Pepsibones and I have had a long line of gaming together. There has been literally thousands of millions of gallons of caffeine consumed and expletives dropped in the twenty-three years we have spent on the Earth together while playing video games. We haven’t played much together since the time I gunned a controller off the wall during some bullshit goal during Super Mario Strikers a couple of years ago. I don’t get why he didn’t want to play with me. I only dented a slab of wood with fury and probably had murderous intent in my eyes. It was a bullshit goal, and he was a cheater.
That said, I bought that buttfucker Super Mario Bros Wii Fantabulous Edition for Christmas. I knew he was too stingy to buy it himself, and if I didn’t snag it during the week when he wasn’t warping childrens’ minds with his thinly-disguised anarchist panderings, we’d never get to play it together. I slapped that shit in a big fat box of shit, let him open it up, and then we were off to the giggle factory. He was drinking dirt water, and I was on my fiftieth Diet Mountain Dew of the day.
This game is fucking fantastic.
Two fucking renegade plumbers rocking out on some hallucinogenic mindfuck. Riding dinosaurs and smashing fish that for some inexplicable reason drop coins. You smash into dudes’ houses and then you take their goods. You plunder little fuckers wearing weird hats so you can go fight Godzilla, who just so happens to be the worst father ever. Meanwhile, a princess is getting assfucked and raped into a coma, covered in lizard slosh. In the middle of one gaming session, I was like…Jesus Christ, the things we take to make sense in a Mario game are insane. I imagined the board room meeting while the game was being pitched, and there was one rational dude, who was like, what the fuck is doing on!
Jesus fucking Christ, Jim, how many times do I have to explain it? This guy in the overalls throws balls of ice that freeze the red cockhead with feet, we call them goombas, and then he picks up the block of ice, throwing it into a wall. Then the guy drops a coin…I just, I just don’t get what is so hard here. Are you trying to be difficult?
It’s pure madness. There’s something elegant about the stripped down gameplay in the game that is refreshing. Listen, I’m all for the insane graphics, pretentious storytelling, overly ornate super blockbuster. I love my ear holes and eyes being fucked by awesomeness. But? But sometimes I just want to pick up a god damn turtle shell, and throw it at my dumb unsuspecting brother. The simple gameplay is doubly good too, since Pepsibones doesn’t have the dexterity to play any game that involves more than three buttons. Though, to be fair he did play and love some Fallout 3 last year. He almost shit himself with glee while fucking around with the character creator:
The gameplay and hanging out with Pepsibones harkens back to a simpler time. When I could shit my pants and not receive such a stern reprimand from my parents. When I could pick boogers and not rip out fourteen nose hairs. Everything from the music to the side-scrolling awesomosity is classic. Unevolved, to an extent. But excellent because of that. Some things aren’t broken, and they have lasted the test of time because of that. Cunnilingus, beer, and Super Mario Bros.
It isn’t without its fucking super awesome new flourishes though. There’s a couple of retarded new power-ups that will get your gaming fluids excreting. I mean, they give Mario a god damn propeller hat. Two dudes strapped in propellers, complete with absurd fart sounding propulsion that has a grown man (me) in his parents basement (I’m a failure) making wet fart sounds with his lips. And then there’s the penguin suit, and you can slide down hills without skinning your tits somehow. It’s fantastic.
The game lets you work together or fuck over one another as much as you want. The hit detection is hilarious, since even when you’re trying to help a brother out, you can inevitably fuck up the other guy you’re playing with. You bump and collide into one another, hopping on dome pieces and inadvertently pushing the other guy off a ledge. At one point dumb fucking Pepsibones accidentally ass-stomped my Luigi. The dude hits the ground with a thump, his neck clearly broken. And then Pepsibones and I laugh as Luigi’s fallen, mush-necked body slides off the screen strapped to some apparent rotating wheel.
What don’t you fucking get Jim? There’s platforms and wheels that rotate, because there’s no fucking ground. It’s simple. Simple.
At some point it always devolves into one of us throwing turtle shells up the ass of the other one. I’m just trying to rock out on Yoshi, when Mario guns a spikey carapace of doom off my little dinosaur. And then the pussy that he is, Yoshi runs off into some pit of doom. I weep momentarily, and then shake the Wiimote, pick up Mario, and throw his dumb ass into the pit after Yoshi. The two of us die laughing, like it’s 1992 again.
Cunnilingus, beer, and Super Mario Bros. Some things never get old.