When I powered on my Xbox Series S for the first time, there was no ceremony. A flat interface presenting a collection of rounded boxes arranged in grids and lists. It felt no different from Windows 11. An interface designed for general computing (primarily productivity and work) should not be the blueprint for a machine designed for fun. Consoles’ interfaces gave them a soul, but with it stripped they feel like little more than appliances.
The interface of the Series S is cold and clinical. We’ve abandoned environments for KPI -optimising launchers. I saw everything it had to offer within the first hour of booting up the console. Compare this to the experience with the Nintendo Wii, which, despite being released in 2006, some 14 years before the Xbox Series consoles, still keeps me coming back for the interface alone.
Wii
Even today I can burn hours clicking around the Wii, for it was not designed like a computer or a tool. It was designed like a shared media tool. Like a DVD player or set-top box. Being aimed at a general, casual audience, it took cues from familiar television sets. The Wii does not have apps or programs – it has channels. Turning the console on, you’re greeted by a large grid of them.
The Wii’s main menu.
The Wii menu feels like a destination in-and-of-itself. You can boot it up and check the message board, where you get reports, messages from friends, and channels. You can mess about with Miis, then parade them about. You can bring Miis into your games, have them mingle with your friends, and load them into your Wiimote to take to a friend’s house. Each section of the interface plays its own music , helping orient the user and ensuring there is never a dull moment. Even without a game or an internet connection, the console feels active and alive.
The experience was well designed, and advantage was taken of it. New channels can be added to the home screen via disc or by acquiring them in the Wii Shop Channel. Users are eased into the experience with new channels only being added by user action, so it never becomes overwhelming. The design throughout the system’s menu is masterful. Constructed like a game: slowly introducing mechanics in isolation, then building upon them, then having them interact with other mechanics. There’s no explicit hand-holding, but instead the user’s intuition is trusted, and they’re prompted to explore and discover by leading them along through gradual introduction with care.
And the Wii came after the GameCube, which itself has a unique menu. An undulating glossy cube, reminiscent of the console itself. As a simple console, the GameCube didn’t justify much complexity in its interface, yet it was built with polish and kept interesting. As each setting is hovered over within the menu, a series of squares arrange themselves into the shape of a relevant icon within the glass cube. When you follow through to a configuration page, the content is represented as more floating cubes that arrange themselves as needed.
The GameCube’s system menu.
This could have just been a flat interface – it would certainly have been less effort to create – but it wouldn’t have given the GameCube its identity. The GameCube’s interface perfectly captures the mildly edgy marketing Nintendo was pursuing at the time, and the cube design language ties it into the physical squared-off design of the actual console. It also has little secrets, like the alternate startup sounds triggered by holding Z on a single controller or all four at once.
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