Coming Home to Super Mario Sunshine
Returning to the game fifteen years later
Fifteen years ago, Super Mario Sunshine came out for the GameCube and my dad picked me up from school. It was going to be just like every other weekend where he made me my favorite dinner of mac & cheese and let me sleep in as late as I wanted. I remember sighing while getting into the car because my older brother was going to spend the entire weekend playing the new Mario game that looked super cool and I wasn’t. Dad started the car and instead of just going home, he continued onto the highway that was strip mall after strip mall. Confused, I asked him why we weren’t going home. He ignored my question and pulled into the Toys R Us parking lot. He told me to wait in the car where I got even more confused. What seven-year-old could survive waiting when they could be in Toys R Us instead?
He came back with a huge bag, the kind used only for the big, expensive toys. The bag remained a secret until after I ate my mac & cheese between incessant begging. After dinner he told me to close my eyes, so I closed my eyes. I opened them to see Super Mario Sunshine in its all plastic-wrapped shiny glory resting in my hands. I looked up to see a brand-new GameCube sitting on the counter. I remember sobbing really gross, snotty happy tears. I ran upstairs to the TV room dancing around with the game box clutched high above my head as my dad set up the GameCube that was my very own, that wasn’t my brother’s and with a game that wasn’t a hand-me-down. It was mine. I didn’t have to beg anyone to let me play for like five minutes and no one would ask me for their game back during Hanukkah. I ooh-ed and ah-ed at how tiny the disc was and savored the crisp, gentle click of the buttons on the unused controller.
The opening cutscene starts with a simple title card before the harsh sound of brushstrokes slapping against concrete cuts through the silence as a bright red ‘M’ is painted across the screen followed by a sinister high-pitched cackle. You know something is wrong and you question who’s the villain before you can even start a save file. The scene transitions to the interior of Mushroom Kingdom’s very own private jet, where Princess Peach, Mario, Toadsworth, and the various other Toads are being welcomed to “the sun-drenched tropical paradise of Isle Delfino.” I love knowing that private jets and luxury tropical vacations exist within the Mario canon.
The game quickly escalates when within hours of arrival, Mario is tried for polluting the island with terrible muck and slime that drives away the Sun Sprites, the main source of Isle Delfino’s sunshine. Of course, Mario didn’t commit this crime, but someone is using his likeness to vandalize the island. Your goal is to clean up the entirety of Isle Delfino, find out who’s been stealing your fine Italian looks, and, of course, rescue Princess Peach.
Mario is sent all over the island from the rolling hills and placid lakeside views of Bianco Hills to the grand industrial spectacle of Ricco Harbor’s teetering and towering scaffolding. Noki Bay is lush with greenery, full of cliffside caves to explore and waterfalls to dive alongside while Pianta Village glows at night from the toadstools that support it. The environments of this game are so expertly crafted that they make the player want to go on vacation to Isle Delfino. I know I sure did, and well, do. Isle Delfino has history, culture, and social mores that Mario and the player learn along the way. The writers created a rich backdrop for Mario to triple-jump through with its own myths and legends, like the Sand Bird in Gelato Beach and the tomb of a bygone king in Noki Bay. Super Mario Sunshine ends up being less of a story about rescuing Princess Peach and clearing Mario’s name, and more of a story about saving Isle Delfino, and its inhabitants, from environmental catastrophe.
The gameplay can be challenging at times, enough to get frustrated and have to take a breather (I’m looking at you Episode 7 of Ricco Harbor), but not so challenging that you never want to pick up the game ever again. With the help of Mario’s trusty FLUDD, the invention of Professor E. Gadd to clean up the disaster, the platforming of Super Mario Sunshine becomes less of a head-scratcher and more exploratory. Like trying to figure out how to actually ride the rides in Pinna Park and seeing exactly how many portraits you can jump through in Sirena Beach. Additional elements of springy tight ropes, a variety of jumping styles, FLUDD nozzle attachments, and structural hindrances make the platforming engaging. Battling enemies isn’t particularly violent because the pollution-fighting FLUDD only sprays water (one could even say he was cleaning up crime too, but that’s really cheesy).
Super Mario Sunshine’s subject matter and the political climate of 2002 oddly align. Sunshine prioritizes conserving the natural beauty and local wildlife (if you consider Sun Sprites wildlife) of Isle Delfino and restricting industrial waste over pretty much everything else. In 2002, former United States Vice President and known environmentalist, Al Gore had just lost the 2000 presidential election where his environmentalism was at the forefront of his political platform. The world was (and still is) entangled in wars, legal disputes, and undercover deals over access to oil and fossil fuels, which, more often than not, end up being pollutants. The discussion of environmental protection and conservation was finally reaching the general public. People paid attention to rainforest deforestation more than ever, composting was a new fangled idea to the average American, and it was common place to cut the rings from soda can packaging.
The plight of Isle Delfino at the hands of Bowser and Bowser Jr is eerily similar to what the natural world has been experiencing due to humanity’s greed for the past century. Ricco Harbor’s black paint-sludge spill that extends into the sewer system is all too real when you consider that the Exxon oil spill, an environmental disaster that the world is still suffering from, happened a little more than a decade prior to the game’s release. Crude oil washed along Alaska’s shore lines covering everything in its path, ultimately destroying eco-systems and killing local wildlife. In the game, entire structures, like the bridge to the windmill in Bianco Hills, end up consumed by the sludge. The graffiti sludge that is quite literally clogging Isle Delfino purposely looks like oil and there is no mistake in the placement of the sludge-paint in nearly every body of water. There are moments where Mario is covered in the goop, echoing what the local fisherman coated in oil looked like after the spill. Super Mario Sunshine ends up being a lesson, and a warning, in how to care for the world we’re living in and how it won’t be here forever if we don’t protect it together.
With the release of the Wii U and 3DS, Nintendo gifted our nostalgia driven spending habits with a myriad of HD remakes like Majora’s Mask HD, Windwaker HD, and Ocarina of Time HD. My friends and gamers alike rejoiced when they heard that their favorite childhood games were being remade, allowing them to enjoy it as if for the first time again. I was excited too, but Windwaker wasn’t My Game. Super Mario Sunshine was My Game. I felt alone in asking “But what about Sunshine?” when it was from the same era of games as Windwaker. I asked and people said “It doesn’t need a remake, it still holds up.” But the same is true for Windwaker, it still holds up. So why didn’t Sunshine get the HD remake it deserves? There’s truly no point in asking now since it’s not going to happen now and I’ve come to accept that fact begrudgingly. At least I can find comfort in the Delfino Plaza stage in Super Smash Bros for Wii U and Sunshine Airport in Mario Kart 8, so I’ll survive I guess.
Over the years, friends and casual acquaintances have asked me for my list of favorite video games. Among my list are JRPG heavy-hitters like Final Fantasy VII and Secret of Mana, but also Super Mario Sunshine. I receive a weird look and a “why?” Which I do get because it is the outlier compared to the plot heavy, turn-based games I typically love. Do people ask why because they don’t recall the game nearly as well as I do? The game has received nothing but positive ratings: 92/100 from Metacritic, 9/10 from Eurogamer, 9.75 from Game Informer, 9.4/10 from IGN, and the list goes on. Yet, only if Sunshine is brought up by others do people suddenly remember it exists and then say “Yeah, that game was great!”
So why have people forgotten how good Super Mario Sunshine is? Is it because it just wasn’t played enough? With numbers like 5.5 million copies being sold by June 2006 and it being in the top ten best-selling games of 2002, that’s hard to believe. Currently, the average price of the game on eBay fluctuates between $40 USD and $50 USD while the price of the game box alone can sell for $10 USD. It’s revered in Best Video Games Ever and Every Mario Game Ranked lists, but it’s legacy remains in other Mario titles as Easter eggs and with the addition of Bowser Jr as a playable character staple in party games like Mario Party and Mario Kart.
I personally think it has to do with everyone’s fond memories of Super Mario 64 overshadowing everything else. Since Sunshine came out in Mario 64’s wake, it had a lot to live up to. But, sometimes no matter how amazing something is, legacy is hard to beat and this is no different. Super Mario Galaxy was released a short five years later for the ridiculously anticipated Wii and was quickly followed by a sequel (something that Mario 64 and Sunshine didn’t get), so Sunshine sadly got lost along the way. From an entertainment standpoint, Mario in space is way more exciting and way more marketable than Mario on vacation, which is what the game has become despite Nintendo’s anti-pollution, pro-community marketing for the game’s initial release.
I’m not going to deny that I look back on the game through rose-tinted glasses, but I can’t help it. Sunshine means the world to me. Some of my most vivid memories from childhood are moments I experienced while playing Super Mario Sunshine, like screaming and flinging the controller at my dad because the first Petey Piranha boss fight scared the shit out of me. It was also a solace for me when other things weren’t. I didn’t exactly have the most stable childhood (divorces, moving, sicknesses, etc), but I found stability in video games, specifically Sunshine. When I was seven and my dad was yelling about the divorce settlement, Sunshine was there for me. When my Uncle Mike died, Sunshine was there for me. When boys at recess told me video games weren’t for girls, Sunshine was there for me to prove them wrong. Sunshine was my game where there was no time limit and I didn’t have to give back to anyone. In a way, it was my first game. Of course I played games before it, my first video game ever was Secret of Mana before I could use a controller effectively and Pokémon Snap was a family get-together staple, but Super Mario Sunshine was a game I experienced by myself and for myself.
It’s fifteen years later, and I still haven’t beaten Super Mario Sunshine. I’m on Episode 8 in every sun-soaked luxury beach destination, but I can’t bring myself to fight Bowser so Princess Peach and Mario can go on the vacation they deserve. I know that finishing a game doesn’t mean saying goodbye and you can always, always go back. Ultimately, beating Super Mario Sunshine means closing a chapter on a part of my life I’m not willing to close just yet, which is silly seeing as I’m twenty-two and an adult. Though no matter how hard and exhausting things get in life, I know that the picturesque view from the top of the ferris wheel in Pinna Park will be there for me and welcome me home.
This article was written by Super Jump contributor, Ria Teitelbaum. Please check out her work and follow her on Medium.
