The Mario 2 Outlook

I hope I didn't lose you with that title—and by and large, I am addressing women. Admittedly, this essay does in fact discuss video games, but my intent is not to bore you with bluster about Blaster Master or Bionic Commando or some other garage-sale relic that means nothing to you. For good or ill, the fact remains that if you were born after 1970, video games were a part of your upbringing. And like it or not, a select few Nintendo titles have become iconic in our culture, and nothing short of a genocide waged against nerds like me is going to erase that.

The three Super Mario Bros. games, for instance, transcend obscure and geeky limitations. If someone were to show you a picture of Super Mario and ask you to name him, failing to do so does not mean that you're remarkably refined and mature. It means that you're probably Amish.

So, allow me to reverse my tactics from defensive to offensive. If you're unwilling to accept that Super Mario has made a mark on our culture, if it seems silly to construe deeper meanings from something that is so widespread and familiar to us, then by all means, don't read another word and find something better to do. Somewhere, no doubt, there is a barn that needs to be raised and butter that is not going to churn itself.

Now that we're off and running: It is vastly accepted by people of my ilk that Super Mario Bros. 3 is the finest of the trio in question. (Regardless of whether or not you care to know, 3 has been voted the absolute greatest Nintendo game by numerous websites devoted to critiques of interactive button-mashers.) The original Super Mario—the one bundled along with Duck Hunt and a Nintendo system that enthralled so many children of the '80s on Christmas mornings—is commonly rewarded the silver medal. The guiding force of this essay, Super Mario Bros. 2, is still considered very good by critics, yet by no means a match for its odd-numbered counterparts.

But 2 is the true standout in my opinion that is due for a humbling any day now. Let me tell you why.

Saluting 2 is a fine way to buck conventional thought. If we concede that dimwits outnumber sages on this planet—and that one of the downfalls of the consensus is that its masses are more prone to human error—then it's not at all absurd to recognize 2 as Mario's premier 8-bit adventure. Now, if you still consider 2 the runty black sheep of the litter, that doesn't mean you're part of a consensus dumber than the Earth-is-flat believers of centuries past, nor wickeder than the generations of Americans who had no big qualms with slavery. All I'm trying to convey is that the majority have been known to embrace faulty convictions.

2 is distinct and versatile. There are four characters to choose from with unique strengths and weaknesses. Whereas the first and third games are, at best, partnerships, 2 has to offer a full-fledged democracy. In 1 and 3, Mario & Luigi represent Simon & Garfunkel in that it's clear who meant more to the duo and therefore had richer success in his solo career. 2, by contrast, has to offer a quartet that is as dynamic as the Beatles.

Just like Paul, Mario is an affable and steadfast front-man, a consummate leader. With his wild and eccentric leaps of creativity (and jealousy of Paul/ Mario's prestige), John functions as Luigi. George is like Peach; both can levitate with meditative Zen. Toad has the beefy build of a drummer, and much like Ringo, his contribution to the group is indelible, but you'd never want to buy one of his solo projects.

You're still free to favor the odd-numbered Marios, of course, but be warned: doing so may lead to debates with nut-bars who will counter that that's like saying Simon and Garfunkel are better than the Beatles.

Holy fuck, Shakespeare probably realizes he was a chump by now if indeed dead souls have conscious thoughts! More Stories, and Additional Stories is the name of that eBook.