
Is the Nintendo Switch the best console of its generation – or just the most meaningful to me?
The lifespan of a games console has extended a lot since I was a child. In the 1990s, this kind of technology would be out of date after just a couple of years. There would be some tantalising new machine out before you knew it, everybody competing to be on the cutting edge: the Game Boy and Sega Genesis/Mega Drive in 1989 were followed by the Game Gear in 1990 and the Super NES in 1991. Five years was a long life for a gaming machine.
Now, it's more like 10. The Nintendo Switch 2 will be released in a couple of weeks, more than eight years since I first picked an original Switch up off its dock and marvelled at the instant transition to portable play. Games consoles often feel like they mark off particular eras in my life: the Nintendo 64 was the defining console of my childhood, the PlayStation 2 of my adolescence, and the Xbox 360 of the first years of my career, the first console launch I ever covered as a (ridiculously young) journalist. The Nintendo Switch came along just a few months after my first child was born, and for me it has become the games machine of that era of harried early parenthood.
When I reflect on my experiences with the Switch, I remember snatching moments in Breath of the Wild's Hyrule while the baby napped beside me; hiding on the veranda of a French villa to play the odd Splatoon match on our first family holiday; and trying to make a mint on my Animal Crossing turnip trades while walking my second baby around the house in his sling, trying to get him to sleep (he never did). When they got old enough, the first games I played with my children were on the Switch. We all played Pokémon Sword and Shield together, and most recently my youngest made his way through the surprisingly entertaining Princess Peach Showtime with only minimal assistance from me.
Over the last eight years, my living room TV became dominated by things like Bluey and Moana and most recently (god help me), Alvin and the Chipmunks, and I no longer have the hours of uninterrupted gaming time in the evenings. The Switch gave me some of that that time back, though, letting me dip into games whenever I had a moment – which gave me vital stress relief, a route back to myself during some of the most challenging years of my life. Eight years is a long time, enough for anyone's life to change beyond recognition. In that time I've lost people, moved cities, gained new friends, too. And, of course, we all went through the pandemic. Animal Crossing: New Horizons became perhaps the defining game of that time, and I am not the only person for whom the Switch was a blessed oasis, a way to connect when we were starved of in-person interaction.
Things have changed for me since 2017, as they probably have for you. Consoles feel like companions, especially perhaps the portable ones like the Switch and the Game Boy, which we literally carry with us wherever we go. My kids are older now, enjoying all the Switch games that I enjoyed when they were very small – and it does seem as if the Switch 2 will neatly mark another new stage, for me and for them.
I recently gathered together all the Switch consoles, games, controllers and accessories in my house and my office for an audit, from the battered day-one unit that serves as the family console to the untouched OLED Zelda special edition my partner got me and the variably functioning spare JoyCons accumulated over time. It's not quite time for them to join the other old consoles under my bed, each in a clear plastic box with all of its cables, ready to be dusted off when the time comes; the Switch 2 will take its place in my rucksack and in my office, but I won't be upgrading the family console for some time yet. I don't really want to. I think the Switch is probably my favourite console I've ever owned, not just because its best games are real hall-of-famers that will be remembered in another 20 years, and not just because its hybrid home-portable nature was a feat of technical wizardry that genuinely changed how I play – but also because of the space it has occupied in my life.
A little sentimentality is forgivable at the end of an era. In a couple of weeks all the talk will be about the new console, how it's selling, whether it's worth the money, what the best Mario Kart World strategies are, and how it compares to its record-breaking predecessor. For now, I'm not thinking much about what the Nintendo Switch meant for the gaming industry; instead I'm thinking about what it meant to me.
Have you ever heard of Fantasy Life? It was a bit of a cult hit on the Nintendo 3DS in 2014, a cosy-feeling role-playing game that let you switch between 12 different professions, so you would be blacksmithing one minute, fighting monsters another and cooking things up the next. The sequel – Fantasy Life i: The Girl Who Steals Time – is out today after years of delays.
You can now be an artist or a farmer as well as a magician, carpenter, fisherman, alchemist or whatever else you fancy, and also it adds time travel into the mix. It's an intriguing amalgamation of the Animal Crossing/Harvest Moon style of Japanese life simulator, and the Dragon Quest/Ni no Kuni flavour of unthreatening role-playing game, and I'm looking forward to exploring it. An especial shout-out to the members of one of my group chats who have been eagerly awaiting this for more than a decade.
Available on: Switch/2, PS4/5, Xbox, PC
Estimated playtime: 30-plus hours
Sign up to Pushing Buttons
Keza MacDonald's weekly look at the world of gaming
after newsletter promotion
A couple of interesting games hitting Kickstarter this week: Crescent County, a colourful witch-delivery game with broom-racing and plenty of small-town drama; and a ghost story set in Paisley just outside Glasgow, named after its Chinese takeaway Crystal Garden.
If you have a few minutes, have a go at this satirical simulation text game You Are Generative AI, which casts you as an increasingly self-aware AI large language model answering random questions that people cannot be bothered to research or think through themselves. I got three different endings and one of them made me genuinely quite sad.
Developers at Bungie, makers of Destiny and the forthcoming shooter Marathon, have been dealing with an alleged plagiarism scandal after unattributed designs from an artist called Antireal were found in promotional screenshots and art from Marathon. Bungie is blaming the mistake on a former employee. VG247 has a rundown.
After half a decade, PlayStation 5 sales are neck and neck with PlayStation 4's results at this point in its life cycle, at 78m – despite the fact that its price has actually increased, due to the wild times in which we live. Video Game Chronicle gets into the numbers.
Farm Simulator: 16bit Edition – the simple joy of ploughing your own furrow | ★★★★☆
Deliver at All Costs – madcap driving game goes nowhere fast | ★★☆☆☆
Fortnite unavailable on iPhones globally after Apple rejects App Store release
I've had several good suggestions for the name of reader Travis's book-club style video game club: Select/Start (thanks Alex), Long Play (from Eva), and Doki Doki Videogame Club (niche reference there, Chris). Especial props to Kenny, however, who went hog wild and came up with several, including these three beauts: Go Forth and Multiplay, Concurrent Players and Let's Console Each Other.
Lucas also had a great suggestion for last week's questioner: 'Your bookclubber should look at itch.io for crazy little free games to play and discuss with their friends! The indie folks sharing their games there would probably love the attention/feedback of a games book club.' (You Are Generative AI, which I mentioned earlier, is on Itch, along with just hundreds of other shortform games worthy of discussion.)
And we've just about got room for another (timely) question, this time from reader Ali:
'I've always admired Nintendo for coming up with different names for each console, as opposed to Sony going for the sequential naming convention and Microsoft jumping from 360 to One to Series (?). My opinion has somewhat changed now that the successor to the Nintendo Switch is called Switch 2. Do you have any thoughts on console names?'
It's true that Nintendo usually goes for completely new names for each console, except arguably the series of Game Boys, the NES and Super NES, Wii and Wii U, and now Switch and Switch 2. And yes, this is the first time they've gone for a number. I'd say this is down to how badly the company did with the Wii U, whose confusing name surely contributed to how badly it flopped. But I think it reflects the more conservative and cautious mood of the games industry as a whole in 2025, as it comes to the end of decades' worth of unsustainably rapid growth. Or maybe it's because Nintendo's president Shuntaro Furukawa used to be an accountant.
If you've got a question for Question Block – or anything else to say about the newsletter – email us on pushingbuttons@theguardian.com

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


The Guardian
29 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘Parenthood is messy': what it's really like to raise a child
Photographer Kirsten Lewis's book Unsupervised presents a raw, honest look at how some families navigate the challenges and joys of raising children. Spending between 24 and 72 hours documenting each family, over a period of 15 years, Lewis's intimate black and white photographs capture moments in the home lives of a variety of families. The images explore the fullness of parenting, from its sudden dramas to the quiet shared moments. Unsupervised by Kirsten Lewis is published by Daylight books Kirsten Lewis: 'One of my objectives when being invited into a family's home to photograph is to validate someone's worth by showing them how much they are loved. In my opinion, parenting is the hardest and most underappreciated job one can take on yet it's seemingly taboo to acknowledge this outwardly. Every single parent I have ever spoken to that has shared their struggles is not desiring a different life, just to simply be understood and hear that they are not alone' The trust between the families and Lewis is evidenced by the level of intimacy she was able to witness and capture with her camera. This project also questions the pressure of perfection widespread across all social media platforms with their carefully 'curated' windows into family life 'Imagine a world where families felt safe enough to live their lives free from the fear of judgment, criticism and inadequacy' 'I made this picture of my daughter when we were in a small village in Iceland back in 2019. She was jumping over puddles when she tripped over a small rock and fell, face first, into the wet pavement. Once I confirmed no teeth were lost and an ER trip was not necessary, I chose to make a picture. I like to lean into uncomfortable and hard moments rather than try to hide or ignore them. With Byrdie, I wanted to honour her brave and adventurous spirit. When I show her this picture she always recalls what happened with a sense of pride for getting through a 'really big fall'' 'It can be super hard, as parents, to be kind to ourselves. Between the unrealistic pressures we feel from the outside world and the harsh internal critics we hear inside our hearts daily, it's nearly impossible to step back and acknowledge all the positive impacts we have on our children. I am here to remind every parent that YOUR CHILDREN LOVE YOU' 'One of the ways I see this visually is how young humans watch and mirror their loved ones, especially parents. Due to the unending cycle of meal-making, dish-washing, laundry-folding, mess-cleaning, brawl-breaking, emotion-regulating, fear-alleviating and heart-tending it's quite easy to miss this. The ability to provide evidence of a child's admiration and adoration for their parents is one of the best gifts I can provide as a photographer' 'Life is messy. Parenthood is messy. Childhood is messy. To deny ourselves the freedom to share all the imperfections that come with being a human is not just harmful to ourselves but to humanity as a whole' 'I truly believe that the more we silence ourselves the more divided and disconnected our global community of family becomes. If everyone felt safe enough to share our messiness, giving and receiving the grace to be human would be so much easier' 'The role of parent is a complex one. While we do our best to always operate from our rational, reasonable, informed and prepared adult selves the truth is, the child inside of us surfaces regularly, especially during times of deep insecurity and fear. I think one of the most beautiful experiences in relationships is when we abandon our expected roles and simply show up as humans for our loved ones' Lewis has watched the effect of how parents share their life with the outside virtual world. Ultimately, this creates a feeling of isolation and loneliness, as parents are completely disconnected from the reality of their life and the tailored one online 'It is my hope that this project helps parents feel less alone, realising that their experience is shared with the global community of parents, to remind us all of how much more we are connected than divided' 'I've spent the last 15 years embedding myself into family life. I've dedicated thousands and thousands of hours observing, studying, relating to and learning from incredible parents and children from diverse communities around the world' 'At the very core of life, humans only want three things: to love, to be loved and to have a safe place to do so' 'At the heart of the human experience and what I believe we all inherently have a right to have safely and freely is relationship. Relationship to ourselves, each other and the world around us' 'My intention is that Unsupervised can serve as a bridge between strangers. When choosing which pictures would sit together on a page I intentionally chose to emphasise the idea that parents are not alone in their everyday lives' 'Ultimately my hope is that readers recognise themselves reflected back in the pictures of strangers, an overlap of shared experiences in childhood and parenthood' This photographic exploration is an attempt to reveal the similarities Lewis has witnessed by photographing her subjects' vulnerability, challenges, joy and hardships 'While the intention of this book has always been to give the global community of parents an opportunity to be seen, honoured and celebrated, this process has revealed something much more personal. At the end of the day, I created the book I needed'


Telegraph
an hour ago
- Telegraph
Nazi-obsessed Mitford sisters ‘were modern and progressive'
The Mitford sisters have been described as 'modern and progressive women' by an actress playing one of them in an upcoming series. Bessie Carter, who has appeared in Bridgerton, plays Nancy, the eldest Mitford sister, in the historical drama Outrageous, which airs next week. She said the sisters – two of whom had a fascination with Nazism – 'refused to conform'. She told the Radio Times: 'They were definitely women who didn't want to just do the debutante balls. They wanted to work and to exercise their brains. 'The Mitfords were modern women, they were really progressive. They always asked, 'Why can't I do that?'' The six sisters – Nancy, Pamela, Diana, Unity, Jessica and Deborah – were born to Lord and Lady Redesdale and experienced an upbringing steeped in eccentricity. They were constantly in the headlines, and Unity in particular scandalised British society by her closeness with Adolf Hitler. She was known as the 'English girlfriend' of the Fuhrer and fawned over the man who threatened her country's liberty. In January, the discovery of the 1930s socialite's long-lost diaries revealed the extent of her infatuation. The diaries appear to show that Unity, whose father was a first cousin of Sir Winston Churchill's wife Clementine, met Hitler almost 140 times – sometimes alone, raising the prospect of a sexual relationship between the pair. Diana also scandalised society when she left her husband, the Guinness heir, to marry Sir Oswald Mosley, the British fascist leader with whom she had been having an affair. Threat to national security She was imprisoned at Holloway prison during the Second World War for being considered a danger to national security. The family's exploits have inspired books and films and will now be depicted in Outrageous. Carter added of the six women who will be portrayed: 'What we do in the show is look at those early years when they're about to step out into the world and make their mark. 'They're refusing to conform to what was expected of them at the time, which was to be wives and mothers.' She explained: 'Outrageous is looking at these six sisters and wondering how long a family will hold together. And at what point do you have to confront hard truths and face your differences? 'That's relevant today, isn't it? We probably all have a family member who politically is in a different place. How do we deal with that?' Joanna Vanderham, who plays Diana in the new show, added: 'Nancy told on Diana. She informed Churchill that Diana was a threat to national security and had her imprisoned. Who does that to their own sister?' She said: 'The Mitfords were mad! I feel that people will go, 'That wouldn't have happened.' Then they'll Google it and realise it did. The Mitfords were outrageous. The title is absolutely justified.'


The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
Saraswati by Gurnaik Johal review – an ambitious Indian panorama
Gurnaik Johal's first book, 2022's We Move, demonstrated how rewarding it can be for a gifted young writer to ignore conventional wisdom. Writers who land in agents' inboxes with collections of stories are invariably told to come back when they have a novel, and to write about what they know. Johal's stories were set in a world he knows intimately – the immigrant communities of west London – but they moved between professions and generations with thrilling confidence. Saraswati is also populated by a large cast of diaspora Punjabis. But where Johal's collection stood apart from the landscape it was published into, his first novel is a representative example of a ubiquitous 21st-century genre. That genre lacks a name – in 2012, Douglas Coupland proposed 'translit', which didn't catch on then and certainly won't now – but its features are all too recognisable. These novels contain multiple narratives, each set in a different country if not continent, often in a different century. Although long by modern standards, they are packed – with events, themes, facts. They address themselves to the big questions of the day, not by the traditional means of examining urban society but through a kind of bourgeois exotic. The characters are paleontologists, mixed media artists, every flavour of activist, but never dentists or electricians. The settings are often remote: tropical islands or frigid deserts. The reader puts these novels together, like jigsaw puzzles. This term won't catch on either, but one could call them 'connection novels'; not in the Forsterian sense of human hearts, but rather the ecological, cultural and financial structures that link the globe. In that sense, they have an ancestor in the post-Vietnam systems novels of DeLillo and Pynchon, except without the playfulness or the genuine paranoia. Connection novels might be the only area of contemporary literary fiction that is dominated by male writers: Richard Powers, Hari Kunzru, David Mitchell. Not coincidentally, they owe a lot to science fiction. Saraswati's characters are connected, although they don't know it at first, by DNA. They are the descendants of a proscribed intercaste marriage in 19th-century Punjab. Sejal and Jugaad have seven children, each of whom they name for a river. A century and a half later, their descendants include a Canadian rock musician, a Kenyan archaeology professor and a Mauritian entomologist who specialises in yellow crazy ant removal. The role of connector is played by an Indian journalist who eventually takes over from Johal's omniscient third-person. Beginning and ending in a near-future version of India, the narrative takes us to Svalbard, Tibet, rural British Columbia and the Chagos Islands. Brief interludes after each section tell the family origin story through a series of 'qisse' – Punjabi folktales, passed on orally. 'Saraswati' was the name of Sejal and Jugaad's seventh child. It is also the name of a mythical river that, as any Indian will tell you, meets – in a sacred rather than geographical sense – the Ganga and Yamuna at the Triveni Sangam in Prayagraj (formerly Allahabad). Saraswati derives its title, and its plot, from a theory that claims that the Saraswati was a real river that originated at Mount Kailash in Tibet and flowed to the Arabian Sea. The novel opens with water returning to a dry well on the Hakra farm: once Sejal and Jugaad's home, now inherited by a young Londoner called Satnam. The water is a sign not of the workings of heaven but of the melting of Himalayan glaciers. But it is soon seized upon as the former – by frauds as well as true believers, and then by India's newly elected Hindu nationalist government, which embarks upon a nationwide scheme to revive the ancient Saraswati, in part by abrogating the Indus Waters Treaty (a magnificent bit of novelistic prescience; after the book went to press, India did in fact revoke the treaty in response to a terror attack in Kashmir). Sign up to Inside Saturday The only way to get a look behind the scenes of the Saturday magazine. Sign up to get the inside story from our top writers as well as all the must-read articles and columns, delivered to your inbox every weekend. after newsletter promotion Saraswati has so thoroughly assimilated the features and values of its genre that, to some extent, its appeal to readers will be a function of how much they like connection novels in general. But there is also the more particular business of the suitability of writer and form – of whether Johal is playing to his strengths. There are sections of Saraswati that take the abilities displayed in We Move and extend them. Johal is a brilliant observer of romance: of uncertain beginnings and awkward endings. His heartbreaking account of a sexless but totally real marriage between two Kenyans, one Punjabi, one Black, is a worthy successor to Nigel Nicolson's Portrait of a Marriage. Equally surprising and affecting is the story of Mussafir, a teenager in small-town Sindh with a Swiftie-like passion for an Indian singer. These are not short stories manqué; each could have been its own novel. But the narrative of Saraswati insists on containing them; on moving away from, rather than towards, the writer's gifts. Johal's imaginative sympathy is undercut by the homogenising evenness of his prose – every character speaks and thinks in the same register, that of London journalism – and by the heavy-handedness of his attempts at symbolism and satire. Saraswati's unstable blend of realism and allegory ultimately breaks down in the face of its central theme: modern Hindu nationalism. Like other connection novels, it is full of thorough research: into stubble burning, rinderpest and fringe archaeological theories. When it comes to Hindutva, however, reality recedes, and the allegory is less Kafka than it is Marvel Comics. Johal's India is led by a man called 'Narayan Indra' (Indra is the Hindu rain god), whose actions and rhetoric are so cartoonish as to drain away all menace and seriousness. His millenarian ravings are a world away from actually existing Hindutva, which might gesture at past golden ages but is always laser-focused on its present-day target: India's Muslims. The very best writers have had difficulty following up a debut collection with a novel. One reviewer of Philip Roth's first novel, Letting Go, suggested that writers 'should solve the second book problem the way architects solve the 13th floor problem', namely by going straight from the first book to the third. The disappointments of Saraswati, if anything, reassure for their indication of a willingness to try but fail. Gurnaik Johal is just getting started. Keshava Guha's The Tiger's Share is published by John Murray. Saraswati by Gurnaik Johal is published by Serpent's Tail (£16.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.