Copyright 2004 Keith E. Kimball

MXC's Mario Extreme Elimination Challenge

by

Keith E. Kimball

And so the show opens with an incredible blare of an oh-so-familiar theme song!

Dun-a-dun-dun, dun-a-dun-dun, dun-a-dun-dun, dun-da-dun dun dah dunn DUNN!!!

A crowd of familiar folk of varying shapes and sizes are seen pelting madly down a forest path. Some of them wave happily to the camera. Some wave unhappily to the camera. And a few more simply chase the girls running in front of them, who pick up the pace on their part when they hear the heavy breathing getting closer.

The Humble (yet invisible) Announcer cuts in with, "What are these famous faces of videogamedom running from? They're not! They're running to...the World's Toughest Competition in Town! Tonight: An epic battle for the ages as Nintendo's heroes take on their traditional archrivals. It's the best of the goody-goodys versus the worst of the baddy-baddys. Here on MXC (Most Extreme Elimination Challenge)!!"

As the title sequence overlays the runners, the Announcer continues cheerfully, "And now here's the two guys who always get our highest scores: Kenny Blankenship and Vic Romano!"

The camera cuts to the castle-like booth of our hosts and their motley entourage of staffers. Kenny, in a red feudal lord's dress with huge shoulders, is wearing his usual vacantly happy grin. Vic, in a matching ensemble (yet blue), is waving his closed paper fan at the camera. "Welcome, everyone," Vic warmly welcomes, "It's time for another rollicking game of MXC."

"Hey, Vic," Kenny quickly interjects as he throws a dead-serious expression on his face, "Shouldn't this episode of the show be called the Mario Extreme Elimination Challenge, in honor of our contestants?"

Looking impressed at Kenny's thoughtfulness, Vic refrains from hitting his cohost with the paper fan for the interruption. "Why, yes, Kenny," Vic admits gamely, "I suppose it should. Particularly since the contestants had to cross multiple parallel dimensions to end up on our show as their flesh-and-blood selves."

Looking happy once more, Kenny slapped his knee with appreciation. "That's right! No holograms, computer animation, or guys in cheesy Mario costumes on this show! MXC only delivers the real thing!"

"Indeed," Vic swiftly agreed.

But just as quickly, the joy fled from Kenny's face as he turned to Vic with evident confusion on his open features. "But, Vic, explain it to me again how it works. I mean, video games are just made up, right? How can the contestants be real, like us?"

Vic coughed politely and scratched behind his ear with his fan. "I'm not quite sure how it works myself, Kenny," he grinned apologetically at his cohost and the viewers alike, "I'm just a humble professional broadcast announcer, not a transdimensional theoretical scientist." Perking up, Vic waved happily, "But that's why we kept ours around to explain how this works! Let's hear it straight from the horse's mouth. Take it away, Professor Corpus Fossilius!"

The camera cut to a podium mounted outdoors, showing a downright ancient old fart almost enveloped by his equally-ancient mode of dress. The barely-animated form was clinging to his podium's rail for support and perhaps dear life itself. From somewhere in the mass of unkempt white hair and wrinkles, a dull and listless voice droned, "Thank you, kind sirs. Allow me to begin..."

"Cut back! Cut back!" Kenny cried.

The camera returned to the hosts' booth with frantic speed.

Kenny looked relieved as Vic wiped his brow. "Whoa, Vic," Kenny chirped, "I've never seen our ratings go down so hard and fast."

Vic was sweating himself as he confessed, "That was a new record, even for MXC."

"Yeah, it reminded me of this girl I knew in high school." Suddenly recalling his original query, Kenny continued, "But the contestants are real, right? They have all their superpowers and fancy moves from their games too?"

"Indeed," Vic confirmed.

"Good," Kenny grinned in reply, "That also means when they bite it in our games, they'll really break bones n' stuff and I'll still have my Most Painful Eliminations at the end of the show." Kenny slapped his knee and rocked back against his bench as he laughed with pure joy.

Vic chuckled good-naturedly, "And that's why I like you so much, Kenny. You always look out for the other guy."

"Thank you," Kenny returned cluelessly.

"But enough bantering," Vic returned firmly, "let's get this Mario Party started! On to Gùy LeDouchè!"

Once more, the camera cuts to an outdoors scene, but Professor Fossilius is nowhere to be seen. (Seen in the scene, that is.) On hand instead is the familiar form of one Gùy LeDouchè in his form-fitting khaki shorts and matching shirt. Smiling broadly beneath his mustache and his pith helmet alike, Gùy intoned, "Thank you, Victor and Kenneth. Ah, seeing all these old friends truly brings back fond memories for Gùy. Getting my hands around a good, thick, stiff joystick for the first time. Jerking the device back and forth, back and forth, in a haphazard manner until my game was suddenly ended in a very messy fashion, much to my surprise."

Gùy emitted a short bark of his trademark laughter. It sounded like a deep-throated machine gun chattering. Or maybe just sort of like this: "ah-hah-hah-hah."

Gùy continued, "But I digress. Let's throw a batch of levels—er, games designed around a gently increasing learning curve for our first-time players at them. Heyyyy...that sounds just like their day jobs. Ah-hah-hah-hah!!"

"First up is our main elimination game, Blistering Wall of Death. Followed immediately by perennial favorite Legal Maze, then our increasingly-popular Irritable Bowl Syndrome. Next is Dope on A Rope, and finally, the most difficult level for last: Log Drop."

Looking satisfied, Gùy grinned, "Ah, I think I just rediscovered the joy of the stick. Oooo....Gùy likes. Oh, yoo-hoo, Captain?"

With an extra-fast cut for escaping the strangeness that is Gùy, the camera feed switched to Captain Tenneal standing before the assembled contestants. The tall, dark, and disgustingly handsome Captain looked as clean-cut as ever in his immaculate white suit, big shoulder epaulets, and yellow boots. Leaning gently on his cheap plastic sword, The Captain's steady eyes took in the contestants slightly uphill of him on the gentle forest slope as he said, "Thanks once again, Gùy."

With a easy, friendly smile, The Captain called out, "So, who here thinks that video games are a wonderful aid to children? That they teach our kids reading, vocabulary, hand-eye coordination, and other valuable skills? Teamwork as multiple players take on the computer, or perhaps good sportsmanship as players battle each other? Not to mention helping imbue them with an innate sense of compassion, justice, and self-sacrifice for the good of others, hmm?"

Most of the good-hearted character contestants cheered and waved enthusiastically. Their vile cohorts remained quiet, their glum demeanors indicating The Captain's words were true no matter how much they resented it.

"Well," The Captain said in a flat tone, "you're wrong."

As the villains erupted into their own round of cheering, The Captain waved both hands (one still clutching his plastic sword) in a placating fashion. "Settle down, settle down," The Captain chided sternly.

Once he'd regained control, The Captain took a few steps forward. "There's no doubt video games are exactly what Congress says they are. Just look at the generation who grew up on them. A selfish and lazy bunch at best; a wretched hive of scum and villainy at worst. Some are even writers today, God help us all. Yes, video games are devouring the innocent lifeblood—nay, the very souls---of our children before our eyes."

Before another round of applause for his statements could start, The Captain drew himself up stiffly upright with steel in his eyes.

"But!" he barked out, "MXC will not contribute to this horrible decay of society as long as I'm around. So while you're on my show, you're also under my unblinking eye of justice. Step out of line and The Captain will take you out. Remember that."

The Captain was going to pontificate some more, but he was suddenly distracted by a shapely limb waving out of the crowd in a skintight, thigh-high leather boot. "Why, Captain," the throaty feminine voice attached to the limb called, "Where are you going to take me out to? Dinner, maybe?"

In the blink of an eye, The Captain was at the girl's side. "Excuse me, miss," The Captain purred, smiling in a quiet mixture of appreciation and embarrassment, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of playing your video games before. Tell me, what's your name?"

Putting a hand to her chest in mock demureness totally belied by her skimpy halter top and microskirt, she purred right back, "It's Jesse. I'm here to represent the glorious Team Rocket in your illustrious competition."

"Very impressive hairdo you've got there," The Captain nodded. Then, for once in his life, The Captain got cut off. An imposing figure clothed in burnished, form-fitting steel body armor effortlessly brushed past Jesse's teammates, James and Meowth, to tug The Captain free with one hand. The other hand was enclosed in what looked suspiciously like a gun port. Although distorted somewhat by the helmet's speaker, the giant said, "Watch out, Captain. Don't let that cheap tart get her hooks into you. She's a big fat fibber and can't be trusted."

Jesse turned on the stranger in a bellow of rage, "Who are you calling fat?!"

The Captain looked like he was getting a little hot under the collar over the interruption too, but the stranger reached up and removed her helmet, effectively silencing him. Yes, her helmet. Jesse barely came up to the large warrior's equally large chest. But with her own ego riled, the resident Rocket diva refused to back down as the women stared coldly at each other.

Quickly, The Captain recovered himself and stepped in, "Ladies, ladies, settle down. I like a good catfight as much as the next guy, but save your energy for the games and we'll settle this MXC-style, all right?" His undeniably charming smile worked its magic on both women. With only a few sideways glares at each other, they separated.

Yet MXC's MOC (Master of Ceremonies) couldn't resist a chance to try and butter up the most beautiful bounty hunter in the galaxy while he was at it. "Ah, Samus Aran," The Captain smiled apologetically up at the amazon, "I almost didn't recognize you in your old-style spacesuit. What happened to that nice new one from your latest game?"

To the shock of everyone present, Samus actually looked a little shy. "You know about that? You like my games?" she said in a much softer tone of voice than usual.

The Captain took her one free hand in his own one free hand. "I love your games," he stared into her eyes.

Samus found herself stammering out the answer to The Captain's original query quietly, unable to tear herself away from his magnetic gaze, "I...uh, the suit's...part of me...it grew back...umm...yeah."

The Captain found another interruption. This one came from somebody who looked exactly like Samus. Except for the cold, white, dead orbs in place of her eyes shining through her helmet's visor. The newcomer wordlessly shoved Samus aside to look The Captain up and down. Even he found himself unnerved at the bizarre gaze.

"I, uh," The Captain nervously quizzed the real Samus, "I thought you destroyed all those X parasites that imitated you."

"Oh, that," Samus said nonchalantly, "Don't worry, Professor Fossilius said she couldn't assimilate and duplicate anybody in this dimension. And the SA-X is a more manageable archrival for me on your show than giant monsters like Mother Brain or Ridley."

"Hmm," The Captain thoughtfully continued studying the duplicate, "SA-X. If I had a dirty mind and said that slowly, it might bring up all sorts of connotations, eh?" His comment drew a little guffaw from the group.

Still, he continued pulling at his lower lip as Captain Tenneal tried to summon up a memory on the very tip of his tongue. "But you know, that whole assimilating alien parasite thing in Metroid Fusion. I've seen something like that somewhere. Something about that was so familiar, something I just can't get my finger on. It almost reminds me of some movie...I almost had it when I was on the john this morning and the carpenter was putting my bookshelf together. If I could only thing—I mean, think of it..."

Tired of waiting, Mario jumped up from the crowd and flashed his V-for-Victory sign. "All righty! Let's-a go!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Hey!!" The Captain roared, Samus and SA-X alike forgotten, "That's my line!"

Unheedful of their erstwhile leader's unhappiness, both teams of contestants leapt to their feet and charged down the hill. Even Samus, grateful for an excuse to escape her embarrassment.

Which left Captain Tenneal uncomfortably close - not to mention completely alone - with the SA-X. Who continued studying him with dead silence. Very dead silence. And a tiny little grin that was more unnerving than her lifeless eyes.

"Hey, wait for me!" The Captain charged after them as fast as he could possibly go.

The SA-X let him get a little head start, then broke into a light jog of pursuit. The strains of Pepè LePew's theme could be heard in the background.

As the camera raced alongside the main clog of contestants down the hill, Vic's voice overlaid the scene. "And we're off! To our first game, the Blistering Wall of Death!"

There was a pause, then Vic came back on again. "Ahem, yes, you know, the Blistering Wall of Death...why don't you tell them about the game, Kenny?"

No response.

"Oh-kayyy," Vic drawled angrily, "I'll just tell them about the game. It's really simple. One big wall at the bottom of the hill. Only one way to continue: go over it. Make the climb up the flat side only to try and survive the slide down the slopey side, which has been carefully preheated to 150 degrees Fahrenheit. And if you can stomach the stench of your own flesh burning off your bones, you'll land in the shallow pool of stool at the bottom. Who furnished today's pool ingredients, Kenny?"

Kenny almost responded, but his voice was badly and electronically garbled.

Vic's voice was a lot lighter as he understood and the contestants reached the wall. "Oh, sorry, folks, looks like we're experiencing some technical difficulties. And don't forget, the team with the most contestants over the wall starts with a bonus point so the stakes are high. Ah-hah! Here's Donkey Kong, making a monkey out of the other contestants as he climbs our wall effortlessly. But the slide down the other side isn't so easy without clothing to protect your sensitive regions, eh, Kenny?"

Kenny's voice finally returned, but the volume kept adjusting up and down as he said, "Yeah. He should wear clothes. Bet he smells like burnt dog."

"Uh, Kenny," Vic reminded as politely as he could (which is to say, not very), "He is a gorilla. They don't wear clothes."

"He's got a necktie on," Kenny pointed out.

Vic blinked. "So he does."

Still fighting the interference, Kenny called out, "Hey, look, Vic! Another freaky dude not wearing any pants!"

"That's one of the Pokèmon—Meowth," Vic quickly consulted his contestant ID cards, "They don't wear clothes either, Kenny. But it doesn't seem to matter as Meowth scampers up the wall with cat-like reflexes. Heh—get it, Kenny? Cat-like?"

Kenny frowned. "That joke was lame, Vic."

"Indeed," Vic mumbled under his breath, "It sounded better in my head."

Then Kenny's face, no, his entire being lit up as he leapt to his feet with astonishment. Not even his malfunctioning microphone could hide the unbridled joy in his voice as Kenny cheered, "But wait! Look! That's not a freaky dude with no pants! It's a freaky girl with nothing on at all!!!" Kenny leaned forward, frothing at the mouth, and only Vic's stern hand on the scruff of his neck stopped him from trying to somehow pass head-first through the camera's broadcast signal and directly onto the live arena site.

"That's not just any naked girl," Vic charged gruffly, "That's Princess Ruto from the Zelda series, Kenny. She's a Zora, not a human being! Do you really want to get involved with a half-fish, half-human female?"

Kenny looked shocked and stopped straining at Vic's hand long enough to ask, "Half-fish? Whaddya mean, Vic?"

"Don't you see her webbed hands? Her blue, scaly skin? Her bizarre head fin?" Vic pointed out these features.

Kenny subsided back onto his side of the announcer's bench. "Wow, you really saved me, Vic. I didn't notice. I, I wasn't looking at her hands."

"Ah, of course," Vic admitted, "Well, Kenny, it looks like being so top-heavy hasn't stopped Ruto from scaling the wall with ease."

Kenny looked surprised. "I'm shocked to hear you make a crack about her hooters, Vic."

"I'm talking about that aforementioned giant head fin, Kenny, not her bosom."

"Bosom! Hah, what a funny word!" Yet even as he chortled, Kenny's face was transformed to a mask of horror. "She's over the wall and sliding down...but...but..!!" Then Kenny whirled away from the camera, making a noise suspiciously like he was yelling, "RALLLPPHHHH!!" at the top of his lungs.

"Indeed," Vic observed wryly, "It seems that clothed contestants have a distinct advantage against the Blistering Wall of Death. Not such an attractive little minx when her bare backside is badly blistered and burned, eh, Kenny?"

Having regained some control of himself, Kenny snapped, "That's not funny, Vic. That sort of thing shouldn't happen to hot chicks. Just ugly ones."

"Well," Vic quipped, "thanks to your schoolboy crush, Kenny, we've missed most of the run. We'll just have to see who survived the Blistering Wall of Death for our next game after the commercial, just like everybody else. Still—nothing like our main elimination game to thin out the crowd of contestants, eh, Kenny?"

"Aw, man," Kenny grumped, "Ruto wasn't eliminated since she made it over the wall; but they're taking her to the hospital anyway."

The Humble Announcer cheerfully reminded, "When MXC returns, it's time to explore our perilous Legal Maze. Hey, feed this to your Moblin, fairy boy!"