Buzz
As Bruce Lowry listened to Hiroshi Yamauchi, Nintendo of Japan's president, several thoughts raced through his mind. It was 1985, and Nintendo, buoyed by the triumph of the arcade hit Donkey Kong, was ready to enter the U.S. home console market. Yamauchi appeared unfazed by the recent video game industry crash of 1983, where oversupply and subpar products had left Atari and Coleco systems languishing in discount bins. Atari had even disposed of hundreds of thousands of unsold cartridges in a New Mexico landfill, symbolizing the industry's collapse.
Lowry, Nintendo's Vice President of Sales, previously with Pioneer, believed Yamauchi’s leadership could turn things around with the right approach. The Famicom (“family computer”) had already moved 2.5 million units in Japan, and its games were leaps ahead in quality. Lowry’s sons, after trying a prototype, called it “the real deal,” with home versions nearly matching the arcade experience.
Lowry envisioned a gradual launch for the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES). By showcasing gameplay and crafting ad copy that steered clear of comparisons to failed competitors, they could win over retailers and consumers. Starting in a smaller market like Houston or Nashville made sense. “If we messed up,” Lowry noted, “it wouldn’t be catastrophic. We’d have room to learn and adjust.”
Shoppers test the NES during the fall 1985 mall tour, via Howard Phillips
Yamauchi’s announcement disrupted Lowry’s carefully laid plans: the NES would make its North American debut in New York City. The city boasted the most media outlets, major retailers, and the prestige of being a cultural hub. However, it was also a region deeply scarred by Atari’s downfall, with retailers wary of anything related to video games.
“New York is our launchpad,” Yamauchi declared, his daughter translating, “because that’s where success is born.”
The room fell silent. Lowry exhaled deeply. “Quitting Pioneer,” he recalls, “suddenly felt like the worst decision I’d ever made.”
The Game Plan
For Lowry and the dozens of Nintendo of America staff who relocated from Seattle to the East Coast in late 1985, marketing a gaming system was no easy task. Despite the NES being a groundbreaking innovation, the market was skeptical of electronic entertainment. To gain traction, they needed to reshape the conversation.
At the January 1985 Consumer Electronics Show, Nintendo showcased the Famicom as the Advanced Video System, complete with unconventional add-ons like a cassette player and keyboard; one game even claimed to predict fortunes. With no kids present at the trade event, interest was uncertain, but Lowry recalls buyers enthusiastically playing their Golf game. “They kept returning,” he notes. “I knew it was promising when they kept placing bets on the monitor.”
While the games were undeniably engaging, the system’s bulky design was unappealing. The team redesigned the control deck to better attract younger audiences. With the toy industry dominated by robots like Transformers, Nintendo’s Japanese team created R.O.B., the Robotic Operating Buddy, featuring a binocular-like head to “help” players in certain games. They also included the Zapper, a light gun for targeting in Duck Hunt.
These accessories were meant to set Nintendo apart from failed consoles. To validate this, they conducted thorough market research in Paramus, New Jersey, during the summer of 1985. Lowry recalls showing the Zapper to a mother and saying, “It includes a gun!”
“Not in my home, it doesn’t,” she replied.
With electronics already in production, there was no turning back. The NES launch was scheduled for late October, a timeline that worried Lowry. “For a holiday product, you need to hit stores by August,” he explains. “We were working with an incredibly tight schedule.”
A trade advertisement promoting R.O.B., Nintendo’s effort to tap into the robot-toy craze of the mid-1980s, via Howard Phillips
Yamauchi remained resolute. His son-in-law, Minoru Arakawa, led Nintendo of America with a calm determination, instilling confidence that the NES was unique and could revive the industry with the right approach. The company secured a warehouse in Hackensack, New Jersey, where inventory was stored, towering retail displays were assembled, and sales operations were managed. Key figures like Al Stone, Ron Judy, Howard Phillips, Sam Borofsky, and Don James collaborated to establish a fully functional satellite office.
Before arriving, Lowry made his first sales pitch to Woolworth’s. It was short and blunt. “No chance,” their buyer replied. “We’re not interested. Goodbye.”
Later, Lowry helped unload the first shipment of NES units from Japan. Staring at the massive stack of consoles filling one side of the warehouse, he couldn’t help but wonder where they would all end up.
Multi-Player
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While Lowry faced rejection at every turn, Gail Tilden worked tirelessly to persuade both the press and the public to give the NES a chance. Hired as Vice President of Brand Management in 1983 after a colleague went on maternity leave, Tilden was unfamiliar with the video game industry’s collapse. “I enjoyed playing Frogger,” she recalls. “And Pac-Man. To me, Nintendo was the company behind Donkey Kong.”
Tilden joined the New Jersey team and focused on generating media buzz for the NES launch event in October at a trendy venue called the Visage. Unfortunately, the party coincided with the passing of actor Yul Brynner and a terrorist ship hijacking. “There was hard news and fluff,” she explains. “We were neither.”
Efforts to secure a major ad agency for commercials were equally challenging. Lee Clow, who had just created Apple’s iconic 1984 ad, didn’t even consider Nintendo due to its size. Others suggested changing the name Nintendo because it was too hard to pronounce. Eventually, Tilden partnered with a smaller agency, Geers Gross, to produce local commercials. “We filmed two or three in one go,” she says. “The director ended up hospitalized from exhaustion.”
To counter the negative perception of video games, an early commercial showed a mother observing her kids play Duck Hunt safely at home. “Back then, arcades were associated with drugs and unsavory elements,” Lowry explains. “We wanted to convey that families could enjoy gaming together at home. Parents didn’t want their kids hanging out in arcades.”
Print advertisements avoided terms like “video games” and “cartridges,” which had bad reputations. Instead, they highlighted R.O.B. and terms like “control deck” and “game paks.” Tilden also took cues from failed software companies that used flashy box art to mask poor graphics. (Borofsky, a marketing expert with Atari experience, pointed out these pitfalls.) “We aimed to be honest,” she says. “We displayed pixel art on the packaging so buyers knew exactly what to expect.”
Nintendo categorized games into sub-genres, priced between $20 and $35. “One category was Education, featuring Donkey Kong, Jr. Math,” Tilden recalls. “Another was programmable games like ExciteBike. This helped us stand out and show there was something for everyone.”
The Hackensack team personally delivered inventory to stores, which exposed a cultural divide: Seattle-based employees didn’t think twice about leaving a van unattended in the Bronx. “Everything kept getting stolen,” Tilden says with a laugh. “New York was a different place back then.”
Every weekend, Tilden and her colleagues set up mall displays in New York or New Jersey to attract shoppers. Store owners were skeptical, but Nintendo smartly enlisted Mets stars like Mookie Wilson and Ron Darling to draw crowds. They signed autographs and played Baseball with customers. Kids loved the NES, though Tilden found R.O.B. frustratingly slow during demonstrations. “It was comical trying to get him to do anything,” she says. “He moved slower than molasses.”
Games like Duck Hunt were what Tilden describes as “pick up and play” titles, requiring almost no explanation—ideal for casual shoppers. Nintendo had 15 to 18 games available that season, though it’s unclear if their future blockbuster, Super Mario Bros., was included. Store advertisements listed the title—already popular in Japan—but it might have been copied from a pre-release catalog before the game was actually distributed.
While Mario may have helped, no single game could fully ease retailer skepticism. Regional chains like the now-closed Wiz gradually joined—not because they knew Nintendo, but due to the trust Lowry had established during his time at Pioneer. “It wasn’t official, but I assured them we’d support them,” he says, referring to Nintendo’s flexible approach. “If their inventory didn’t sell, we’d step in.” While not a formal return policy, it alleviated fears about stocking the $139.99 system when Atari consoles were gathering dust at $50.
“Some retailers wanted to slash the price to $100,” Lowry recalls. “I told them, ‘No, you won’t.’” Nintendo was unwavering in their belief in the product’s value, even when pitches flopped. Once, after Lowry’s grandmother died, Arakawa demoed Baseball for Sears buyers. “He was an MIT engineer who adored baseball,” Lowry says. “He insisted on playing all nine innings while the buyers zoned out.”
Over time, major retailers like Sears and Macy’s signed on, impressed by Nintendo’s relentless effort. But in a pre-Walmart era, one account was the crown jewel: Toys “R” Us.
The Final Boss
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As the leading toy retailer at the time, Toys “R” Us had reaped huge profits from the Atari boom in the early 1980s. However, they also suffered significant losses when unsold inventory piled up. By spring 1985, games were being sold for $5 with a $5 rebate from Parker Brothers, a third-party producer. “They were still reeling from the Atari fallout,” Lowry explains.
Lowry met with the franchise’s buyer—whose name he can’t recall—and sensed little enthusiasm. Nearby was Howard Moore, the chain’s Executive Vice President. Despite Lowry’s pitch, R.O.B., and assurances, the buyer remained unconvinced, wary of repeating Atari’s financial disaster.
“I don’t think we’re interested,” the buyer stated. Lowry was devastated. Toys “R” Us had the power to influence other retailers, but their rejection could also deter potential partners. Before Lowry could argue, Moore stepped in. He trusted Lowry and understood the opportunity.
“That’s why I’m the Executive Vice President, Bruce,” Moore said. “We’ll give it a shot.”
The store went above and beyond, permitting Nintendo to create an interactive display, breaking their usual policy. “That was a game-changer,” Lowry recalls, alongside securing a spot at FAO Schwartz, which showcased a massive street-facing window display. (The store’s buyer was a gaming enthusiast.) The team was thrilled—until the father of a TV commercial actor objected, claiming his child’s contract didn’t cover in-store usage.
The Nintendo Entertainment System launched in late October across nearly 500 stores in New York, New Jersey, and parts of Connecticut. Retailers paid $98 wholesale, while consumers got the console, two controllers, R.O.B., the Zapper, Duck Hunt, and Gyromite for $139.99.
The brochure for Nintendo's Advanced Video System, displayed at a January 1985 trade show but never released, via Howard Phillips
Stores showcased towering R.O.B. displays highlighting Nintendo’s graphics and features; one even featured synchronized robot head movements. Kids, Nintendo’s target audience, spread the word: this wasn’t another Atari. Like Lowry’s sons, they sensed something fresh and exciting. (The TV ads, aired late at night in exchange for consoles, didn’t make much impact; the barter agency sold the units back to Toys “R” Us.)
By Christmas 1985, Nintendo’s team had sold between 50,000 and 90,000 consoles. (Lowry claims they surpassed their 50,000-unit goal; Tilden thinks a New York Times article citing 90,000 units might have been exaggerated for publicity.) Regardless, it was enough to justify expanding to Los Angeles and eventually nationwide. By 1988, sales hit $1.7 billion; in 1989, 9 million systems were sold. When the NES was discontinued in the 1990s, over 60 million units had been sold. The media shifted from declaring the gaming industry dead to speculating who could rival Nintendo, which became one of the most successful toy companies in history.
Lowry departed shortly after the launch to lead Sega, which later became a formidable competitor; Tilden took the helm of Nintendo Power, a magazine that served as a massive promotional tool for games, eventually reaching over a million subscribers. Their Manhattan success was immortalized in 2005 when Nintendo opened a 10,000-square-foot Nintendo World store at Rockefeller Center.
“Entering New York, failure wasn’t an option,” Lowry reflects. “After Yamauchi’s meeting, we left the hotel, had a drink, and said, ‘This is a game-changer. But we can pull it off.’ And we did.”
