And now, to reiterate gaming's most famous switcheroo: what we know as Super Mario Bros. 2 in Western territories is not the actual Super Mario Bros. 2, which was deemed too difficult and too similar for foreign audiences. The solution: take an unrelated platformer (Yume Kōjō: Doki Doki Panic, a Fuji TV collaboration that originally featured an Arabian cast), repackage it with Mario characters, get Shigeru Miyamoto and co. to polish up the gameplay, and voila -- you have gaming's greatest magic trick. It wouldn't be until five years later with the remake collection that was Super Mario All-Stars that rumors and urban legends whispered about Western audiences, with internet inertia finally dawning what would place among Nintendo's most historic fun facts.
In other words, this is why Mario and the gang are suddenly throwing vegetables at bad guys rather than stomping them. Without this knowledge, it becomes all too easy to label Super Mario Bros. 2 as one of the many infamous "black sheep sequel" so dreaded on NES -- sequels in the vein of Zelda II: Adventure of Link, Castlevania II: Simon's Quest or even the Japan-only Final Fantasy II, all which were being divisive experiments that messed with their predecessor's formulas a tad too much -- but even knowing that, is it really the game's fault it doesn't live up to the Super Mario name? Adding to the confusion is how despite the Japanese version being called "Super Mario USA," Nintendo has been all too quick to brush Super Mario Bros. 2 under the rug and not only inducting this localized version into series canon, but has since referred to this game as the real Super Mario Bros. 2 (as recently as being heavily referenced in Super Mario 3D World, in fact).
Personally, I don't take objection to this identity confusion for two reasons -- the first one being that The Lost Levels, while a fine game in its own right, really was far too similar in graphics and gameplay to serve as a fresh follow-up. Say what one will about Super Mario Bros. 2 as a game, but the immediate distinction in concept, world and gameplay immediately stands out, and I'd like to think it's for the better. This retconning allows for a heftier width in influence -- The Lost Levels only has the Poison Mushroom as an enduring time capsule, whereas Super Mario Bros. 2 echoes far and wide via Luigi's jumping prowess, the introduction of Birdo and the Shy Guys, and even Toad's blue palette in Super Mario 3D World.
Furthermore, since when was Super Mario Bros. 2 a bad game? Indeed, it is not uncommon to find many fans of those aforementioned black sheep sequels, with Super Mario Bros. 2 often topping the list. Its vindication only goes so far -- only The Lost Levels is probably lesser-regarded within the retro 2D Mario family -- but I myself happen to like it quite a bit, and the biggest reason lies in what separates it from the other black sheep sequels: it's easily accessible. Not that "picking up vegetables/enemies and throwing them" is nearly as intuitive as "jump on things"" -- an outlandish distinction that caused some to write it off as "too weird" -- but we're not scrambling around figuring out what on earth to do, either, with Mario's roots as a 2D sidescroller remaining intact provides an innate sense on where to go. All it asks is to simply overcome whatever it throws at us.
Moreover, the most novel uniqueness Super Mario Bros. 2 possesses remains something no 2D Mario game has ever attempted to surpass: nuance in character selection. Every other side-scrolling Mario has offered multiplayer, but be it Luigi or a pair of Toads, they remain carbon copies of Mario; here, the selection of Mario, Luigi, Princess Peach (née Toadstool), and Toad all arrive with their respective strengths and weaknesses: Mario is all-around, Luigi can jump the highest in spite of average speed and power, Peach can float in the air to compensate for her weak physicality, and Toad can pull and run the fastest to compensate for his weak aerial game. As is always with varied character selection, there's an instant appeal in discovering our favorites, but we'll get into that later.
Still, it does not take a particularly observant gamer to recognize this de-emphasis on physics and momentum won't lend itself to a particularly deep experience: indeed, Super Mario Bros. 2 doesn't have a patch on the original Super Mario Bros. in terms of acrobatic feats, let alone its more advanced sequels, but why is it we walk away not caring? Because it is a game dependent on experimentation, with its emphasis on pulling things compels us to pluck everything in sight. Consider this scenario: when we're unearthing veggies in the very first level, we're surprised when we come across a magic potion. Throwing potion conjures up a mysterious door leading to another dimension: Subspace, whose flora now yields coins -- now used for the bonus slot game at every level's end -- and mushrooms heighten our heart meter. When realizing Subspace is just a mirrored, restricted screen of the level we were just in, future playthroughs inspire us to throw these magic potions elsewhere to find out what else we can uncover: be they point-granting cherries or time-saving Warp Zones.
Even within its experimentation, it stumbles: rows of grass containing nothing but veggies come across as haphazard design, and we groan at having wasted our time. And yet, somehow even that fuels our addiction -- we simply must pluck everything in sight, for what if a tantalizing 1-UP lies underneath Sub-Con's earth? What happens if I pick up a bomb, and drop it down here? What happens if I stack mushrooms over here? Enemies, too, play into our curiosity, be they simply standing on enemies as they stroll along or gaining a sadistic glee in tossing Shyguys into quicksand, watching them helplessly struggle against their impending doom. Considering they're my favorite enemy within Mario's pantheon of foot-soldiers, I feel a little bad treating them as disposable trash in their worldwide debut, but I digress.
Really, what's wondrous is how this experimentation leads into a feedback loop complemented by whichever character we select. Say we enter a level emphasizing digging through sand -- would Peach, with her weak strength truly be a wise choice for the level? The logical decision would be to pick Toad, whose plucking prowess can blaze through the sandy depths in no time, but what if we wanted a challenge? With Shy Guys on our tail, what starts as a poor choice becomes a thrilling challenge, one overcome if we pluck wisely -- simply digging in one spot is no good, but running from one end to the next and then digging will surely slow our pursuers down.
Truly, if Super Mario Bros. 2 cannot stun by physics, it must engage in memorable level design. Hopping across whales and log-filled waterfalls contribute to the game's unique identity, but it's the usage of enemies that ultimately wow us; again, this is only possible through plucking. Take the early encounter with Pidgit -- magic carpet-dwelling crows dive-bombing at our heroes. Upon carefully dislodging them with a well-timed jump, we discover we can cruise along on the magic carpet for limited a limited time, we dive incoming Beezos. It's here we learn such encounters are key to progression to the extent of subverting expectations: take when we randomly encountering Birdo -- a mid-boss typically reserved for the level's end -- suddenly appears at the beginning of a later level; however, we aren't meant to defeat her (or him? Let's not forget this this character induced gaming's most infamous gender crisis in a Nintendo game of all places!). With the limited space provided, we recognize we must utilize its egg projectiles not for slinging back, but for travel -- simply hop aboard, and we're set.
Super Mario Bros. 2's success lies in its constant trial-and-error feedback, all centered around the concept of pulling. We are goaded into frequent experimentation, but that in itself doesn't make for a compelling platformer, and so Super Mario Bros. 2 cannot be afraid to raise the stakes. Again, pulling is key: the most infamous example lies within recovering certain keys that awaken their sinister guardian -- Phanto, the sinister opera mask who sets pursuit the moment you pick up said key. Stalking you throughout the level until you open the locked door, not even escaping into Subspace can ward off this invincible fiend, rendering it the game's most nefarious challenge. (Perhaps this is also why Super Mario Bros. 2 had the strongest boss fights up until New Super Mario Bros. Wii; most boss fights in classic 2D Mario felt like after-thoughts in service of the fortress levels, not in themselves)
All delightfully terrifying within the context of Koji Kondo's light-hearted score, which yet again takes over our ears and imprints itself into our brains. True, some may consider its efforts diminished considering most of the score wasn't designed for a Mario game -- only the title theme, the Super Star reprise and Subspace's take on the classic Mario theme are exclusive to this version -- but I celebrate it for that very reason, for it speaks to Kondo's talent that it fits so perfectly into an actual entry, as we observe the infectious bouncy romp that is the Overworld Theme. Even with him admitting here the music would've been much different had Doki Doki Panic been designed as an actual Mario game, with this being his next side-scrolling game after Super Mario Bros., I can't help but wonder if Kondo used the same "rhythmic control" philosophy in spite of the different mechanics.
Perhaps the proof lies within the ragtime ditty that is the character select theme, which features a similar level of optimism inspiring me to simply move the cursor about, purposefully delaying my selection. Such moments are emblematic in the power of game music -- where we linger even on screens featuring little to no interactivity, just so we can lap up as much of that aural, joyous bliss as possible. Not that the character select screen is complemented with the perfect marriage of stunning atmosphere -- not that NES games are host to such reveries, with only the ambience of Kirby's Adventure's arena matches coming to mind -- but it serves as such an impeccable, uplifting segue that I can hardly imagine Super Mario Bros. 2 without it.
Of course, that doesn't mean everything has to be so light-hearted -- while the cave theme is more active than the famously hollow underground theme from the first game, the rhythmic, elaborate percussion is dreadful enough to linger with us (on a related note, said percussion may give this game's version a slighter edge over the famous original). The boss theme, too, is a simple, addictive loop, although its true potential wouldn't be unleashed until its All-Stars renovation.
Super Mario Bros. 2's triumphs only go so far: again, to claim its pull-and-throw methods of play are enough to compete with true Mario's calculated grit would be a farce -- entertaining as its experiments are, experimentation in itself is but one of the many building blocks in the momentum-based Olympics of Super Mario Bros., Super Mario Bros. 3 and Super Mario World, all three of which remain the apex of retro 2D platforming. Indeed, it may not play like Mario, but that it renders itself as accessible as one means it may as well be a member of the family. For a game that started out as a reskin, it's nothing less than a miracle it ended up playing solidly as it did -- that the original version was something as blatant as a media tie-in proves how seriously Nintendo took development even in its earliest days.
Again, however, its bizarre origins were for the best. Look no further than one of the NES's most famous graphical achievements in the game's ending, wherein a fully-animated Mario briefly wakes from his dream that was his latest adventure before slipping back into slumber. Our intense labor in completion perhaps inclines us to believe it was no simple fantasy, but at the very least, they are not Lost Levels forgotten by time.
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