Flying Spaghetti Monster Is My Copilot

          Some time ago the U.S. Air Force had renewed their enlistment oath to make any mention of God optional, and other military branches may soon be following suit. As you might expect (sadly enough) a lot of people are irate, disgruntled, and pissed off in general that their favorite deity is no longer forced to be acknowledged by every airman that sells whole chunks of their lives to the military.

          First, I'll take this time to clearly point out that as far as religion goes, I'm very objective. I see the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, every holy book as a work of fiction that, while they carry excellent messages of being a better person, should be regarded with the same levelheadedness as a comic book. I would be justifiably assassinated for fear of madness if I ruled a country and demanded that every service member swore an oath of fealty to Batman, and there's no reason that a single deity of a single religion should be sworn loyalty to by thousands of people who frankly may not even believe that particular deity even exists.

           Please don't misunderstand me, I do believe that religion is a positive and at times necessary piece of society, even given the fact that many MANY people bend their own interpretations of their book of choice to try and force arbitrary laws onto others based on their own fears or prejudices. *cough cough* leviticus *cough*.

           Nevertheless, this has not stopped people from voicing several arguments (however feeble) out of a defensive predisposition of their own favorite book. There are some that believe that our soldiers and sailors need God looking out for them, and to that I sincerely ask;

          Do you not know what "optional" means?

          This is something that I've had to deal with for years given my own religious preference, dealing with people that seem to believe that someone who doesn't believe in their God is a living insult to everything they believe in. I've spoken with tons of people who don't like Star Wars and their opinions have done literally nothing to deter my love of those movies. And yes, I am absolutely referring to a fictional movie and religion in the same light.

           There are also others that believe that mentions of God in the enlistment oath is a part of a long tradition and should not be changed due to changing likes and dislikes, many of whom have gone on record saying "if you don't like it, don't join".

            Tragic, given that this was almost a valid argument before it went full "albatross landing" at the end.

            Firstly, this is the only time I've ever seen people seem picky about who sells years of their life in service to the military to keep the rest of the country safe, and it's both hilariously sad and sadly hilarious that religion is found at the center of that concern. Secondly, if the concern is more centrally based on people belligerently disobeying rules in the military consider this, no one officially enlisted in any branch of military has ever taken that oath, one is not officially a part of military service until they have recited the oath word for word. Furthermore, there's some basic rules that are just as old as the American military that guarantees people are not to be forced to worship a certain deity or observe any religious custom that they do not wish to.

I'm just gonna leave this here.

          Personally I'm still waiting for the day that either current religion is regarded in the same nostalgic sense as Zeus, Thor, Jupiter, or Osiris. Or, even better, when every work of fiction can have it's own religious following and I can take the stand at any court with my hand on a stack of Batman comics.

          Finally, if you're reading this and I have upset you in some way, I want to try something crazy. Instead of just getting pissed off and finding solace in Facebook feeds that parrot your own opinion back to you, reply to me personally. There's a comments section right below this post and I'll gladly oblige any thoughtful argument to the contrary of my ideas. Let's discuss this like rational adults.

          May the Force be with you.

XBox Done

          I love video games. I love everything about them. It's an artistic medium in which writers, artists, code designers, musicians, and hundreds of other people all come together to make something great. It's the only form of art in which the observer can feel like a part of the art itself, where they can feel immersed in a fictional world painstakingly created purely for their enjoyment. For a brief few hours we make a bond with everyone who put in the long hours and suffered the frustrating setbacks to bring us a small amount of joy in a world that sometimes feels like it misses no opportunity to kick us in the balls.

It's like Final Destination, but for your testicles.

          For much of my life I was an XBox player. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed PlayStation and Nintendo's many awesome gadgets, but XBox and I had formed a special relationship. I can still remember how it started with a simple game called Cel Damage. It was far from perfect, and yet it was absolutely perfect; a Twisted Metal-esque driving game where you collect crazy-ass weapons and use them to chop, burn, explode, freeze, shred, or harpoon other players until you were absolutely sick of it, which never happened. I can even credit this game with giving me a healthy relationship with my sister who was much more outdoorsy than me, but this game was something we loved playing together, it was something special that we shared even given our vastly different interests. The graphics were bad, the attempted humor of the character voices fell flat, and the physics were insanely inaccurate, but this XBox exclusive was the closest evidence to prove that there was a god of fun I could think of.

No, that's a fun god, not a god of fun.

There we go.

          Back to the point, XBox had helped me foster friendships far and wide, albeit there were several instances in which I said terrible things to a ten-year-old who just that day learned a new swear word, but overall it became a means for a shy little kid to make friends with other people who enjoyed similar video games.

           It got even better with the XBox 360; a ton more games, easier online multi-player, and achievements that made games more than progression through the story, but a story with goals that made gameplay a personal challenge. Yes, it was merely an imaginary reward, but it was never about the points, it was about the game challenging you to go beyond what you thought were your limitations in the game. They were the video game equivalent of Boy Scout badges, only of any true value to the one who earned it, but a small token of individual pride that you were beset with a goal, and of your own free will and determination, achieved it.

          Over the course of most of a decade, Microsoft and I had grown close. My XBox 360 was always willing to play games no matter the time of day or for how long, it only cared about having fun. We both had our own shortcomings, but it was easily to look past. I couldn't play games nearly as much as I wanted, forcing it to wait patiently until my time became free, and 360 couldn't play any games from the old XBox that I liked, nobody's perfect. It became something along the lines of a deep friendship, I found myself arguing passionately Microsoft's merits with PS3 gamers as though they had just talked crap about my best friend.

This was the argument in our heads. The real one was just... sad.

          Then E3 2013 rolled around, I couldn't have been more excited to see what my 360 would evolve into, and although the marketing executives could have picked from presumably thousands of better names, I could only imagine the amazing things it could bring with its new incarnation.

          Instead I, much like every other XBox player, was rewarded with shock, disappointment, and soul-shattering betrayal in the form of DRM-related bullshit. No game sharing, a mandatory check-in every 24 hours (which meant you had to have internet service wherever you were playing), a motion sensor that would always remain on, and had to be connected or else nothing would work, and not to mention a certain Microsoft executive's oh-so-appreciative sentiment of military personnel not being able to play their new console.

          For those of you who elected not to play the video, around the two minute mark this multi-millionaire dickbasket addresses the fact that some people do not have internet connectivity (he alludes specifically to people on nuclear powered submarines) and suggests that those people just stick with their XBox 360.

          Microsoft clearly went down the wrong rabbit hole here when they decided to release a console with terrible policies, and then made it public knowledge that they didn't even care that some people wouldn't even be able to play it. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, here I thought Microsoft and I were friends, looking past each others' minor faults and seeing the genuine good on the inside, I wanted so badly to believe this was all a trick. I desperately held out hope that this was just a prank to get people to appreciate some mystery console Microsoft was going to release that had all the great gaming qualities that people came to expect from them. I fucking tweeted about it!

The longer I wait the less likely it seems that a Microsoft rep will jump out and yell "just kidding!" #microsoftwhy #cuphands
— Peter Kenney (@random_pete) May 30, 2013

          Now it's important to note that Microsoft, presumably after an afternoon of angry mob-imposed electroshock, retracted most of the terrible policies that it tried to get past everyone. We could share games, an internet connection was now only required once at startup, and they were now acting less like complete dicks towards the people from whom they received crazy amounts of money. Nevertheless, it's important to remember what the executives of Microsoft tried to do to its loyal customers. We gave nothing but love and appreciation, even countless Red Rings of Death later, and we were summarily rewarded with swift, numerous and merciless punches to the stomach and as we lay coughing on the cold ground we could only see Microsoft pulling our wallet out of our pocket, taking everything of value, throwing the empty fold of leather back in our face and capping it all off with a particularly hateful-feeling loogie to the eye.

          A year later, after that complete and utter heartbreak, I can see that XBox One (for the remainder of this post I will be referring to as "XBone") has picked itself up from the depths of unfathomable hatred and has gone about its business pretending that ugliness never happened. It has exhibited its prowess as a gaming console, an entertainment center, and a tool of myriad uses. All of which to entice everyone into forgetting what it tried to do, what it honestly thought it could just get away with because "Hey I'm XBone and every single one of you will bow before me. Offer me tribute ye puny mortals, for I am the eternal next-gen console!"

          So to you Microsoft I say this; It's been a year since you drunkenly stumbled into my house and viciously beat me from room to room, demanding I give you money and insisting the beatings will continue even if I paid you, and even though you've come back with flowers, gifts, and an apologetic look on your face I cannot forget the pain you inflicted on me as well as my friends. I honestly thought I could look past it after a year, but with E3 returning again all I can associate with you is agonizing despair. I never wanted it to end like this, with so much unspoken animosity between us. I honestly thought we would have another decade or so together before we had to say our goodbyes, but this... obviously you had no intention of maintaining any kind of friendship, you weren't interested in me, you were interested in my money. Maybe a few more years and you'll see just how big a mistake you made, at least, that's what I hope. Maybe you'll reflect on the consequences of your actions, maybe you'll apologize and actually mean it, but until then I don't want to hear from you. You and I are done, after over 10 years of fun and friendship you blew it. I can't forgive you, and I don't see any point in the future where I could bring myself to do so.

          I wish you luck in your future XBone, hopefully you'll find happiness somewhere besides the inside of someone's wallet. As for me, I expect to never see you again, because your hurtful and heart-wrenching betrayal has given me the resolve to finally buy a Playstation 4. Sony asks nothing more of me than you did when we were friends, maybe you'll remember what that was like.

          Goodbye XBone, you smug, self-imposing piece of shit.
           -Peter

The Fallout of Fake Nerd Zero

          It's never not a good time to be introspective, and with recent events and controversies coming to light I find myself revisiting those times in my life where a select few of bad examples of a demographic had colored my opinion in a bad light. Now, it's never acceptable to judge an entire group by the few bad experiences you might've had dealing with such a tiny percentage, nevertheless the human psyche is much more apt to remember bad experiences than good ones in order to avoid repeating those bad experiences. It may be a survival mechanism encoded into our DNA, but it's no excuse to be a dick to someone. This is a lesson I've had to learn over and over again, and while it can be applied to many different circumstances, I'm going to draw from my own personal experience. Fill in the key words with whatever might be relevant to you.

          Growing up as a nerd, there's one suspicion that creeps into our heads and firmly plants itself there with a custom armchair and a big-ass T.V.; the fact that while the friends we've made in our niche interest group are among the most loyal and understanding, a snowball did in fact have a better chance in hell than any of us did in finding a girlfriend. Now this is a tricky part to talk about because there have always been women in these niche groups. Nerdy girls are nothing new, there have been women in nerd circles just as long as there have been guys, though there is usually a large ratio of guys to girls in any one of these circles, and this my be our own fault; no not because of the infamous "nerd funk" that would drive away anyone with a sense of smell, but because in such a predominantly male environment many women who find common ground in a group that shares an interest in Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Magic the Gathering or any other particular fandom often find themselves disregarding their femininity.

          It's not a novel concept that many nerdy circles have a certain unisex vibe among it's members, and tragically for its female members, it usually skews in the male direction. This isn't a requirement of belonging to a group, it's merely a terrible and unintentional side effect. A young male nerd is more skittish than a deer on crack, and there's nothing more threatening or terrifying than a woman who shares his interests and is confidently exhibiting their femininity. Now it could be that women, when entering a group for the first time are fully aware of how intimidating they can be upon first encounter, and so they go completely Jane Goodall on the group and take time to learn their ways before interacting with them in order to reduce the stress caused by their presence. Then again, much more likely, and as with any group, a new member would tend to adopt a more homogenous persona in order to increase their chances of overall acceptance. As a result, we tend to see women in our groups as "one of the guys". It's not an ideal situation for a woman seeking acceptance to be in, but on the other hand being seen as "one of the guys" is an example of equality that is unseen in most other situations. Women are seen as equals, even rivals alongside men, but when it comes at a cost of being identified as a woman, is it entirely healthy? At what point can personal identity and equality both coexist?

          Big questions aside, for a long while female participation was welcomed in nerd circles, they were close-knit groups that supported each other when most others would find reason to harass, torment, and/or bully  them otherwise. All the while still wracked with the same festering suspicion in their minds that while they have friends they would not trade for anything in the world, they would never find themselves in a relationship.

          Enter the bane of nerd culture, the single monkey wrench that could throw the gears of nerd culture out of sync, the fake nerd. This is not to be confused with how we regard the term now, but the actual true definition. One person who infiltrated the safety and sanctity of a nerd circle, for one reason or another, one example being that the "fake nerd" feels insecure and seeks validation through attention and admiration of others. Male or female, the "fake nerd" is normally one of above average looks; clear skin, attractive physique, well-maintained hair etc., who is also able to use that finely-tuned charm and feigned interest in whatever the others may be fans of to garter all attention for themselves. Suddenly an attractive person was speaking to us, it was almost unheard of that someone who could congregate with the more popular cliques would spend time with the nerds. It was new, it was exciting, our minds swam with the possibilities of breaking down barriers that divided us and sharing our passions and hobbies with others, ushering in an era of peace unheard of in human history.

          Blind idealism tends to get shut down either quickly or painfully.

          Again, this is a time in our lives when we were already certain that a relationship wouldn't happen, the only people we happened to have crushes on were, as we had convinced ourselves, completely out of our league. But here it was happening, maybe it was that really cute redheaded girl with that perfect smile that made you forget breathing was a necessity, maybe it was that tall, dark and handsome guy on the student council, whomever it may have been we were petrified with joy and excitement that someone like that would want to hang out with someone like us.

          The next few weeks would go by, and things would be looking great. Making a new friend is always an adventure; you learn about them and teach them about you, forging a special bond that we might have hoped would develop into something more, but kept at a certain distance by our hesitant nature. Before we knew it, our new friend was also hanging out with our old friends, and below all the camaraderie, all the good cheer, all the fun... grew a tiny seed of jealousy. Before we knew it we found ourselves competing for the new "friend's" attention. We had to make sure they knew we were the most interesting, or the smartest, or had the most to offer. We could sense the rivalry in the air, and we weren't above putting lifelong friendships at risk for a fantasy relationship that might not even happen, nevertheless we were competing with each other now, for a prize that none of us knew wasn't worth it.

          Unbeknownst to us, this new "friend" most likely didn't have any interest in us, or our culture, and in fact may have laughed at our expense with their other friends when we parted ways after hanging out. This was one of the worst examples of humanity, one who sees themselves as something to be put on a pedestal, a self-proclaimed god among mortals who didn't find that kind of validation in their usual circles. So what would they do? They would venture into new territory, where they could put forth the minimum amount of effort necessary to garner attention, and then play the waiting game until the citizens of this new circle were suddenly at each others throats competing for their attention. And like an old cliche, we played right into their hands.

          It wouldn't be until puberty came down to a simmer and small nuggets of hard-earned wisdom finally crystallized in our heads that we would figure out exactly what had happened, and hopefully not before any true friendships were put at risk. It was a lesson we had learned the hard way, and it was one we would not soon forget. On top of every other paranoid theory that might have been seeping in the back of our minds, the fact that someone might only pretend to be interested in us in order to inflate their own ego with our attention was now among them.

          If you've read this far, I admire your ability to concentrate through my seemingly endless rambling and I promise you, the point is being driven home soon.

          It was this lesson that caused the hatred towards anyone that might be falsifying their geekhood to further their own agenda. We didn't want to be burned like that ever again, and so we became paranoid, distrusting, and angry. Suddenly anyone claiming to be a nerd or a geek had to prove themselves; trivia, video game skill, the size of their comic book collection, it didn't matter. We were looking for any reason to shut someone out of the safety of our own circle. And shameful as it was, it was women who suffered most from this. Any girl even moderately attractive by general standards who uttered anything like "oh, I love the Harry Potter books!" was immediately put under suspicion, and just because they couldn't remember the breeds of dragons in book four, or how students survived the basilisk attacks in book two, we shunned them, telling them to their face that they weren't a "real nerd".

          Looking back I can't believe I was ever that cold. Here someone might have been looking for somewhere to belong, where they could share their common interests with us, a safe place where they could be themselves. And like overpaid bouncers at an expensive nightclub we told them to scram, get lost, we don't want you here. We can't know how far the ripples of our actions go, all we can do is try to make those actions affect others in a positive way, and back then I failed spectacularly.

          So here it is, to anyone out there who might be reading this, to anyone I excluded because suspicion and antitrust clouded my good conscience, to anyone I denied the right to feel welcomed in a culture where anyone should be allowed to participate, from the bottom of my heart.

          I Am Sorry.

          I don't expect any sort of forgiveness, it was a shit thing to do. I should have known better, especially having seen the inside of far too many trash cans and lockers growing up. It's never okay to exclude somebody just because you think they'd just end up revealing themselves to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. This long-winded apology is just a small sentiment of what's truly owed to you, which was the chance to make new friends, a chance to belong, a chance to see that this planet isn't completely populated by assholes. That's a chance I took from you, and I can never give it back, and once again, I am sorry.

Marvel Studios: A Love-Hate Relationship

          If you asked me to name a studio that has always had me leave the theater feeling excited, joyous, dare I say downright giddy, I'd be hard-pressed to think of any candidate other than Marvel. However, like a crack addict with a trust fund, I often find myself craving more and quickly getting exactly that. As hazardous as both may be to my health, I can't help but indulge in every installment Marvel throws at me.
 

Y'all got some Iron Man 3 up in this bitch?

          Don't get me wrong, every time I see the word "Marvel" pop up on the screen, the movie gets my undivided attention, but since the executives at Marvel have seen fit to tell us about the basic plan to make 12 Avengers-centric movies, I can't help but feel the anticipation for the finished product take away from the enjoyment of each individual film. Rather than enjoy each movie based on it's own merits, I can now only see them as a stepping-stone to the next stepping-stone to the next stepping-stone to a long-awaited movie that includes all the stepping-stones.
          That allusion stopped dead in it's tracks, let me try this; Pretend you're in a fancy restaurant. Not the "tiny pieces of food and a puny drizzle of sauce" kind of fancy restaurant, more along the lines of "Every single item tastes great but everything is a la carte" kind of fancy restaurant. Each Marvel movie that leads to an Avengers movie is like a side dish; grilled asparagus sprouts, potatoes au gratin, blooming onion (because any place that insinuates a blooming onion isn't good eatin' is a place I refuse to acknowledge), each of these is great on their own. But oh by the Force when these great things come together around a well-prepared steak still sizzling in its own juices, you need to sit back and soak in the reality before you're able to bring yourself to dive in.

Steak gives my stomach a boner... what was I talking about?

          But what happens when you know an Avengers movie is coming? The same thing that happens to a hella-tasty salad when you're expecting filet mignon, you hork that shit down with no regard for its individual value, paying only the slightest attention because you're pretty sure it'll be somehow referenced in the big finale you can't stop drooling about.
           Sure you can still appreciate every movie leading up to the finale, but with such a tantalizing feature hanging over our heads, our attention span gets stretched thinner than Reed Richards trying to lasso the moon from his backyard.

I scour Google for pictures to make you uncomfortable. It's an art and a science.

           Though it's not completely the fault of our short attention spans. As many of you know, it's become customary for Marvel movies to include an extra scene at the end of the credits of every movie, basically to set the stage for the next movie. As tantalizing as a sneak peak of the next movie may be, the viewing public now isn't leaving the theater talking excitedly about the movie they just watched, but now the movie they haven't seen. There's really no easier way to diminish appreciation for a movie than to basically tell everyone who watched it that the next one will be even better. I couldn't think about how much I enjoyed Iron Man 2 because I was already thinking about Thor. I couldn't fawn over the joyride Captain America provided because I was too busy wondering how The Avengers would play out. I can't even say I'll be entirely present in the new Avengers movie because the villain will be Ultron, rather than Thanos, who was the post-credits tease at the end of the first Avengers movie.

          Further than the anticipation of future movies, I can only guess at the turmoil that kids will go through when they have to deal with the canon of all of these movies. "Yes little Timmy, I know you just want to watch all the Iron Man movies because he's your favorite, but you're gonna need to watch these six other movies in order to understand everything that's going on." I can only imagine that Peter Jackson is stewing in his ridiculously well re-created library of Minas Tirith about how much more shelf space the Avengers movies take up than his own, probably fueling his desire to make a six-part movie series based on the Simarillion that heavily features Gandalf for some reason, but I'm getting off track.

          What about the characters? The Avengers had a pretty extensive menagerie, but with the recent buildup of other story lines, coupled with the fact that the lineup of the Avengers was always subject to change, to include superheroes from the X-Men, Fantastic Four, and any number of singular characters. And with the vast number of movies Marvel has been releasing as of late, not to mention the fact that they ALL lead up to their own sequels, we could be led to believe that a "final" Avengers movie could be one giant battle against a God-like supervillain.

You rang?

          But do you have any idea how ridiculously difficult it's going to be to prepare ourselves for a huge finish that ties in what could possibly be EVERY Marvel movie (not including the Toby MacGuire Spiderman movies, thank the Force)? Don't get me wrong, the fact that obsessing over the timelines of several comic book superheroes being an undertaking only truly dedicated nerds can accomplish fills me with a certain righteous joy that almost makes up for the numerous times I was crammed into things in high school. But at the same time, these are movies meant to appeal to everyone, and frankly not everyone shares the same wonderful obsessive disorders that give nerds an advantage. Of course it's likely that IF they tie in every Marvel hero that has hit the screen, they'll give a select few the actual spotlight and allow the rest to quietly occupy the screen in the manner of jumping/flying/zip lining around while explosions render the background to rubble, much like the seven or eight dwarves in the Hobbit trilogy who's names people who've only seen the movies can never remember.

Bombur, continuing a proud tradition of characters remembered for more than being "the fat one"

          But back to my original point, if what I postulate turns out to be what actually happens, two things will happen; First, I'm going to run up and down the streets proclaiming my clairvoyance, and secondly the movie poster will probably look something like this...

What's even going on? How does everyone even know each other? Who the fuck invited DareDevil?

          Marvel, I love your movies, I'm going to watch every single one and do my best to enjoy myself and resist the urge to distract myself with whatever else you have planned for your next installment. But for fuck's sake, slow the hell down, let us take in your unique ability to tie in complex storylines and revel in the unique excitement you instill in your viewers.

          At least you stick to movies, not forcing your fans to research supplemental materials that they might be unable to get because they don't have cable or something. I mean, it's not like you have a television series that I've been missing out on that will be referenced in future movies and includes vital plot points for beloved characters, right? Right?

OH GODDAMN IT!

The Tragedy of King Koopa

                Anyone who plays video games at least knows about Bowser, the King Koopa, the Duke of Dungeons, the Ferocious Firebreather, the… guy who apparently never saw fit to invest in a sturdy bridge.

               

Prepare for crushing regret in 3...2...

                For years we were told that Bowser was evil, a repeat offender of kidnapping Princess Peach, and the singular scourge of the Mushroom Kingdom. Every game that followed involved putting this devious, psychotic, probable rapist in his place, which in more cases than not, was a pool of lava. He remains one of the most fundamental archetypes of villainy in video game history; he wants something, and he goes to maniacally illegal lengths to get it.

                But what is his true motive? Why does he only target Princess Peach? He knows she’s still Mario’s girlfriend, the one man who consecutively hands him his spiked green ass on a silver platter, after so many failed attempts, why hasn’t he considered a new love interest? Perhaps too many evenings alone with nothing but the world’s largest Croc sandal has left his judgment scattered to the winds. But then again, perhaps not.

                In the years that followed, we were shown games in which Mario, Bowser and Peach were all getting along, going out to play baseball, soccer, tennis, even golf. Fucking GOLF! Do you know how hard it is to not go completely psychotic when you surround yourself with clubs, golf carts, and force me to play the most boring sport ever conceived? The Simpsons do…

                So what happened between then and now? Did bowser undergo an assload of mental reconditioning so that he could be allowed to re-enter society? Sure it’s nice to hope that a villain can be rehabilitated to be good, but this is not the case. The games in which Bowser plays friendly games with everyone else in fact happened in the past, before Princess Peach became the object of Mario’s desire.

IT’S STORY TIME!

               

                It’s the golden age of the Mushroom Kingdom, no citizen wants for anything and evil is unheard of. Bowser is enjoying a pleasant walk to his best friend Mario’s house, to invite him and his brother Luigi to a friendly game of tennis. Along the way he gazes in amazement at the sheer impressiveness of the Mushroom Palace, a long standing symbol of peace and harmony, from the ivory spires reaching toward the heavens, to the clear blue river that split and encircled the castle and continued down to bring life to the crops of the farmers in the valley, epitomizing the wholeness of the kingdom. Approaching the door of Mario’s home, Bowser sees a note addressed to him pinned against the wooden frame;

                                                 

                             Hi Bowser,

                             Sorry, I can’t play games with you today,

                             Peach invited me over for some cake again.

                             I really hope she means sex this time, I’ve

                             been trying to get with this chick for like,

                             three weeks. Anyway, I’ll catch you later buddy.

                             -Mario

                Bowser sulks as he reads the note, Mario’s blown him off so many times now to go hang out with Peach. Of course Bowser’s happy for him, and he would never want to come between his best friend and his happiness, so he goes to find some other friends to play with him.

                Days pass, which turn into weeks, and soon months. Bowser sees his friend less and less as he’s quickly seduced by Peach and her promise of “cake”. Whether or not this “cake” is actual cake or a playful euphemism, Bowser doesn’t know, but he misses Mario, they haven’t been able to spend quality time as friends for far too long. Finally he decides, “If Mario and Peach are always together, maybe we can do something as a group” and so he begins the long walk to the Mushroom Palace.

                The skies above the palace were unseasonably cloudy that day, matting the reflective glory of the palace and rendering the glimmering white to a drab and depressing grey, reducing the wonderful optimism the towers usually exemplified to that of a dreadful and oppressive tone not unlike that of a gigantic dungeon. Bowser could feel his stomach begin to knot at the thought of his best friend being a prisoner inside.

                Greeted by the palace staff, whom all think highly of Bowser, he makes his way to Peach’s tower, which is closed behind a door with a sign, he could almost feel addressed to him personally, affixed to it;

                                               

                                     Please do not disturb, Mario and I are enjoying

                             each other’s company and prefer our privacy,

                             please take any concerns or messages to the

                             concierge on your way out. Thank you.

                             Peach

               

            Bowser feels his concerns begin to coalesce into genuine worry. He and Peach were never perfectly copacetic when it came to social interaction, but she at least used to put their differences aside when it came to the few and far between days in which he and Mario saw each other. But to sequester themselves indefinitely within the palace, Bowser could only imagine what might become of his best friend.

On the way back to his home Bowser crosses paths with Luigi, “Oh geeze, Bowser!” Luigi yells as he runs toward him, wrinkles of worry lining his face, “We gotta do a-something about Mario, that lady Peach, she-a doesn’t let him come home anymore, I went and-a saw him the other day, he looks worse than a week old-a meatball!” Bowser only looks at Luigi and knows what he has to do to help his best friend.

                For weeks nobody has seen Bowser, nobody’s even heard from him, but they’ve noticed he’s bought eight of the most dilapidated castles in the outskirts of the kingdom and has been restoring them and assigning a full staff of goombas, koopas, whomps, boos and shy guys. Surely he must be opening a chain of upscale resort hotels for the people of the Mushroom Kingdom, and they think nothing more of it.

                As the last castle is completed, Bowser stares at himself in a mirror. Today’s the day it all comes together, today’s the day everything changes, his old life is behind him, what he does now and for the rest of his life is for the good of his best friend. Even though Mario will surely never consider Bowser a friend again.

                He’ll kidnap Princess Peach, he’ll hide her away in the furthest castle he owns from the Mushroom Palace. Mario will come after her, he’ll be compelled to do so, and to get to Peach he’ll have to get past the miles of obstacles separating them. The obstacles he’s designed aren’t dangerous, most can be avoided just by jumping over them, but that’s what Bowser intends. Through the gauntlet he’s designed, Mario will finally be able to get his proper exercise, some fresh air, and a sense of direction. Mario will feel like he’s racing against time, because he’ll think Bowser will do terrible things to Peach, though he never would, as much as he wished he could, he despised her for what she’s done to his best friend.

                The end will come eventually, where Bowser will wait at the end for a final confrontation. This is where his façade must be completely convincing. Mario will see Bowser as a monster, and it’s a monster’s role that Bowser must play, no matter how terrible this new reality he imposes upon his friend makes him feel. Of course he’ll let himself be defeated easily, Bowser is much larger than Mario, if it were a fair fight Mario wouldn’t last a minute against Bowser’s massive size. He’ll pretend he’s giving it his all, but all he wants is just a minute or two to see that old fire in his friend’s eyes, to see that he’s still healthy and hasn’t succumbed to complacency at the hands of that wicked woman.

                The most heartbreaking truth Bowser must accept is that this is only a temporary solution. When Mario “rescues” Peach, he’ll just go right back to watching his health deteriorate as Peach keeps him as a prisoner of her love. So he must do this again, and again, and again. The people of the Mushroom Kingdom will demonize him, they’ll label him a villain, public enemy number one. Fine, if it must be so, he will accept his new title, he will pretend to revel in it, he will look upon the distant horizon of the kingdom of those he once considered his greatest friends and say “I am evil, I will stop at nothing until everything you love burns to the ground and I stand above you all as your conqueror!”

                With a deep breath, he steps outside of his castle, his hot air balloon waits ready for him, several koopas have come to see him off. They are unaware of Bowser’s true intentions, they simply know their purpose is to stop Mario from reaching the castle. Bowser himself is the only one he trusts with such a weighty secret. He sheds a single tear for what he is about to do as he climbs into his balloon, and lifts away from the ground, marking his course directly for Princess Peach’s tower…

                And the rest, is history.

                Could this have been what actually happened? Is the image of Bowser the Terrible a true representation, or merely a façade adopted by what can arguably be called the most tragic hero of video game history? While it may be true that a more tragic hero might be imagined in recent games, in no other instance will you find a single character who, out of care for their friend’s well-being, adopted the persona of a villain, had forsaken their old life and almost any chance of happiness in the future, and even bared the terrible responsibility of perpetuating a tradition in which their best friend, whom they gave up so much for, now despises them. Does any other character keep their peace in the face of being hated by everyone that once called them “friend”?

                I defy you to find one example of a better friend to an undeserving person than Bowser is to Mario.

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