Mario isn’t just a character, he’s a mascot. He’s an icon. He’s the almighty captain of a flagship franchise that promises family fun and fantasy. These decorations weren’t earned overnight, of course. No, Mario’s prestige has been well earned from over thirty years of fantastic games.
My first Mario game was Super Mario 64. I didn’t realize this at the time, but it was actually a groundbreaking release back in 1996. It was the first time Mario could run, jump, and kick in full-blown 3D. It was peerless game, proving that platforming was something that could be done outside of the typical side-scrolling adventures. Over twenty years later, 3D platforming still maintains prime real estate on Nintendo’s list of priority releases.
Yes, today we’re discussing 2017’s Super Mario Odyssey. It was promised to be a showcase of classic Mario controls, but with new abilities and colorful sidekicks to spice things up. Perhaps a bit confusingly, it was also promoted as the “spiritual sequel” to Super Mario 64. I found that logline to be perplexing, since 64 had an actual sequel called Super Mario Sunshine (which is excellent). Two further sequels exist as well, in Super Mario Galaxy and Super Mario Galaxy 2, but the structure of those games is a little different, so I understand why they were omitted from sequel consideration.
If you’re unfamiliar, Super Mario 64 is a hub-based platforming game. You are free to explore Princess Peach’s castle at your own pace. Some doors are locked, others need a certain amount of “Star Power” to open, but overall you can walk around wherever you please. In each room exists a painting, which serves as a portal to a more expansive level. In each level, you can earn up to seven Stars by performing various tasks: find the eight Red Coins hidden on the map, run to the top of the treacherous mountain, defeat the big bad boss, etc. The level was consistent every time you jumped into the painting, but your objectives varied. You could dive into whichever painting you wanted, perform any task you wanted, and go wherever you wanted to go, as long you eventually collected the requisite number of Stars to move on to the next area in the castle. Out of the one hundred and twenty Stars in the game, you only needed to collect seventy before you could take on King Bowser.
This structure is an astoundingly engaging one, as it is nearly impossible to get “stuck.” If you didn’t feel you had the skills to earn that one particular Star, no worries, just go find a different one. There were very few things you absolutely had to do in the game and, therefore, you had a lot of freedom to explore and try new things. While Super Mario Sunshine was structured in much the same way, Galaxy’s levels were less open for exploration. They were more linear and had a more traditional “march onward towards your goal” style of platforming. Galaxy 2 abandoned the hub altogether, opting for a Super Mario World-style path.
Enter: Super Mario Odyssey. While there was no central hub, we were back to the pseudo-open world style of level. Every map was colossal, and, much like 64, it was incumbent upon you to perform different tasks within the static area to earn the various Stars. Er, in this case, Moons. These stages ran the gamut from the familiar (a city, a forest, a beach) to the absolutely bonkers (a continent made out of food, an island populated with sentient hats). The tasks you needed to perform were likewise varied: in some cases you had to run to the highest point of the map, in others you would need to use your classic red cap to possess a dinosaur and ram through a wall. This game was lit.
There was a problem with collecting Moons in Odyssey, however. Whereas you needed seventy Stars to challenge King Bowser in Super Mario 64, you now need a minimum of one hundred and twenty-four Moons to face the boss. That’s great! More game to play, right?
Well, no.
Yes, you need over a hundred Moons to progress to the finale, but there are nine hundred and ninety-nine Moons in the entire game. It’s a staggering number that seems insurmountable, right? Basically a thousand. Who in their right mind would do that?
Herein lies the fundamental problem with Super Mario Odyssey. “More” isn’t always better. Yes, there are a thousand Moons to collect, but are the tasks needed to acquire them fulfilling? Some of them are, sure. But in between jumping challenges and logic puzzles, there are also Moons scattered about the map that are just kinda…laying there. Moons hidden in trees, Moons buried in the sand. Hell, I found a Moon stuffed inside a trash can.
Part of what makes collecting things in a game enticing is the act of feeling accomplished when you nail the task at hand. Yes, you successfully did a series of flawless wall-jumps over a bottomless pit. You earned that prize! But your actions don’t feel special when you’re walking through the map and find a prize sitting on the side of the road. You didn’t earn that treasure; you just stumbled across it without putting in any effort.
On top of that, Odyssey allows you to purchase Moons. As in, Mario can walk into a store and someone will sell him the game’s signature prizes. How many can he buy? Up to one hundred and nineteen. Yes, you can just lazily purchase just as many Moons in Odyssey as you can collect in all of 64. I get that this is a built-in incentive to collect coins, but the act of grinding to get the coins is boring and the act of purchasing still doesn’t feel special.
If we compare the ratio of “Need to do” and “Can do” in 64, you get seven to five. Or, let’s look at this way: once you collect the seventy Stars, you’ve accomplished roughly sixty percent of what the game has to offer. The other forty is optional. When we look at these same metrics for Odyssey, you get an approximate ratio of seven to forty-nine, and an accomplishment percentage of twelve percent.
“More” isn’t always better.
The fundamental purpose of playing a video game is to evoke a feeling; a feeling of victory when you conquer a brutal boss, a feeling of intelligence when you solve a brain-bending puzzle, etc. When I fought King Bowser for the first time in 64, I felt like I had accomplished something. I had conquered a majority of the castle, completed most of what the game asked of me, and then saved Peach and relished in my victory. When I spoke to the Princess in Odyssey, her words were, essentially, “Yeah, thanks, but look at all this other stuff left to do.” I had a sinking feeling of “That’s it?” in my gut as a saw how little I had actually done in the game. I didn’t really win.
But at the same time, there wasn’t a whole lot of motivation for me to jump back into the fray, either. I didn’t want to dig through dumpsters or turn over rocks to find all of the stray Moons that had evaded me. The daunting number of Moons left, over eight hundred, meant that figuring out what I had left to do was going to be either a brutal slog or, worse, I’d have to look on Google for a list of Moons to acquire. I wouldn’t even be playing the game at that point, I’d be checking off items from a digital grocery list.
In the time since Odyssey’s release, I’ve collected maybe another thirty Moons after defeating Bowser. I enjoy the running and jumping and throwing mechanics of the game, and each level is gorgeously rendered. But after a few hours, I begin to feel frustrated by the sheer volume of work left to do in the Kingdom before I can consider the game “done.” These are errands and I am but an errand boy.
In the time since Odyssey’s release, I’ve also played more Super Mario 64 and Super Mario Sunshine. I still prefer to play those games, because there I can accomplish something. I have what I consider to be a reasonable set of expectations. A ratio of seven to five. That extra forty percent is clearly defined and firmly within reach. I don’t need to check off boxes or scour lists. The remainder of the game is play, not work.
This problem, mind you, isn’t limited to Super Mario Odyssey. The capabilities of what a game can technologically contain have expanded, but the capabilities of a development team can’t be expected to expand at the same rate. The demand for more causes the “more” to ultimately be less. Side quests become side jobs. It’s not fun to collect a thousand Korok seeds in Breath of the Wild just because you want that shiny “one hundred percent” next to your name. It’s not fun to fly down to identical planet after identical planet in Mass Effect just because you want to clear those entries out of your quest log.
Good gameplay breeds fun, and “fun” is a reward unto itself. “Fun” isn’t tethered to a specific length. But in the year of our lord 2019, it’s important for a game to be able to boast “X hours of content,” even if that content doesn’t end up being “fun.” Content is king! Give us more, more, MORE!
This is what makes a game like Super Mario Odyssey so frustrating. The game isn’t broken by any means. The platforming is incredibly tight, your abilities are diverse and intriguing, and the puzzles can be a blast. The problem is that you end up feeling so empty after playing it. That feeling of accomplishment is missing because you accomplished so little in the grand scheme of things, and whatever you did accomplish was so easy to do. I don’t feel like I bested a challenge when the challenge is “Hey, go look in the dirt.” After playing Odyssey, there is an air of miscalculation on Nintendo’s part. It’s not that they didn’t make a good game, they just didn’t necessarily focus on the things that make a great game. I’ve hundred-percented both 64 and Sunshine. I don’t think I’ll ever even fifty-percent Odyssey.
I don’t want a thousand different things to do. I want to do a hundred things really well.
Post Script
I used Super Mario 64 as my point of comparison primarily because Nintendo referenced it during their promotional tour. Just as worthy of praise, though, is Super Mario Sunshine. Despite the good reviews from critics upon release in 2002, the game never quite garnered the public favor that its predecessor or successors found. Some criticism has been levied at the lore of the game, which I can’t even wrap my head around. If you play Mario games for the lore, you’re an odd duck indeed. I often hear complaints thrown towards the inclusion of the, uh, character called FLUDD. It’s a sentient backpack that Mario uses throughout the game to clean up mud and ink and schmutz across the tropical Isle Delfino.
Yeah, at first it’s weird to accept that Mario’s role in this game is that of a glorified janitor, but beneath the surface, the game uses FLUDD to push the boundaries of platforming. With the hover mechanic, players are able to course-correct wonky jumps, round corners in mid-air to take full advantage of the 3D space, and even sparingly use water to protect themselves from otherwise deadly falls. Factor in the rocket nozzle for high jumps and the boost nozzle for super speed, and you’ve got yourself an arsenal of unique tricks at your disposal. You’ll use them all as you traverse the beautiful and intricately designed levels across the island!
Plus, with a reasonable one hundred and twenty Shine Sprites to collect, Sunshine is an excellent sequel to the original game that innovates in all the right ways. It’s an extremely inimitable game and, for reasons I don’t fully understand, it never gets the credit it deserves.
Also, you can ride a Yoshi, which is always fun.
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