When the Nintendo Wii arrived in 2006, it felt less like a console launch and more like a cultural event. At a time when Sony and Microsoft were trading blows over high-definition visuals and cinematic horsepower, Nintendo veered off the racetrack entirely. The company that once led the SNES glory days had spent a decade in the wilderness, overshadowed by the PlayStation juggernaut and outmuscled by Microsoft’s aggressive newcomer. Yet with Wii, Nintendo didn’t just challenge the rulebook—they tossed it out the window.
Codenamed “Revolution,” the little white box rejected the arms race of teraflops and shaders, instead betting on movement, immediacy, and accessibility. Its wand-like controller looked like a toy. Its 480p output already felt archaic beside the rising tide of HD. And yet, from living rooms to retirement homes, the Wii became the console everyone wanted. The question is: was this proof that graphics don’t matter, or a once-in-a-generation anomaly where fun outweighed fidelity?
The State of Play Before the Wii
Once the undisputed giant of the industry, Nintendo entered the 2000s with its crown slipping. The Nintendo 64, for all its technical wizardry and timeless exclusives, never truly captured the same mass-market appeal as the original PlayStation. Cartridges, once a hallmark of the brand, had become a liability—expensive to produce and limiting compared to the spacious, inexpensive CDs Sony embraced. Third-party developers followed the money, leaving Nintendo with fewer allies. By the time the GameCube hit shelves in 2001, the situation had only worsened. It was a console brimming with clever design and powerful internals, but its miniature discs, lack of multimedia features, and weaker third-party support meant it never stood a chance against Sony’s PlayStation 2 juggernaut.
Sony had redefined the console market. The PlayStation 2 wasn’t just a gaming machine—it was a cultural touchstone, doubling as an affordable DVD player and home entertainment hub. Every household seemed to have one, and developers couldn’t ignore its massive user base. While Sony cemented its dominance, Microsoft muscled its way into the fray with the Xbox, a machine bursting with power and backed by deep pockets. With Halo leading the charge, Microsoft leapfrogged Nintendo, securing the second spot in the console hierarchy almost overnight.
For Nintendo, the warning signs were impossible to ignore. The company that had once defined what video games were was now an afterthought in the living room. Yes, handhelds like the Game Boy Advance continued to thrive, but on the home console front, Nintendo was at risk of becoming a relic. Simply producing a stronger, shinier GameCube successor wasn’t enough. If the company wanted to matter again, it needed more than a new console—it needed a revolution.
The “Revolution” Begins
When whispers of Nintendo’s next console began circulating, the project carried a bold codename: Revolution. It wasn’t just a flashy placeholder—it was a manifesto. The name suggested disruption, a tectonic shift in the way games would be played, and a clear statement that Nintendo wasn’t interested in simply joining the horsepower arms race. For longtime fans, the word stirred curiosity and hope. Could this really be the pivot that pulled Nintendo back into the spotlight?
At the heart of the Revolution was Shigeru Miyamoto, Nintendo’s legendary designer. Miyamoto had grown tired of the industry’s fixation on polygon counts and graphical fidelity. For him, the true magic of gaming had always been about interaction, not spectacle. He cited titles like Dance Dance Revolution—games that engaged players through unique control methods rather than sheer graphical intensity—as proof that innovation didn’t have to be shackled to expensive technology. Miyamoto envisioned a console that brought players closer to the experience through movement, immersion, and simplicity.
Nintendo’s president at the time, Satoru Iwata, reinforced this philosophy with an almost contrarian approach to hardware design. He instructed his teams to ignore the traditional development roadmap and instead focus on creating something approachable enough for everyone. He wanted a system mothers could embrace, a console that wouldn’t clutter the living room, and a machine that could unlock Nintendo’s back catalogue through backwards compatibility.
Genyo Takeda’s Hardware Gamble
Leading the design of Nintendo’s new console hardware was Genyo Takeda, a veteran within the company who had grown skeptical of the industry’s obsession with raw performance. While Sony and Microsoft were busy unveiling technical marvels built to wow with photorealism, Takeda’s approach was deliberately contrarian. Instead of escalating the technological arms race, he championed restraint. For Takeda, innovation wasn’t about more polygons per second—it was about creating meaningful new ways to play.
Takeda often reached for an analogy from another industry: automobiles. Not every car is engineered to be a high-performance racing machine. Most are designed for everyday drivers, prioritizing practicality, affordability, and comfort. Why should consoles be any different? The majority of players weren’t aspiring game developers or graphics enthusiasts—they were families, casual fans, and curious newcomers. Designing for them meant focusing on approachability, not maxing out tech specs.
That philosophy led to a decisive gamble. The Revolution, later renamed Wii, would ship with modest hardware by design. The system’s IBM PowerPC Broadway CPU and ATI Hollywood GPU ran at lower clock speeds than its rivals, and memory was minimal compared to the Xbox 360 or PlayStation 3. It output only 480p, even as the HD era loomed. Critics would later call these specs archaic, but Takeda’s decision cut costs dramatically. By keeping production affordable, Nintendo could launch the Revolution at just $250—a price that made competitors look bloated by comparison. More importantly, it created room for Nintendo to focus on what truly set the console apart: the way you played.
The Birth of Motion Control
Nintendo’s gamble on motion wasn’t a fluke—it was deliberate engineering mixed with bold imagination. Shigeru Miyamoto himself headed up the design of the new controller, taking inspiration from prototypes developed by Gyration, a company that had been experimenting with motion-sensing input devices for years. What Nintendo settled on was ingenious in its simplicity: a controller shaped like a TV remote. The familiar silhouette was intentional. It looked approachable, not intimidating, with far fewer buttons than a traditional gamepad.
Underneath that humble shell, though, was a clever bit of tech wizardry. A series of accelerometers allowed the controller to detect movement along three axes, translating tilts, swings, and flicks into on-screen action. But accelerometers alone weren’t enough. To precisely track direction, Nintendo added an optical sensor that worked in tandem with a sensor bar. This small bar, perched above or below the television, emitted infrared light that the Wii Remote could read, making “point and play” gaming possible.
This design choice wasn’t just innovative—it was essential. The rise of HDTVs meant that the traditional tricks used by light guns no longer worked. By offloading the tracking to the sensor bar, Nintendo solved a looming problem and future-proofed its console in the process. It was an elegant workaround disguised as a living-room accessory, and it’s hard to overstate just how crucial it was in making the Wii’s motion control feel smooth and reliable.
What started as a radical rethink of how we interact with games became the defining characteristic of an entire console generation. Nintendo didn’t just build a controller—they built an invitation.
What’s in a Name?
When Nintendo first revealed its next console as the “Revolution,” the codename struck a chord. It promised upheaval, disruption, and a seismic shift in the way people played games. For months, fans and press alike rallied around the moniker—it was sleek, powerful, and carried an almost rebellious energy. But in April 2006, Nintendo shocked the world with a different reveal: the console would be called the Wii.
The internet erupted. Jokes flew across forums and late-night TV. “It sounds like a bathroom break.” “Who would buy something with such a silly name?” Critics pounced on the branding misstep, claiming it would sink Nintendo’s credibility before launch day.
But behind the ridicule, Nintendo’s thinking was anything but naïve. The two lower-case “i” characters stood for people, side by side. The word itself was simple, global, and universally pronounceable. It wasn’t about sounding powerful—it was about sounding approachable. In an era where consoles were marketed like supercomputers, Wii broke from the pack with a name that disarmed, invited, and stuck in your memory.
Leading the defense in the West was Reggie Fils-Aimé, Nintendo of America’s charismatic frontman. Reggie doubled down, insisting that Wii represented the console’s core philosophy: togetherness, fun, and accessibility. And while gamers chuckled, Nintendo knew something the critics didn’t. Within months, “Wii” would no longer be a punchline. It would become a household word, etched into pop culture in a way “Revolution” never could.
A Launch to Remember
When Nintendo announced the Wii would retail for $250, jaws dropped. In an era when the PlayStation 3 launched at $499—and in some models, $599—the Wii’s sticker price felt almost audaciously modest. It wasn’t just cheaper; it was practically inviting families, casual players, and lapsed gamers to give it a shot without hesitation. Where Sony leaned on cutting-edge tech and Microsoft touted online dominance, Nintendo pitched something radically different: accessibility at a bargain.
Then came the masterstroke—Wii Sports. Bundled with every console, it wasn’t just a pack-in game, it was the system’s beating heart. A collection of simple, approachable sports minigames, Wii Sports transformed living rooms into tennis courts, baseball diamonds, and bowling alleys. Anyone could pick up a Wii Remote and swing, pitch, or bowl within seconds. It became more than a game; it was a cultural phenomenon, bridging grandparents and grandchildren, gamers and non-gamers alike.
The result? Total pandemonium. Launch day saw lines snake around city blocks. Units vanished from store shelves in minutes. Scalpers thrived, retailers begged for more stock, and headlines chronicled the frenzy. For Nintendo, it was their biggest launch in history—a once-in-a-generation moment when a console wasn’t just a piece of hardware. It was an event.
Nintendo’s gamble wasn’t just technical—it was philosophical. While Sony and Microsoft were locked in a brutal arms race over horsepower and high-definition fidelity, Nintendo slipped into what business theorists call the Blue Ocean Strategy. Instead of fighting for the same audience with shinier graphics and louder marketing, they created an entirely new space where competition was irrelevant.
The Wii wasn’t aimed at the stereotypical “core” gamer with a mountain of discs and a surround sound setup. It was built for families. For friends at parties. For grandparents who hadn’t touched a game since Pac-Man. Its approachable price, intuitive controls, and cheerful design shattered barriers that kept so many away from the hobby. Suddenly, gaming wasn’t a niche pursuit—it was a household activity.
And the numbers told the story. Out of the gate, the Wii didn’t just sell—it steamrolled. Within weeks, it was outselling both the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3, consoles that boasted far more power under the hood. Where rivals wrestled over specs, Nintendo quietly built a cultural juggernaut by asking a different question entirely: who else might want to play?
Under the Hood of the Wii
While the Wii couldn’t compete in raw horsepower, it offered something its rivals couldn’t: a radically different experience at an accessible price point. Nintendo wasn’t trying to outgun its rivals—it was opting out of the arms race altogether
| Specification | Nintendo Wii | PlayStation 3 | Xbox 360 |
| Launch Year | 2006 | 2006 | 2005 |
| CPU | IBM PowerPC “Broadway” (729 MHz) | Cell Broadband Engine (3.2 GHz, 7 SPEs) | IBM PowerPC “Xenon” (3.2 GHz, 3 cores) |
| GPU | ATI “Hollywood” (243 MHz) | NVIDIA RSX “Reality Synthesizer” (550 MHz) | ATI “Xenos” (500 MHz, unified shaders) |
| RAM | 88 MB total (24 MB main + 64 MB auxiliary) | 256 MB XDR RAM + 256 MB GDDR3 VRAM | 512 MB GDDR3 shared |
| Storage | 512 MB flash (expandable via SD card) | 20–60 GB HDD (expandable) | 20–120 GB HDD (expandable) |
| Media Format | 12 cm proprietary DVD-based discs | Blu-ray Disc (up to 50 GB) | Dual-layer DVD (up to 8.5 GB) |
| Video Output | 480p (component, composite, S-Video) | Up to 1080p (HDMI, component) | Up to 1080p (HDMI via later models, component) |
| Backward Compatibility | Full GameCube support (games & accessories) | Select PS1 & PS2 titles (varied by model) | Original Xbox titles (partial library) |
| Launch Price (US) | $249 | $499–$599 | $299–$399 |
Beneath the Wii’s sleek white casing sat hardware that was, by industry standards, modest. At its core, the IBM PowerPC Broadway CPU and ATI Hollywood GPU powered the system, both running at relatively low clock speeds. Nintendo wasn’t chasing benchmark numbers or tech headlines. Instead, the components were chosen for their balance of efficiency, cost, and reliability. The result was a machine that lacked the cutting-edge muscle of its rivals but was more than capable of delivering smooth, engaging gameplay experiences.
Perhaps the most controversial choice was Nintendo’s decision to stick with standard definition output. While the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 were pushing into 720p and 1080p high-definition territory, the Wii capped out at 480p. In an era when HDMI connections and HD-ready TVs were becoming household staples, this seemed like a step backward. And yet, for Nintendo, it was another deliberate compromise. The company believed that dazzling graphics weren’t the end goal; accessibility and affordability mattered more. For millions of players, the trade-off wasn’t a dealbreaker—it barely registered.
For the first time in Nintendo’s history, its home console embraced a standardized optical format. The Wii used a DVD-based disc, a massive leap in capacity compared to the tiny GameCube discs or the restrictive cartridges of earlier generations. This gave developers more breathing room and simplified distribution. Inside the console, 512 MB of flash memory provided storage for save data and downloadable content—a relatively small amount, but expandable via SD cards, which were inexpensive and widely available. Combined with the Wii Shop Channel and virtual console downloads, this opened the door to digital distribution in a way no Nintendo system had before.
Games Beyond the Graphics
The Wii’s launch library painted a fascinating picture of Nintendo’s priorities. On one hand, it had The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, a sweeping epic that bridged the gap between the GameCube and the new console. On the other, there was a surprising absence—no mainline Mario platformer in sight. For a company long defined by its mascot, it was a curious omission. Instead, the system leaned on ports and cross-generation titles to fill its early lineup, signaling that sheer graphical horsepower wasn’t the Wii’s battlefield.
But Nintendo had an ace up its sleeve. Full GameCube backward compatibility meant players weren’t starting from zero. Overnight, the Wii wasn’t just a new console—it was also the best possible GameCube. With the ability to slot in old discs and use existing controllers, it softened the early drought of exclusives and gave fans a vast library from day one.
And then there was Wii Sports. A game so simple it could be explained in seconds, yet so endlessly replayable that it became the system’s beating heart. No cutting-edge graphics, no labyrinthine mechanics—just intuitive fun. Its accessibility transcended language, age, and gaming experience. In an era obsessed with visual spectacle, Wii Sports proved that the most powerful graphics card in the world couldn’t compete with the joy of grandma hitting her first digital tennis serve.
Nintendo followed it up with Wii Sports Resort, which refined motion control with the Wii MotionPlus and set the standard for the technology. A few years later, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword pushed that concept further with one-to-one combat mechanics. Nintendo’s other flagship franchises thrived on the system as well. Super Mario Galaxy and its sequel delivered a stunning reinvention of 3D platforming, combining tight gameplay with inventive level design and sweeping orchestral scores.
Mario Kart Wii became one of the console’s biggest sellers, popularizing online play for the series and introducing the divisive motion-controlled steering wheel. Super Smash Bros. Brawl brought together an expanded roster of Nintendo icons, complete with an ambitious (if uneven) story mode and the arrival of Sonic and Solid Snake.
The Wii also provided fertile ground for unique experiences. Metroid Prime 3: Corruption closed out Retro Studios’ acclaimed trilogy with immersive motion aiming, while Xenoblade Chronicles offered an epic RPG that many fans consider among the genre’s finest.
These titles—and many more—demonstrated that while the Wii may have been underpowered compared to its rivals, it excelled at delivering unforgettable gameplay. Together, they defined the system’s identity and helped prove that innovation in design could sometimes matter more than graphical fidelity.
Accessories: Expanding the Wii’s Control Universe
For all the magic the Wii Remote conjured, it didn’t take long for cracks to appear. Players quickly discovered that “waggle”—shaking the controller wildly—often worked just as well as precise movements. It was fun, yes, but it wasn’t the 1:1 sword-swinging fantasy Nintendo had hinted at. Enter Wii MotionPlus, a small yet transformative add-on that finally delivered the fidelity promised in those glossy concept trailers. With it, swordplay in Wii Sports Resort felt sharper, archery demanded actual precision, and for the first time, the Wii Remote felt more like a true extension of the player.
Beyond the Wiimote and Nunchuk, Nintendo offered a variety of accessories that allowed players to tailor their experience, from classic gameplay to novel interactions. The Classic Controller was perhaps the most notable of these. True to its name, it was a straightforward controller with four face buttons, shoulder buttons, a D-pad, and a pair of analog sticks. Its primary purpose was to let players dive into Nintendo’s back catalog, from the NES to the Nintendo 64, though it also worked on modern Wii titles that supported traditional controllers. Its biggest flaw, however, was its dependency on the Wiimote. Unlike USB or proprietary connections, the Classic Controller had to plug into the remote, which could also sap the Wiimote’s batteries during extended play sessions.
Nintendo later released the Classic Controller Pro, addressing several ergonomic concerns. The buttons and sticks were spaced more comfortably, and the cable now exited from the top rather than the bottom, reducing awkward tangling during gameplay. Despite these improvements, the Pro version still relied on the Wiimote for connectivity, meaning the underlying limitation of tethered power consumption remained. Even so, these controllers gave players a more traditional option, bridging the gap between Nintendo’s motion-centric design and the conventional gamepad experience, and ensuring that the Wii could satisfy both casual gamers and those craving a more classic style of play.
While each add-on expanded the Wii’s possibilities, the sheer volume risked alienating casual players—the very audience Nintendo had worked so hard to capture. Too many peripherals meant too many decisions, and in a console defined by simplicity, clutter was the enemy. For some, the magic was slipping beneath the weight of plastic.
The Wii Revisions
Success brings experimentation, and in Nintendo’s case, it also brought revision. The original Wii was a sleek, unassuming white box that hid a powerful secret: full backward compatibility with the GameCube. Pop in an old disc, slot in a memory card, and even plug in the trusty WaveBird controller—it was all there. But in 2011, Nintendo quietly released the Wii Family Edition, and with it, a major sacrifice. GameCube support was gone. No controller ports, no memory card slots, and no way to revisit those purple-era classics. For families new to the Wii, it barely mattered, but for enthusiasts, it felt like a door had been shut.
Things took a stranger turn with the Wii Mini. Retailing for just $100, it was a striking red-and-black redesign that looked more like a toy than a sleek entertainment device. Affordable, yes—but stripped bare. No online connectivity. No SD card slot. No backward compatibility. Even the video output was limited to composite. It was, in every sense, the most pared-down version of the Wii possible.
And while its budget price might have appealed to the bargain bin crowd, the Wii Mini never caught fire. By then, the Wii’s heyday had passed, and its stripped features meant it couldn’t serve as a true entry point for late adopters. Instead, it became more of a curiosity—a quirky footnote in Nintendo’s long history of hardware revisions. Slimmer, cheaper, but ultimately too compromised to matter.
The Dark Side of Success
The Wii’s meteoric rise didn’t just attract new players—it attracted opportunists. With millions of consoles flying off store shelves and a user base hungry for content, the system quickly became a magnet for shovelware. Bargain-bin mini-game collections, fitness knock-offs, and hastily assembled movie tie-ins flooded the market. For every Wii Sports or Mario Galaxy, there were a dozen titles like NinjaBread Man or Carnival Games, each designed less to entertain and more to ride the wave of demand.
Third-party publishers saw dollar signs, and at first, the strategy worked. Slap together a quick motion-control gimmick, throw it in a cheap box, and parents would scoop it up for their kids. But as the novelty wore thin, so did consumer trust. Many of these publishers, after burning through the goodwill of the Wii’s massive install base, quietly bowed out, leaving Nintendo to shoulder the heavy lifting of keeping the console’s library respectable.
Complicating matters further were the Wii’s low specs. While Nintendo had designed the system to prioritize accessibility, its lack of HD visuals and relatively underpowered hardware created headaches for developers used to pushing the Xbox 360 and PS3. Big-budget ports often landed on the Wii in compromised form—scaled-down graphics, stripped features, or entirely different versions of the same game. Madden and FIFA might have had Wii entries, but they rarely matched their HD counterparts. For many studios, the effort simply wasn’t worth it.
The result was a strange paradox: a console that sold over 100 million units but often struggled to attract sustained third-party support. Success had opened the floodgates, but it also revealed the limits of Nintendo’s unconventional gamble.
For a while, Nintendo’s stranglehold on the casual audience looked unshakable. Grandparents were bowling in their living rooms, toddlers were swinging virtual tennis rackets, and families were huddled around the TV in numbers unseen since the NES. But every empire faces challengers, and soon the competition started circling.
Sony introduced the PlayStation Move in 2010, complete with glowing wands and promises of precise motion-tracking. Microsoft followed with Kinect, a camera-based system that cut out the controller entirely. Both were blatant responses to the Wii’s runaway success, and for a moment, it seemed like Nintendo’s magic might be fading. The problem was that these copycats had deeper pockets, stronger hardware, and the backing of blockbuster third-party franchises.
At the same time, the very publishers who had once flooded the Wii with content began to retreat. Third parties shifted their focus back to the PS3 and Xbox 360, where the audience was hungrier for graphically ambitious experiences and online multiplayer. For the Wii, that meant a thinner pipeline of big releases and a growing reliance on Nintendo’s first-party lineup to keep the console relevant.
Then came the rise of mobile gaming—a seismic shift that pulled millions of casual players away from their living room consoles entirely. Angry Birds, Fruit Ninja, and countless free-to-play titles turned smartphones into the new casual hub. The same audience that once marveled at Wii Sports now had bite-sized entertainment in their pockets, ready to go at a tap.
The result was inevitable: the Wii’s casual empire began to erode. What was once Nintendo’s greatest triumph—bringing games to everyone—ironically became the very thing that left them most vulnerable. Casual players didn’t stick around forever, and without them, the cracks in the foundation were impossible to ignore.
Graphics vs. Gameplay: The Heart of the Debate
From day one, the Wii threw down a gauntlet: fun mattered more than fidelity. While Sony and Microsoft were obsessed with pushing polygons and touting “cinematic experiences,” Nintendo doubled down on playfulness. And at first, it worked beautifully. Wii Sports, Wii Fit, and Mario Kart Wii became cultural juggernauts—not because they dazzled visually, but because they were instantly understandable and universally fun.
It’s easy to forget how bold that was in 2006. Nintendo deliberately shipped a console that was weaker than its competition, yet it outsold both the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 for years. For casual players and families, 480p didn’t matter. What mattered was the laughter around the TV, the ease of passing a remote, the joy of grandma nailing a strike in virtual bowling.
But while the Wii thrived on this “fun-first” philosophy, it wasn’t without casualties. Hardcore gamers often felt abandoned. Third-party blockbusters either skipped the Wii entirely or arrived as compromised, watered-down versions. Meanwhile, rivals were building vast online ecosystems and cinematic worlds that made the Wii’s library look quaint.
The question, then, became one of identity. Was Nintendo’s gamble proof that graphics really don’t matter? Or did its eventual decline show that—even if fun comes first—hardware power still sets the ceiling? For a while, the Wii seemed untouchable. But as the years went on, the gap between “fun over fidelity” and the expectations of modern gaming grew harder to ignore.
Legacy of the Wii
For Nintendo, the Wii wasn’t just a success—it was a renaissance. After the GameCube’s middling sales and the N64’s decline in third-party support, few expected Nintendo to reclaim the top spot in the industry. Yet the Wii did exactly that. It became the must-have console of the late 2000s, bridging generations and blurring the line between “gamer” and “non-gamer.” In living rooms, hospitals, retirement homes, and classrooms, the Wii transformed play into something universal.
But its true legacy lies in the blueprint it left behind. The Switch, with its hybrid design and emphasis on accessible play, feels like a direct successor to the Wii’s philosophy. Nintendo realized it didn’t need to outgun its rivals—it just needed to outthink them. Where the Wii proved motion controls could sell 100 million systems, the Switch showed portability and versatility could do the same.
And yet, the Wii also offered a cautionary tale. Graphics may not be everything, but they aren’t nothing. As the Wii’s novelty wore off and HD gaming became the norm, the gulf in visual fidelity grew impossible to ignore. Third-party support dwindled, and casual players moved on to mobile devices. By the end of its life, the Wii was a reminder that while fun can conquer all in the short term, technical limitations eventually catch up.
Conclusion
The Wii’s story is proof that raw horsepower doesn’t always decide the winner. While its competitors flexed their HD muscles, Nintendo zagged where everyone else zigged, betting on motion controls and accessibility over polygon counts and shader effects. The gamble paid off, reshaping the landscape of gaming for an entire generation.
What the Wii really taught us is that innovation creates its own kind of spectacle. Swinging a virtual tennis racket or bowling a strike in Wii Sports wasn’t about graphics—it was about immediacy, laughter, and that magical “you’ve got to try this” factor. No amount of visual fidelity could replicate the joy of watching your parents, siblings, or grandparents jump into a game without hesitation.
Of course, the answer to whether graphics matter depends on the player. For some, immersion is tied to stunning vistas and lifelike detail. For others, fun is measured in smiles, not frame rates. The Wii proved that a console doesn’t need cutting-edge visuals to leave an indelible mark—it just needs to connect with people in a way that feels fresh and irresistible.
In the end, the Wii was Nintendo’s most unlikely revolution: a reminder that fun is timeless, graphics are relative, and sometimes the simplest ideas are the ones that change everything.
