The chivalric tale of Castlequest springs to life on the NES on November 28, 1986
Hearken, in this year of our Lord the twenty-eighth of November, and in the nineteen hundred and eighty-sixth year after the Incarnation, when the leaves of autumn lay thick upon the ground and the breath of winter began to crisp the air, there came forth from the distant and mysterious East a new trial for the knights and adventurers of our latter age: a challenge titled Castlequest, sent abroad upon a grey cartridge for that curious instrument called the Nintendo Entertainment System.
Know ye, gentle reader, that in a time lost to ancient memory, a dire shadow fell upon a peaceful realm. The beauteous Princess Margarita, whose grace was the light of the land, was seized by the nefarious Mad Mizer, a Dark Lord most grim of aspect and foul of purpose. This villain, dwelling within the grim confines of Groken Castle high in the Forbidden Mountains, vowed to make the Princess his unwilling Queen.
But lo! The call to arms was answered. Forth came the worthy Prince Rafael, a soul of true resolve, though armed with naught but a dagger and clad in the simple vestments of a man who loved from afar. Swearing an oath to the heavens, the Prince set forth upon his perilous Castlequest, the odds against him seeming hopeless to those of lesser spirit.
Many have essayed this quest, and many have been sore vexed. For the castle is not laid out after the fashion of honest baronies, with great hall and chapel and buttery in seemly order, but is a very labyrinth of false passages and secret doors, where a man may wander till his beard grow white (or till his mother calleth him to supper). Some chambers must be entered in strictest sequence, else the keys thou hast won with much toil avail thee nothing, and thou art compelled to begin anew—a penance more grievous than any imposed by abbot or bishop. Whatever horrors of Groken Castle hath been committed to parchment by candlelight in abbeys across the Continent, they art merely superceded by the terrible tales of the "hundred miserable rooms of Groken Castle" whispered in the shadows of taverns and markets.
Yet the heart of man (or of boy, for boys chiefly wage this war) is stout. With sword and with shield, nay, rather with a small rectangular wand called a “controller,” he presseth ever onward, leaping over pits that gape like the mouth of Hell, striking down guardians monstrous and misshapen, gathering gems that sparkle as did the carbuncles in the breastplate of Sir Launcelot, and seeking ever the true path amidst a maze more subtle than that which Daedalus built for King Minos. For deep within the bowels and secret passages of Groken Castle art two imprisoned fairies who, should the intrepid prince discoverth and freeeth them, shall bestow upon him the Key of Love.
Nevertheless, when at the last the valiant youth standeth before the dread Mad Mizer and, after fifty blows deftly timed, doth cast the wizard down, then is the Princess Margarita restored to liberty, and there soundeth a triumphant strain of eight-bit minstrelsy, and the heart leapeth within the breast as it did when Sir Kenneth of Scotland beheld the banner of the Cross once more afloat above Jerusalem.
Though the years have rolled on like the waves of the sea, and many greater and more gorgeous adventures have since been chronicled upon brighter screens, yet doth this humble quest retain a certain olden honour: it was among the first to teach a generation of young squires that perseverance, cunning, sodas, pizza, and a steadfast thumb may overcome even the most fell enchantments that ever wizard devised. Prince Rafael’s noble quest for his fair Margarita reminds us that even within the forlorn walls of Groken Castle, the flame of chivalry burns bright.
Wherefore, if thou be at heart a knight of the olden time transported wondrously into this age of neon and silicon, or merely a gentle reader who loveth tales of peril bravely met, lift up thine heart and give a thought to those who, nigh forty winters agone, first stormed the hundred rooms of Castlequest, and deemed themselves no less heroic than Sir Galahad or Sir Gawaine for having done so.
And so fare thee well until another chronicle be penned!
