My Brush with True Greatness

The Battle Mode in Super Mario Kart, for the Super NES, is a game of elegant complexity. You can learn how to play it in five minutes. The objective is to race around a playing field, pick up weapons or defensive tools which are in boxes you drive over (each box's contents are somehow randomized), and fire weapons at your opponent - three hits ends the game. Between beginners, it is mostly a game of chance. Whoever gets the best weapons (stars of invincibility and red shells, which seek your opponent like a heat-seeking missile), will likely win the game. This element of luck is never completely gone, no matter how skilled the players become - it's difficult to beat up anybody who consistently picks up red shells when you keep getting banana peels.

But a skilled Mario Kart player will usually demolish his unskilled opponents with ease. Once a player has a feel for the controls, he can collect and use many more weapons than his opponent, who is bumping into the wall and trying to do foolish things like turn around. The skilled player will of course know when and how to fire each weapon, as well as how best to evade his opponent's fire. Finally, the experienced player knows each of the four playing fields like the back of his hand. He knows where he is in relation to his opponent at all times, and can attack or avoid him with ease.

A game between two skilled opponents is a thing to behold. While luck still plays its role, the game becomes a battle of wits. I learned to play with two roommates in grad school. As our tactics improved, we became aware of each others' habits, and continually had to refine our games to stay competitive. It is very easy to obsess over such a fun game. Our matches became highly sophisticated over the year we lived together.

One day one of my roommates was online and found out about a challenge by a young man named Shane. He claimed to be the best Mario Kart player there is, and offered substantial money prizes to anyone who could beat him (i.e., it wasn't a bet; there was no risk to those who accepted his challenge, except for hurt egos). Shane happened to live in a UT dormitory, and my friend and I were both at work nearby, so we emailed him, accepting the challenge.

Shane was a small-framed Asian guy with a pleasant nature and a ponytail. His copy of Mario Kart was hooked up somehow through a computer, but on his website he claims it uses Super Nintendo hardware - after playing it, I can attest to its authenticity. Shane suggested a warmup on race mode. I actually nailed him with a banana peel, a weak weapon which may only be dropped or thrown in a long, barely-aimable arc. The peel sits still until someone runs over it, at which point it counts as any hit. So when my nearly-perfectly thrown banana peel scored a hit, my confidence soared. Shane beat my friend, 20-4, and me, 20-3.

Now, his website shows his year-by-year win-loss record, which, for those years in the early 2000s, which are posted and relevant to this post, although I don't remember which one it was, likely 2003, hover around 98% victories. (Shane's rewards are for a certain number of consecutive wins against him, or overall wins, first to ten. He says he has never given out any money.) So holding him to 87 and 83% made us feel better, and after the match, Shane was mostly gracious and guessed that we must not lose very much.

I hail Shane as the number one Super Mario Kart player in the world. My friend and I have discussed the matches since, and it isn't easy to discern how he beat us so badly. He seemed to do the same things we did, just a bit better. He did seem to have an uncanny sense of direction on the playing fields. He was always in the right place at the right time. His aim is dead on. His tactics were not new to us in general, I think it was mostly his ability and execution that did us in.

I have one complaint about the whole affair, which probably is not applicable to his other foes, some of which he has faced on neutral courts, I believe. This is, to my recollection, a bird's eye view of the room layout:

____C_____


____S_____
______O___

where C is the computer screen (about 13 inches if I recall correctly), S is Shane, and O is the opponent. I believe this to have given him a slight but meaningful advantage.

People not familiar with the game are incredulous, but I will attest that posture and placement are of the utmost importance for playing Mario Kart. I have gone on runs against my friend of eight straight victories, where I have been sitting intently in front of the screen and he had reclined on the couch behind me. Once he sits up and gets down in front of the TV beside me, he is able to compete. I have no idea why this is so important, but I assure you, dear reader, it is. I think his setup was unfair.

Mind you, I was thoroughly outplayed by Shane; I am trying to make the argument that I could have taken six or seven games, certainly not the majority, had the playing field been level. I made no mention of it at the time; indeed, I didn't think of it. I am sure that if I had complained, he would have accommodated me. He lived in Jester Dormitory, whose rooms are tiny and jail cell-like, purportedly because the architect was an experienced prison designer (source unremembered).

The UT student newspaper ran a story about him later. I was hoping he would mention the two guys who gave him an uncommonly good game, but he didn't. Or they didn't print it.

So I need some practice, but I'd play Shane again. I'll play anybody, too, but I'm not comfortable enough to offer cash prizes beyond a dollar or so. Anybody interested in this wonderful game should leave a comment.