Along the southern bounds of Kyoto lies an area not unlike the outer limits of most large cities. Mainly comprised of industrial plants and unremarkable buildings, the Minami ward is a fairly unremarkable section in a city otherwise filled with beautiful temples and castles. Perhaps this is why I collected a few odd stares while I made my way through its streets. Indeed, tourists are not accommodated in these parts, as the sub-titled road signs bearing street names in the Roman alphabet disappeared many blocks ago. Clutching my tourist map, I had to navigate solely by making best guesses based on street angle.
Suddenly, I came across a large, colorless, square building. Its windows were all identical, including the drawn shades. For a company known by its bright environments and often-cheery characters, their headquarters are conspicuously bare. Tours are not offered, and a guard blocks entry by outsiders onto its premises. I was fully aware of this before I ventured into this section of Kyoto. Informing my brother earlier in the week of my plan to see the unexceptional building, he scoffed when I made the comparison of visiting the house in which Beethoven was born. Indeed, this is the building in which designers and developers whittled away countless hours to bring us the sublime gaming pillars of Super Mario Bros and Legend of Zelda. An industry was born here, and is still to be redefined from this location. Like imagining what the next Zelda or Mario will be, the lack of outer display only set to make my imagination run all the more wild of what was brewing inside its white walls.
