Mind Games – Heroes
Chap. 2: The Mario Brothers
FUN FACT: Did you know that Mario, Luigi, and all related characters are copyright to Nintendo?!? Well, I SURE DID! Why am I telling you this?!? I DON'T KNOW! Isn't that nice?
Bet you never expected THIS, huh? I told you people that Mind Games was gonna include all sorts of video game characters, and I wasn't lyin'! Since these things take little time to churn out compared to my other works, you can expect a lot more of them. Isn't that also nice?
And now, we'll start the chapter! Isn't that nice too?
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Part One: Mario
You know…I can still remember the first time I played the hero.
It was nice, I admit…certainly didn't hinder my ego any, being ravished and cheered like I was. There was a huge celebration when I got back, with people hanging banners from windows and confetti being tossed like snow from above. It was so great, I was embarrassed by it all.
And the whole time, he just sat there and watched me get all the attention.
I'm ashamed to admit that I wasn't thinking of him at all at the time. Hell, I was still half-delirious from the beating I'd received less than an hour before. But he didn't speak up or anything to inform me of how he felt. He just watched.
I guess he's always been that way…reserved, quiet, almost meek. He was never very popular in school…not that he wasn't a likeable guy, of course, but he's just not very outgoing. He preferred to be alone, it seemed.
But now I know differently. Now, I realize that he'd merely been hiding his feelings, bottling them up inside of him until the day came when the pressure got to be too great.
That day is vivid within my memory, as well. He'd been acting stressed for a while beforehand, but it hadn't peaked until then. "I've had it with you, bro!" He'd screeched, glaring me down. He yelled me out, saying how much he hated what I did and wishing I'd just go away. A normal person might have been offended. I, on the other hand, saw what was behind his words.
Pain.
Pain, and envy. He'd wanted to be noticed his whole life, and I'd never really seen that until then. He'd been jealous of how people credited me with everything, while he was shunted aside like little more than an obstacle in the way of getting to me.
That day, I realized something else: Heroism isn't all it's cracked up to be.
When was the last time I had a vacation? It was last year if I remember correctly, during my 'lovely' multi-week trip to Isle Delfino. Of course, it didn't turn out to be a vacation so much as even more work. Before that, I'd tried vacationing on Dinosaur Island. Well, THAT turned out to be a mistake, that's for sure. I wound up having to rescue Yoshi and the Princess (again) during that fiasco.
Bro had tagged along for the ride in the latter, sure, but never really needed to exert half as much effort as I did. Every time I try to get a break, I just wind up having to save somebody else's arse. It gets pretty tiring after a while, I must admit. Bro…he sits in the background, silently acknowledging the little attention he does get, leaving all the other stuff to me. "You're better at it," he claims.
I've frequently found myself wishing for the anonymity that he's got. Wouldn't it be great if I no longer had to deal with thousands of screaming, mindless fans every other day? To not defend citizens' rights every five minutes? To have a moment to just be myself? You know, I'd kill for an opportunity like that.
I'm sick of fame. I can't stand it. I'd rather live a small, quiet life without disturbances and distractions--it just seems so easy compared to mine. Of course, those of you who are reading this right now probably think I'm crazy. 'Why would anyone want to not be famous?' You'd ask. 'I'd LOVE to be famous!'
Yeah. Sure you would. For a while.
But then you begin to understand the downsides to fame: The lack of privacy. The constant, unwanted attention. The demands of the masses to act like something you're not. The reality that entire lives may hinge upon every little thing you do, because you're a role model for so many.
It makes me sick. Bro should get some of this fame, 'cause he wants it so bad. But me, I need a rest. I just want to get away from it all. To relax. To cut loose. To be me.
One time it got so bad that I actually pondered suicide. I now realize the stupidity of the idea, but at the time it seemed like such a better alternative to my secret hellhole of a life. I'd found myself almost hoping that Bowser would succeed with his next scheme, and that I'd be put out of my misery at last.
But Fate won't let me. I'm the Hero—I can't fail. At least, that's what everybody assumes about me. Nowadays, if the Koopa Troop leads another attack, one of two reactions occurs. One, mass panic. Everybody prepares for death, and then bursts into a frenzy of celebration when or if the problem is solved. This is when I receive the bulk of the attention I dislike so. Second reaction, nobody winks an eye because they take it for granted that I'll pull through and save the day. This assumption is one of the things I hate the most about my fame, because it means that I'd let everybody down if I fail.
Talk about pressure. But hey, no worries, right? I'm the hero, and the hero always wins.
For now.
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Part Two: Luigi
Justice isn't blind. It's prejudiced.
I've finally figured this out after years and years of watching him get everything. From girlfriends to Medals of Honor, you name it, he's gotten it. It'd seem like I should be proud of him. And I am in a way, I suppose. But after all this time, I've started thinking they like him more than me.
Aw, who am I kidding? I KNOW they like him more than me—half of them don't even know my name, but his is common knowledge!
Yeah, I shouldn't even bother trying to compare myself to him. There really is no contest, after all. He's always been a winner. Whereas me, I was always affiliated with the other crowd. The Losers. It was like that in school, if I remember correctly. He was Mr. Popular; I was Mr. Outcast. But I think I've finally gotten callused to it by now. Or not.
The only times the public has EVER noticed me was when I'd gone out of my way to save his bacon from a situation he couldn't handle alone. True, I'd enjoyed those moments of fame—but they were brief ones, and didn't stand up to how famous Bro is.
It makes me sick. Bro gets fan letters and marriage proposals every bloody week. I get maybe one or two a year, if I'm lucky. He gets showered with praise. I get showered with rain. He's the role model of millions. I'm the role model of an occasional mental patient.
Why does he get everything? I'll tell you why. He deserves it more. I hate to admit it, but it's the truth. He's the best at his job. Nobody else, including myself, even comes close. The thing that hurts the most is that I can't do anything about it. Telling him hasn't made a speck of difference. Acting upon it hasn't done anything. It probably wouldn't matter if I tried screaming at his fans over a megaphone, telling them point-blank why I deserve at least SOME credit for our shared victories. It would be the equivalent of screaming at a tree stump.
I hate it so bad; I just can't stand it anymore…
I blew up at him the other day. Things had just gotten so bad that I finally went over the edge. Looking back, I now regret and cherish what I did. I regret it because he didn't deserve to be yelled at, but I cherish it because he finally became aware of my feelings. Unfortunately, this doesn't help things much. The public still loves him more. They always will.
And when I come to accept that, life might get easier for me.
I hope.