Almost anything can be disturbing if you look deep within the lines. Controversies from old shows, secrets hidden in games, or even in the manuals, like the secret boss in the original Doom, or the fact that all the blocks in Super Mario Bros. are supposedly transformed Toads. But I think the most disturbing thing is what happens when reality seeps its way into the game world, to the point that the game itself doesn't know what the truth is supposed to be.
But for now, I think it would be best if I started this from the very beginning and worked my way up from there.
Super Mario Bros. is probably the most famous gaming franchise in existence, and rightfully so. When the first Super Mario Bros. released, it almost completely revolutionized video games and integrated ideas that were much more advanced than other games of its time. While there had been previous games in the Mario series such as Donkey Kong, none of them compared even remotely to Super Mario Bros.
I remember playing the game on my father's old NES back in the 2010s, and although I know it was obviously not the most advanced console, I remember loving it deeply. Something about the simpler goals and bright colors of that time just made it draw my attention more than anything on the Wii or 3DS ever could. It made me happy, especially because I got to see that beam in my father's eyes whenever I asked him for help on a level or when he showed me a secret in the game.
It had been over six years since I’d touched the old thing. My dad had given it to me as a gift before college, but I had moved on to other things. I'd gotten into newer game systems and more modern games, not to mention college. I remember that at first, I thought of selling the old thing, but thought better of it — although that might just be a better explanation than admitting that I had just thrown the thing in my dorm room closet and forgot about it. That is, until my final year of college, when I was cleaning out my room. It was buried under a massive pile of random junk, and parts of the box were bent and pushed in on itself in awkward ways, but aside from a few small dents and scratches, the NES itself was relatively okay.
Mostly out of nostalgia, and also just looking for anything else to do other than clean my dorm, I plugged the NES into my TV, loaded in Super Mario Bros., and pressed start. The game ran smoothly throughout the first three levels, but upon 1-4, I noticed something… unusual.
There were no enemies, no spinning fire pillars. Even as the game automatically pushed me to Toad's room, Toad wasn't there, replaced by someone much more familiar.
It was Mario.
His sprite was greyscale, and in its small state, and where Toad's normal dialogue box would appear, a new message popped up instead.
“I’VE GROWN SO TIRED OF THIS.
HAVEN'T YOU?”
The game went back to normal after the next level began, at least somewhat. After…
Well, I guess I should call it the first encounter, as it was, as you'll soon see, not the only one. Levels 2-1 to 2-3 had a light grey sky, and the enemies moved slower than usual, but then I reached the second castle.
The fire pillars were back, but there were still no enemies, and by the time I reached the next Toad room, it was waiting.
It wasn't small anymore, now using a greyscale counterpart to the powered-up Mario sprite. It was facing away from Mario when I entered the room but quickly turned around as text appeared above them.
“THEY SAY THE DEFINITION OF INSANITY IS DOING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN.
I THINK THAT'S A BETTER DESCRIPTION FOR HELL.”
By world 3-4, the game was almost completely broken. The floor tiles flickered when I moved, and parts of the screen were flooded with garbage data, and by the time I reached the Toad room, the greyscale Mario was waiting for me. Its body flashing as more text appeared.
“I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I'VE GONE THROUGH THIS PLACE.
HUNDREDS, MAYBE THOUSANDS OF TIMES.”
At world 4-4, the game had become almost unplayable, leaving an ungodly number of sprites that were broken and miscolored, replacing the floor and the ceiling. The music had long since cut out, and every single movement took several seconds to register, but regardless, I was able to make it to the end of the level, where yet again, they appeared.
“WHY CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THERE'S NOTHING BEYOND THIS?”
At world 5-4, the game's music completely died, leaving only a faint ringing as I walked down the flat path of broken sprites, and yet again, the grey Mario appeared at the end of the level. Only now, its sprite was breaking, separating into shuffled fours when they moved to face Mario, only to correct itself afterwards, standing still uncomfortably long before more text appeared above them.
“YOU ARE ON ANOTHER WILD GOOSE CHASE, SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING THAT CANNOT BE SAVED.”
And then, on world 6-4, the game seemed to go back to normal. The level generated properly, and Bowser was waiting at the end, but upon touching the axe, the game started glitching, repeating the last few frames of the jump animation, before the droning, broken noise blared from the console, and the screen cut to black. When it inevitably turned back on, the floor was replaced with the broken sprites of Princess Peach, and there was only a straight path forward, repeating for every level of world 7, until, yet again, that glitching Mario sprite was waiting at the end, not turning around this time as the text appeared.
“THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO STOP THIS.
YOU WON'T LIKE WHAT COMES NEXT.”
At world 8, the floor had been completely removed, or rather, made invisible, and I had to navigate through the void that remained. The background had become pitch black, and the input lag had become so severe that it felt like playing through a picture book, until eventually, I reached the end of the level. The sprite was gone now, leaving the room completely empty, and yet the white text hovered over Mario, reading
“WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO FUEL MY PURGATORY?
WHY DON'T YOU GET THAT THERE IS NOTHING PAST THIS?”
The text disappeared before another set of words took its place, continuing the thought.
“WHEN WILL YOU UNDERSTAND?
THERE IS NO CASTLE. THERE IS NO MONSTER.
THERE IS NO PRINCESS.”
And then the game froze, and the droning from the NES finally died off, before the game started over, the music blaring as Mario waited at the bottom of the screen.
Except, looking closely, I noticed something different about Mario.
On his face, just above his shirt, was a discolored pixel.
It was grey.