Mario & Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 11/17/2023)

[Image from glitchwave.com]

Mario & Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story

Developer: AlphaDream

Publisher: Nintendo

Genre(s): JRPG

Platforms: DS

Release Date: February 11, 2009

Fantastic Voyage is a science fiction film from 1966 based on a short story from underrated science fiction writer Jerome Bixby. The film was met with mixed reception as it's more a piece of spacey, psychedelic 1960s camp than a groundbreaking, awe-striking pillar for the genre like 2001: A Space Odyssey. As lukewarm as the film’s impact was on the genre of science fiction, one resonating facet of Fantastic Voyage that managed to be impactful was the novel and brilliant premise of using the insides of someone's body as a setting, shrinking the valiant adventurers down to the size of gnat larvae to enact their perilous mission of great biological importance. I could bet that you’ve seen this concept depicted in some sort of media even before you knew this movie existed and if you have, you now know that Fantastic Voyage is where it stems from. Using the premise of Fantastic Voyage seems to be ideal for animated media as numerous cartoon series have ripped it off to fill in an easy episode block or to either tribute or parody the once unique science fiction story. Rick and Morty tactfully utilized a Jurassic Park theme park inside the body of a drunk homeless man to tackle the premise with freshness, while seemingly every conceivable Nickelodeon cartoon I grew up with simply rehashed the plot with its characters. In the realm of gaming, the king of the medium, the one and only Mario, decided to dip his toes in the ostensibly public Fantastic Voyage domain pool with Mario & Luigi: Bowser’s Inside Story.

Which of the iconic Mario character’s bodies have been chosen as the vehicle to enact Fantastic Voyage’s premise? Well, it sure as hell couldn’t have been either Mario or Luigi. If you’re unfamiliar with the mechanics of Mario’s offshoot, handheld RPG series, he and his green brother are tied at the hip, hence why they finally share equal billing in the title, unlike the mainline platformer series where Mario himself is sufficient enough for the both of them. Mario diving into the insides of his taller, lankier brother to extract some maliferous presence making him sick and unsightly or vice versa would present an imbalance of narrative and gameplay weight for one character, even if Luigi is the optimal candidate to be the subject of bodily humiliation via excavating throughout his vulnerable interior. Peach would be perfect from a narrative standpoint, but Nintendo was wise to their perverse older players who would become inadvertently erotically stimulated by the prospect of venturing inside a woman and the eventual, genuine complaints that the developers boarded off all of the anatomical areas unique to the female body as prospective places to wander. No one would care about the livelihood of any of the Toads in this situation, and that apathy goes double for Peach’s butler/assistant Toadsworth. Donkey Kong is relatively canon to the Mario & Luigi series, but perhaps he vetoed the invitation to be put in a compromising position. What many might fail to consider is that there are Mario characters outside the realm of its heroes that could satisfy the role, and he’s a big boy just like Donkey Kong. The title of this Mario & Luigi game couldn’t be more on the nose with its allusion: Bowser is the subject in question for a “fantastic voyage.” Bowser is a true delight when he’s situated in a JRPG vehicle, and the fact that he’s a central character here should make everyone giddy with excitement.

I doubt Mario and Luigi would willingly help Bowser if he were struck by a cataclysmic illness under normal circumstances. In fact, Bowser succumbing to some sort of fatal disease would be a fortuitous coincidence for Mario and Luigi, letting Bowser’s health atrophy away so Mario can finally experience some well-deserved R&R with Princess Peach without Bowser swooping down and swiping her on what seems like a weekly basis. The developers also realized this fallacy that contradicted normal character relationships and conjured up a fittingly whacky catalyst for how Mario and Luigi ended up ensnared inside Bowser’s body. Rescuing Peach from Bowser’s clutches hasn’t earned Mario the privilege of exploring Peach’s insides if you catch my drift, but at least she has granted him a prestigious position in the Mushroom Kingdom government. With Luigi as his plus one, the brothers are fashionably late to an executive meeting taking place in an administrative room in Peach’s castle. The issue of utmost importance is the “blorbs” outbreak running (or should I say, rolling) rampant throughout the Mushroom Kingdom. By consuming a special mushroom sold by a seedy merchant, the toads of the kingdom have inflated to such a spherically large mass that they cannot use their legs for mobility. Upset that he’s not considered to be an essential figure in the Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser angrily crashes the meeting and is duly discarded by Mario and Luigi as always. Bowser approaches the merchant selling the shrooms and consumes one that grants him the ability to inhale with the ferocious power of a Mach Five tornado (didn’t he already possess this ability in Luigi’s Mansion?). Bowser returns to Peach’s castle and just sucks up everything indiscriminately, and both Mario and Luigi are unfortunately in the crossfire, sending them to the dingy and disgusting bowels of Bowser. The introduction is definitely on par with the previous kooky setups that ignite a Mario & Luigi adventure.

I don’t believe I efficiently conveyed the extent of Bowser’s role in Bowser’s Inside Story, even in stating that he is indeed a central character in the game. In Bowser’s Inside Story, he is THE central character, the sun which all other planetary characters, even Mario and Luigi, orbit around. The DS system’s top screen is entirely dedicated to giving us Bowser’s interactive point-of-view as he attempts to reclaim the Mushroom Kingdom from this new threat responsible for the blorbs pandemic. Yes, the developers are testing out this dual-screen gimmick again but this time, the dynamic between Bowser and the two brothers is far more engaging. Playing as the baby versions of Mario and Luigi in Partners in Time was Mario and Luigi squared, a doubling of the Mario and Luigi gameplay that would be completely redundant if not for their bite-sized physicalities allowing them to squeeze through tight crevices. As one would expect from Bowser’s hulking, non-mammalian biological genotype that differs from two Italian guys, controlling him is a radically alternative procedure. Bowser stomps around the various districts of the Mushroom Kingdom leaving a trail of foot-print craters in his wake. His two primary methods of offense are a wound-up sucker punch and breathing fire, both of which are obviously beyond the capabilities of the two shrimpy plumbers. He’s certainly a strong physical force of nature and the enemies he encounters on the field attempt to match him at least in physical mass. Instead of evading enemy fire by jumping or batting objects away with a hammer, Bowser’s opposition tends to strike almost exclusively in either directional plane. To block enemies from vertically falling on him, Bowser will use his spiky damage-proof shell, while he counters any on-coming horizontal hostility by punching it away from him. Saving his loyal minions trapped in cramped and demeaning black cages on the field unlocks a special move that incorporates their aid in some fashion for a deadly attack. These moves also manage to utilize the DS stylus, a system-exclusive apparatus that I forgot existed while playing Partners in Time. Bowser even has his own separate inventory from Mario and Luigi, mixing and matching barbed neck bands like a goth girl's great dane and shells, of which I wasn’t aware could be accessorized. He also has his own food health items in the form of hot wings, for the carnivorous Bowser would probably ralph at the taste of a mushroom. Bowser is not only a blast to play on the field and in battle, but his contrasting gameplay and environment actually display a solid dichotomy between him and the two main characters, unlike the babies in Partners in Time.

Bowser’s portion of the gameplay also includes practically the entire realm of traveling around getting from point A to B, considering that Mario and Luigi can’t tread too much ground from inside Bowser’s gut. Bowser’s Inside Story decides not to go on holiday to a neighboring kingdom like in Superstar Saga and sticks to the homeland of Mushroom Kingdom as Partners in Time did. Still, the map here doesn’t resemble the one from the previous game in the slightest, with all of the notable landmarks that comprised the significant areas of the last game totally erased from existence. My theory, beyond the logical fact that the developers had to conjure up some fresh sites for a new game, is that perhaps the Mushroom Kingdom was so devastated by the Shroob invaders that the topography completely shifted upon reconstruction. What came as a result of the kingdom’s hard work is a fine conglomerate of districts that still fit the eclectic and lighthearted atmosphere of gaming’s most famous setting. Toad Town exudes a returning sense of quaint coziness that it once did in Paper Mario, with an additional air of prosperity-enhanced ritziness because of the shopping mall and cascading fountain. Just ignore the bloated Toad dumplings scattered about. Bubble Lake in the south is a wide basin filled with crisp, clear water, and Plack Beach directly to the east features boulder-sized teeth sticking out of the washing waves. It’s less gnarly than it sounds. Ultimately, the map of Mushroom Kingdom in Bowser’s Inside Story shows that the series carries over familiar area tropes that still persist three entries in. However, the game at least recalls Superstar Saga’s erratic pacing that was lost during Partners in Time, blasting Bowser all over creation mostly whenever he makes a rash decision that leads him to violently deviate from his trajectory. Not allowing the progression to flop around with the hilariously bumbling and oafish RPG Bowser would be a disservice to us all.

The map of the overworld in Bowser’s Inside Story can be excused for not offering any revolutionary settings because it shares the workload of propping up the narrative with Bowser’s insides. On the bottom half of the DS screens are Mario and Luigi attempting to survive the belly of the beast as microscopically-sized versions of themselves. One can naturally assume that the cavernous abyss of Bowser’s anatomy would be a cesspit of nightmarish imagery that only the sick and deranged would be able to imagine. Because all Mario media should ideally refrain from disturbing people, the tender, inner world of Bowser’s physical machinations takes a more fantastical approach in rendering its aesthetic. The backgrounds of Bowser’s insides are as lurid as a lava lamp, floating cellular matter streaming with a bevy of eye-catching colors. The flesh platforms in the foreground are pleasing shades of pink, inoffensive tints that will ideally not gross out the player. It’s difficult to say whether or not the psychedelic backdrop of Bowser’s insides is directly inspired by the acid-laced presentation of Fantastic Voyage, or if the Mario brand naturally verges towards the lightly surreal. Either or, Bowser’s insides are a marvel to look at. Unlike the sprawling Mushroom Kingdom map without solid borders, Bowser’s insides are constructed like a directed graph. Whenever Bowser is irritated by an ailment or a Macguffin has scurried across the confines of one internal body part, a noodle branch will sprout from the current area, represented by a translucent Bowser model with two icons of Mario and Luigi. By the end of the game, the map will resemble an X-rayed tree. Besides the RPG battles against a myriad of microbes and defensive cells trying their best to exterminate the invading Mario and Luigi, their gameplay on the “field” is entirely situated on the X-axis. At times, platforming as both the brothers is more of a chore than it was previously from a top-down perspective because Luigi drags ass behind Mario like an anchor. Eventually, the brothers return to their normal sizes and explore the surface world, but the pipe transit system they use as a passageway between it and Bowser’s body that he somehow doesn’t feel or notice requires a serious suspension of disbelief. It’s probably cleaner and less graphic than the anatomically-sound exit hole, however. Yeesh.

While Mario and Luigi’s gameplay hasn’t really shifted since the previous game, the few quality-of-life enhancements are still worthy of discussion. One of my many complaints regarding the gameplay of Partners in Time is that the player could rely too heavily on the potent “bros items'' to carry them through the game, something that I’m admittedly guilty of taking advantage of. The “bros items” still persevere into Bowser’s Inside Story, but are now streamlined as “special items.” Using the green shell or the fire flower coincides with an SP meter and is given appropriately assigned numerical amounts that keep the player from buying them in bulk and obliterating everything in sight with them. The same goes for all of Bower’s special moves as well. It’s more traditional to the standard RPG “magic meter” but hey, it’s been proven to work throughout the evolution of the genre. Beans buried in the ground are to be consumed in their rawest forms as opposed to mixing them in a hearty, caffeinated blend, and their nutritional benefits raise Mario and Luigi’s base stats. A new item called a “retry clock” will restart the battle that either Mario/Luigi or Bowser has tragically fallen on instead of having to retread ground from the last save point. All this item’s inclusion does is make me wish that it was available at times during the last two games at points when the difficulty ratcheted up the skies and beyond, and at no point does Bowser’s Inside Story match those enraging instances. However, the difficulty curve of Bowser’s Inside Story offers a consistent challenge, with enemies attacking in less predictable patterns.

The realms of Bowser in the overworld and Mario and Luigi mucking through the guts of the giant turtle are obviously as different as night and day, a contrast of reality and surreality. Even though their division seems concretely defined, the gameplay is at its most interesting in the instances when the two worlds coalesce in perfect harmony. The scenario of Bowser’s Inside Story is so ruinous for both dueling parties that they must set aside their age-old squabbles and work together for the sake of their mutual interests (Bowser regaining his castle and Mario and Luigi not suffocating in the noxious fumes of Bowser’s colon). At least, Mario and Luigi are the men behind the proverbial curtain assuring that Bowser survives the trek to his eventual upturn because if Bowser knew that his mortal nemesis was trapped inside him, he’d gleefully drown him out by chugging a gallon of Drano. Fueling the dramatic irony of the dire state of affairs comes in the form of tweaking and manipulating Bowser’s various anatomical “buttons” in the form of minigames. When Bowser is straining himself trying to lift something that weighs a ton, Mario and Luigi travel to his arm center and stimulate his muscles to give him that extra boost. When faced with a challenge to consume a Guinness record-worthy-sized carrot, Mario and Luigi act as enzymes to help him digest the orange chunks before he either vomits or explodes. Mario and Luigi help Bowser remember a code from his memory banks that are cluttered by images of Peach, and resurrecting a crushed Bowser by floating down the canal of Bowser’s rump (barf) somehow enlarges the Koopa King into a skyscraper for a short period, dueling the oversized foe that stomped on him before in epic kaiju fashion. Bowser also inadvertently aids Mario and Luigi by illuminating platforms via an X-ray machine and freezing his lungs to solidify some gooey platforms. In combat, Bowser can use his suck ability to vacuum up smaller enemies so Mario and Luigi can share the workload. This is the atypical collaboration between the Mushroom Kingdom’s most seasoned rivals we’ve always wanted because the relationship here is as fluid as a glimmering waterfall.

Naturally, several other of the Mushroom Kingdom’s denizens have gotten sucked up into this mess (no pun intended) and are integral to the narrative. Besides the legion of cookie-cutter Toads and their posh patriarch Toadsworth with whom we are familiar, the new characters that Bowser’s Inside Story adds to the roster of NPCs are a marvelous bunch. The game introduces a new species of creature to the Mario canon called “brocks,” sentient, yellow block constructions that resemble pieces of mechanical cheese. The central “brock” in Bowser’s Story is Broque Monsieur, a character so French that it’s a wonder how he’s not actually made of cheese. This mustachioed immigrant from Western Europe curates Bowser’s one-stop digital shop cube accessed by punching it. He also beseeches Bowser to find his pet “blitties' (cat-like brocks) that roam all over the map in enemy captivity. If Bowser finds all of them, Broque grants Bowser access to his mangy, cuboid dog Broggy, who functions as a special attack. This optional reward does so much damage during battle that it should be illegal. On the opposite spectrum with Mario and Luigi is Starlow, the ambassador representative of the Star Spirits introduced during the meeting who is the big Oz head taking the credit for Mario and Luigi’s deeds. At first glance, Starlow’s role as a guide character disparagingly proves that the developers did not learn from the godawful mistake that was Stuffwell, and the player should anticipate several hours of quickly clicking through dialogue boxes of condescension. While Starlow functions the same as the thing that fulfilled the same job, she succeeds whereas Stuffwell doesn’t because she has a clear, confident personality. She’s not afraid to banter with a fussy Bowser, who refers to her as “Chippy” in a begrudging, contemptful manner, nor is she stoic in times when Bowser’s insides seem like they are on the verge of collapsing. Who knew that actually adding characteristics to a character was all this role needed to transcend being insufferable?

But the strongest inclusion to the cast list of Bowser’s Inside Story is a returning character, and I’ve been having trouble maintaining my poker face for this long so I could dedicate an entire paragraph to his return. From that characteristic cackle to the abstract twisting of the English language, anyone who has played Superstar Saga will recognize this silhouetted merchant as Fawful. I was absolutely delighted that he’s back to being a central character as opposed to an easter egg relegated to the cramped corners of the Mushroom Kingdom sewer system. After regaining enough moxy to leave his squandered place off the grid, Fawful’s overtaking of Bowser’s Castle is step one in his revenge mission against the Mushroom Kingdom for conquering him and Cackletta in the first game, even though he’s completely unaware of Mario and Luigi’s presence here as Bowser is. His screen time is mostly dedicated to grieving Bowser on the field with the help of his thuggish armadillo-boar hybrid minion Midbus, resulting in comedic chemistry between the two that is as rich as one would expect. Fawful is as fun and fiendish as ever with fury and chortles galore, but the second act of his diabolical plan to seize the Mushroom Kingdom is where the game loses my attention. Fawful has discovered yet another mythical star Macguffin, the calamitous “dark star,” and is going to use its diabolically evil power to destroy all living things and reshape the world in his image. And yes, Peach is a necessary tool in awakening it once again because everyone else in the Mushroom Kingdom is apparently an amoral deviant. I am absolutely exhausted by this plot device trope in its third consecutive outing. Perhaps I expected more from this irreverent series, but it is inherently tied down to the safe and familiar Mario brand nevertheless. I would’ve been satisfied with Bowser reclaiming his castle one humorous step with Fawful at a time as the primary overarching plot, seeing the extent of how Fawful has refashioned Bowser’s estate and jurisdiction of the kingdom to the Koopa King’s chagrin. Having a theater erected in your castle that only shows films that celebrate the success of your enemy and also having to wait forever in the lobby just to get crappy seating arrangements has got to be an assault on one’s ego.

Alas, the “dark star” urgency encompasses all of the second half of the game. To combat the dark star’s potential, Mario and Luigi must first find a cure to the blorb problem whose relevance has been relatively dormant up until this task is assigned. They fight (and break the monk-like concentration of) four sages housing the materials of the cure and extract their essence, culminating in a star whose shine burns the colossal amounts of fat from the Toads and reduces them to their normal size. Everything seems wrapped up neatly once Bowser storms Peach’s Castle and confronts both Fawful and Midbus until the impudent dumbass decides it would be a grand idea to swallow the dark star to harness its power like a toddler eating something off the floor. As expected, this was not a wise decision, as the eldritch monster extracts pieces of Bowser’s DNA to shape itself into a shadowy, ghastly version of Bowser. Its new physical form is the final boss of Bowser’s Inside Story and even though it was crafted from a plot device that I am sick to death of, it offers the best final boss in the series so far. Why do I say this? Unlike Cackletta’s Ghost and the Shroob Queen, the arduous two phases that prolong the final fight to a grueling extent are divided almost simultaneously between Bowser fighting his uncanny shadow and Mario and Luigi facing its Fawful-faced essence in Bowser’s stomach. The retry clocks also help a bit as well, I suppose. The whole ordeal is far anxiety-inducing. After the final fight, Bowser is irate upon finding out that Mario and Luigi were gallivanting in his innards this whole time, but the two brothers give him a rightful ass whoopin’ for being so ungrateful. At least Peach then sends him a cake for all his troubles. Bowser should count himself lucky since this is as far as Mario’s ever gone with the princess!

By aping the premise of Fantastic Voyage as many media has done, the Mario & Luigi series has revitalized itself after its second entry somewhat faltered. Partners in Time was not an indelible stain on the series that couldn’t have been rubbed off no matter how hard the developers attempted to ebb away its middling impact. However, Bowser’s Inside Story is a far more exemplary successor to Superstar Saga because it took risks where Partners in Time didn’t. Implementing Bowser as a heroic figure, albeit as a bratty nincompoop, through the perspective of Mario and Luigi manipulating his inner sanctum was a brilliant way to rationally integrate any Mario RPG’s best and brightest (in a charismatic sense) character in the spotlight. Adding Fawful again was also a nice bit of fan service that I will gladly eat up like it's the Sunday gravy. Partners in Time didn’t realize that succeeding Superstar Saga wasn’t a matter of streamlining and smoothing over its rough patches: following up the cheekiest of Mario outings requires letting loose and paving your own trail of kookiness and unpredictability. Mario and Luigi: Bowser’s Inside Story took this direction with full force and STILL added many technical improvements. It’s a strong contender not only for the best in the series but as the quintessential Mario RPG period. Paper Mario be damned.

Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time Review

 (Originally published to Glitchwave on 7/8/2023)

[Image from igdb.com]

Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time 

Developer: AlphaDream

Publisher: Nintendo

Genre(s): JRPG

Platforms: DS

Release Date: November 28, 2005

Nintendo is never too keen on trying out new ideas for their poster boy Mario. Mario is their #1 asset that maintains their accessible marketability, the buoy that has kept Nintendo afloat for so long in the gaming landscape. Because of this, Nintendo feels adamant about taking risks with Mario in fear that deviation from the norm risks sinking the multi-million dollar vessel that they’ve built over decades of time. This is why multi-genre spin-offs of Mario are essential entries in the overall Mario series, offering intriguing ideas revolving around Mario and the Mushroom Kingdom increasing the ubiquity of his brand and keeping it from stagnating. I’m partial to the few Mario JRPG spinoff series because the genre’s broader narrative scope allows the developers to swell Mario’s properties to something more substantial. It forces Nintendo to make Mario step out of his comfort zone and dive into the deep end for a while after mastering all kinds of swimming techniques in the shallow end. Suddenly, the most recognizable video game character to ever exist in the medium feels fresh and interesting after generations of soaking itself in a bath of its own familiarities and pruning up as a result. However, there is a possibility that the JRPG series could also languish in their own idiosyncrasies eventually. Both the Paper Mario and Mario & Luigi series have multiple entries themselves, and there has to be some sort of cohesiveness between each entry to make them identifiable from one another. What happens when the series intended to break the cycle of tired tropes and ends up falling victim to the same fate? Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time, the second entry in the Mario JRPG series mentioned in the latter, is another JRPG game with Mario and his green brother Luigi sharing equal billing. The game has the same dynamic mechanics and humorous presentation that made Superstar Saga an excellent Mario adventure. However, perhaps the game is too close to its predecessor for comfort.

Initially, Partners in Time seemingly strays away from Superstar Saga’s identity with its plot. I never pegged Princess Peach as the eccentric type of royal figure that comes with the territory of having more fame and fortune than one knows what to do with and little sparks of boredom-inspired creativity, yet she decides to embrace her inner H.G. Wells and travels back in time using a rocket-shaped time machine manufactured by Professor E. Gadd (I guess he’s a Mario & Luigi mainstay at this point). However, her enterprising journey isn’t for recreation, The princess calculated a course to a period of the Mushroom Kingdom’s history where a race of sentient purple mushrooms called “Shroobs” enact a full-scale invasion of the Mushroom Kingdom. Upon anticipating Peach’s arrival, Mario and Luigi are instead greeted with the hostility of a rogue, hulking green Shroob, indicating that something has gone horribly wrong. Through another time portal that has conveniently materialized on the castle grounds, the plumber brothers plunge into the past and rendezvous with their youthful counterparts who are taking refuge from the Shroob invaders. Mario’s vocational duty of rescuing Princess Peach this time around involves crossing the plane of the fourth dimension, simultaneously saving the past and the present on an adventure with such huge stakes that the pairing with his brother needs to be doubled. Despite how many plot holes are seeped into the premise of many time travel stories, this one included, the topsy-turvy nature of time travel is a perfect new narrative device in the kooky and whacky Mario & Luigi series.

Beneath the excitingly intricate notion of time travel, Partners in Time fails to use its premise to its full potential. For one, all it amounts to is the same collectathon quest from Superstar Saga. The Cobalt Star is the power source for E. Gadd’s time machine, and it has been ruptured into five separate pieces. Retrieving these pieces is of utmost importance for the Marios and Luigis, for it is the only way to restore balance to the space-time continuum that all of this interdimensional galloping has caused and sever the unnatural connection between the two periods of the Mushroom Kingdom. This type of fetch quest should ring familiar to those who played the previous game, as the Beanstar was the former all-powerful plot Macguffin that spurred story progression. In saying that, obtaining the pieces of the Beanstar only became significant to the plot for the last third of Superstar Saga, while picking up the pieces of the Cobalt Star is an objective that spans the entirety of Partners in Time. I wasn’t all that enthused when Superstar Saga’s manic pacing came to a screeching halt when it introduced this scavenger hunt, so you can imagine my disappointment with Partners in Time inflating this typical task for the whole duration of the game. One could argue that committing to a single overarching mission gives Partners in Time a better sense of narrative organization, and splitting each individual trek for a piece of the Cobalt Star should recall the chapter-based pacing of the Paper Mario games which I professed to appreciate. Still, the Mario & Luigi games should exude a different tone from its thinner Mario RPG associate to establish its own tonal identity as the first game did. In terms of visuals and presentation, Partners in Time upholds the expressive, animated pixels that made Superstar Saga so charming. Yet, Partners in Time feels bogged down by its more stringent arc, as if the game is submitting to order by some bureaucratic gaming force that demands order and neatness. Superstar Saga’s wilder pacing that only acceded to plot regulations made the game more interesting because the wonky direction the game would dart through was unpredictable.

Toning down Superstar Saga’s erratic pacing with more construction is one thing, but streamlining the way in which the game goes about dividing its disciplined plot adds another worrisome layer of accessibility. The time rifts are endemic to the present-day Peach’s Castle, as her royal domain was ground zero where the dilemma occurred. Because the dissonance is confined to the castle, it's the only entry point to the past. While this makes sense, the developers use their realm of logic to dilute the overworld to a standard level hub. Portals to the past are located in each room of Peach’s palace, signified by a psychedelic swirl encompassing the diameter of a crater caused by the shaking up of time and space. The transport on the other side resides in a unique district of the Mushroom Kingdom in its glory days, and returning to the castle is a two-way backpedal through the same hole. Normally, I wouldn’t chide a hub so emphatically, especially considering that Peach’s Castle here meets the same exemplary qualifications as its other iterations. Still, I can’t ignore that Partners in Time presents a stark regression in this regard. The BeanBean Kingdom’s overworld that took a liberal helping from A Link to the Past’s Hyrule wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of an open-world environment, but it was the optimal inspiration point for a 16-bit adventure with a top-down perspective. Implementing an open landscape like the BeanBean Kingdom was a mark of excellent effort on the part of the developers, to integrate something with more spatial depth in a franchise that is usually content with simpler, more conventional hub areas (even if Mario popularized their widespread pervasiveness). In Partner in Time, we’ve reverted back to traveling to levels via a shrouded warping process that makes the player put the pieces together for the geographical rationale of the trip themselves. There’s nothing inherently wrong with using Peach’s castle as a middle ground between all of the game’s areas again, but it's rather disappointing when the developers have proved that they can offer something more interesting.

At least the individual areas that stem from these portals still uphold the quality standard issued by Superstar Saga. Each area encompasses the journey to collecting one shard of the Cobalt Star, circling around the district back to the entry point either from a natural occurrence or comedic mishap once the task is complete. The Mushroom Kingdom’s areas that are under siege by the Shroob forces are a varied bunch, which signifies that the purple buggers have already seized large swathes of Peach’s monarchy in the short time since the initial invasion. The areas here solidify my comparative observations between the Mushroom Kingdom and their BeanBean neighbors, for we now witness the developers rendering the Mushroom Kingdom in its first Mario & Luigi outing. Toadwood Forest is another shaded wooded area that vaguely resembles that of Chucklehuck, minus the thirsty tree golem blocking the path to the objective. Gritzy Desert is another sand dune with some ancient mysticism sprinkled in, and Bowser’s Castle is a tutorial-level inverse of the climactic final area it served as in Superstar Saga. Besides areas that reuse level themes at a dissimilar angle, a few of the Mushroom Kingdom’s places of interest are fresh-faced destinations that share fewer similarities with BeanBean’s. Yoshi’s Island is newly rendered in the Mario & Luigi format, a particularly inspired choice considering this tropical offshore dinosaur villa is where the babies originated from. I don’t recall seeing the monstrous Yoob casting a shadow over the island with its drooping gut in Super Mario World 2, and I’m thankful for not encountering this abomination back then. Here, the core of his gaseous stomach also makes for an area with a riveting foreground. Navigating through the inner sanctum of the Thwomp Volcano is more involved than the other areas due to zipping and hopping around its floors to reach the exit point instead of a straightaway descent. Star Shrine sort of reminds me of Magicant from Earthbound with its otherworldly splendor and mandated tasks to get to its center. Overall, the Mario & Luigi level design still thrives with the abundance of puzzles and enemy variety whether or not the area motifs look suspiciously familiar.

The process of solving the puzzles in question is now divided between the paradoxical pairing of Mario and Luigi and their infant forms. The division of work is a collaboration between the teams of the adult brother and the baby brothers instead of swapping Mario and Luigi in Superstar Saga. The grown-ups will throw the babies off their backs to allow them to journey off on their own as their own tethered duo, using their underdeveloped sizes to squeeze through crevices in an alternating sequence with the older brothers. When separated, the two teams regroup by hitting a block with a warp pipe symbol, summoning the duo not being controlled by the player. As useful as this seems, the baby's utility simply amounts to gaining hand-me-downs that their older counterparts used in Superstar Saga. Only the babies are granted hammers to drill themselves into the earth, which also means that Baby Luigi is the sole volunteer to whack an engorged Baby Mario when he gulps down too much water as well. Grown-up Mario and Luigi roll into a ball to flatten the babies like pancakes instead of using the hammers, but all this change does is highlight how team-intensive the moves on the field tend to be here. All of the moves are recycled from the previous game, only with Mario and Luigi violating child labor laws by making their younger selves perform half of the work. Really, the appeal of cutting the quartet in half by age brackets some of the time is to flaunt the two screens and doubled controller buttons of the DS. The flippable handheld was still in its infancy, and swapping between the screens when the babies are on their lonesome with their own button commands was something Nintendo thought everyone would marvel at back then. Personally, I’d rather have the characters perform some fresh, new abilities instead of reusing stale ones.

The double-screen gimmick is also highlighted in the combat. With comparisons to a 3D movie, the developers have implemented some cheap minute effects like a Piranha Plant enemy’s neck stretching out and shooting projectiles upward to fall on the brothers from above. Other than these neat little peripheral tricks, base combat is essentially the same as it was in Superstar Saga. Mario and Luigi still hop on enemies for offensive and hop over their projectiles and bodily rammings for defense. Mario and Luigi carry their respective younger selves on their back, and this isn’t a weighted burden as one would expect. In fact, Mario and Luigi should always come into battle with the babies strapped on their backs. While together, the babies use their hammers to counter damage by pressing their respective buttons, and the window of time holding the hammers before they strain themselves is much more lenient than it was in Superstar Saga. The babies can fight in battles involving Mario and Luigi but ideally, they shouldn’t have to. The babies only take matters into their own hands when their older self has fainted, which might give the impression that their life force is hanging by a thread and it's time to wave the white flag. Not only can the babies pull their own weight in combat, but their turns can be used to fully revive Mario or Luigi to get their feet back into battle. Evidently, the Mushroom Kingdom’s resources seem to be as bountiful as BeanBean’s, so the babies should always have a 1-Up in their inventory to stave off defending themselves from potential harm. Ultimately, this outcome upon defeat in battle acts as an unintentional safety net, an Aku-Aku-like shield that has the potential to never diminish. It never did for me. Because the enemy health pools also aren’t upscaled for this augmentation, Partners in Time manages to be breezier than an autumn afternoon.

But isn’t the lack of difficulty only an issue during the standard battles from the Shroob grunts and the kingdom’s various wildlife? Surely, the boss battles offer something more substantial and wouldn’t allow the brothers to slide by them so smoothly? On paper, the bosses in Partners in Time are more complex than the average Shroob underling because they require exploiting a weak spot to deal a sizable dent in their defenses. I especially enjoy making the Wiggler boss sickly and pale after slipping him a poison shroom Mickey into his healing beverage, or saving the Yoshi’s in Yoob’s stomach for them to drop a Chain Chomp boulder on the head of a ghastly Yoshi egg. However, the more engaging boss battles can revert back to a guerilla beatdown with a new feature: the “Bros. items.” These nifty tools in the item menu replace the convoluted Bros attacks and require an honed accuracy to use them effectively. Shells of the red and green variety are batted back and forth as they bounce off the enemy, and the same goes for volleying an egg that can make the enemy dizzy. The most powerful Bros. items are the cannonballs and trampolines, which incorporate both DS screens as the brothers flatten the enemy with the force of four swift landings. Needless to say, each of these Bros. items deals whopping amounts of damage, making quick work of each boss after their weak spot is exposed. I suppose this is what I asked for considering I griped that the bosses in Superstar Saga tended to overstay their welcome, but now I almost feel remorseful for doing these bosses so dirty like this. Also, the Bros. items are just as plentiful as the healing ones, so the game is practically incentivizing their use with their high stock.

Upon my reflection of what the Baby Mario brothers add to the Mario & Luigi gameplay mechanics, a record scratch sound interrupts my thought process as I begin to ask myself one important question: does anyone really like the baby versions of the Mario brothers to begin with? The last time that I checked, all Baby Mario accomplished was being an effective advocacy for abstinence for everyone who played Super Mario World 2 as he wailed in his helpless panic as Yoshi scrambled to retrieve him. Any offshoot of Mario Kart and sports venture that includes the babies dials back on their infantile proclivities to cry and whine at every waking moment, but their inclusion in the fray of competition always seemed like filler to me. Mario’s universe consists of a plethora of creatively designed creatures, and Nintendo thinks they can pull a fast one on us and pad the roster with the same characters portrayed at different ages and masses. The fetal forms of Mario and Luigi have never inspired feelings of true joy in Mario fans, and this is not only due to acting as glorified skins of the mustachioed men in overalls. I’ve said this a thousand times already, but Mario’s appeal is his wide accessibility. Games that fall under the “E for everyone” rating from the ESRB actually exhibit content that accommodates a wide audience instead of exclusively children. Still, there are games that are specifically catered to very young children. Including the babies as a focal point in any Mario game teeters on that accessibility threshold, for some adults might be put off by the babies doing the puerile things that babies usually do. The character dynamic between Mario and Luigi in Superstar Saga is compromised because they both have to act as solid rocks to balance the babies. Mario and Luigi playfully interacting with the babies are fairly cute until the realization that they’re both playing with themselves creeps in and things feel weird *ahem*. So much of the humor their dynamic facilitated in Superstar Saga is lost because they’ve both been relegated to the roles of babysitters.

To make matters worse, Partners in Time decides that every familiar character needs to interact with a younger version of themselves to bloat the list of secondary characters. A relatively youthful Toadsworth spends his time with his present self trying new ways to entertain a Baby Peach with amusing contortions that count as the brother’s team moves on the field. He also proves that Peach’s “protector” was still a total oaf before he became a senile old man, for they often fail to entertain the princess which results in her uttering a baby cry so excruciating that I put my DS volume on mute. Please cancel all Yoshi sequels that could potentially feature this character, please. Baby Bowser exhibits more personality as a spoiled little twerp, but all he does is confuse me because his design and voice mirror his son, Bowser. Jr. Padding the game with even more childish characters is grating enough, but the character that irks me the most bears no resemblance to any preexisting one. For some reason, the developers found it appropriate to give the suitcase in the item menu sentience with googly eyes and feet to boot and call him Stuffwell. He lugs around the pieces of the Cobalt Star, and I wish that was all he did. He also insists on popping up frequently to offer unsolicited guidance to the player on their objective, which is entirely unnecessary considering every objective is still clear as crystal. I would say that Stuffwell has the personality of a cardboard box, but that packaging apparatus would actually be far more interesting. The fact that the developers implemented Stuffwell to keep on the player’s side at all times in a desperate attempt to maintain his presence as a character is laughable, and his constant condescending input exemplifies the worst trope of children’s media. Fuck off, Stuffwell. Go help Dora the Explorer or something. Meanwhile, Fawful is making his presence remote in the underground sewers as a black market badge dealer that only the babies can access. Oftentimes, I’d visit him just to hear the sweet sounds of his grammatical errors. I’d let Fawful off the hook!

The Shroob forces aren’t all that colorful either. These demented, dwarfish mushrooms that look like someone forgot to add a pinch of chlorine to the Toad gene pool to clean the gunk out of it do not deviate very far from the standard model. The developers could’ve used the X-Naut army from The Thousand-Year Door as inspiration. Perhaps the Shroobs work more efficiently with a stronger sense of unity. By the end of the game, they’ve taken total control over the past version of Peach’s castle. The climactic build-up to the finale of Partners in Time is storming the palace and sending the Shroobs and their dinky Plan 9 from Outer Space saucers back to their polluted home planet. As seen in the first game, the difficulty curve completely ratchets up here, which made me fearful of the final boss at the end of it. The Shroob Princess is by and large the most challenging fight in the game with her forcefield phase and spider walker, but she’s not the final boss. The last piece that fully reforms the Cobalt Star actually houses the true heir to the Shroob throne, and she’s more sinister than her spare of a sister. The beastly Elder Shroob Princess is as daunting as Cackletta was in Superstar Saga, with her multiple phases progressively becoming more durable and unpredictable. An even bigger slight against the player is that if they die on the Elder Princess, they’ll have to tackle the grueling battle with her sister AGAIN as well. Thank God for the Bros. items for both of these fights, for I was sweating bullets the entire time. The developers learned from the fight against Cackletta. Apparently, saline would’ve saved me the trouble, for Baby Luigi’s tears are the substance that eradicates the Shroob presence from the Mushroom Kingdom. Interesting.

Given everything I’ve said, it should be apparent that Mario & Luigi: Partners in Time is rather underwhelming. It’s a by-the-numbers sequel that does very little to innovate on its predecessor except for doubling the playable characters, the items, and the screens the player can use as reference. It all amounts to practically nothing of substance. However, I wouldn’t go as far as to declare Partners in Time as another unfortunate example of a “sophomore slump.” It’s more like a student finishing a semester with a 3.0 GPA after sweeping the dean’s list their freshman year, a hard act to follow indeed. Still, achieving that average is a respectable accomplishment. I thoroughly enjoyed my experience with Partners in Time because the Mario & Luigi foundation is so solid, and they’d have to botch it pretty badly to make me forsake it entirely.

Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga Review

(Originally published to Glitchwave on 4/22/2023)

[Image from wikipedia.org]

Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga

Developer: AlphaDream, Vanpool

Publisher: Nintendo

Genre(s): JRPG

Platforms: GBA

Release Date: November 17, 2003

I did not grow up with the Mario & Luigi series. Actually, it feels as if the series was adjacent to my early development years as a gamer, but I had yet to play any of them prior to this review. Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga, the first game in the series, was receiving tons of critical acclaim the same year I was thoroughly exposed to the world of gaming, so I was well aware of its impact. My best friend growing up heralded Superstar Saga as the “quintessential Mario experience,” or at least that’s the same sentiment expressed more eloquently than as the seven/eight-year-old he was at the time. Being an ecstatic enthusiast of the Paper Mario games as a child naturally should’ve correlated to an interest in playing the Mario & Luigi games but somehow, the opportunity slipped through the cracks. Why was I relatively indifferent to Mario & Luigi? It’s not as if I selectively chose to only play the Paper Mario games as an act of silly reverence, as many fans even tend to umbrella both series as the collective of Mario RPG spinoffs. I suppose my surprising indifference to Mario & Luigi was due to the fact that the games were exclusively on handheld hardware. My optimal way of playing a video game was to sit in front of the television with a controller and bask in its comparatively more enveloping glow, and that’s still the case to this day as an adult. I owned a Game Boy Advance growing up (the SP model to be precise) and mainly used it as a Pokemon machine because Pokemon Silver was the only game I had for the Game Boy Color. Whether it was due to some undiagnosed trauma (or autism) that impeded me from playing Superstar Saga at its prime, I’m happy to report that I’ve made up for lost time. I had high expectations for Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga after what is now decades of hype, and the game has delivered on them splendidly.

Still, I can’t help but compare Mario & Luigi to Paper Mario. Both series are spiritual successors to Super Mario RPG on the SNES, sharing the same JRPG genetic code that separates it from the mainline series of platformers. Also, each Mario RPG, regardless of the specific series, uses the narrative-intensive genre as a vehicle to expand the world and characters of the Mario universe. The direction to achieve this sense of amplification tends to verge into the subversive territory. The first Paper Mario game was only slightly off-beat, as it told the traditional Mario story of Mario saving a kidnapped Peach from Bowser once again with more dialogue, exposition, and other patches of irregular elements that the developers couldn’t possibly squeeze into a mainline Mario game. The Paper Mario series would become more irreverent as the series progressed, but Mario & Luigi came out of the gate swinging a toolkit of monkey wrenches at Super Mario’s foundation. To increase their allegiance to the Mushroom Kingdom, the neighboring BeanBean Kingdom sends esteemed ambassadors to Peach’s Castle to offer her a generous token. However, that generous gesture is actually a cloud of noxious smoke, as the meeting has been intercepted by the devious BeanBean witch Cackletta, disguised with her right-hand crony Fawful. One would expect the gas to knock Peach out so these fiends can easily carry her off to whatever vessel they arrived in and fly off with her in their captivity, but that would be too orthodox for a Mario conflict premise. Instead, the booby trap kidnaps Peach’s voice, rendering her deprived manner of speech to take the form of jagged characters that drop out of the text bubble and literally explode like bombs. Bowser, in his regular routine of capturing Peach, finds her unstable communication to be a hefty inconvenience, so he joins the Mario Bros. on their quest to retrieve the voice and return it to its rightful owner. From the beginning of their valiant adventure, Fawful attacks them on an airship, and the fallout of his ambush leaves Bowser separated from Mario and Luigi. So much for that solid truce between Mario and his usual arch-nemesis. Still, the fact that this cooperative pact was made at all is rather extraordinary. Cackletta’s goal in using Peach’s voice is to activate the “Beanstar,” a mythical artifact in the BeanBean Kingdom that is said to grant the wishes of someone pure, hence why Peach’s voice is needed. One might point out that the Beanstar is the same as the Star Rod from Paper Mario, but this kind of magical with an all-powerful allure has been used as a standard Macguffin for a number of Nintendo’s IPs (the Star Rod from Kirby, the Triforce, etc.). As I’ve said before regarding Paper Mario’s pension for slight irreverence, the low bar that the mainline series sets make the smallest sort of deviation a fresh change of pace. In Superstar Saga, the rule book for a Mario story almost gets tossed out of the window entirely, which is a wonderful sign of things to come to keep one’s interest piqued. Also, the start of the adventure is spurred by the player as Toad rushes to Mario and Luigi’s house to warn them that the princess is in danger, and Toad gets an unsavory glimpse at Mario’s Italian sausage while he’s in the shower. C’mon, any Mario game where the player can control Toad, the most notable NPC in gaming, for a brief period has got to have some wild tricks up its sleeves.

Up until the Gamecube era, setting a Mario title outside the confines of the Mushroom Kingdom was considered a revolutionary prospect. Super Mario Sunshine marked the first mainline Mario game that dared to plant Mario past the parameters of Peach’s royal country, but the vacation premise sort of implied that this setting was merely a temporary digression. Paper Mario would revel in placing Mario in settings beyond the realm of franchise normalcy, but his first outing as a quirky, two-dimensional arts and crafts project kept him secured in the Mushroom Kingdom’s domain in order to use the JRPG format to expand on the typical Mario story. In the case of the BeanBean Kingdom where the brothers find themselves in Superstar Saga, it’s difficult to say whether or not this protein-rich province is all that different from their normal stomping grounds. BeanBean Kingdom shares many parallels to the fungal neighbors of an unknown directional point of reference. The land where the musical fruit roams has a topographical eclecticism that seems to rival the Mushroom Kingdom’s imperialistic endeavors. BeanBean’s land elevations range from the waterfall-filled apexes of Hoo-Hoo Mountain, the wildly ungroomed wilderness of Chucklehuck Woods, to the sandy shores of the beaches located around the kingdom’s eastern coastline.

While the BeanBean Kingdom can compete with the Mushroom Kingdom’s varied array of destination spots, BeanBean Kingdom decided to take a divergent route for its infrastructure. Nowhere on BeanBean’s map is there a hub for our heroes to relax and briefly wind down in, taking off their leather boots to scrape the blood and guts of every Goomba and Koopa Troopa they’ve stomped on. BeanBean’s capital located in the center of the realm is the hotspot for purchasing items and overalls that are somehow stocked abundantly for both Mario and Luigi’s convenience. BeanBean’s capital even features a cafe where Mario and Luigi can make a smattering of exotic coffee blends made from the various beans littered beneath the grounds of the kingdom, and these earthy concoctions are tested by the eccentric scientist E. Gadd from Luigi’s Mansion back when Nintendo attempted to keep this character relevant. Alas, the capital does not exude the same atmosphere of a hub like Toad Town, the coziest of hubs located outside the grounds of Peach’s Castle in Paper Mario. Firstly, Mario and Luigi only become acquainted with the capital area after fully exploring two other areas. Secondly, the fact that the capital looks as bombed out as the aftermath of intercontinental Europe following WWII does not make the player feel safe and sound. In fact, the state of BeanBean’s capital becomes more shell-shocked as the game progresses. Lastly, the brothers do not return here after every mini-climactic point on their quest like Mario did upon returning from Toad Town’s branching pathways. It took me longer to realize this than I’m willing to admit, but the developers were not trying to replicate Toad Town on a handheld device. Rather, BeanBean Kingdom shares a striking resemblance to Hyrule, specifically the rendition of Zelda’s kingdom from A Link to the Past. BeanBean’s capital is located at the core of the nation like Zelda’s castle estate, signifying that it’s comparable to a nucleus in both stature and its literal position. The field area outside of the castle’s perimeter can be construed as an “overworld” due to its relatively neutral terrain with a plethora of secrets to be found that will net the brothers some upgrades and goodies if they search diligently. All the while, the areas of interest like dungeon-esque HooHoo University and the Yoshi Theater, whose patrons are all the colorful, gluttonous dinosaurs, never feel as if they are removed from the rest of the map. Returning from an area outside the grassy BeanBean plain doesn’t emit a wash of sentimentalism like it usually does with the less coalesced districts that stem from Toad Town. Zelda’s world design influence works wonders for Superstar Saga because it's a top-down game, an inherent commonality with A Link to the Past as opposed to any other Mario RPG. Overall, the design decisions are fluid and aid in differentiating Superstar Saga from the other Mario RPG series.

I suppose another reason why Superstar Saga’s world feels more topsy-turvy is that its pacing is so erratic. Comparing Superstar Saga to Paper Mario at this point makes me sound like a broken record, but the way both Mario RPGs structure their narratives is the prime contrasting factor between these two franchises. Paper Mario organizes its narratives by dividing its subsections into chapters that focus on a singular area with its own sub-narrative that comes back around to the overarching plot after solving the conflict of the subplot and obtaining the game’s primary MacGuffin. Superstar Saga, on the other hand, will have the brothers running ragged with how jumbled their quest trajectory is. Fortunately, the location of the objective is clearly displayed on the game’s map in the pause menu with a soaring red flag marker. Thank the lord for this because I’d be totally lost without it. Once they reach the objective point, which usually leads to traversing around an area outside of the BeanBean overworld, the path from point A to B is fairly clear. All the brothers have to contend with along their way is a series of puzzles that impede their progress. Before then, Mario and Luigi will zigzag around BeanBean’s overworld like a couple flies hovering around a dead body.

Though I prefer the more episodic story structure seen in Paper Mario, I think the more spontaneously assigned objectives in Superstar Saga greatly complement the game’s humor. Paper Mario may have its chuckle-worthy moments, but Superstar Saga revels in wackiness. I’ve often compared Mario to silent screen legend Charlie Chaplin, and their famous mustaches are only a mere fraction of that comparison. Both Nintendo’s mascot and the tramp share a certain blue-collar charm to them, a loveable scamp portraying someone of a low common denominator status that is more than the sum of their parts (ie. a chubby plumber and a homeless man respectively). That, and tumbling down a series of platforms in Super Mario 64 and Sunshine is vaguely reminiscent of the slapstick comedy that Chaplin helped popularize in film, which in the Mario context is as funny as it is frustrating. Superstar Saga’s inherent RPG mechanics negate the possibility of dooming Mario with slipping into oblivion, so the Chaplin-esque influence stems from his other comedic attributes. Charles Martinet’s voice he provides for Mario (and less notably Luigi, Wario, and Waluigi as well) is one of the most recognizable voice roles in gaming. Still, it’s not like the recording studios at Nintendo have ever challenged Martinet with any Mario monologue similar to channeling Daniel Day-Lewis. Mario is a simple character that works perfectly with catchphrases, yelping, and vaguely Italian gibberish. However, all of the instances where all of these vocalizations are uttered mostly coincide with specific controls like jumping and being hit. In Superstar Saga, Mario's (and Luigi’s) utterances carry them through the events of the game as they react to the dialogue from the other characters as the most physically expressive they’ve ever been, fully encapsulating that silent comedy influence they’ve always had. The brothers are always gaping their mouths in shock in times of peril, clumsily running into walls, and looking dazed after being impacted with something blunt. Who says pixels can’t render emotions as well as 3D can?

Mario and Luigi aren’t the only Mushroom Kingdom mainstays joining them on their quest through the BeanBean Kingdom. Bowser and Peach are requisite for any Mario adventure in some capacity, and the way that they are integrated into Superstar Saga is indicative of the game’s level of subversiveness. Using the game’s introduction as evidence, Bowser is no longer held up in his palace waiting for Mario to beat him into submission. From the smidge of dialogue Bowser spouts, this game’s depiction of the Koopa King is the lovably buffoonish one we know from Paper Mario. However, Bowser mostly spends his time in Superstar Saga being the brunt of physical abuse and emasculation. After his airship crashes, his unfortunate luck leads him to fall into a cannon that conveniently fits his bulky, hard-shelled frame as he gets blasted to no man’s land. Upon seeing him again, Bowser is donning a blue mask as the neutered bitch sidekick of a BeanBean thief named Popple (his Luigi, if you will). While the introduction will have the player believe that Peach’s voice is a captured surrogate for her body, the game presents a twist to the player that reveals Peach is entirely unharmed. Supposedly, Peach’s guards knew of Cackletta’s duplicity beforehand, so they swapped her with a fake Peach to thwart their plans. This fraud is revealed to be Birdo, the Mushroom Kingdom’s favorite flirty, bow-wearing bisexual who is rarely integrated into any mainline Mario titles. Peach is actually available in some sections of the game, even if a big chunk of her screen time involves escorting her through the desert in the most infuriating part of the game. Bowser’s bastard Koopalings returns after a decade-long hiatus, and the brothers fight each of them individually. If dusting off older characters and putting them in the limelight again is a part of Superstar Saga’s subversiveness, it’s a welcome change of pace from the mainline series.

Of course, the fact that Superstar Saga is set in an unexplored kingdom means that there is a whole new cast of characters to get acquainted with, and they’re all delightful. Among the slew of green, Toad-like NPCs around the BeanBean Kingdom are the monarchs that they serve, and they’ll be cooperating with Mario to stop Cackletta from potentially taking over the world with the Beanstar’s power. We are introduced to BeanBean’s queen as a hostile boss battle, but this is only due to a parasite that the brothers then have to eradicate from her stomach with the digestive powers of a special kind of Chuckola Cola. After that, the Rubenesque ruler and her assistant aid Mario in directing him on the right path. Her son, Prince Peasley, decides to butt into the brothers' business on the field, waving his poncey blonde hair with a cocky smirk expected of someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Even in a game where Mario and Luigi are constantly fumbling over each other, Peasley is still the comic relief. Superstar Saga’s recurring villains are especially exemplary because they exude so much personality. Cackletta is aptly named because her defining feature is that witchy laugh of hers, usually at the expense of Mario and Luigi’s or something/someone else good and moral. However, I find her diabolical nature to be a bit cliche in the supreme antagonist role she fulfills. The true highlight villain in Superstar Saga is Fawful, Cackletta’s right-hand man in her evil operations. He doesn’t subvert too much from the henchman trope seen across all media, but this beady little bean has one quirk that makes everyone adore him. Whenever Fawful speaks, his speech is rife with so many grammatical errors and malapropisms that it's reminiscent of the dialogue from Zero Wing. How lines like “I HAVE FURY,” “at last, my entrance, with drama!” and his insult “fink-rat” haven’t been immortalized in the pop culture lexicon unlike “all your base are belong to us” is a mystery. Every warped line uttered by Fawful is pure gold.

But really, the best aspect of Superstar Saga’s lively character roster is the inclusion of Luigi. Luigi has always served a secondary role to Mario since his inception but somewhere along the line, Nintendo started to completely blow him to the wayside. Luigi hadn’t made as much as a cameo for the first two 3D mainline Mario titles, skipping two whole generations that would’ve been vital to his character. Luigi is only Mario’s housemate in Paper Mario, an NPC who stays home airing his grievances that he wasn't invited out to play. No wonder everyone thought Luigi’s Mansion was trifling material as Luigi’s first proper 3D introduction. Mario had gone solo, forgetting completely that his roots stemmed from sharing his billing with his brother. I jest at Luigi’s expense from time to time, but his frank omission from Mario’s mainline adventures on the N64 and GCN makes me sympathetic to him. Fortunately, for those Luigi fans who felt slighted at his absence, Superstar Saga makes certain that Mario doesn’t bogart the spotlight to the point where Luigi is shadowed in complete darkness. On top of actually having a consistent presence in the game, Superstar Saga marks a considerable point of evolution for Luigi. While Luigi was playable in Super Mario Bros. 1-3 and World, his design boiled down to “Green Mario” thanks to the primitive graphics. Seeing him side-by-side with his brother here shows a great distinction between them, as Luigi is clearly taller, slimmer, and has a thinner mustache. I also believe that this is the first time when Martinet gives Luigi a distinct vocal inflection, which is more nasal and pitched lower than Mario’s voice. More importantly than anything physical, Superstar Saga continues the timid persona Luidi exuded in Luigi’s Mansion as his prime characteristic. Mario is now the straight man to Luigi’s blubbering and pitiable demeanor, the Costello to his Abbot. It’s a strong dynamic between the two that has never been so pronounced in any previous Mario game. The game also seems to be aware of how prevalent ignoring Luigi is in the Mario universe, with characters not knowing his name and the fact that Luigi was originally going to stay behind as always in the beginning. All of us Luigi fans forgive you (for now), Nintendo.

Mario and Luigi’s discernable traits in terms of their personality and design is all fine and good, but the essential factor in this dynamic that defines the Mario & Luigi series is how they act on the field. Mario and Luigi are magnetized to each other throughout the game, switching between who is leading in front with the press of a button. When traversing through BeanBean’s overworld or one of its attractions, each brother has a distinctive set of skills that complement each other on a relatively equal pairing. Luigi leaps onto Mario’s back to propel both of them above high reaches, while Mario positions himself on Luigi’s shoulders like a totem pole to whirl across platforms for a brief period. Hammers, a Mario weapon that only seems to be compulsory for his RPG excursions, are given to both brothers to smash large, intrusive rocks on the field. The more interesting part is the brothers using the hammers on each other, with Luigi flattening Mario like a pancake to eke through small crevices and Mario returning the favor to Luigi by bonking him beneath the ground to creep under gates and such. Mario can also drink a copious amount of water to the point where he becomes engorged like Spongebob, and Luigi expunges all the excess water weight by making Mario spit it out with his hammer. An island oasis society off the coast teaches Luigi the power of electricity and Mario the power of fire without the usual flower attached to power orbs and light candles. Like with the hammers, the brothers can use their respective elemental powers on each other, with Luigi sticking Mario to him with static and Mario literally lighting a fire under Luigi’s ass. The brothers also use their field dynamic in a series of mini-games that range in both fun and challenge, with the most demanding being the barrel one conducted by what appears to be the skeletal remains of Donkey Kong (who can somehow talk). Luigi never feels secondary to Mario at any point.

The dynamic between Mario and Luigi also translates onto the battlefield. Superstar Saga’s initial approach to the battles borrows from Earthbound, with enemies on the field that can get an advantage over the player if they run at them from behind, or a counter advantage if Mario or Luigi attacks them first. Once a fight is engaged, Mario and Luigi run parallel to the enemy, with Mario always situated in the top left corner and Luigi at the bottom left. The brother’s selection of attacks mirrors that of Paper Mario’s, as a wheel presents the options to jump on an enemy or use the hammer to attack, with a timed pressing of their designated button to deal more damage. Badge points are still present, but here they take the form of “Bros. Attacks” that involve using both brothers in unison for an especially powerful maneuver. Executing one of these takes practice as the button timing requires steep precision. Speaking of steep precision, the true marvel of the RPG combat in the Mario & Luigi series is the defense mechanic. In every RPG, there is an inherent rule that the player will take some amount of damage from the opposing side, as little as it sometimes might be. In Superstar Saga, every attack from the opposition can be avoided by jumping over them and their projectiles or countered with the hammer. As revolutionary as this might seem, Mario and Luigi’s abilities to circumvent any hazards do not make Superstar Saga facile. Extreme practice and familiarity with enemies are needed to fully utilize this feature, and that is what makes the combat in Superstar Saga so invigorating. A JRPG that fosters a high-skill ceiling that doesn’t require grinding? The next thing you’ll tell me is that the US is going to elect the first openly gay president next year. Paper Mario made the typical RPG combat more fun and interactive, but Superstar Saga rockets that idea into the stratosphere. Unfortunately, constantly mitigating damage with dodging allows some boss battles to overstay their welcome at times.

Even if the player has the reflexes of a drunk sloth, the game doesn’t punish the player too harshly in combat. The difficulty curve in Superstar Saga is incredibly consistent, and the only time it wasn’t was upon encountering the goomba-tanooki crossbreeds in the field away from the objective. I’d like to say this is because the game is impeccably balanced, but I’m afraid this isn’t the case. Besides the frequent bombings on their capital, the BeanBean Kingdom is doing just fine and dandy considering their profusion of resources. Healing items such as mushrooms, nuts, syrups, and status-ailing herbs are so commonplace that my inventory was stocked in multiples of hundreds at some point. Failing to hop over an enemy’s attack in battle ultimately didn’t matter because I could always take a turn to heal and have the other brother work on the offensive. Even at a point where my items were thinning, BeanBean’s evidently booming economy allowed me to replenish all the items I expunged during battle without breaking the bank. I can’t criticize a Mario game too harshly for being too easy considering the overall accessible appeal of the franchise. Still, with the defense mechanics at hand, I wish the player could raise the stakes of error during battle.

Near the end, I guess my wish for Superstar Saga to become more challenging came true, even if it was unexpected. Upon seeing an unconscious Bowser, the spirit of a defeated Cackletta possesses Bowser and forms an unholy fusion of the two villains called Bowletta. Superstar Saga capitalized on what Bowser would look like with tits far before Bowsette but without ANY of the sex appeal. Somehow, fusing with Bowser’s body gives Cackletta control over Bowser’s castle, which is floating over BeanBean with Peach in captivity (of fucking course). Like most other Mario games, Bowser’s castle is the climactic end to the plumber's adventure. In Superstar Saga’s case, Bowser’s fiery domain also presents a difficulty spike as sharp as the ones on Bowser’s backside. Enemy attacks become heavily unpredictable to the point where avoiding them can be based entirely on luck alone, and the steroid versions of the Hammer Bros. hit like a tank with Magikoopas healing their already stocky health pools. I had not died up until this point in the game, and now I was carrying a defeated Mario or Luigi on the back of the conscious brother who was hanging on by a thread. Facing Cackletta in Bowser’s throne room was the most taxing boss fight in the game by a stark hundred miles. Her first form is a quick bout of damage output that will end quickly but once she dupes the brothers with a bomb and vacuums them into her stomach, the real final fight against her soul begins. I implore everyone reading this to time their fight against this giant phantom because I guarantee it will take more than fifteen minutes to defeat. Her attacks become fairly predictable through constant use, but the long process of revealing her weak point just for her to heal and obscure it from view approximately seven or more times makes for an endurance test guaranteed to make the player exhausted. I understand that the climax of any game should offer its pinnacle challenge, but the game pushes the player into the deep end after they’ve been doggy paddling in the shallow end all this time.

After playing Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga for the first time in the two decades I’ve observed it from a distance, my slight curiosity has blossomed into pure admiration. By using Paper Mario and a healthy dose of the top-down Zelda games as its inspiration, Superstar Saga crafts another exceptional Mario RPG that is as subversive as the other contemporary Mario subseries. Still, I still prefer Paper Mario, and that’s probably nostalgia blinding my perceptions. Now, I don’t know if I can earnestly compare the two because Superstar Saga deviates heavily enough to warrant completely different comparisons, almost like Superstar Saga isn’t just handheld Paper Mario after all. Superstar Saga is a wackier JRPG depiction of a Mario quest with the most engaging fight mechanics I've played in a JRPG. It's unfortunate that its genius level of innovation eventually blew up on the player in the end. Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga is a whole different beast in itself, and that's what makes it so refreshing. Luigi finally gets his time to shine.