The Adjustments Of Super Mario Galaxy

Life is a series of adjustments. Forging a path through the discomfort of new experiences and, rather than letting our past remain idealized in our minds as a potential place to come back to use as proof, that we can still be what we’ve always wanted to become. Hopefully rather than deleting a portion of life where we felt some of our best feelings, we’re able to remind ourselves that we lived, we thrived, we cherished, and we will be able to survive. Mementos, gifts, memories all looked back upon with a comforting if still conflicting fondness. None of this is easy and takes time, pain, and community. It is a new journey in and of itself.

Upon booting up Super Mario Galaxy we are greeted with Mario hurtling towards the screen behind a starry skied backdrop. The music a triumphant fanfare of returning adventure suddenly shifts to a melancholic piano progression of solemnity and hope in equal measure. The narrative stakes quickly set up. (Wait, narrative stakes in a Mario game?) Mario makes his way to Peach’s Castle on the night of the comet festival after receiving a familiar message from the queen of the Mushroom Kingdom. As Mario runs through the streets, castle in the distance, the Toads of the Kingdom line the streets, as star bits cascade towards the earth. The beautiful star-shaped currency that helps power the upcoming adventure. 

Suddenly the festive atmosphere and music takes a turn. Asteroids from an airship invasion begin raining down on the once joyous occasion turned horrifically grim. Some of the toads now encased in ice as Mario makes his way to the castle. 

Who would’ve guessed it? Bowser was behind the whole thing! The grandiose spectacle crescendos even further along with the score as Peach’s Castle is violently ripped from the ground by Bowser’s machines. As he escapes into a wormhole Mario grasping on with all his strength he is thwarted by Kamek as he unleashes a yell of desperation in what can only be described as Charles Martinet’s singular best moment as his voice actor, as he is thrust into the abyss of space.

As Mario is woken up by a strange looking Star creature. The camera pans back to show his location in relation to his home, his place in this unfamiliar galaxy so small and insignificant. As he is introduced to an enigmatic intergalactic Princess, Rosalina and her comet observatory. Populated by her and her children of the stars, Lumas.

It’s the balance of maximalism and minimalism that sticks with, I think it’s fair to say, pretty much every Super Mario Galaxy player. The soundtrack is often orchestrally boisterous, lending so much gravity to Mario’s journey, this is more of an epic quest than it is a checklist of varied objectives to complete in order to save the Princess. The enthusiasm with which its score often compels the player to move forward, to make the most of this emotionally charged but fulfilling journey is unlike anything I’ve since experienced in the medium of gaming. Boss battles have extra oomph to them, they don’t just feel like familiar Mario bosses these are interstellar extraterrestrial threats the likes of which Mario has never seen in his home-world.

But interspersed between the extravagant gallantry are moments of relative silence. The Space Junk Galaxy trades fully orchestrated bombast with fragmented infinity. As you jump along the remnants of planets, stars, spaceships, and the like, there’s a nostalgic feeling of possibility. These bits and pieces of previous lives are all that remains, yet they’re still proof of life. Of hope, even amongst the rubble.

Nothing exemplifies the minimalist heart and soul of Super Mario Galaxy quite like Rosalina and the sense of place and history her observatory carries with it. A fully fleshed out character in her own right, if you find the time to stumble upon her library she is often in there reading to the denizens of the observatory. A personal story about a girl who lost her mom and finding a family amongst the stars. The stage of intense grieving and suffering: “I want to go home! I want to go back to my home by the hill! I want to see my mother. But I know she’s not there.” 

Most treks back to the observatory is an adjustment. A quiet meditation after a long period of immense satisfaction. Just as Mario had to adjust to a brand new way of tackling objectives and is reminded of his home, just as Rosalina had to adjust to a new life beyond her beloved mother. We all have to adjust, throughout our lives, on many different scales. And it’s in the construction of the Comet Observatory that Rosalina’s acceptance of her place and future come into focus.

Each area in which you are hoisted into space towards your next micro-adventure, is a snapshot of domesticity. A terrace, a kitchen, a bedroom. Constructed to help her survive the loss, the time to move forward without forgetting to healthily look back every now and again. Proving to herself that she has a purpose beyond her home, her mother. It’s hard not to imagine Rosalina’s Observatory exists to comfort and guide other lost wanderers to guide them in their journey, as the stars did in hers. And it is when you reach the highest point of the observatory toward the end of the game that you come face to face with her memento, preserved in accuracy is a garden. No music, just the ambience of wind, birds chirping, silence. A snapshot of her former life before finding meaning in her new one. She doesn’t resent it, she doesn’t need it in its complete form. She just, remembers it.

In the comprehensively epic and emotional conclusion, Mario wakes back up on grass, just as he did at the beginning on an uncharted world. Only this time he is back home, Peach waking up nearby. As Mario looks back up in the sky towards the comet observatory, he triumphantly shouts “Welcome! Welcome new galaxy!” As it fades to black and the credits begin to roll.

I always wondered what that meant. Could it be the promise of a sequel from Nintendo? Could it be Mario being Mario?

He cherished his time amongst the stars, with his new family of Lumas and Rosalina as their matriarch. Coming back to the Mushroom Kingdom should be completely elating, right? Maybe it’s not always easy to come back. Things are going to be different now of course after a shattering ordeal like that. Rosalina will have to learn how to adjust again. For a different reason. He welcomes and accepts the new future with which he will be leading. He will learn again too. Just as he always does. Even if this time, it’s a bit harder and different than last time.

And you will eventually come thank the person, universe, yourself, probably all of the above, for that opportunity. It’s hard right now. You will swing back and forth between the stages of grief, between the wistful longing of yesterday and the hopeful and cautious optimism of tomorrow. You will adjust, and everything you have from that previous portion of your life will become that more fondly cherished. Even if, in the immediate aftermath, it is wholly difficult to believe. I know I will get there, myself, some day not too far away.