Eventually, Little Nemo received the recognition that he deserved. The comic gained recognition for it's art style and surreal story, and is said to be one of the first comics to have a piece displayed at the Louvre. The comic caught the eyes of Masami Hata and William T. Hurtz. These men, combined with almost 20 people, produced a screenplay based around the the adolescent adventures of Nemo, and ultimately a feature length cartoon. Much like the comic, Nemo was invited into to be Princess Camille's personal playmate. Eventually, it is revealed to him that he is to be the appointed prince of dreamland, and is given a golden key. The key (which can open any door) eventually tempts Nemo into opening a forbidden door, releasing an ancient evil.

This is where my intersection with our pint-sized protagonist begins. The movie received a considerable amount of acclaim, and eventually inspired two video games to be created in it's vestige. The video games were both platformers designed by Capcom, one as an arcade title and the other as a NES adventure game. The Nintendo edition of this escapade through the sub-conscious is invariably one of my favorite video games of all time.

How I discovered Nemo was much like other games of my youth, through friends. Grade school recess barter sessions consisted of back-packs filled with square, gray cartridges being exchanged among friends. Much like baseball cards, we exchanged them with care, trying to manipulate friends out of their most favorite games with the use of bargaining and possibly relinquishing some of our own favorites. I had my eye set on one title, Little Nemo: The Dream Master.

I had only a fleeting knowledge of this game. I had seen it being played at a friends birthday party as he had received it as a Christmas present the year prior. Being of a tender age, we were at the whims of the adults. Because of that, we were not allowed to waste our precious time (and vision) on such trivialities as video games while at birthday parties. And so, we were whisked off to play pin the tail on the donkey and other antiquated party amusements.

After releasing control over one of my more prized games, I managed to get Little Nemo in my grubby, unwashed mitts. After blowing into the cartridge slot, I loaded the game up and let the story roll. Nemo was, once again, invited to Slumberland to be Princess Camille's personal playmate. Oblivious to the Japanese film, I feasted on the inconspicuously licensed title. Eventually, I found myself amongst towering mushrooms and thick trees. Marching along, I was greeted by Flip, a sea-foam green clown, which offered me advice on how to befriend animals and survive in the land of sleep.

The game-play was innovative, and yet simple. Controls consisted of simply walking, jumping and avoiding bad guys who ultimately wished bad things upon our poor protagonist. The game becomes most interesting when you discover how potentially useful candy is. In Slumberland, it operates as a multi-purpose sedative and mind control device. Tossing candy at most monsters caused them to shake in shock, preventing them from attacking you for a brief period of time. In addition to the villains bent on Nemo's demise, neutral creatures littered the dream-scape. These creatures, when bombarded with sweets, would be pacified. Once "relaxed," these creatures could either be ridden or even possessed, which allowed Nemo to attack and move in new ways. Each creature proved to have it's own specific use in every level, providing complicated puzzles that, at that time, often left me stumped and occasionally frustrated.

After locating six keys, and finding a gate, I eventually moved on to the second stage, and not a moment too soon. The game seems devilishly short, containing only eight levels in total. The length is deceiving, as levels ranged from simplistic to sadistic with a steep learning curve and complex puzzles. Eventually, my older brother fought his way through the many villains and cleared the game. I sat defeated and watched the ending in awe, hoping one day to earn the ending that had just been bestowed upon me.

I would not see this day until many years later. My brother had friends of questionable moral fiber, and eventually, the game disappeared from our collection altogether. I never discovered if he had loaned it out, if it was stolen, or if the game was traded off for something that I was more than likely not allowed to touch without retribution by his hands.

Years later, after I managed to get a job and purchased a refurbished NES and games I loved as a child, I returned to Nemo and his friends. The game never seemed to tarnish. It, to this day, still retains it's whimsy and freakish difficulty curve. I have since beaten the game and earned the ending I witnessed by the hands of my totalitarian older brother, and the satisfaction was still just as sweet then as it would have been when I was eleven.