December 7, 2002
Lobby

In the lobby of Smash Mansion, Master Hand always kept a nice large bulletin board for announcements and notices. It was nothing special, just an ordinary tan canvas that was usually plastered with flyers and other trivial stuff. Most Smashers paid little attention to it, especially since Crazy Hand used it as a place to dispose of his receipts and invoices from all the weird places he frequented.

But not today. Crazy Hand's commercial documents were totally absent from the bulletin board, as no doubt mandated by his dear brother. Instead, a single A4 piece of paper rested in the center, dwarfed by the surrounding beige foam.

The reactions to that piece of paper would be…extremely diverse, to put it lightly.

Being the early riser he was, Mewtwo had awoken at dawn and quietly made his way downstairs to get his first good look at the tier list.

The Smashers had known this was coming. Master Hand had announced the tier list a week before, a comprehensive ranking of all 26 Smashers based on their composite results from the past year of Melee. Mewtwo had felt sick to his stomach when he heard the news. He had to admit that he'd absolutely not done as well as he'd wished. Pikachu and Jigglypuff routinely defeated him on a daily basis, he was completely humiliated every time he had to face that blue-haired prince, Marth, and he even had trouble beating that baby Pokémon Pichu. To no end, he lost to opponents he really figured he should've beaten, and his confidence had been completely shot for a long time now.

Mewtwo hadn't kept track of his win-loss record for long; he'd stopped counting after three weeks, when he realized his record to date was 22–75 in solo Melees and decided that it was demoralizing to assign such woeful numbers to his performance. He was pretty certain he was the worst of the Smashers at the time, losing often even to the likes of Kirby and Ness. Since then, his form had improved somewhat as he sucked it up and started inventing new combos in the training room. No one else really took notice of his terrible record, which brought him some form of respite.

That time was at an end. Mewtwo knew that as soon as the tier list was out, his shortcomings would be exposed, like a bleeding fish in a sea of hungry sharks. All he could hope for was that he'd done well enough in recent months for him to have at the very least risen out of last place, which he was quite certain he'd had.

Still, he couldn't afford to get his hopes up. He wasn't an optimist, and he never had been. He was never going to hope for a higher ranking than he knew he deserved.

Bracing himself for imminent failure, Mewtwo focused his eyes on number 1 and slowly, methodically began to go down the list.

Fox. Marth. Jigglypuff. Falco. Sheik. Captain Falcon. Peach. Ice Climbers. Pikachu. Yoshi. Samus. Mewtwo's eyes narrowed as he continued down the order. Dr. Mario. Luigi. Ganondorf. Mario. Donkey Kong. He exhaled sharply. Young Link. Link. Mr. Game & Watch.

And then he finally found himself, his name printed with the letter D in parentheses immediately after, followed by his not-so-good solo Melee record to the right…

…all written under two bold, italicized words that would set the rest of his time in Melee into motion.

Low Tier
20 Mewtwo (D) 663–1,054

Mewtwo's jaw dropped. His ranking was close enough to what he expected, but the experience actually seeing it on the tier list came as a completely different smack to the face. So this was what it felt like to be exposed. This was what it felt like to be singled out.

This was what it was like to be weak and powerless.

He'd gotten 20th place. In D tier. And guess what that meant?

He was a low-tier. He, Mewtwo, the supposed mightiest of all Pokémon, was a low-tier. A low-tier!

His anger boiling, Mewtwo slammed his fist into the nearest wall, causing a massive dent in the metal as he seethed over his new status as a bona fide loser. Without sparing another glance at the tier list, he turned tail and teleported back to his room, locking the door behind him. He knew he wasn't going to come out for quite a while.

Meanwhile, woken up from a fitful slumber by Mewtwo's punch, Zelda slowly opened her eyes when she realized she couldn't go back to sleep. She'd had a nightmare of Ganon killing Link during their final battle, and she'd witnessed her valiant warrior getting impaled through the heart by the Demon King's swords.

It was just a dream, she thought. I'm the princess of Hyrule. Get a hold of yourself. You must not fall victim to these petty nightmares!

Shaking off the illusory horror of the dream, Zelda got out of bed and headed downstairs.

But as soon as she entered the lobby, she saw the dent in the wall where Mewtwo had punched it. And then she saw the tier list on the bulletin board a short distance away, and it didn't take a genius from there to figure out what had happened.

"Oh, dear…" she gasped.

As soon as Zelda heard about the tier list, she too had begun to worry. After all, she hadn't done so well as she'd wanted herself. Sure, she had done incredibly well as Sheik, taking regular wins off of the supposed top fighters, but then she was informed that they were being ranked separately from each other, and that's when the panic started kicking in.

She'd been awful. Completely. Undeniably. She had lost so many matches that it was hard to remember when she had last won. Most spectators had begun treating her matches as foregone conclusions, and even fewer had the respect to applaud her after a tough loss. Link and Young Link even looked at her with a shred of pity nowadays, something that was downright ironic considering their social statuses. It was humiliating.

Zelda took a deep breath. There was no use standing around and wallowing in self-deprecation. It was simply unbecoming of her. All she could do at this point was to swallow her fear and hope for the best.

Six and a half seconds later, a pitiful, high-pitched squeak sounded from within the lobby of Smash Mansion.

Low Tier
24 Zelda (D) 474–1,251

24th place.

The connotations of her ranking came to her rather quickly. What would Link and Young Link think of her? What would Ganondorf think of her? She was Hyrule's princess, its ray of hope, its guiding light. And yet here she was, deathly close to the darkest of abyssal nightmares: last place on a Super Smash Brothers tier list.

Zelda frantically scanned the board for another name, perhaps hoping to stumble upon some kind of schadenfreudian delight. But when she finally found the person she was looking for, she really wished she hadn't.

High Tier
7 Peach (B) 945–773

The damsel of distress, of all people, was in 7th place, competing regularly at the top echelons of Smash and enjoying a loyal following of spectators and supporters. And the brave, omnipotent bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, Princess Zelda of Hyrule, was only just above the bottom of the barrel, undeserving of anyone's time or respect and being considered a useless fighter who could only rely on transforming into her edgy alter ego to get results.

Just what in Din's holy name had gone so badly wrong that this was the fate prescribed to her?

Oh, she was in for it now.

Zelda couldn't take it anymore. Desperately holding back her tears, she walked stiffly out of the lobby at a frantic pace, with nothing else on her mind but to delay the inevitable humiliation awaiting her.

Roy was the next to glimpse his ranking, but unlike Mewtwo and Zelda, he was fully confident that he'd at least be a mid-tier. Sure, he lost quite badly to some of the other Smashers at times, most notably that annoying princess Peach, but at other times he did quite well, especially against Fox and Falco, whom he'd taken quite a few games off of. He was certain that his effectiveness against two of the consensus best fighters were enough to move him up the order. He was even confident that he stood a chance at top 10, and he'd had the audacity to brag to Marth that he was going to be higher than him.

Be that as it may, however, Roy just couldn't seem to shake the nagging, underlying feeling that he was lying to himself. It was just there, a slight nuisance to his mind, chipping away at his sanity and subtly reminding him that he'd actually done quite terribly in the tournament, were he to be totally honest.

He didn't let the doubts get to him though, which in this case was not helpful at all, because it meant that he was woefully unprepared to be stunned beyond belief.

Striding swiftly up to the bulletin board with his red hair swaying as he walked, Roy locked eyes with Fox's mugshot, next to the number 1, and Falco's, next to the number 4. Perfect. If Fox and Falco were so good, and he was really good against them, then surely he must be good too, right?

He scanned the first 10 spots quickly, but found, to his dismay, that he was nowhere in sight. Apprehensively, he continued down. 11. 12. 13. 14. Where was he? 15. 16. 17. Had Master Hand forgotten to include him on the list? 18. 19. 20. Okay, this was really starting to get ridiculo–

Low Tier
21 Roy (D) 658–1,061

He blinked. Once. Then twice, then three times.

And then he slammed his fist into the wall beside him, creating a massive dent just below Mewtwo's.

"What! Are you KIDDING me? 21st place! After all those times I beat Fox and Falco, I get ranked 21st place!?" he roared in anger. And then, without sparing a second glance, he took off towards Master Hand's office, murderous intent taking over his blue eyes.

As he ran, a part of his brain began to slap himself for getting so arrogant. Oh, what a humbling experience this was. And how embarrassing too! He'd seen Marth at 2nd place; he was so finished, being his clone and everything. As soon as he got back onto the battlefield, the fans would be booing him into another dimension!

He couldn't allow this. He wouldn't. Whatever it took, he wouldn't stay in 21st place, he vowed. He needed to convince Master Hand that his effectiveness against the Star Fox crew members was enough to warrant at least a mid-tier placement. It was justified, he thought. The entire tournament practically revolved around those two! Sure, he was terrible when it came to fighting some of the other Smashers like Jigglypuff and Samus, but still!

With his apprehension replaced by a newfound resolve, Roy quickened his pace down the hallway. He knew that some of the other Smashers must have seen the tier list before him, and his secret was no doubt already out there in the world. But not everyone had seen it yet, and he needed to make sure his ranking was improved as soon as possible. He knew Marth liked to sleep in on weekends; he still had time to destroy the evidence and save his dignity.

He streaked down the hall towards Master Hand's office, running faster than he'd ever had.

Low Tier
26 Bowser (F) 304–1,406

There was no one around to see him break down. He trudged back to his room, defeated, crushed, a lifetime of failures coming back to him with every step. He had expected himself to roar in anger, to burn his bed in rage and tear up his whole room while he was at it, to do something – anything – that could make him feel powerful and validated.

But when he finally closed the door behind him, all that came were tears.

In time, everyone else saw the tier list one by one, with each Smasher anxiously scanning the paper hoping for their name to turn up sooner rather than later. Of course, the reactions to the tier list couldn't have been more varied; Fox, sitting comfortably in 1st place, pumped his fist and cheekily wagged his tail, foxy grin plastering itself all over his face. Falco, the slightly less gracious of the two, immediately went around Smash Mansion telling everyone he saw that he'd gotten 4th place. Captain Falcon got extremely hyped up at his 6th place ranking and flexed his muscles left, right and center – that is, until a rather disgusted Samus came in and punched him without restraint, leaving the racer sprinting around the lobby as he desperately tried to find a box of tissues for the blood oozing out of his nose. Jigglypuff was so shocked at 3rd place that she fainted on the spot, Marth lost all sense of dignity as he pranced around the lobby singing praises about his skill and elegance, and Luigi started crying tears of joy knowing that he'd broken free of his last place status from the first tournament at long last. Everyone, it seemed, took to the tier list differently from one another.

Pikachu was no exception. He was mildly disappointed with 9th place, and he could be forgiven for being so. He'd been the top dog (or rat in this case) during the first tournament, after all. Still, he remained among the elite group of Smashers, and he certainly didn't like to brag about his achievements on the battlefield, nor did he want himself to be known as the strongest Smasher instead of the lively and cheerful Pokémon who could make anyone smile. Nevertheless, he felt bad that he hadn't kept up with his training and practice as much as he'd have liked, and his ears drooped down just a touch. He turned and walked down the hallway quietly, hoping to distract himself from the tier list with the company of his friends and his brother.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He hadn't remembered seeing them anywhere in the top 10, and he was a little curious – and worried – as to where they were on the tier list. So Pikachu immediately turned around and dashed back to the lobby, where he went through the tier list a second time.

A pit began to form in his stomach as he made his way down the list again, passing himself and continuing onwards. 11. 12. Where could they be? 14. 15. How had none of them showed up by now? 17. 18. Pikachu broke out in a cold sweat, suddenly worried that they were going to be slapped with the "low-tier" tag. And he didn't like it one bit.

You see, the tier list had caused its fair share of discord during the first tournament. When the low-tiers went back for their matches the day after its reveal, they were greeted only by the merciless heckles of the audience. Thankfully, the Smashers themselves were supportive and made sure that the low-tiers were well defended from the criticism, and when the five low-tiers began to demonstrate commendable resilience, the audience's boos died down and all was back to normal again. The original tier list had been a massive scare that could've turned out much worse than it did, and Pikachu just couldn't understand why Master Hand had decided to make another tier list in the first place knowing what had happened before. Surely he knew that the bigger tournament promoted more conflict.

And for Pikachu, his friends and his brother might very well be the victims.

20. 21. Where were–

His heart sank.

No. This…this can't be.

Low Tier
22 Pichu (D) 584–1,138

There, sitting way down in 22nd place with the most endearing of smiles on his face, was his little brother and best friend, Pichu. Smart, clever, brave Pichu. Undersized and overlooked, he had come with Pikachu to this tournament to prove himself on the big stage. Contrary to popular belief, they were only born about a year apart. But what very few people knew was that, when they were still children, Pichu had accidentally swallowed and digested an Everstone, which left him permanently unable to evolve. All the other Pokémon made fun of him as they grew and evolved while he helplessly watched, calling him a baby and weakling and bullying him into some very dark places.

Pichu had cried then, but not for long. He faced the adversity as best he could, training himself to become the best Pokémon he could possibly be and, ultimately, teaching the bullies a lesson. Without a doubt, Pichu was one of the strongest baby Pokémon in their homeworld, but ultimately, he was still a Pichu, physically incapable of fully controlling his electricity no matter how hard he tried. There was nothing he could do, and nothing he could ever hope to do, that would keep the sparks from leaking out of his electricity sacs. It was the one disadvantage he would always have to live with, and it seemed to have cost him dearly.

The tears slowly began to well up in Pikachu's eyes as he imagined what his little brother's reaction to his spot on the tier list would be. Pichu had tried so hard to be as strong as his more fortunate sibling, he'd persevered through some very miserable and saddening times, and he'd climbed all the way to the prestigious Smash tournament from the very bottom of the ladder…only to see all of his efforts ruthlessly invalidated by a single number. Pikachu squeezed his eyes shut, fearing for Pichu. He would have to know eventually, as would Ness and Kirby.

There were only four spots left, and his two other besties were both among them. Pikachu could only hope that they wouldn't take it too badly; and that everyone else wouldn't make their lives any more miserable than they'd surely had to be in the coming months.

He continued down the tier list.

Low Tier
23 Ness (D) 522–1,203
…

25 Kirby (F) 386–1,330
…

And there it was, glowering Pikachu in the face, mocking his friends for being bad Smashers. Poor Ness; he'd been a low-tier two tournaments in a row already! Pikachu could still vividly remember how he'd put in so much work during the first tournament to become a better Smasher, but now in Melee it was as if he'd somehow stagnated horribly while his fellow low-tiers from the first tournament – such as Luigi and Samus – had broken into the higher tiers. Even Donkey Kong and Link found some improvement to move out of low tier, but Ness? What did he do to deserve this? He'd worked as hard to improve as anyone else, put in as much time and sweat and blood as anyone else, and yet the tier list was here, making his efforts look completely futile. The first tournament, knowing that he'd failed to do well, was bad enough; but now, knowing that he'd failed again despite all his efforts, was far worse. It was as if he just wasn't good enough, as if he were fated to fail. Knowing Ness, Pikachu could already imagine him staring at the board in denial, eyes sunken and teary. It was an image the rat could not bear to dwell on for long.

And Kirby…how? How did this happen? He was so strong during the first tournament, so vigorous and rapid and powerful, and now he was only just above last place. What had happened? Kirby had no reason to decline so dramatically; he slept a lot, ate a lot, and he put in all the work needed and much more to become a better Smasher. If anything, Kirby should've been the most improved Smasher from the first tournament, given his age, talent, and training, and yet…here he was, having somehow not improved at all or, indeed, actually regressed. Worse yet, Pikachu knew that Kirby was not ready for all the boos and jeers that came with being a low-tier. Ness had gone through all of it once before, so at the very least he was prepared to face it a second time. Sure, Kirby couldn't have cared less about being labeled as a weak Smasher, but he was so innocent, so sensitive, so perceptive of others' emotions…a shudder ran through Pikachu as he imagined little Kirby, helplessly crying into his pillow at night, not understanding why people had suddenly began to hate him for no reason. And that was an image that Pikachu wished he'd never see or hear in his life ever again.

But it was very likely going to happen, he knew. Even as several other Smashers began to leave the lobby, Pikachu could feel their hostility and arrogance, and he knew for certain that they and the fans smelled blood. Soon, the lives at Smash for all low-tiers – Pikachu's circle of friends included – would turn into absolute hell, tearing them apart from the inside out.