaches the top and you die. Just like that.

So, really, the object of the game is to stay alive — and kill your opponent.

Oh, the joy.

To destroy your rival, you have to connect four or more blocks, which sends your opponent a stack of blocks for her to deal with. The move elicits a sound from your character. Poochy barks, Blargg arghs, Raphael the Raven caws. And if you send a huge block, a result of creating a chain reaction of connections and combinations, the game celebrates with pompous fanfare.

I live for that.

There's nothing more invigorating than hearing the heralding trumpets announcing your triumph over carpal tunnel syndrome to foil your opponent's game plan.

Unless the fanfare isn't for you. Then it becomes the most annoying sound in the world.

A sound I'm very familiar with.

My 15-year-old sister is a veteran gamer. Her repertoire includes various RPG (role-playing games), puzzle, driving and fighting games on any name-your-game system.

"Some people are given the gift of writing or singing," said the young multi-tasker, shuffling blocks while formulating thoughtful trash talk. "But me, God gave me the gift of Tetris Attack."

Suddenly, the sound of fanfare.

I'm dead.

"OK, that's it," I said, scowling. "This is war."

It sounds more violent than it really is. Sure, we curse each other and resort to personal attacks when we're desperate. (Knocks at her bra size seem to work.) But it's one of the few things we have in common.

She's 12 years younger than me, with no desire to emulate her big sister. She avoids any activity that causes sweat, religiously listens to J-pop and hates lipstick with a fervor. She's not into fashion, doesn't read magazines and hardly watches TV.

Nothing like me at 15.

I can't give her eyebrow-tweezing tips or teach her the basic jump shot. I can't convince her to trade Hot Pockets for a caesar salad.

Other than living in the same house with the same set of parents (who, for the record, are easier on her than me), we don't have a whole lot in common.

And for whatever reason — maybe it's the thrill of a challenge or the urge to win win win at all costs win — we are both drawn to Tetris Attack.

And the game, in turn, draws us together.

Even if the only talking we do is trash.

For the record, Advertiser staff writer Catherine E. Toth has never beaten her younger sister, Crystal, at Tetris Attack. (It's a sensitive issue with her.)