It was December in San Diego, the palm trees strung with tinsel in Ocean Beach. Pat Contri shuffled barefoot on the floor of his game room, black hair wet from the shower and curling above his eyes. He was in front of a wall of nearly 1,000 games for the Nintendo Entertainment System, the greatest console ever released; the wall, floor to ceiling, was amazing to behold, Contri as small as Ahab in front of his whale. He read from the spines of gray plastic cartridges he’d spent two decades collecting: Spy Hunter, with its Peter Gunn theme, which he got for Christmas in 1987; Jaws, which he picked up at a flea market with his mother in Rahway, New Jersey, a year or two later; Zelda II, a game he had his parents order from the Sears catalog in 1988, a game he cried over because it took forever to arrive.

The wall was both a shrine to his life’s hobby and the backdrop for his work. For a decade, Contri has played a character called Pat the NES Punk for nearly 250,000 viewers on YouTube. Fans recognize him at the airport, at the gym, at the swap meets, and he has become not just an expert on Nintendo but a public face for anyone who grew up with the NES, anyone who’s worn a Donkey Kong T-shirt or who still has the Super Mario Bros. theme song thumping in their heart.

The Punk is goofier than the real-life Contri—a bit more manic, an exaggeration of his id. Games are the Punk’s life, and thoughts of the NES sing him to sleep and then wake him in sweat. Almost all of his videos, which run around 10 minutes, focus on the Punk’s experience with a single NES game. Each is a combination history lesson and review, delivered with a narrative voice that lets Contri (as writer, director, and star) show off his sense of humor, his knowledge of Nintendo, and occasionally even the depths of his introspection—about being boxed into an endless childhood by video­games, about the inherent sadness of trying to fill a hole in his life with them.

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April 2018. Subscribe to WIRED. Nik Mirus

One of Contri’s best videos, a 12-minute piece from 2013 dedicated to the rare and expensive NES game The Flintstones: The Surprise at Dinosaur Peak!, begins with the Punk rustling awake from a fever dream, choking out “I need help.” And, looking at his games: “What am I doing? They’re just video­games. I’m holding like a thousand bucks’ worth right in my hands. That could be going to something useful, something memorable. Like a vacation! I could go anywhere I want. Scotland. Italy. Tahiti …” And there he pauses. “I wonder if there’s NES games in Tahiti.”

It was a bit, mostly, but as Nintendo celebrates the 33rd birthday of its historic console—and as Contri approaches 38—it was also a sign of the conflict within him. Like a lot of people who were born in the years just before and after the launch of the NES, he is no longer young and not nearly old, neither new nor vintage, and it seems like he has started to feel a bit lost in the in-between. “I don’t know if I want to be 65 years old talking about retro video­games,” he told me. “I don’t want that to be the only thing I talk about forever. I think sometimes, ‘Is this where my talent begins and ends?’ ” He says he doesn’t play NES video­games anymore—except when he’s in character—and that it’s different now: It’s work. He admits this in resignation, like it’s sacrilege, the man for whom Nintendo became a career.