This is Skeezix’s Brain on Gaming
Is Super Mario 64 Still Worth Playing?
Everyone knows that Super Mario 64 is the greatest video game of all time. If you ask any game commentator, any blogger, any YouTuber, for their top ten, I guarantee the plumber’s first 3D outing will be on their list. It permeates the Internet, with the famous (if incorrectly quoted) line “So long, gay Bowser” inserted ad nauseam into countless YouTube videos. The game has earned a place at the top of the pile, and it’s common to see it recommended as a first title to someone who’s never picked up a controller in their life.
I’m not sure, though, if anyone can explain exactly why this is.
When I write these articles — all of them bearing nearly identical titles — the question I ask, whether [insert game title here] is still worth playing, is often rhetorical. The fact is, yes, a certain kind of person can enjoy almost any video game. Yes, for that specific kind of person, even something as awful as Rogue Warrior, the infamously horrible first-person shooter based on the heavily-fictionalized exploits of Navy SEAL Dick Marcinko, can be a fun time and well worth the price of admission. So to declare, as a blanket statement, that, no, a game is not still worth playing, period, is going to be incorrect almost every time.
But the question isn’t that simple with Super Mario 64. Video games don’t have a “canon” like, say, literature or film; they’re still immature as an art form, and the kind of old, long-winded academics who bother to decide that kind of thing don’t play anything more involved than Words with Friends. If the medium did have a canon, however, Super Mario 64 would be at the top of the list, at least in most peoples’ book. The arguments for its inclusion abound. While the game wasn’t the first three-dimensional platformer, it was the first to be any good; the Nintendo 64 was specifically designed to cater to Shigeru Miyamoto’s vision for the game; its hubworld inspired a host of other titles, even those outside the platforming genre; and, despite its muddy graphics, it is the one and only game from its console generation to still look passable to the modern eye. It should be a shoo-in.
I should believe this more strongly than anyone. Super Mario 64 was the first real video game I ever played. For my sixth birthday, I received a Nintendo DS and a copy of the game’s remaster for that system. I learned what a video game was from Super Mario 64. I learned how platformers worked. I was so awful at it — totally unable even to defeat King Bob-Omb without my father’s help — that the fact that the DS only had an eight-directional control input couldn’t stop me from enjoying the game.
And I kept coming back. I returned when I was around ten and got a bit further, unlocking Mario (you start with Yoshi in that version of the game), and even defeating Bowser in the Dark World. Later on, I encountered the original version of the game for the first time via emulation, and now, with Nintendo’s rerelease of the title in the 3D All-Stars collection, I’ve finally made it through enough of the game to feel as though I have a decent grasp of it — only three presidential administrations after I first picked up a controller.
And yet, I’m not sure if I buy that Super Mario 64 is everything that everyone says it is, that it really should be listed quite so high up in this imaginary “canon.” I’m not saying it isn’t a good game; Nintendo, more so than any other publisher, is not in the business of making bad games. I’m not saying it doesn’t have historical value, and that, one day, if a World Museum of Video Games opens up, it shouldn’t be displayed more prominently than almost any other title. I’m just saying that I know what I played, what I experienced. And what I experienced…well, you’ll have to read the review to find out, won’t you?
I like to follow my typical structure when writing Still Worth Playing, with the three elements of a video game — Presentation, Mechanics, and Structure — mirroring the reality cooking show Chopped’s three elements of a good dish (Presentation, Taste, and Creativity). But I feel that that doesn’t fit for Super Mario 64. The Structure section is usually given over to discussing the game’s story, such as it is, but Super Mario 64 has almost none. And my usual format is value-neutral, discussing the good and bad parts of a game together, whenever they happen to come up. For a review of a game like Super Mario 64, though, I feel that this isn’t appropriate. This isn’t just a bland report — I’m going to be criticizing (as well as praising) a game many people love, and so I feel that, by starting with the spoonful of sugar, I may help the medicine go down. Therefore, I won’t organize the review in my usual way, but rather based on value judgements; the three sections will be the Good, the Weird (but neutral), and the Bad. Without further ado, let’s get into it, starting with the Good.
The Good section may be a bit shorter than you anticipate, but that’s because this is a review, God dammit, not an ode or a panegyric; that means that, in addition to what I liked, I plan to write about what I didn’t like. While it was easy to sing this game’s praises when it came out, I wasn’t alive then. I’m playing it in 2020, and you’re reading this in 2020, and you want to know whether you should play the game now, in 2020 (or, considering that I’m publishing this close to the end of the year, possibly 2021). I refuse to write about how awesome the game must have been to gamers in 1995 when I wasn’t one of those gamers; it would be dishonest to myself, and, worst of all, to you, my readers.
The thing that I most unequivocally love about Super Mario 64 (now, in 2020) is, without a doubt, the control scheme. This is the one thing about this game that has actually improved with age; the poor fools who had to experience it on the N64’s awful three-handed controller (or on the DS’s woefully insufficient D-pad) were never getting the full experience. On a real thumbstick setup, the game flows incredibly smoothly. Chaining a triple jump into a backwards somersault into a long jump into whatever else you want to do is almost as easy as breathing, as long as you time everything correctly. Swimming isn’t incredibly fluid, but there is no third-person video game in which it is, and I find it odd to criticize a game for failing to meet a standard which, to my knowledge, has never been met. Wall kicks can also be a little bit iffy, but they aren’t a very common move, and everything else about the controls works so well that I feel bad criticizing the game there.
Also in the “love” column is the game’s colorfulness. Is that a word? You know what I mean. Where so many games are, to this day, afraid to use bright colors, Super Mario 64 revels in its almost-psychedelic palette. Other games of the generation, games which were just as impressive, graphically speaking, to gamers in 1995, games like Final Fantasy VII and Metal Gear Solid, suffer terribly now because they rely on dark shades which easily became muddled when textures were compressed. Super Mario 64’s worst-looking level is, in my opinion, Hazy Maze Cave, with its bacon-grease walls in the underground lake section, and even then things are reasonably bright and still pop twenty-five years later. I think it can’t be understated how important this element of Super Mario 64’s design is; graphics may not make a game, but at some point, when they get too gross to look at, many games become much harder to enjoy. Also, the game puts an emphasis on visual clarity, which really pays off for a platformer, especially one which was totally unlike anything most of its players had ever experienced. Overall, while things aren’t always beautiful, it’s amazing how the graphics get the job done, even twenty-five years later.
Lastly for “loves” — as opposed to “likes” — is the music. Bob-omb Battlefield is one of gaming’s biggest bops, and the mellow melody of Dire Dire Docks never fails to bring a tear to my eye after a few months (or years) without hearing it. And, of course, the Slider theme is both the soundtrack to one of gaming’s best secret levels and a song which I associate with pure torture — in other words, the penguin race in Cool, Cool Mountain. While the track list is actually quite small, it’s an all-star lineup. For some reason, the music isn’t quite as iconic as, say, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time’s tracks, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t great; after all, one of the lessons of this review is that public opinion isn’t everything.
I’m also a big fan of the variety of levels. While you have your mandatory water, ice, lava, and spooky levels (and the first three come with multiple iterations each), there are also some genuinely creative levels, most notably Tiny-Huge Island, which is really two in one, since the challenges play so differently depending on whether you decide to be tiny or huge — proving, beyond a doubt, that it’s not size that matters, it’s how you use it. Even if the Halloween-discount-store Big Boo’s Haunt wasn’t creative in its theme, it certainly was in its design, turning what’s usually a fairly fast-paced action platformer into almost an atmospheric adventure game — a clear precedent to brother Luigi’s adventures six years on.
Lastly in the “likes” column is, of course, the hubworld. While navigating it can take time, and it’s occasionally frustrating when you have to go from the upper levels to the basement in pursuit of a new Star, the cheery music and many hidden secrets make it more than worth the effort to explore. When I was very little, I spent most of my time just running around the main hall of the castle, jumping up and down, backflipping onto the coin ledges next to the staircase, and just generally having a blast. If the game didn’t have this easy, danger-free way to learn the controls, I doubt it would have been nearly as enjoyable; as it is, I would have no qualms about handing the controller to a three-year-old, sure they wouldn’t get frustrated or bored. There aren’t many games I could say that about.
Next up is the Weird section. This is for things that aren’t necessarily bad, but simply represent a decision that might not be made today, or that are hard to translate for modern players — sort of like, say, watching a foreign film for the first time and getting used to reading subtitles. No one would argue that Rashomon wasn’t a good movie just because you needed to be able to read to enjoy it, and subtitled films are just as enjoyable as ones shot in English, but it does make a change. Because of Super Mario 64’s age, there are actually a number of things in this column.
Firstly is the game’s general feel. It’s a little strange, but Super Mario World feels more like a modern Mario game, at least to me, than Super Mario 64. Whether it’s the “Hey kids!” tone of message boxes or the odd storybook vibe of many of the levels, you get the sense that Super Mario 64 was designed for young children — which is strange, considering that it’s way too hard for a person that age to beat. Mario’s aesthetic of brick blocks, pipes, and a predictable roster of enemies wasn’t quite set yet, and things look a bit strange, at least from the perspective of someone who’s played more modern Mario games as well. I’m not saying any of this detracts from the experience, but it’s just weird. And that’s why it’s in this section, right?
Also strange is the setup of the stars. In later 3D Mario games, there started to be a formula for what the player was rewarded for — the first star would be for getting to the end of the level as a whole, the second would be for defeating a boss or finding a secret, and so on, generally increasing in difficulty as you went on. This is not the case in Super Mario 64. Dry Dry Desert, for example, features a ridiculously difficult first star where you have to chase a vulture using the god-awful Wing Cap, then fetch the star you dislodge from the far side of a dangerous pyramid. Compared to a later Star, which merely has you doing a platform challenge inside the pyramid, this is bonkers. I’m not saying it’s bad, but I would have expected it to be the last star, not the first. Obviously, that was a convention that hadn’t been established yet, just like the graphics and theme.
Also on the subject of stars, the difficulty varies hugely based on the hints you receive when selecting which star to pursue. Some stars are pretty tame to actually collect, but require you to find them in a hidden section of the level — and for these stars, the hint given is sometimes woefully insufficient. It’s one thing when you get onto the star-select screen and are hit with “At the Top of the Mountain” or something similar. That makes sense. But sometimes it’s along the lines of “Inside the Secret Room” — which one? Where? Obviously, these stars aren’t meant to be easy to find, and there shouldn’t be a lot of guidance, but I would appreciate more help than literally one vague four- or five-word blurb. For example, this hypothetical Secret Room star could be improved by maybe a sign or a character telling you what part of the level you should look in. I still want to have to search, but spending half an hour running around a vertical maze searching for a hidden door is not really my cup of tea — even if the kids did love it in ’95. Did they, actually?
Another thing in the “weird” column is the difficulty of levels. Things do generally get harder the further you get into the game, and obviously Lethal Lava Land is much harder than Bob-omb Battlefield, but I found, for example, Ice Ice Mountain to actually be quite challenging compared to Hazy Maze Cave or Wet-Dry World, especially that accursed penguin race star. Probably, the game’s designers had little idea how difficult their levels would be, considering that they played them every day — as a writer, I can sympathize with that mystery around the creative process — but it’s obvious that Nintendo figured out the difficulty curve for its 3D platformers later on, since Super Mario Galaxy, for example, doesn’t have the same quirk.
The last thing I would add is that the way the power-ups were incorporated is very unusual. Before Super Mario 64, power-ups had been the lifeblood of the Mario franchise. Playing through a whole game as Small Mario was always nearly impossible, and the Mario title immediately preceding 64, Super Mario World, featured the cape flower, probably the single most powerful power-up in Mario history. So for Nintendo to depart from this design philosophy was very surprising. Instead of a bevy of bread-and-butter power-ups like the Super Mushroom and Fire Flower, Super Mario 64 features only three highly situational and totally optional power-ups, the Wing, Metal and Invisibility Caps. While the Metal and Invisibility Caps essentially give Mario more traversal options, as well as invincibility in the case of the Metal Cap, the Wing Cap totally changes the way you move around the map. They are all quite rare, but when the Wing Cap does appear — well, more on that later. Later 3D Mario games would innovate on this more; Sunshine had its nozzles, Odyssey had its captures, and Galaxy actually had real, traditional power-ups. But, once again, the granddaddy of all 3D Mario games stands out for its strangeness.
Well, here we are. I know you’ve been waiting for this. You might even have rage-scrolled down to this section, ready to skim and angrily debunk all of my arguments. I’ll be honest; I have a few minor quibbles, but there’s really only one thing that really grinds my gears about Super Mario 64, something so major that it seriously jeopardizes my enjoyment of what should otherwise be a great game. But there are a few other issues too, so we’ll start with those.
Issue Number One is the Wing Cap. This thing is god-awful. It’s a power-up so bad that you die way more often with it than without it, and a method of traversal so risky that nine times out of ten you’re better off simply taking longer routes on the ground rather than jumping into the sky. You can’t gain height, can’t steer, can’t maintain altitude — nothing works about the Wing Cap. The secret star in the castle’s main area which requires you to fly to collect the eight red coins? Almost impossible. I know you could do it, but I’m not willing to put in hours and hours of practice just for one measly star. As far as I’m concerned, the Wing Cap, and whoever designed its controls, can go take a long walk off a short pier.
Speaking of which, Issue Number Two is the swimming controls. I was debating whether to put them in this section, because they’re certainly not as bad as the Wing Cap, but screw it. They’re not horrendous, but the game’s water levels suffer because of them. Turning is not fluid, nor is diving or climbing, so really you have to turn, change your depth, and then pick a direction to swim in. This is frustrating when, for example, you’re unlocking chests in order — you have to unlock chest, turn, dive/climb, swim forward, and get the next one. Even collecting red coins from clams is hard when you don’t have enough control to make sure you won’t be caught when they slam shut. All the other 3D Mario games have the same issue, but they compensate for it in various ways — Sunshine, for example, has FLUDD, which lets you skim over the top of water, Galaxy has more koopa shells that let you motor around at a much higher speed with better control, and Odyssey lets you control Cheep Cheeps to give you more control and remove the air requirement. Super Mario 64, however, just expects you to roll with it.
I sort of already covered this, but Issue Number Three is ridiculous challenges. Not cryptic ones, exactly — I already covered those — but ones that are simply so absurdly frustrating that they shouldn’t be in the game at all. The prime example of this is the Snowman’s Big Head star in Snowman Land. You have to cross a thin, spindly ice bridge, using an apparently drunk and highly unpredictable penguin as cover, and if you’re blown off, not only do you fly all the way to Terre Haute, but your hat falls off, forcing you to collect it again. And the platforming challenge to even reach this point is not easy either, leaving a long interval between attempts that makes it harder to learn the penguin’s pattern and practice following it. This is not a good kind of difficulty. Also on the list is anything involving the Wing Cap, the aforementioned penguin race, and the secret star on the second floor of the lower cabin in Ice Ice Mountain (ice levels are, you’ll note, something of a theme here). For that star, you have to perform a triple jump into a wall jump that allows you to stick a landing on a narrow ledge high above the floor, then shimmy around a corner to grab the goods. I wouldn’t normally complain about such a challenge, since triple jumps aren’t that hard to execute, but…
…but, well, this feeds into Issue Number Four. In Japan, land of Mario’s birth, four is the number of death, and the thing that almost kills Super Mario 64, almost renders it totally unplayable and untranslatable to the modern gamer is (drumroll please): the CAMERA. The camera in Super Mario 64 is the worst camera in any video game I have ever played, barring other early 3D platformers that similarly didn’t know any better. It’s inexcusably awful. When you’re outside, you can’t just smoothly move the camera around — you need to choose between a number of angles, none of which are ever exactly what you’re looking for, often making what should be easy jumps into blind leaps of faith. Inside, meanwhile, the camera adopts a Resident Evil-style fixed angle that makes jumps like the aforementioned cabin triple-wall-jump and the Big Boo’s Haunt wall jump that you have to make to get to the third floor (with a strict time limit if you want to do it with the invisibility cap on). Sometimes things do work, but this seems to be by sheer dumb luck; every camera angle couldn’t be bad unless Nintendo wanted them to be, and that surely was not their intention. Ironically, things are smoothest when you’re platforming through an area where a side-on view is optimal, like in the last part of the Dark World or in the second half of the Invisibility Cap course.
But Skeezix, you say, the game is from 1995! Of course it’s not going to work properly! No one knew what they were doing so long ago. The camera control scheme was designed for a subpar little quasi-D-pad like the left joycon has now, not a proper thumbstick that could smoothly rotate 360 degrees with no issue. To that, I say this: I don’t care that the game is from 1995. That’s its problem, not mine. Other games from that era, like Tomb Raider, Goldeneye or Star Fox (the SNES one, not Star Fox 64), have aged so poorly that no one would ever suggest playing them, and, if you do, you’ll immediately be put off by extremely poor graphics, awful controls, and so on — all things that wouldn’t have been noticeable to a six-year-old picking up a controller after school, but that now make those once-exciting experiences feel like a big frustrating mess. I’m not asking if Super Mario 64 was thought to be good when it came out, because you can just Google that, and the answer, by the way, is yes. I’m asking whether it’s still good now…and, well, my verdict is forthcoming, but the camera is not still good, and not even the most nostalgia-blinded fanboy could seriously argue otherwise.
Speaking of verdicts, I think we’ve reached the point in the article where I should start wrapping things up. We’ve looked at the good aspects of Super Mario 64, of which there were quite a few. We’ve looked at the stuff in the game that strikes a modern player as just weird, and there was plenty of that too. And, of course, we looked at the bad stuff, the stuff that, frankly, in a world blessed with an abundance of good video games, no player should have to deal with. So what’s the judgment?
I know I’ve spent a long time harping on about how I wouldn’t evaluate this game based on how it was received in 1995, but I will note that it is remarkable just for still being playable. Other games, games like those I mentioned, have been completely obliterated by the passing of time. Super Mario 64 has not. Sure, it wouldn’t get very good reviews if it came out today, but the fact that it alone remains playable from among a generation of games that no longer are is a strong testament to its lasting appeal.
And I’ll say this: Most of the time, I was having fun with Super Mario 64. Not as much fun as I had with Super Mario Galaxy, or Super Mario Odyssey, or Super Mario Sunshine, but I did have fun. The thing with Mario games is that we are spoiled with an embarrassment of riches. I wouldn’t recommend 64 as a person’s first video game — that spot would have to go to Super Mario Odyssey, which does everything 64 did, but simply better. Its controls are smoother, its camera less janky, its gameplay more varied, its levels larger and more imaginative. But if you play Super Mario Odyssey and love it, and do the same thing with Galaxy, and then the same with Sunshine…well, I think you’d have no reason not to play 64. Maybe it’s not the plumber’s best outing…but it is still a damn good game. And for a work older than most grad students, that’s really not bad at all.
I give Super Mario 64 three oddly-slippery slopes out of five. Why can’t you just CLIMB it?
Originally published at http://skeezixblogs.wordpress.com on November 30, 2020.
