Shriram | Week 12 | The Sky is Dark in Real Life, Too
It is possible that after racing penguins, flying on ten-foot-tall flowers, and walking on roads made out of candy that you may still feel lonely.
Nintendo’s 2008 title Super Mario Galaxy is one of the most acclaimed, and certainly one of the most remarkable, video games of all time. In almost every category, it delivers beyond expectations: its ideas are rich and endlessly creative, forever surprising players with its depth and intentionality of design; the graphics can reach brilliantly colorful and appealing heights but make frequent use of darker, more somber tones; the gravitational physics are more sound than even simpler games today; and the series’ first orchestrated soundtrack remains a favorite of many (myself included).
The most interesting reason for its praise, however, is its surprising thematic maturity. Or rather, how the game welcomes introspection and gives you more to think about than any other title could match in nearly two decades since its release. Simply, despite its limitations, no game portrays space like Super Mario Galaxy.
Space is big, and it’s lonely. It’s a quiet frontier that is endlessly fascinating yet reveals quite little of itself to the naked eye. We know that wonder lies beyond our world, and so from this promise alone we contemplate endless infinities by ourselves. I firmly believe that we’re all infinitely curious when presented with something of this scale. Importantly, however, it’s not always comfortable. Sometimes, reflection is rough. The stars are empty and unforgiving—one slip amidst the web of constellations and you’re lost. We may not find anything out there and return staring at the ground. Sometimes, the night is cold. 
The game’s levels are not vast and expansive. They aren’t perpetually busy, and many planets have but a few creatures on them, and no lights. It openly presents you with the question of isolation: you as the main character can observe all of these different galaxies individually, but in visiting them, you’d never know you weren’t alone. Where are we in this space? Where are we in space?
These questions aren’t answered by the game, and so their power is never diminished. Every time you return to a galaxy, you’re acutely aware of the fleeting nature of your visit: the beautiful music, the lush environments, and the creatures that live there—all of them are temporary to you. The only thing that’s truly constant is yourself.
Now, Mario Galaxy isn’t all cold and bleak. It’s unbelievably imaginative and emphasizes the endless grand and joyous possibilities of the infinite space. But there are moments that we have to ourselves, when we’re not rushing through an increasingly stimulating series of obstacles to the end. We are allowed to breathe.
It’s incredible that something so simple can be so powerful in its execution. The sky is dark. I think that’s beautiful.
Shriram, I'd like to first praise how poetic you described a videogame—something that I'd not think was this complex. I will also say that I, unlike you, do not share this love for Super Mario Galaxy. However, I do have countless hours on Smash Bros and Mario Kart. I often reminisce about playing Mario Kart on the old Wii we had in my house.
ReplyDeleteThis is a bit random, but I believe there was a level titled "Yoshi Falls" which was my favorite, but I've been unable to find it in any other version of Mario Kart.
Ok, another side note. I just opened Youtube and watched gameplay of Yoshi Falls, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Thank you for that. This genuinely just unlocked a memory.
Reading your line describing space as a "frontier" made me pause and think. I've always viewed space as endless or I guess something so infinitely vast that the idea of it having boundaries never manifested.
Another side note: Although I'm commenting after reading it twice, I am really enjoying rereading your blog and finding more parts to think/comment about.
I like the part about calling stars & feeling lost. Although I do not think this was your intended meaning, it makes me think about how mesmerizing they are, and how one can get lost (in a trance) with star watching. I guess this just shows how incredible space is, and how much there is to talk about it.
I appreciate the contrast you present at the end of your blog. It invites images of the Mario World that I know, and love.
Ok final side note haha: I guess this is more general but I feel like your writing always reads extremely poetically, and idek if it's intentional, but it truly feels like I'm reading something with beautiful hidden meanings.
Thank you for genuinely giving me so much to think about.
Shriram, I just want to say how much I love the hook of your blog. It gave me flashbacks to when I was younger and getting on the internet for the first time as a result of Covid. Truthfully I was not very online until the pandemic and finally peeling away from staring at my ipad for a whole school year and going back in person was hard (as it was for everyone). There are times even now where I feel like I’m getting sucked into a void, bright colors, shocking headlines, “racing penguins” (although that just sounds cute lol). Your praise of Super Mario Galaxy for its portrayal of space reminds me a lot about how Interstellar was praised for its depiction as well. Space is in fact vast and isolating, but the fact it rarely is allowed to exist like that in most of its portrayals is rather interesting.Your description of how the levels are structured in the game also reminded me a lot of the appeal of cosmic horror (although as you said, it’s not all “cold and bleak”). Overall, a really fun blog to end the quarter on!
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