I'LL MAKE IT RAIN
What a rotten start I’ve had with the 3D Super Mario games. Every time I pick one up, it manages to sour my mood. That feels almost tragic, because these games radiate playfulness, humor, and creativity on the surface—yet I consistently walk away more irritated than when I began. Super Mario Sunshine does an even worse job than its predecessor, Super Mario 64. While Mario 64 at least had the excuse of being a blueprint—Nintendo’s first, genre-defining step into 3D platforming—Sunshine feels like a regression. It drains all life from the very idea of sunshine and replaces it with dark clouds.
The tropical setting only makes the crash landing harder. Nintendo seemingly learned very little from their previous attempt. Most of us, myself included, can appreciate the cheerful presentation: blue skies, white beaches, crystal-clear water, calypso music, hula-dancing Delfinians. It should feel carefree. Instead, every smile feels forced.
On Isle Delfino, even the enemies are cute. The island itself is shaped like a dolphin, and its levels are a series of playgrounds—beaches, piers, coral reefs, villages, cliffs—connected through Plaza Delfino, a central hub full of hidden activities. Structurally, it mirrors Mario 64: collect a set number of collectibles—this time Shines instead of Stars. But Sunshine adds a story-gated progression system. Each world contains eight episodes, and you must complete the first seven in sequence to advance. Optional Shines are largely irrelevant unless you’re aiming for 100%.
And the story? It’s complete nonsense. Princess Peach, Mario, and the Toads arrive for a vacation and immediately discover the island coated in toxic goo. The culprit is a mysterious criminal identical to Mario, except pitch-black—naturally dubbed Shadow Mario. The locals promptly arrest Mario and sentence him to… community service. He must clean up the island.
The ingredients for a great game are all here. The central mechanic, F.L.U.D.D.—a sentient water cannon strapped to Mario’s back—allows you to clean goo, attack enemies, and briefly hover through the air using wonderfully simulated water physics. On paper, it’s inspired. Everything is in place.
The problems begin the moment Mario starts moving.
Mario accelerates aggressively and slides to a stop like a cartoon character on ice. That alone isn’t a flaw—if the level design supports it. But Sunshine does the opposite. Instead of building wide, flowing spaces that reward momentum, it constantly demands precision platforming: narrow beams, tiny platforms, tightropes suspended over death pits. Enemies frequently spawn out of nowhere, knocking you into oblivion and erasing minutes of progress.
When that happens, all joy evaporates. The game practically begs you to blame yourself, yet so often it feels like you were set up to fail. During this playthrough, I once booted the game and muttered “Fuck” within three seconds. My brother witnessed it. His laughter was, genuinely, the most enjoyment I got out of Super Mario Sunshine.
I’ve always struggled with 3D platformers—the unreliable depth perception, the constantly shifting camera—but Sunshine is among the genre’s worst offenders. It does almost nothing to support spatial awareness. The camera regularly obstructs your view, clips into walls, or forces awkward angles that sabotage otherwise simple jumps.
And it doesn’t stop there. Outside the platforming-heavy sections, Sunshine throws wildly different gameplay styles at you: boss fights, puzzles, chase sequences, rail-shooter levels, races. The difficulty swings violently from trivial to brutal with no sense of progression. Some of the hardest challenges appear absurdly early, while later levels can be cleared in seconds. Victories feel arbitrary; deaths feel unjustified.
Several worlds are especially egregious. The hotel and casino chain relies on vague, old-school puzzle logic. The village beset by Chain Chomps and lava offers almost no direction. Every world includes at least one infamous “FLUDD-less” section—rotating blocks, vanishing platforms, moving cubes suspended over nothing. One mistake means instant death, and removing your primary movement tool only magnifies the game’s worst traits.
This could have worked—if the controls were immaculate. They aren’t. Mario sways unpredictably, the camera frequently betrays you, and the lack of proper tutorials makes certain techniques feel mandatory yet unreliable. The Delfino Plaza hub does allow for practice, and advanced moves like the backflip are clearly expected. But the stick-and-button combinations, especially those tied to camera orientation, are wildly inconsistent.
Adding insult to injury, losing a life ejects you from the stage entirely. Back to Plaza Delfino. Lose your last life in a FLUDD-less section and you must re-enter the world and physically travel back to that stage-within-a-stage again. This becomes unbearable when the game glitches—which it does. I lost multiple lives to the final boss simply by falling through the floor.
Not everything is terrible. The boss fights are generally solid, making good use of FLUDD and Mario’s movement. They’re better telegraphed, more forgiving, and often clever. A few characters are genuinely funny—Il Piantissimo insulting me as a “flab-biscuit” still makes me smile. Chasing Shadow Mario is harmless fun, though paradoxically far too easy.
But Sunshine never finds balance. Not between hard and easy. Not between fair and unfair. The relentlessly cheerful presentation feels like it’s being forced upon you to distract from how aggravating the experience actually is. The game feels rushed, under-tested, and uneven. I disliked most of my time with it, and the few bright spots merely stopped me from ejecting the game card into the trash.
There is a silver lining. The final entry in the Super Mario 3D All-Stars collection—Super Mario Galaxy—has already restored my faith. Mario finally controls like a dream. The creativity feels purposeful. The levels are built for his movement, not against it.
Isn’t it ironic that Mario had to leave sunshine behind and venture into the cold vacuum of space to rediscover joy—and straightforward movement?
Comments
Post a Comment