Super
Paper Mario is a game with flaws. Even the most ardent fans wouldn’t call the
game perfect. But when complaints about it arise, there is a common response.
There is one element of the game that supposedly makes up for everything else.
From the moment you start writing a critique, you can see a vision flash in
your mind’s eye, a person countless miles away with fingers poised above a
keyboard. If you listen to the whispers on the wind, you can hear their call:
writing!
When
people complain about Super Paper Mario’s transformation into a platformer, you
hear the call: writing! When people moan about Super Paper Mario’s removal of
RPG elements, you hear the call: writing! When people whine about Super Paper
Mario’s complete absence of difficulty, you hear the call: writing! When people
trip over a discarded Super Paper Mario disc, you hear the call: writing! When
you stub your toe and Super Paper Mario happens to be in the room, you hear the
call: writing! When your dog urinates on the good rug and Super Paper Mario
wasn’t in the room at the time but you were kind of half thinking about it in
the back of your mind a minute or two before it happened, you hear the call:
writing!
An
exaggeration, but not as much as you’d think. In my experience, the common defense
of the game is not to support the gameplay. The gameplay is dismissed as “good
enough” and people gush about how great the writing is to make up for it. And
though I can quibble on particulars, I agree. The writing is not some shining
savior that absolves every other sin in the game, but it helps a lot. So it’s
high time we dissected it, to see what it is that works so well for people.




