Visions of Mii Plaza

Next time you're at your parents' house, head into the closet in the basement. Behind the Christmas decorations and the VHS of Toy Story 2, you might just find something. Untangle the sensor bar, replace the batteries in the remote, tighten the wrist strap. Then you're ready.

Take Wii Sports out of the sleeve, put it back in the console, and let the music wash over you. Now, what to play? You remember enjoying baseball. Wouldn't that be fun?

The character select screen will prompt you to pick a Mii. Find yourself. It's definitely you. You'll recognize it. But would your friends? You don't have that haircut anymore. You dyed your hair years ago. Was that really the shape of your smile? Try your best to remember. You don't have many photos from back then.

Watch the sun rise over Wii Sports Stadium. Feel the warmth of the TV on your skin. See the empty stands, colored to look to the distant eye like a crowd, and marvel at how the illusion falls apart before your cynical adult eyes.

Every position on both teams will be staffed by Mii players from your system's save data. As you step up to the plate for the first time, notice who's facing for you on each base. Siblings, cousins, teachers, friends.

You used to play real baseball with these people. Well, it was soccer baseball—the school would never let you swing a real baseball bat—but it was still your favourite part of gym class. Even when you got picked last, it was still a thrill to watch your athletic friend kick a ball over the fence and into the high school next door.

Watch as that friend steps up to the plate as if stepping directly out of that memory. Figure out what happened to that friend. Open Instagram or LinkedIn to find out they're working in Toronto now, or maybe they're engaged.

When you feel compelled to leave the game, feel free to follow that urge. Watch as your eyes move to the Mii Channel. Those friends on your baseball team are people you hadn't thought about in years. Who else might you find inside?

Notice how placid the Mii Plaza is. See how the horizon stretches into a white haze on the horizon. Look from the top down on all your Miis, like a child looking over an anthill. Count each one.

Every single one of them was made of a real person, by a real person. Each of them reflect how that person looked, yes, but also how they looked to you. They're your brother before you moved away and you stopped knowing everything about them. They're your parents before you realized you couldn't always count on them. They're the friends who moved away when you were eight who you promised to stay in touch with.

(Well, except for the one you made ugly on purpose—but that one's a reflection of your sense of humor at age six when you sat around the TV trying to make each other laugh, so I think it's earned a place.)

These Miis can play sports, party, and go racing together. They live together in peace and play. Nothing changes them, and nothing ever will. No one leaves the group, and no one joins.

Remember how, when you were a kid, this is what you thought the future would be. Hanging out with your friends forever.

Perhaps, you could add new characters to your Mii Plaza. Maybe you want to make this a living garden of the people who have shaped you. Maybe it matters to you that those you love can meet and mingle with those you loved.

Or you could leave the Mii Plaza alone. Maybe it's important to you to preserve this relic from this stage of your life. Moments in time are rarely preserved so purely. Isn't this a gift?