Impact Statement of Luigi Mario

Drafted by: Luigi Mario

Revised by: Mario "Jumpman" Mario and Princess Daisy of Sarasaland

Delivered by: Luigi Mario on October 18, 2016

Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you today to share an experience that continues to leave its mark upon me. I choose to talk about this experience because I believe it's something that shouldn't be treated with kid gloves. You need to know what was done to me and some of my fellow Smashers, and you need to know about the people who did it, so that you may hold them accountable for their actions.

On April 26, 1999, I became a Smasher for the first time. I seized the opportunity to make new friends, to tell them my story and to listen as they told me their stories. I showed the spectators who flocked from all parts of the world to watch an exciting matchup that I could hold my own in a fight—and that I could win. I took it upon myself to step out of my big bro's shadow and become my own person. Thanks to the Smash Bros tournament, I acquired a growing fanbase eagerly awaiting my appearance.

Shortly thereafter, however, a friendly gathering of characters from different universes turned into a daily struggle not to fall apart. And that was because—of the tier list.

I didn't know what Master Hand was thinking when he decided to put up that tier list, and to this day, I still don't know. What I do know, however, was that as soon as I saw that I was placed at the bottom of that list, I felt as if I was doomed to be forever considered Mario's carbon copy. Instead of a fresh face, I was soon viewed as a laughingstock, someone to be openly mocked over the Internet. I was mercilessly heckled and insulted. I was verbally and physically harassed. Objects and drinks were thrown at me during my matches. If I won, then I was booed, and if I lost, then I was jeered. And two Smashers decided that their burgeoning friendships with me weren't worth anything.

Douglas Jay Falcon and I were in the same club—we both were "unlockable" fighters. We were part of the Formidable Four, with Ness and Jigglypuff making up the other two secret characters. Before the tier list, Falcon enjoyed hanging out with me, Ness and Jiggs. We'd play Twister together. We'd spend time in the lounge. We'd let off steam in the gaming area. We vowed to take on the world of Smash together. But after the tier list, Captain Falcon decided that he was just too cool for us—and for me—because he was ranked higher.

Fox McCloud led a brave squad of fighters and was considered a role model. It was an honor of mine to meet him, and he'd share stories of Star Fox's adventures. But like Falcon, as soon as the tier list was put up, he didn't want to bother with me. The two of them teamed up to make my life as a Smasher a living Inferno—all because of a piece of paper.

Captain Falcon was the worst offender of the two. Just hours after the tier list was put up, he referred to me and the other C-tiers as "a bunch of bad apples", refusing to even sit with us or accept an ice cream sundae because of that. That evening, while I was unwinding in the lounge with most of the other Smashers, Falcon barged in, blind drunk, and singled me out as "the last-place loser" and a "n—b". He challenged me to "see how low" I was, and he provoked me into a physical fight by swinging at me. The next morning, he half-heartedly apologized to me, only to start harassing me again a day or so after that. His actions escalated from put-downs and name-calling to nasty bathroom and shower pranks, tying my shoelaces together, actively encouraging people to antagonize me on the Smash blog and in person, taunting me and even physically assaulting me. I didn't—I didn't know him anymore, and I didn't think I wanted to know him anymore. And while Falcon perpetrated the worst of that mess, Fox was just as guilty. He treated me condescendingly. He scoffed at me. He looked at me down the length of his nose. He helped Falcon pull those pranks. During the incident in the lounge, he egged Falcon on, suggesting that "the pecking order" be explained to me, and it got to the point that Mario had to grab him around the waist to stop him from taking a cheap shot at me. And when I had the upper hand over him during a match, he fulminated over the fact that I was "the worst character in the game". It was all I could do not to give into temptation and lose it on them.

Douglas Jay Falcon and Fox McCloud deeply hurt me in 1999. Their actions made me feel so betrayed and so angry. Until then, I never thought I was capable of such rage and hatred. They tried to break me, and they would've, if not for the fact that Ness, Jiggs and Samus needed a source of strength. I cast aside my own pain so I could be that strength, and I prioritized their crises over mine. Whenever they needed comfort, I gave it to them. Whenever someone tried to pick on them, I told them to back off, or I diverted their vitriol toward me. I was willing to take their pain for them, because not only was that what friends did, but also it was what kept me going.

Seventeen years later, it still hurts. Fox and Falcon's actions remain seared into my memory, my heart and my soul. I sometimes lay awake at night and think about it. There are days when I can't look at them without feeling a surge of heat through my veins, without wanting to scream at them. What they did and what they said left raw wounds, wounds that will last forever. They eventually apologized for their words and actions, but it did little to relieve the pain. Because they chose to rake me over the coals and psychologically eviscerate me over the tier list, my relationship with them will never go back to the way it was before.

On a more personal note, today marks an important anniversary for me. Fifteen years ago, on a chilly October night, I confronted my strongest fears for the first time and single-handedly rescued my bro, armed with only a red vacuum cleaner and with an elderly professor as my sole source of backup. And not only did I confront the Boos, who are more dangerous than normal ghosts, but I also confronted their King—someone more sadistic than any villain I've ever met. That night was the night that changed everything, the night I truly realized that everyone was wrong about me, the night I envisioned all of my detractors eating my words. When I faced down the King of all Boos to save my bro, I knew I wasn't the last-place loser. I knew I wasn't a n—b. I knew I wasn't a joke, or a clone or whatever the Inferno else they called me. I'm not known for my bravery, but I can be brave, and what happened in that mansion truly crystallized that. And I find it very significant that I'm speaking to you on the fifteenth anniversary of my first direct confrontation with the ghosts who used to send me diving under my bed or at least under my bedsheets. It's another way of proving the Fox and Falcon of yesteryear wrong, and it's another way of shutting down those who insist that I'm a useless coward.

In April 1999, I entered the first Smash tournament, hoping to break free of the mold I was cast into. Instead, I was turned into a punching bag, thanks to the antics of Douglas Jay Falcon and Fox McCloud. At their hands, I was subjected to endless evisceration, heckling, torment and at least two instances of physical assault. Their decision to abandon all pretenses of friendship with me over a piece of paper has left an indelible mark on my spirit, and even after seventeen years and four tournaments, the pain is still fresh. Now you know what they did. Now you know why they thought it was okay. Now you know why this is a matter that shouldn't be treated with kid gloves.

Now you know why Douglas Jay Falcon and Fox McCloud must be held accountable.


Please R&R.