He stood in the Main Hall of the Smash Mansion, looking over the chairs, tables, sofas and pictures scattered throughout the room. It had changed significantly since the first time he laid eyes on it. For example, there were charging stations for people's iPhones and Android phones, and to the far left, there were computers that Smashers could use to surf the net. The place had also expanded—the Main Hall used to be small, with very little technology to be seen, save for a lone desktop with a Windows 98 operating system. Things had really changed in these past two decades.
He had changed, too.
Luigi sank down onto one of the sofas, staring out at the room and seeing a different scene entirely. The decorum shifted before his eyes until it had more of a late 90s look, the chairs becoming occupied by eleven more people as they talked and laughed. And then, he saw himself sitting among them, blushing and mumbling at first but then slowly taking initiative by introducing himself and starting conversations. He'd instantly clicked with Ness, Captain Falcon and Jigglypuff, sowing the seeds for what would become the Formidable Four. He'd also struck a chord with Kirby, Pikachu, Link and Samus. And Fox had struck a chord with him, due to his fighting and leadership skills. Though some of them didn't know his name at first, they instantly treated him with respect and made him feel right at home.
He'd filled out the application for several reasons. Primarily, he saw a chance to be recognized as the hero he wanted to be. Secondarily, being in the shadow of his elder brother birthed a lot of stress and frustration, and while the sporting events back home provided some relief, this tournament promised to be the perfect outlet for his aggression before it drove him to do something he'd regret. He honestly didn't expect Master Hand to approve his application, but he did. And sitting there in the Main Hall, he hadn't thrown a single punch yet, but he loved being a Smasher already.
When the time came to duke it out the next day, Luigi was tested—dear God, was he tested. His first opponents included the swift Fox, the bruiser Donkey Kong and—Mario, his famous big bro. And his blood was just pumping, his pulse was racing, he was feeling so hot and he was so sick and tired of his situation back home. It was Luigi's time to shine! He'd raised his fists and charged into battle, fighting cautiously but ferociously, his punishing blows and kicks knocking people all over the stages. He used a tornado move he named the Luigi Cyclone, along with his fireballs, when the pressure got too much. But most importantly, when he focused his explosive emotions inward, he created the most explosive move in the history of fighting games—the Super Jump Punch! If he was close enough to his opponent, he could send them straight off the stage and high into space—a high risk, high reward move. The spectators had been struck speechless when they first saw the move. The didn't think someone like Luigi could hit that hard, could they? Well, too bad for them.
In the succeeding days of the first tournament, Luigi had continued to prove everyone wrong. He woke up at around six in the morning, warming up in the Training Room, sparring with one of the Polygons manning it until he was red-faced and sweaty and primed for a day full of fights. Then, he'd head into the cafeteria to eat breakfast and then tend to his toilette before checking his schedule, dropping everything and heading to his first match the second MH made the announcement.
Back in the present, Luigi got up from his seat and strolled toward the Training Room. It was all high-tech now, with ports for Smashers to plug in their own music and training aids called Sandbags to unload onto—but that wasn't the case back in 1999. Sitting against a wall, Luigi closed his eyes and opened them again, watching in awe as the audio jacks and USB ports and Sandbags disappeared, replaced by a 5-disk CD player and a library of CDs and the Polygons sitting around, waiting for a Smasher to challenge them. Then, he saw himself walk in, set his gym bag aside, unclasp his overalls, pull off his shirt and re-clasp his overalls before tossing the shirt aside, as well. His past self then perused the shelves of CDs before selecting five of them and inserting them, one-by-one, into the CD player. Then, he fiddled with the volume knob and pressed "play".
Ah, it was "Blue (Da Ba Dee)", one of his old favorites. Luigi watched in anticipation as his past self strolled toward the Polygons and silently challenged one of them. The Polygon he picked stepped toward him, and the two sized each other up, fists raised, before the Polygon moved toward him.
"Yes!" Luigi cheered as he watched himself block the blow and propel his fist into the Polygon's body.
But he didn't stop there. His fists began to pump with amazing precision, striking key areas on the Polygon, forcing his sparring partner backward. The best the Polygon could do was try to retaliate whenever an opportunity presented itself. Luigi drank in the intense expression on his own face, the electricity in his eyes and the way his brows were lightly knit, the tautness in his lips. His face, neck, chest and arms began glittering in the light, the tiny sweat droplets leaping off and scattering everywhere, his muscles rippling with each blow he landed. The music and breaths and the sounds of the blows lingered, and then slowly began to fade until Luigi was back in the present.
"Wow," said Luigi as he got back up and walked out of the Training Area.
More memories met him as he ventured further down the hall, the scene continuing to shift between the past and present. Memories of him walking down this same hall, telling jokes to his companions, bidding them good night before retiring to their rooms. He passed the Game Area, now stocked with Nintendo Switch consoles and PCs—formerly stocked with Nintendo 64 consoles and board games. Then, he saw four people gathered around a familiar mat with different-colored dots as a fifth sat with a spinner in hand. He was back in the past, watching himself play a round of Twister with Ness, Jiggs and Falcon as Fox called out directions. A smile quirked his lips as he watched the quartet swiftly become a wild tangle all over the mat, laughing as they tried to contort themselves into increasingly impossible positions before finally slipping onto the mat and beginning to playfully wrestle—only to start the process over again. As the scene faded out, Luigi briefly found himself overcome with emotions. Look how far he—and the rest of the Original Twelve—had come.
Wiping at his eyes, Luigi next proceeded to one of the lounges and sat at one of the tables he used to sit all those years ago. That lounge, like everything else, had gotten bigger. But they still served the Poppin' Purple Tanqueray, his favorite drink on the Smash Lounge's menu. He looked out and saw his past self, seated at a table across from him, lazily sipping on the aforementioned drink.
90s dance music began to fade in, causing Luigi to glance toward the dance floor, where Smashers and Polygons alike were showing off their best moves. Then, he looked back at his past self. And then he watched himself finish the last of his drink and stride out onto the floor, a huge smile on his face. Everyone else clapped when they saw him approach.
And then he began to dance, a fluid, shimmying movement he remembered all too well, a movement so many people tried to copy. The other lounge-goers watched as he took the beat and made it his, his body a singular winding, rolling, swaying and wriggling vehicle. His motions changed as the beat changed, as the song changed. Smashers and Polygons formed a circle around him, clapping and bopping along as he continued to move his body in ways they could only dream about. When Luigi danced, he took his stress and stuffed it into the pit of his stomach, turning it into energy. It always helped him after a bad—or trying—day, even after the introduction of these tournaments.
Luigi sat there and watched his past self as he continued to dance and writhe to the driving rhythm, looking so effortless, save for the sheen of sweat on his face. He bit his lip, tears threatening to come in earnest. Those sweaty nights in the lounge would be something he never forgot, even after twenty years. Slowly, the limber body and the cheering crowd grew fainter and fainter, until the present day was back again. Luigi stood from the table and continued on his way.
He passed features and amenities which didn't exist back then. The Stage Builder? Back then, they'd never even thought of that. An LED display of the match schedule? Back then, it was a piece of paper tacked onto the bulletin board. Stage selection? Back then, MH selected the stages for each fighter. The Replay Area? Back then, it was smaller, with bulkier computers. The ability to pull up previous matches over WiFi? Back then, the matches were recorded on videocassettes or floppy disks, and even then, they took time to load. Which actually reminded him—the only forms of Internet they could access during the first tournament were dial-up and the Smash Blog. Things were so difficult back then—and yet, so simple.
Eventually, the man in green came upon Final Destination. Gingerly, he stepped onto the stage, an ethereal quietness around him as the ambiance continuously shifted. He plunked himself down and stared out into nothing, deep in thought. And then the stage took on a minimalist, simplistic look, a giant hand floating towards him with a deep, sinister laugh as his past self stood there in a fighting stance, staring his opponent down.
"Master Hand," said Luigi.
Master Hand took a swipe at Luigi's past self, who leaped aside and attacked with a flying kick. He buzzed furiously around the Hand of Creation like a hornet, dealing out kicks and punches as he went, evading the projectiles shot his way and cartwheeling to safety when MH fired lasers at him. Luigi watched, transfixed, as his past self battered Master Hand's past self hard, using Smash attacks when the glove was cooling down from an attack and relying on aerials during the rest of the battle. Sometimes, he'd pull out his Cyclone, but it was used more as a "get off me" attack than as an offensive tool.
"Oh, man," said Luigi. "Oh, man."
He remembered how nervous he was in the moments before that first fight, how his heart had stopped beating the minute he heard that laugh. But then, he'd remembered the voices, trying to discourage him, saying that he'd barely last a minute. And then, he'd set his jaw and vowed to prove them wrong. Which he did.
His past self grunted as he smashed MH with a devastating blow before whirling around and seeing his future self sitting there, watching alertly. His blue eyes widened as he drank in the man he'd become, a man who'd go on to brave haunted mansions, survive a supernova, defend the Smash World from a tyrant, have an entire year named for him and look the very personification of Death in the face—and survive. And Luigi gazed lovingly at his past self, a man who'd already been through so much and still had much yet to learn about others and himself. Then, the plumber gave his past self a little nod.
"You can do it," he said.
His past self grinned broadly, turned back around and smashed Master Hand with another punch, and then slammed a few more blows into him before giving a loud yell, bounding forward and ending the fight with a Super Jump Punch. The two Luigis watched as the past version of Master Hand sailed off into the distance.
And then they looked at each other.
"Hey," said Luigi.
"Yeah?" asked his past self.
"You're gonna be okay," said Luigi. "Just believe in yourself, okay?"
"Okeydokey!" sang out his past self.
Giving a final wave, the past version of Luigi disappeared, and the man in green was once again left in the present.
Returning to the Main Area, Luigi smiled at his memories of the first tournament. It was when he began to break his own mold as a hero and a fighter. And in the twenty years since, his fighting style had become more nuanced. Luigi had grown into a strong, viable and confident fighter who'd begun to use his weaknesses, such as his poor traction, against his opponents. Super Smash Brothers, for him, was the moment he'd finally started to coax himself out of his shell, to see new places and to meet new people. And indeed, more people started paying attention to him when he became a Smasher, achieving memetic status by winning through inaction. Then, he became famous for even better things, from his Super Jump Punch to his Green Missile, which had the ability to Misfire, to his insane combo ability, the most of which stemmed from his down throw, even after the move had taken a heavy nerf. And now—he finally had a tether grab of his own, a vast improvement from his poor-ranged standard grab. He started out as Mario's inferior clone, and now he was his own person.
Even so, Luigi would never forget the first tournament, before it became the multiverse spectacle it was today. When it was just a friendly gathering of twelve fighters, four of them playing Twister together, all of them sitting together in the lounge when they weren't beating on each other and telling each other their secrets—eventually becoming a family.
Once the Original Twelve, always the Original Twelve. Twenty years later, it was something that rang especially true.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you, Super Smash Brothers. For everything."
"Luigi!" called a voice. "Come on! The party's about to start!"
Wearing a big smile, Luigi turned and headed off, to join the others in celebrating the first twenty years of Smash Bros—and the many more years to come.
Here's to twenty more years of Smash!