Shigeru Miyamoto is making a surprisingly grown-up sales argument: Nintendo consoles should become a rite of passage, like the moment Japanese kids start elementary school. In a Famitsu interview translated by GamesRadar+, the Nintendo executive lays out a philosophy that is equal parts product strategy and family ritual. He says Nintendo should “create reasons for people from all over the world to pick Nintendo,” and then goes one step further. “In Japan, when children start elementary school you buy them their own school bag. In the same way, I think it would be great if there was a selection to choose from like, 'Now that you're six, I've got you a Nintendo', 'Which Nintendo would make you the happiest?'”

The headline-level takeaway is clear: Miyamoto wants the console purchase to be as emotionally loaded as the backpack kids receive when they turn six. He is not talking about a generic “gift.” He is comparing the Nintendo console to Japan’s randoseru, a specialized school backpack that functions like a benchmark for entry into childhood school life. The source draws a direct line between those two moments, and it also answers the natural question most people will ask. “You might be confused how buying your child a Nintendo Switch 2 is remotely similar to picking up a backpack.” Miyamoto’s framework depends on what the randoseru represents, and why the comparison lands in Japan.

Here is the context the interview needs to make the point real: Japanese elementary school students typically use a randoseru, described as hand-made luxury goods that usually cost hundreds of dollars. They are built differently from standard backpacks, with a hard shell, multiple pockets, and “exceptionally robust” construction. The cost is high, but the expectation is even higher: a randoseru is expected to last through the full six years of elementary school. If needed, it can also be passed down to younger siblings. While elementary school children can bring other types of backpacks, the source notes you are unlikely to see young kids carrying anything except a randoseru. In other words, the backpack is not just a bag. It is a social signal and a long-term commitment.

That is the pivot for Nintendo’s sales logic. In the West, receiving a bag does not usually feel like a major rite of passage, so parents do not treat it as a milestone. But for a Japanese six-year-old, getting the randoseru is framed as “a sign they’re coming-of-age,” because it means school is starting, which is their first minor step into adulthood. Miyamoto’s idea is to borrow that emotional structure and apply it to consoles: there could be a “selection” of Nintendo options tied to age or turning points, with the console gift acting as the family ritual. The source extends the analogy beyond sentiment into practical differences.

It argues that a Nintendo Switch 2 purchase might be cheaper than buying a randoseru, which costs hundreds of dollars. But it also claims the experience differs in two concrete ways. First, the “aren’t nearly as many color combinations to choose from” compared to randoseru options. Second, the physical design and school requirements matter, because you “can’t fit an A4 file inside” a console the way a backpack can. The analogy is kind of nerdy, but the underlying message is strategic. Miyamoto is implicitly pointing at how products become meaningful when they connect to the day-to-day realities of a specific life stage.

From an executive lens, that is the interesting tension Nintendo is aiming to resolve: how do you turn hardware into a repeatable, family-level habit rather than a one-time enthusiast purchase? The source notes that Nintendo’s pitch borrows from the Switch era too, reminding readers that “given how long the Nintendo Switch lasted, you might get a few more years out of it.” That detail matters because coming-of-age gifts have a lifespan expectation. A randoseru is built to last six years. If a console gift is meant to mirror that role, it needs longevity and a steady reason to stay with the platform during that critical early period.

Miyamoto’s framing also includes a historical explanation for why Nintendo builds consoles the way it does. The source says he has said PCs were once “held in higher regard than consoles,” so the NES was made to bridge “the gap.” And it adds the clarifying line: “It wasn’t just a toy.” That is not a throwaway phrase. It is the connective tissue between the family-ritual pitch and the market positioning pitch. If PCs were viewed as the serious option, Nintendo’s job was to make consoles feel like the legitimate choice, with software and a platform identity that justify the purchase.

Second-order implication for decision-makers: if you sell a console as a family milestone, your product roadmap stops being only an engineering and content question. It becomes a cultural and purchasing-incentive question too. Boards and investors watching platform businesses know what happens next. Parents buy for meaning. Kids keep playing for reasons. Over time, that creates brand loyalty that is not purely based on price drops or discounts, but on the emotional story attached to ownership. Miyamoto is essentially arguing that Nintendo wants to become the default gift at the start of childhood school life, and then make the “selection” experience feel personal. For executives across tech, entertainment, and consumer hardware, the stake is simple: if Nintendo nails this, consoles stop competing only on specs and start competing on traditions. And traditions, unlike campaigns, can outlast a generation of devices.