Legacy… when I think about Super Mario 64, this
is the first word that springs to mind. You’ve been told countless times, so I won’t belabor the
point; suffice to say, Super Mario 64 is one of the most important games ever made. It shaped game
design, it shaped childhoods, it shaped an entire industry: and that’s powerful. For being the
first of its kind, Mario 64 is revolutionary and I don’t mean to discount that in anything I write
here today. It’s also worth mentioning I had the pleasure of growing up with it on my Nintendo DS,
and I’ve completed it more times than I wish to disclose. It has a special place in my heart, and
I’ll never forget that. Keep this caveat in mind as you watch the video. I have some choice words,
and not all of them will be very friendly.
Super Mario in three-dimensions: the task couldn’t
have been easy. It’s hard to imagine the task was even quantifiable in an age where 3D was but a
whisper; yet, there was one madman who figured out how this italian plumber would make his polygonal
debut. The essence of Mario is simple: move from left to right, avoid obstacles by jumping, and
collect power-ups for an advantage. Control is certainly important, but Mario games are far more
dependent on their level design. It’s one of the reasons level design analysis in this series is
so common, as it affects virtually everything: pacing, difficulty, conveyance. Designing for 2
axes, in any game, inherently has less variables to keep track of, which allows for a carefully
scripted experience. I use the word “scripted” not with a negative connotation as it’s often
used today; rather, I use it to describe how well 2D Mario games champion linearity. 1-1 has
been analyzed to hell and back, so I won’t bore you with the details: this level is able to teach
you where to go, what and how to avoid, nearly forces new players to interact with a power-up,
and to avoid bottomless pits. Nintendo knew the game was the first of its kind, and carefully
scripted the level to account for anything and everything a new player might try to do, in order
to teach them how the game works. “Conveyance” is how it’s now defined, and Mario 1 began the trend.
Mario, is a challenge to overcome. Sequels added new power-ups, new enemies, new stage hazards:
all in an effort to keep the spirit of Mario alive in new-and-improved ways.
Once you get to the “3D Question”, though… you have to throw all of this build-up
out the window. Introducing the z-axis has a profound impact on series evolution, and the
magnitude of the change can’t be overlooked. Attempting to “script” levels is much harder; no
longer is accounting for the player’s actions as simple as left, right, jump; now it’s left,
right, forward, back, jump left, jump right, jump forward, jump backward, move diagonally,
jump diagonally. The more options a player has, the less control a developer has on how that
player interfaces with any given level.
The thesis of Super Mario 64 then, as I see it,
is “freedom”. We can’t force players to do any one thing: so let’s build sandboxes where they can
do anything. Thus, progression goalposts are moved from “make it to the end” to “complete a list of
objectives”. Controls are widened to encompass not only moving and jumping, but also jumping
longer and higher distances, using long jumps, backflips, side jumps, and triple jumps. Add a
different way to interact with enemies, since a jump won’t always be as precise: punches, kicks,
and dives were all implemented to counteract this problem. How should we incentivize players
to dispatch enemies, as they’re now easier than ever to avoid altogether. Simple: drop a
coin when an enemy dies, with special enemies dropping a blue coin that adds 5 to your total.
Coins restore health and contribute to a counter, which gives you a Power Star when you reach
100 in any stage. Power Stars are used to open progression locks to new areas and boss fights,
allowing you to pick and choose where you’d like to go depending on how many of the 7 Power Stars
you collect in each level. Nintendo thought of everything: every limitation and advantage
when venturing into the third dimension, and effortlessly adapted to the new limitations.
Models taking up too much space? Use bilinear filtering to upscale the textures, and develop
sandboxes to save on the limited cartridge space. It’s clear exactly where they placed priorities
on the new project, fine-tuning Mario’s movement before designing anything concrete.
I recognize, when the game was released, it was a truly impressive feat. Most games
weren’t as lucky during the transition, and ever since have been struggling to find their
footing. Sonic Adventure, while solid enough to warrant a sequel in a similar style, didn’t seem
to establish the firm foothold SEGA desired for the hedgehog. The path from Adventure to Forces
is a path filled to the brim with changes, and not all of them good. Sunshine onward, however,
has been more or less faithful to 64’s premise, only swapping out a few of Mario’s moves,
and slightly altering their level design philosophies. Ultimately, 3D World Mario still
does most of what 64 Mario does best: running and jumping to complete objectives. The only
major difference being that sense of freedom.
Super Mario Bros. has incredibly simple
progression goals: make it to the end of a stage, do this for every stage in the game (barring
hidden warps), and defeat Bowser. This was consistent with Mario 2, 3, and World,
but was completely scrapped for Mario 64, outside of a select few levels. Each “course" in
Mario 64 has a degree of choice absent in previous titles. While level selection choice was always
customizable with hidden warp pipes that allowed you to skip entire worlds, Mario 64 makes it more
of an apparent choice than a hidden secret. It introduces the concept with numbered star doors,
egging you to open said doors the moment you have enough stars. It teaches the player to seek
out new courses at every turn: to move on to a different flavor if the current one proves too
challenging. You can’t get the hang of the Snowman mission in Cool, Cool Mountain? That’s fine,
because you can just open the door to Jolly Roger Bay and check out what lies beyond that painting.
The star count needed to fight each version of Bowser is fairly lenient, so skipping over stars
you can’t figure out is encouraged. As long as you reach 70 stars, you can fight the final boss
and beat the game. On a second playthrough, maybe you’ll stockpile stars in Bob-omb Battlefield,
so you can access Jolly Roger Bay right away, as opposed to visiting both Whomp’s Fortress
and Cool, Cool Mountain beforehand. It’s even easier in the later sections of the castle,
which aren’t hidden behind doors: rather, they’re all placed for you to choose between. It
reminds me of the level select in Crash 2 and 3, except spread out through the castle, begging you
to explore for new worlds. There are secret stars in the castle, as well as entire levels hidden
behind invisible walls. Nintendo wanted players to search and compartmentalize the layout of
Peach’s Castle. You develop a sense of familiarity with this hub that no World Map could ever hope
to rival. I’d wager without any of the secrets, the castle would lose a lot of its charm.
The courses all share this principle, and they’re what kickstarted the idea of a “collectathon”.
Everyone talks about Bob-omb Battlefield, so let’s buck the trend and use Jolly Roger
Bay as a gateway to breaking down Mario 64’s level philosophy (though, in secret it’s just an
excuse for me to lay this fantastic piece in the background). Our first mission, Plunder in the
Sunken Ship, involves swimming to the bottom of a giant body of water, luring Unagi out of
his resting spot, entering the sunken ship, draining the water, and collecting the Power
Star at the top. The mission name, “Plunder in the Sunken Ship” is all the guidance you need to
surmise where and what to do, but it’s only that: guidance. No waypoints or tutorials, it expects
you to find what you’re looking for on your own. “Treasure in the Ocean Cave” and, “Blast to the
Stone Pillar” can be completed on this first run, if you’re so inclined. “Can the Eel Come Out to
Play?” and “Red Coins on the Ship Afloat” can only be completed after you’ve cleared “Plunder
in the Sunken Ship”, because mission selection is sequential: that is, you can’t select a
later mission until clearing every mission that comes before it. The only way to complete
these two missions is to at least select, “Can the Eel Come Out to Play?” so that the ship, now
having lost all of its water, can rise to the top, allowing you to access two red coins. Small
touches like this contribute to what little story progression the game has, and is present in
almost all of the levels. My favorite example is the third rolling ball in Bob-omb Battlefield,
said to be the corpse of King Bob-omb after you beat him in the first mission. The one anomaly to
this mission structure is “Through the Jet Stream” which can only be completed once you’ve unlocked
the Metal Cap in Hazy Maze Cave. “Mario Wings to the Sky” in Bob-omb Battlefield, and “Into the
Igloo” in Snowman’s Land operate the same way, requiring the Wing Cap and the Vanish Cap
respectively. I take umbridge with inclusions like this, as they prevent a clean run-through
of a level on your first visit, and usually offer very little in the way of mechanical skill.
The Vanish Cap and Metal Cap are disguised keys, allowing Mario to sink through jetstreams and
walk underwater, or phase through specific level geometry. As you can imagine, they only really
serve to activate underwater switches and phase through one or two walls. The Wing Cap is the
exception, requiring a completely different control scheme based on moving up and down to
keep your height and flight speed. I’ll be honest, I’ve never been able to get used to this archaic
control scheme for some of the trickier secret levels, which require near impossible dexterity to
collect the floating eight red coins; however, in regular stages, they present rewarding challenges,
such as collecting 5 floating coins in Bob-omb Battlefield, and for reaching the stone pillars
in Shifting Sand Land, since neither of these courses force you to fly above bottomless pits. I
largely see the inclusion of the Vanish and Metal Caps as pace-breakers, especially in earlier
levels, but they appear so infrequently that they’re relatively unobtrusive to clean runs.
Some levels, like Tick Tock Clock and Rainbow Ride, can be fully completed your first time
through: the only problem is that the mission design isn’t as free-form as earlier stages
like Bob-omb Battlefield, Whomp’s Fortress, and Jolly Roger Bay. Tick Tock Clock, for
instance, is setup like a spiral staircase, with a few alternate pathways jutting out
from that spiral staircase. This staircase is a gauntlet of tricky platforming sections, and
seeing as you need 50 stars to access this stage, I’d say the jump in difficulty is warranted.
The problem isn’t the gauntlet itself, but how it mixes with the design of the 7 objectives. One
star has you complete about half of the gauntlet, and another several go past that point, each
placed along branching paths to the top. You also need to keep in mind there’s a 100 coin star to
collect along the way. On paper, this design works fine, because you can theoretically backtrack
for another power star once you’ve collected one from the top. Unfortunately, one issue prevents
this from working: collecting a power star boots you out of the stage, forcing you to re-enter
afterwards. You know what that means? About 4 or 5 different times you’ll be completing part or all
of this linear gauntlet to the top, and one fall into the abyss means an instant boot-out. This
form of difficulty isn’t inherently frustrating: in any other game it would simply mean retrying
one linear objective from the beginning, the same as older Mario games. In Mario 64, however,
pairing this punishment alongside a boot-out for collecting a star and an overly linear progression
path makes for a set of stages that do not play well with their own mission structure.
Many of the earlier stages don’t suffer from the same consequences because they embrace their
nonlinearity. The objectives in Jolly Roger Bay are spread out across the level, and there’s a
fairly wide space used to bridge these objectives. “Treasure in the Ocean Cave” is on the other
end of a tunnel you find at the bottom of the seafloor, and this sea floor houses two other
stars to collect. Though you technically need to travel underwater multiple times, it isn’t
nearly as difficult or time consuming because the map for Jolly Roger Bay is flattened and
all of the objectives are closer together. That doesn’t excuse the stages not having an option
to continue the level upon collecting a star, even if it is much easier to jump back in and
do something different. You might argue that the cute level evolutions are excuse enough to push
you out of levels, but there are a few holes in that theory. First of all, with the exception
of Whomp’s Fortress, none of the changes to the first and second stars are significant enough to
warrant kicking you out of the stage. King Bob-omb disappearing and turning into a ball at the bottom
of the hill is hardly outside the capabilities of the Nintendo 64, especially because he
disappears anyway upon his defeat. In fact, Big Boo’s Haunt shows that it could have easily
done the change inside of the level and kept you inside. Once you defeat Big Boo in the first
mission, a staircase in the middle raises up so you can collect the star. Right there, it
changed mid-mission with little difficulty: there is no technically motivated excuse for
it to boot you out. Even in Jolly Roger Bay, since you’re inside of the ship when you drain the
water, you could just as easily leave the ship, and load into the second version of the level
where the ship is floating on the water. It would require an exit from the sunken ship, but I think
that’s pretty doable. The only iffy part of this would be the tower in Whomp’s Fortress, as it’s
fairly huge, and you complete the first mission right on top of it. I don’t know if the N64 could
handle rendering such a huge object right in front of your eyes. In this case, I admit booting you
out of the level seems like the best solution, but this change happens once in each level.
In some levels, there isn’t any change, and to be frank, the tower in Whomp’s Fortress adds
nothing to the level except an extra platforming challenge at the end of a platforming challenge
you already completed to defeat the Whomp King. Seems as though the stage could have done without
this addition. The only stage where I can’t find a suitable workaround is Dire Dire Docks. This
giant sub can’t just disappear, it wouldn’t make any sense. In this specific instance, I’d say
booting you out of the level would work wonders, since getting the first star in this level unlocks
Bowser for this section of the castle anyway, so booting you out seems appropriate for this one
instance. Better yet, it’s implied that Dire Dire Docks bridges into the Bowser boss section,
so maybe collecting the star in Dire Dire Docks takes you into the Bowser section, but if
you lose or exit the course, you can enter both Dire Dire Docks and the Bowser section whenever
you want. The Bowser boss section, funny enough, is setup like a linear mario stage, so booting
you out upon death is far more understandable.
My point with all of that is to say: even in
situations where it would be difficult to keep a player in a level, they could have found very
easy workarounds to keep players in each level. I posit they forced players out of the levels to:
a) pad out the length of the game, since there aren’t many levels; and/or b) to encourage players
to experiment with the different levels, instead of fully completing them in one go; neither sits
well with me. Length was definitely an important consideration when Mario 64 was released, and to
a large extent, still is today: this idea that dollar signs should translate to hours played.
I vehemently disagree with this philosophy, but it might have been silly of Nintendo to ignore
this aspect of the industry considering they’re a business, so while I may despise padding, it’s
less the fault of Nintendo and more the fault of the industry. As for encouraging varied
stage selection, I don’t think the design of the castle really allows for seamless travel from
one world to another. I did mention that learning the layout of the castle is inherently satisfying,
but travelling from world to world takes a little bit more time than just jumping back into the
painting. I haven’t met a single person who, after collecting a power star, wanders off to another
stage, only to repeat that process after getting a power star in that stage. Maybe on your first
playthrough you’ll be encouraged to try out new stages and come back to fully complete the game
later, but most people playing the game nowadays probably opt for the clean sweep approach, even if
they might play the levels out of order. I can’t speak for the gaming populace that did, or still
plays Mario 64, but I can speak for myself, and I prefer clean sweeps of stages. I only switch to
a different stage if I absolutely need to. Bottom line: booting you out of a stage for collecting
a star isn’t just a mere annoyance, it’s a frustrating padding tool that doesn’t mix well
with the stage design, especially near the end. Games like Banjo-Kazooie show that it didn’t need
to be done on the same console, though I suppose in retrospect that’s an unfair comparison.
Mario 64 faces a host of issues when it comes to its level design, but overall I’d say it was more
a success than a failure. Many of the objectives mirror treasure hunts through large, whimsical
sandboxes, and you gain a familiarity with them the more you explore. 100 coin stars further
encourage this exploration, and it fits well with the game’s conceit of “freedom”; yet, even
this star is restrictive in many situations. In Tall Tall Mountain, there aren’t 100 coins in the
main section of the stage, so you must collect at least some coins on the slide. If you enter the
slide too late and reach 100 coins while on the slide, it’ll spawn right above you, rendering it
impossible to be obtained, even though you clearly got 100 coins. A similar problem can occur in
Hazy Maze Cave when you’re hanging on monkey bars, in which the star appears above the monkey bars,
a place you can’t access thanks to an invisible wall. Outside of strange glitches, some stages
do not lend themselves well to collecting 100 coins. Rainbow Ride is one of the longest and most
difficult levels in the game, and while collecting 100 coins is certainly possible, there’s so much
room for error that it can be a royal pain in the ass. Leaving the stage at any point, for any
reason, resets the coin counter back to zero, and in a stage where the coins are spread out
across difficult linear platforming gauntlets, it’s both time consuming and easy to screw up.
Combing for coins in stages like Hazy Maze Cave, Tiny-Huge Island, Wet-Dry World, Bob-omb
Battlefield, Whomp’s Fortress, you name it: the mission incentivizes exploration of the level, and
collecting the star doesn’t boot you out of the stage, so you can easily do it alongside missions
like the eight red coins, killing two birds with one stone. Luckily, with the exception of Jolly
Roger Bay and Dire Dire Docks, the highest coin total is more than generous enough to allow a 20
to 50 coin room for error. In the case of Jolly Roger Bay, there may only be 104 coins, but almost
none of them come from enemies, so the coins you need won’t disappear. It also has a 4 coin net,
meaning that if you select a mission where the sunken ship isn’t raised, you don’t NEED those
two floating red coins to reach 100. In stages like Rainbow Ride, where coins can
easily fly off the edge of the level, the coin total is 146, surprisingly lenient.
As for other objectives, they’re usually quite creative. Luring Unagi out to steal the star on
his tail, racing Koopa the Quick to the top of Bob-omb Battlefield, entering Tick Tock Clock
at the right moment to stop time and collect the eight red coins, In fact, collecting eight
red coins in any stage is a great challenge, even in the more linear Bowser sections.
Boss missions don’t fare very well, but I at least appreciate that all of them are dealt with
somewhat differently. You defeat King Bob-omb by getting behind him and throwing him, you defeat
the Whomp King by ground pounding his back, you defeat the big bully by pushing him into the
lava, and you do the same with the ice bully, but on slippery terrain. Bowser uses the same concept
as King Bob-omb, but you have to time when you throw him so he hits a bomb, and while I’m not a
fan of fighting him three nearly identical times, I do appreciate how difficult it can be to
get the timing down on when to release him. The only missions that could have used tweaking
are missions like “Blast Away the Wall” which is so borderline cryptic that I’m honestly surprised
people even figured out what to do on their own: I know I didn’t. Other secrets, like stopping time
in Tick Tock Clock, can be observed whenever you enter the stage, but this secret in Whomp’s
Fortress has no build-up besides the mission title as a vague hint. Thankfully, this is really
the only severe instance of obtuse mission design, other stars that come close like the secret
wall in Tall Tall Mountain could theoretically be figured out quite easily on your own with
enough patience, given the title of the star is “Mysterious Mountainside”. Each stage nails a
distinctly “Mario” design, from a grassy plain, to an underwater paradise, to an ice cap,
to a haunted mansion, to a level inside a freaking clock. Koji Kondo really outdid himself
here, even if one or two songs outstay their welcome. More than ever before, each world
in Mario 64 is memorable in their own way, far more than levels in previous Mario games, and
exploring each of them for Power Stars reinforces that in your memory. Level geometry could
easily be memorized in previous Mario games, but never before has a first visit to a world
left such an impression in the same way Mario 64 manages thanks to its expansive level design,
unique art direction, and memorable composition. Outside of a few issues, Mario 64’s level
design is solid: and you’d think we could end it here. After all, I did mention that Mario
games live or die by their level design.
2D Mario is generally well-received because it’s
almost unparalleled at marrying control with level design, and that’s been consistent across the
series. You may need a few levels to get used to how his movement and jumps work, but once you’re
used to the control scheme virtually no issues arise. This is the chief difference between a game
like Mario 3 and Mario 64. Control over Mario is by no means terrible, but its imperfections
inhibit the game in many not so subtle ways. Largely, the work put into Mario’s controls paid
off in spades. It’s certainly responsive in all the areas that matter most, and it easily could
have been worse. Mario moves where you tell him to move, jumps where you want him to jump, punches
where you tell him to punch. Thanks to the newly introduced analog stick, controlling Mario’s
speed is as simple as how much you push the stick in any direction. A wide array of moves now
allows Mario to pull stunts he’s never been able to before. Some are intentional, such as long
jumping to clear large gaps and get around the environment quicker; or there’s the triple jump,
which combined with the wall jump can get Mario to higher areas. Playing around with his moveset
is indescribably fun, and many of my fond memories as a child exist screwing about in Peach’s Castle.
I’d try to get on top of the castle before I was supposed to, and recently I discovered the joy
of backwards long jumping up the set of endless stairs in the N64 version. Of course, these
aren’t intentional, but it doesn’t stop them from being fun to pull off. Moves like the dive
can attack enemies without forcing Mario to stop, keeping his momentum, but it can also be used
after a jump to increase Mario’s speed in an instant. Side jumps can throw Mario away from a
ledge if he’s travelling too quickly toward it, and can be combined with a wall jump to reach
higher areas. You aren’t forced to pull off any of these maneuvers, as there’s always a safe way
to move around. The backflip is a safer, easier option than the side jump, at the cost of its
reduced speed. Mario’s regular running speed is sufficient to complete levels, and until the end
of the game, regular jumps will clear most gaps. For those who can get used to the control scheme,
each move will flow seamlessly into one another, allowing you to quickly glide through the level
geometry. Believe me, the speedruns of this game are insane. In this sense, the control scheme
works perfectly, but it’s that little caveat that’s hard for even me to accomplish:
getting used to these damn controls.
I wouldn’t consider anything about the control
scheme to be broken, but there are so many little quirks that come close to ruining the tighter
platforming stages. Turning, for instance, isn’t always automatic; instead, Mario will
sometimes turn in a semicircle. On smaller platforms this can be a death sentence, and it’s
led to my death on more than one occasion. If you’re used to the control scheme, you can learn
to halt your movement before you start turning, but it’s a lot harder than it sounds. I’ve been
playing this game for years, and I still struggle to condition myself to stop on platforms. Problems
extend to his other abilities too. Activating a side jump is slightly finicky, because you need
to build up enough speed, and jump the instant you flick the analog stick in the opposite
direction. It’s surprisingly easy to flub on smaller platforms where you don’t have a lot of
lead time. Similarly, the timing for the wall jump is far too strict. Mario will bounce off of walls
the moment he touches one, meaning you need to do another jump the moment you hit that wall, or
you’ll fail. Bouncing off walls can impede normal platforming as well, bouncing you off of a wall
because you’re just short of the ledge. Mario’s jump is easily course-corrected forward and
backward, but trying to move him from side to side while in the air is nigh on impossible, meaning if
you overshoot a platform, there’s almost no way to correct that mistake like you could in previous
games. Again, these issues aren’t much to worry about until you get to stages like Tick Tock Clock
and Rainbow Ride, where precision matters. It’s clear they were crafted with more open stages in
mind, and they work wonders for said stages.
I can deal with these controls to some extent, but
it’s the camera that really ruins the batch. It was designed to work with the N64 C-buttons, and
it’s also contextualized in the world by Lakitu, because camera control was a novel concept
back in 1996. Lakitu can’t collide with the level geometry, so if you try to get him to
move somewhere he can’t be, he won’t move there. In addition, the control of the camera is
extremely limited: you can move it left to right, and you can zoom in and out. Pressing the R
button also zooms the camera right behind Mario, assumedly to correct the strange angles of the
camera. None of these positions are ever ideal, and each time I got the camera where I wanted,
it was always just close enough, but not quite where I needed it to be. Unfortunately, I have
no idea how they could have rectified this. Full analog control is basically a no-no since the N64
controller only had one analog stick, and trying to add up and down movement would probably
be a nightmare for anyone new to 3D games. Keeping it simple was definitely the right move,
it just creates a less than ideal experience.
That said, it's a limitation that could have been
developed around. They didn't have to make stages like Tick, Tock, Clock or Rainbow Ride with
tricky platforming. They could have focused on stages like Bob-Omb Battlefield, or Dire,
Dire, Docks, or Lethal Lava Land: all 3 of these stages focus on their objectives in a sandbox,
and there aren't any bottomless pits to worry about. You might raise the question: how do you
balance the difficulty without levels like Rainbow Ride? Simple: make more levels Whomp’s Fortress or
Tall, Tall Mountain. These levels focus on height, and falling down isn't an immediate boot-out: you
just need to climb back up again. They had the technology to save upon collecting a star, so they
could have made stages like this without worrying about repetition, if only they didn't boot you
out of the stage upon collecting a star.
Though, I suppose if we're fixing the difficulty
while keeping in mind that stars boot you out of a stage, we can turn our attention to the Bowser
boss battles. These stages are linear by design and are the closest to traditional Mario that
64 ever reaches. These can be quite difficult, whether you fall to a lower segment, or fall
off the stage entirely. There's certainly tricky platforming, but it doesn't encompass
a stage you'll be exploring for hours. Each of the Bowser stages are short, self-contained
platforming stages, so the punishment of death isn't as severe. Using more stages like this could
have worked, even if there were only a few more of them. It might still highlight the imperfections
of the control scheme, but the levels are short enough that it doesn't end up mattering.
Now, allow me to launch into a debate, one that will no doubt get me lynched. How revolutionary
is analog control? Maybe that’s not the right question, it was definitely revolutionary. Let me
rephrase: how useful is analog control? We’ll use the Nintendo DS remake as a point of comparison:
analog vs. digital movement. Firstly, we need to explain what makes analog control so special. It
allows Mario to move at various different speeds in all directions based on how far you push the
stick. If you only nudge it, Mario will do a slow walk, but if you whack that sucker, he’ll run at
his fastest speed. This eliminates the need for a run button, and gives Mario a more natural sense
of control in a 3D environment. In this specific context, I don’t feel Mario 64 necessarily
benefits from an analog stick. I’ve already outlined my problems with the controls, and in
the tighter platforming sections, I sometimes wish I had an easier time adjusting my speed and
turn angle. This is where the DS remake comes in, and I’m about to make a statement lots of people
aren’t going to like: I prefer how the remake controls. Yes, even on a d-pad. Let me be clear,
I prefer analog in general, but in this specific circumstance I opt for digital. Mario 64 DS has a
run button, which means you can shift between two speeds. This doesn’t harm the game in any way,
it just isn’t a natural way for you to control Mario’s speed. It worked fine for the 2D Mario
games, and it works fine here. I prefer it for those trickier platforming courses. I definitely
appreciate that I can hold my thumb in a direction with full pressure without making Mario go too
fast. I don’t need to worry about accidentally bumping the stick too much launching Mario off the
edge, and I can control his speed with the press of a button. In my brain, this setup makes more
sense and is easier for me to get to grips with, even though it’s imperfect. I would much rather
have an analog setup; provided Mario 64 controlled perfectly in the first place. Without the
small annoyances the control scheme has, maybe this would be a different story. Sunshine
certainly proves that I prefer analog control when the game utilizes it correctly. Mario can now
slide along walls, meaning the wall jump timing is much more lenient, and I could swear the side jump
is a bit easier to pull off. The camera gets the same treatment: while functionally the same,
the L button centers the camera behind Mario, meaning you always get your desired angle. No more
fumbling around with Lakitu: much like with the 3D Zelda games, there’s a dedicated button for
centering the camera that completely bypasses the dated elements of said camera.
Despite growing up with Mario 64 DS, it’s my preferred way to play because of the
new content, better controls, updated graphics, and handheld form factor. I’ve never cared about
the smaller screen size or the lack of aliasing, so it’s always been a perfect fit. You get the
full majesty of the original game on the go, with 4 playable characters, 30 new stars, a
mini-game rec room, and local multiplayer with up to 4 people. We can argue ‘till the cows come home
about just how much that all adds to the game, but there’s nothing I can discern from any of it
that detracts from the experience. You could say that Luigi, Wario, and Yoshi don’t have an awful
amount going for them in comparison to Mario. They lock the vanish and metal caps behind Luigi and
Wario respectively, as well as power-ups exclusive to Mario and Yoshi that further complicate
this web of progression gating the original only teased you with. Switching characters
forces you into the rec room, so you can walk through the character’s door to switch, and run
all the way back to the painting to complete one objective. If it was a metal cap objective,
you’re gonna want to switch back afterwards because Wario isn’t fun to use in the slightest
compared to Mario, Luigi, even Yoshi. That said, you rarely ever have to change, and at least Luigi
and Yoshi are good for breaking up the pace. There are very rarely points where you are required to
switch off Mario, and that’s the important part. None of the new stars take anything away from the
game, even if some of them are underwhelming.
I love all the mini-games and used to play
the multiplayer a lot, but I’d be lying if I told you that’s why I prefer the DS remake. The
reason I prefer it is because it looks better, plays better, has more content, and… I grew
up with it. I don’t let nostalgia blind me, but I’ve gotten much more use out of the DS
control scheme than I have the N64 control scheme. I’ve given the N64 control scheme enough time
for me to reach a conclusion on its limitations, but I’ll never truly be in touch with my younger
self like so many others who grew up with the N64 version. To them, the N64 controls are buttery
smooth, and the DS remake mutilates them. I bring this up in part to prove that Mario 64 is
revolutionary, but that doesn’t make it flawless: in fact, in many cases, something that’s
revolutionary is rarely flawless.
Mario 64 is important, but it’s been eclipsed by
all of the Mario games that have come after it. It was an experiment, a tech demo to see if they
could pull off his gameplay in 3D. It worked, I would never try to claim it didn’t work.
There are just some caveats to that statement. The level design philosophy is sound, but the
implementation is flawed; the controls are fine, but some of their quirks ruin sections of
the game; the objectives are mostly fine, but a fair few of them promote an absurd
degree of padding. Mario 64 is important for so many reasons, to so many people, but it
certainly was the first of its kind. I respect it for what it is, what its done: but it's
definitely not my favorite Mario game. It isn’t to disparage 64: each of the game’s
sequels had the chance to learn from 64, a luxury 64 didn’t have. It’s the perfect example
of a game that suffers from “First Game Syndrome” a pattern I’ve coined to mean that first games
are almost always eclipsed by their sequels, and this is definitely one of those cases. I
still enjoy it, I still fully complete it every once in awhile, but there’s no doubt in my mind:
this has been done since, and done better.
My issue with King K’s videos is that it seems like he never really adds anything new to the conversation about a single game. He’s a good writer and has a really good radio voice, but I’m always left wondering why these videos were worth making when I feel like I’ve already heard everything he has to say about a game.
I respect this guy's effort, but after watching a lot of his videos I've noticed he has the same internet complex that all these other YouTube guys have. They parrot the same criticisms of the games as everyone else, they add hardly any new insight, and they have a tendency to ramble and make an effort to have their opinion stand out.
Like KingK is the typical guy that hates skyward sword and Fi, didn't like BotW all that much because of the usual shit like the weapons breaking, and vastly prefers Majora's Mask over OoT. To me, it's all just so typical.
I really like KingK's videos for his perspectives and how well put together they are, but I always feel like his relative youth shows through when he talks about older games. IIRC, he's around 19 years old (yeah, with that voice, what the fuck), so I think that helps explain his Mario 64 DS favoritism - he played it as a kid. I'm just a few years older, but I played the original Mario 64 as a kid, and so its controls and everything are incredibly natural to me because it's one of the first games I ever played.
KingK is definitely an up and comer. I feel his work ethic and consistency are great, but if I were being critical, I'd say the quality of his content gets propped up by his presentation more so than his actual insights.
This isn't to say Kingk's stuff is bad or shouldn't be supported, but I feel as though his content hasn't given me the same level of insight as Matthewmatosis or Joseph Anderson. Maybe that is an unfair comparison, but its done out of necessity since there isn't a lot of competition for 30+ minute, long-play analysis whereas sub 20 minute brackets are a dime a dozen.
To be more specific, I think KingK has a tendency to stay too high level (as in, broad). His videos tend to open with intros becoming of a persuasive essay and he often overuses ideas to the point of losing their value. Matthewmatosis could have titled his Bioshock Infinite critique as "Bioshock is Space Invaders", but the point, imo, becomes superior as a footnote rather than the core idea of why MM says Infinite doesn't work. Contrast that with KingK's connection of Prime 2 to the concept of an "ideal sequel" and you got yourself the format of a 10 minute idea being hammered out to 30.
To sum it up, his content often feels forced (maybe even too subjective?). I'll keep checking out his new stuff since he does put out a lot of content, but as is, I feel he hasn't fully tapped the potential of the format.
Homie if you're only 19 years old, the video is pretty impressive and I think you have a bright future in this kind of stuff but your style is incredibly lofty and too similar to the rest of the gaming youtubers. After five minutes I found your banter to be annoyingly superficial and had to shut it off. Nice radio voice though - could work on some enunciation.