March 9, 2022
This is what I typed into the Google search bar on a crisp fall day in 2020. Immediately, the Google autocorrect feature assumed that I was asking the entire internet the existential question we have all asked ourselves at least once – can I be happy alone? Immediately, Google showed me suicide helplines I could call in case I was thinking about doing the unthinkable. But in reality, the search was brought about by a video game. You see, I wanted to play Super Mario Odyssey on my adorable Nintendo switch – the one with the neon pink and green controllers I was so proud of when I bought them. Most peculiarly though, I did not want to play the game as the hero – our favorite short plumber, rescuer of pretty princesses in pink, bopper of Goombas and defeater of Bowser – Mario, himself. I wanted to play as the sidekick in the game – the whimsical, spinning cap that Mario tosses to give him leverage over the enemy. I would like to say that Cappy is to Mario as Robin is to Batman, but that may be giving the cute headpiece with eyeballs too much credit. A more relevant analogy would be: Cappy is to Mario as the webs that come out of Spiderman’s hands are to Spiderman. He’s a fashion accessory that doubles as an accessory to murder of Goombas, Piranha Plants, and bunnies alike. He is what most gamers refer to as “Player 2”. Very quickly after Google realized I was more silly than suicidal, all of the internet informed me of one simple fact: There can’t be a Player 2 without a Player 1.
Side note: Check out this cute video about Mario Odyssey from my favorite YouTube Duo - Girlfriend Reviews.
I started playing video games during the worst year of my life (so far): 2019. That year found me in an emotionally abusive fake-relationship with a cheating, alcoholic, narcissist who made me cry all the time. But honestly, when I ignored all of the qualifiers in the previous sentence, we had a lot of fun. We drank, we went to hockey games, we drank, we went to the pool, we drank, and we played video games while we drank. During this time, I realized that the video game world – the world that had complicated the real-relationship I had been in previously – the filthy, lazy habit that I had always judged as a waste of time and money – was a shit ton of fun! I won’t bore you with the details of the end of my fake- relationship, but one positive thing I took away from that experience was a Nintendo Switch (and all the accessories! And an X-box! And a PS4! And all the accessories for those! Look, I don’t half-ass things).
Enter 2020. Like the rest of you, my world practically stopped turning in March of 2020. I found myself single, living in a studio apartment, skinny as a rail in the throes of disordered eating (not to worry, therapy is a wonderful thing), and suddenly, unable to leave my apartment to even go to work. My office was in my bedroom, my bedroom was in my living room, my living room was in my kitchen, and my dog was in my face. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Most of my friends on social media that have families – husbands, wives, and children – suddenly found themselves trapped in their own homes with people they loved, like an overdose of the greatest drug. Children losing their freaking minds, unable to see their friends or burn enough energy, husbands and wives sharing office space and living without bro/girls nights or any escape from their adorable, sweet, nerve-wracking families. I get it, and I want you to know I sympathize. But I was trapped in another type of environment – I was alone, trapped in my own mind, inside of my small apartment with a dog that never speaks but still manages to sass me relentlessly.
When I wasn’t writing python code for work or running – I played video games. 2020 was the year I finished my first video game in full. I played Fire Emblem: Three Houses from start to finish, and experienced the heartache that comes with finding a nice, blonde JRPG boyfriend named Dimitri, only for him to return in the second-half of the game as a blood-thirsty, vengeful madman with an eye-patch (I ended up marrying that guy in the game and I think the developers deserve an award for most realistic gameplay). My character in that game was a green-haired lady named Rory, who was a level 98 killing machine. I went on to catch all kinds of Pokemon, experienced the time-suck that is Animal Crossing, the cuteness that is Stardew Valley, relived my angsty teen years by playing the Sims 4 on Xbox, caught up with my good friend in the Navy while he taught me to play Halo all the way from 29 Palms in California, and celebrated like an idiot when I conquered a game that I am certain was created for 4-year-olds- Yoshi’s Crafted World. Oh, and I delighted over Shantae the Half-Genie Hero, who shakes her hips and turns into animals (and inspired me to try to dye my hair purple during the shut down).
Now, returning to my Mario Odyssey woes – why was I so hell-bent on playing as Cappy instead of hero Mario? The obvious answer is that it’s funny, because it’s a big hat with eyeballs that doubles as an assassin for a man in overalls.
Sometimes it’s just really nice to be Player 2. It’s nice to be a secondary character. Player 1 gets to call all the shots and be the star, while Player 2 is a helper. Player 2 can sip on a Corona, while Player 1 figures out how to beat the level. And most importantly, being Player 2 means you are by default, not playing alone (as my Google search taught us). You’re part of a team, but not the leader. When I think about it, 2020 was a really great year to want to be Player 2. I am definitely Player 1 in my life and my household – Maudie doesn’t pay her rent, and rarely chips in for groceries unless it’s hotdog night. I am the leader of my household, the caller of the shots, primary decorator, chef, trash remover, handyman, cleaning lady, bread-winner, appointment maker, dog walker and poop scooper. At work, it’s a similar story. I lead my team, I make the final calls, I am the technical expert, I control the client relationship. Being in charge is great. Leaders are empowered, have the ability to empower others, get to deliver good news and plan celebrations, get to watch their teams grow and improve. And being in charge at home means I always eat what I want, I’m surrounded by my favorite colors in my home, and I never have to answer to anyone else for financial decisions. It’s awesome. Being Player 1 can be awesome.
Independence in general is awesome. I have to be honest though. Sometimes it would be nice to have a break. Petty conveniences aside- you know, coming home from a long day of work to have a meal ready for you, or to find that the dog has already been walked, or that the laundry has been folded – sometimes it would be really useful to have someone to help with the big decisions in life. I recently bought a house – and I am so proud of myself for going through that process all by myself and choosing my house, my offer, my furnishings – everything all by myself. There was also a lot of anxiety that came with that – not knowing if I should trust my own instincts, not having another stakeholder to offer up pros/cons/preferences. I know now that I’m living in my dream home and LOVE it, but at the time, I felt very lonely in the process. At the beginning of 2020 – as much as I joked about the situation and tried to make the best of my isolation, I really did experience a lot of fear. All of the what-if’s were hard to handle on my own. What if there is a recession and I lose my job? What if I get sick and can’t get help? What if someone in my family gets sick and I can’t be there? What if? Where is my Cappy to help me boop these Goombas?! Better yet – can I be Cappy and let Mario deal with this shit?!
I guess the big difference between my video game life and my real life is that I’m laughably bad at video games. When I finally gave up on being a Cappy sidekick to a computer-driven Mario in Mario Odyssey, I played the game as Mario. As much fun as that game is, I gave up within the first hour because I got frustrated with losing all of my coins. I’m just bad at it. I can never remember which buttons do what, I have a lack of hand-eye coordination. My only real asset is enthusiasm. I was so much better at being Player 2. The last few years of my non-video game life have been hard (I know they’ve been hard for you too, dear reader) but all the difficulties have allowed me to keep leveling up over and over again. As challenging as it is to be independent, and despite all the anxiety and self-doubt that comes with it, I have learned that I’m skilled enough to be Player 1. I’m Mario.
Cluelessness is the Mother of Invention 