Mario Kart World

Charles, the snob, and Bob, the cynic, are FaceTiming together: Charles is walking down the sunny streets of Thebes, thousands of years ago, after a hearty breakfast in a famous local cafe, using his iPhone 16 Pro Max, while Bob is at home (where else) alone at night, after a couple of strong drinks and doomscrolling on Twitter for an hour (he continues to call it X).

Charles: Surely, you must agree that Mario Kart World is a brilliant evolution of the series, with its interconnected world, robust single-player content, an exciting new mode, a truly divine soundtrack, and

Bob: It’s eighty dollars, who cares? No game should cost that much, and you should be ashamed for supporting greedy companies, Charles. I pride myself on taking a stand. I don’t support these types of shady practices, and if I’ve already bought many battle passes in Fortnite, it’s only because the unlockable skins are cool. We should vote with our wallets, you know, make videogames great again and such. And, man, World doesn’t even come close to being worth eighty bucks. It doesn’t do anything groundbreaking, it’s just more Mario Kart.

Charles: But what’s the value of a dollar? What’s the value of a game? I acquired the bundle here in Thebes where Mario Kart World comes for just fifty, and I used a 5% off cupom and paid with ancient Greek electrum coins, so should my expectations be lower than yours? If the difference between a 70-dollar game and an 80-dollar game amounts to expecting the latter to break new grounds and revolutionize the industry, am I correct to conclude I should expect a 50-dollar game to, what, just function? To be mediocre, at best? Is that how the scale of 10-dollar expectations works, because it does not seem to make much sense to me, Bob. Indies that barely cost twenty would

Bob: Come on, now. This is getting ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself? Stop licking Miyamoto’s boots, man, seriously. Nintendo doesn’t need more fanboys than they already have. It’s the most expensive game they’ve ever made, so, yes, sue me if I expected more. They should have put everything in here, every character, every costume, every track. You can’t even choose all colors for Yoshi anymore, man, which you could very much do in Mario Kart 8 Deluxe. There’s no Black Yoshi in Mario Kart World, Charles. Why didn’t Nintendo put Black Yoshi in Mario Kart World?

Charles: ……

Bob: ……

Charles: But it does have a huge number of characters, including some funny ones. We can now race with a cow, for example. We can race with a dolphin using a bike shaped like a dolphin while the epic jazz lick of Dolphin Shoals plays in the background. I can guarantee it will… dolphinitely bring a smile to your face. It’s perfect.

Bob: It’s an overpriced mess; it’s what it is. You paid eighty whatever coins for a game that doesn’t come entirely in a cartridge, that has the emptiest, most boring open world ever conceived by humankind, totally derivative music, and lots of dull tracks. This is a game where Daisy isn’t even sexy.

Charles: Quoting that mainstream movie you passionately hate for truly perplexing reasons, “Amazing. Every word of what you just said was wrong.”

Bob: I love you, man, you know I really do, but you must admit your taste in games is not the best. You defended Welcome Tour, and that was a glorified manual. You badmouthed my man Joel. You should be locked away in Taste Jail. Look at these stills of Moo Moo Meadows in Mario Kart 8, a game from eleven years ago…

Bob’s voice suddenly falters, as he is momentarily struck by the most horrible thought of all: he’s getting old.

Bob: And… and compare them to the same track in World. Zoom in on the textures, man. Notice the lack of polish in the post-processing effects. Can you see how your game got even uglier? And where’s the sunset on the track? The atmosphere?

Charles: Things are not always what they seem, my friend; the first appearance deceives many. Tracks operate within a day-night cycle now, so you can actually race on Moo Moo Meadows during sunset if that is so meaningful to you, but also during the day or at night. Or in the middle of the rain, because there are also weather effects at play here, and using the lightning item can sometimes bring it down on us. The game became more complex, more unpredictable, more alive. You can be driving one day, exploring the world, doing some missions, and be surprised by a storm of item boxes as they rain down from the sky, or suddenly witness a UFO abducting unsuspecting vehicles and passersby. And this is a beautiful world to look at, too, don’t get me wrong. I dare anyone to experience World’s take on Rainbow Road and not be left speechless, or arrive for the first time in Great Question Block Ruins (outstanding name, really, kudos to the madlad who managed to get it approved) and not be momentarily taken aback by the scenery.

Bob: Aren’t you the one who always gloats about how graphics don’t matter, that you could play the original Majora’s Mask on the N64 right now and still have fun? But now you care?

Charles: Well, a beautiful game is a beautiful game, Bob. But Mario Kart World could have looked egregious, much like Pokémon Scarlet and Violet, and still be great, since the course design here is outstanding: tracks are much more packed with shortcuts and alternate paths than before due to the new mechanics, namely charge jumping, wall riding, and rail grinding. If you press the button to drift without steering, your kart now charges a jump, which you can then use to get to a wall or on top of a rail. These movements are called tricks, and they open, well, a world of possibilities, my friend. Do you know those elements of a track we have been taught to ignore our whole lives, thinking of them as just props in the environment, such as the big chains at the start of Bowser’s Castle or the ropes outside Shy Guy’s Bazaar? These tricks allow us to make them an integral part of the race, so we can now drive on top of those chains and get to a secret path on top of the castle instead of simply driving on the main road below. Most tracks are packed full of opportunities like these to

Bob: Mario Kart is supposed to be easy, Charles. I play a race, I hit people with red shells, I get hit by a blue one, I complain I got robbed, I play one more time, I complain again. It’s that simple. These complicated tricks look nice, I give you that, but what are we doing here, really?

Charles: Art is not supposed to be anything, Bob. There are no premade rules, no paradigms that cannot be changed or supplanted. When you say, “This is not what Mario Kart is supposed to be,” you are putting your favorite series in creative shackles. You are like an overprotective parent limiting where your child can go and what they can do because you think you know what is best for them. Let them be free, my friend. They are going on a different path than you envisioned for them, and that is okay. Different natures ought to have different pursuits.

Bob: Stop with this artsy stuff and go touch grass, Charles. This is Mario Kart we’re talking about here.

Charles: And since you seemingly love the previous one so much, let’s compare the same track in both: Sky-High Sundae. In Mario Kart 8, it had these garish yellow railings in the middle of the road that truly boggled the mind, going against the “form fits function” design philosophy that turns gaming elements intuitive. The tracks’ basic U layout did it no favors either. But look at it now: it is so packed full of possibilities that even with 24 players on the track at the same time, just a few will be driving on the main road. The rest will be hopping on top of the many railings or driving on the sides of the giant popsicles, jumping back to the track, and then again to another wall or cruising through the air after finding a secret gliding ring. In this Sky-High Sundae, my dear friend, your mind remains unboggled.

Bob: Yes, but only insane people will be doing that, Charles. Normal players will just drive on the main roads like they’ve always done. These tricks seem too complicated to engage with. And to make matters worse, the main roads also got much wider now because of the higher player count, turning them much less fun to race on. In Mario Kart 8, they were very tight, which is always better.

Charles: Bob, my dear fellow, I fear you are confusing Mario Kart tracks with other… gratifying activities. Besides, some room to maneuver is always nice.

Bob: Okay, okay. Even if I admit that the main tracks got a lot of love and attention, Mario Kart World still forces us to drive to them instead of on them most of the time. And these intermissions are just boring, man. Straight out filler content. A lot of empty space, lots of straightaways, few twisty turns. I just don’t want to go in a straight line all the time. Curves are much more interesting. Give me some curves, man.

Charles: I… I believe you are indeed confused regarding the subject of this conversation, Bob. But let’s tackle these parts you somewhat derogatorily call “intermissions,” implying they have an accessory nature to the supposed “main events.” First, every house is empty if you disregard all the furniture because you do not like its style. You appear to be refusing to engage with Mario Kart World in its own terms, Bob, trying instead to bend the game to your will, playing it as if it were Mario Kart 8 still. This means you are clearly staying on the main road for as long as you can while trying to drift. Yes, you will then find these intermissions tedious, as you cannot drift in a straight line. You will desire your delicious Persephony curves back, then. It makes sense. But you know what happens in World when you still try to drift in a straight line? You charge your jump, Bob. Can you see now? Are your eyes finally open? The game is telling you to change your perspective, to adapt your racing strategy to a new proposition. Take that big “intermission” where we drive through a homage to San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge. It is your worst nightmare: a fairly big straight line, much like, well, many working bridges tend to be. Granted, if you are on the road, there is a lot of traffic to avoid, item boxes to collect, boost pads to reach, and even some barrels that propel you forward, and Bob-ombs ready to explode on contact. Nintendo almost got you covered. “Almost” because you are still stuck in a depressing, curveless world: you are still pushing your analog stick to move around and avoid or get stuff, yes, but you are not pressing that drift button you love so much. You are bored beyond measure, and all because you feel the need to press that button and hold it for as long as you can.

Bob: And rub it softly in circular motions.

Charles: Yes, if you want to get weird about it. We must go where the argument carries us, as a vessel runs before the wind. So, you are there on the bridge, saddened, in search of curves to attend to your necessity, not geometrical, but another sort of necessity which lovers know, and which is far more convincing and constraining to the mass of mankind, when you decide to look up. And what do you suddenly see? People driving on the top of the Golden Bridge’s enormous rails. And they are smiling as they do a side trick from up there to pass through a gliding ring and fly down to the ground to grab a sequence of boost pads right before jumping right back to the rails. Can you picture those smiles? They are having fun because they are choosing to engage with what the game has to offer, Bob. Yes, it is not as simple and direct as rubbing your button, but sometimes you ought to get creative to spice things up. In another track, for example, you can spot cable-cars passing over a ski lane and drive on top of them, jumping back and forth between the cables to avoid the cars, while the rest of the racers drive much more boringly far below on the ground.

Bob: Telling people they’re “playing it wrong” won’t magically make them enjoy the game, Charles. It just makes them dislike you as well. This is why you don’t have many friends, you know?

Charles: But we are not discussing what people enjoy or not, my friend. We are speaking about a game’s quality, which – and this will surely come as a shock to their ego – is not at all related to their personal experience and taste. It is something related to a game’s structure, to its internal coherence, to the complexity and creativity of its design. For example, these “intermissions” – can you hear the sound of the quotation marks, my friend – even hold some unique set pieces, too: one of my favorite tracks is near Wario Shipyard, which returns heavily modified from Mario Kart 7. For in World, we drive on the water, instead of underwater like before, making our kart automatically transform into something akin to a Jet ski. The first time I was driving there, it was during a storm. I was surrounded by shipwrecks, the sea was already difficult to navigate, and the constant barrage of explosions (caused by Bob-Ombs and Blue Shells) created additional waves that slowed me down each time I failed to jump over them to get a boost. This is when I spotted a massive whirlpool in the water, which began to suck me in after I was hit by a lightning strike. I felt like I was in the middle of the climax of the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie. It was intense. And that was before spotting a giant sea serpent jumping out of the water in the next section.

Bob: Well, people hate these intermissions nonetheless, Charles. When they’re playing online, I even heard they avoid them like the plague – to the point Nintendo had to step in and stop giving them the option.  So, my question to you is much simpler than your usual choice of words: if these intermissions are so great as you say, why do you think that’s happening, huh?

Charles: Because people, my dear fellow, are stupid. Really, the bar is getting lower by the day, to the point I sometimes feel like having opposing thumbs is cheating. The Thebans here are about to side with Xerxes in the invasion of Greece. How well do you think that is going to end for them? And people are generally averse to change, too. They really tend to avoid it like the plague and stick to what they already know, to what they are already comfortable with. These so-called intermissions, for example, are actually so important to Mario Kart World‘s design that they lie at the heart of the series’ most exciting new mode in decades, called Knockout Tour. It is basically Battle Royale in Mario Kart, a mode where you drive continuously from one track to another, which means we are mostly in these “intermissions” – the quotations are screaming, my friend –, and the last positions always get the axe, until there are only four racers left. It’s stress-inducing, yes, but exhilarating, especially when you manage to use a Golden Mushroom to cut through the finish line in the last second, leaving the player who was just about to make it out of the race. I showed one round of Knockout Tour to Aristotle once, and he raised his hands and said, “Absolute Poetics.”

Bob: I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What now? You’re going to defend this game’s sorry excuse for an open world, too? Which is, oh my God, so boring!

Charles: This Free Roam mode is designed for the people who turned off the HUD in Breath of the Wild, Bob. It can be disarming at first, I grant you that: we are too accustomed to opening a map and having several mission markers littering the screen, passing the idea that everywhere we go, we will have something to do. In Mario Kart World, on the other hand, there is not a single mission objective marked on the map. If we want to spot an interesting place to go in the world, we must get to high ground (or use some scattered binoculars) and plan our course, just like the Mayas and Aztecs used to do – or will get to do, I don’t know, I’m in the past. So, what I am saying is that the lack of quest markers and even of quest givers – who are usually there to provide narrative context for the missions – may indeed make Mario Kart’s world feel empty at first glance. We press start, we take control of the kart, and we do not know what to do. Where do we go? There is a whole world out there, and there is no immediate goal at hand, no pressing matters to solve. And we feel we need them, we need the objectives, we need the markers, we need the narrative context, we need a strong dominating woman telling us what to do.

Bob: What?

Charles: What?

Bob: ……

Charles: But see, this is exactly its appeal: exploration is about discovery, it is about experimentation. We spot the tower of Starview Peak stretching up toward the sky, and we wonder, “What if I can get up there?” And then we drive to the observatory that lies there, we study the place, and we plan. On the way, of course, we do several P-Switch missions, which either test our skills or teach us to do the wall jumps and rail grinding you are so afraid of engaging with, Bob. These P-Switches offer simple, quick missions that briefly change the environment, adding bespoke obstacles to it.  Some even have us racing in exclusive renditions of Super Mario Kart tracks. And there are almost four hundred P-Switches in the world – which means calling it empty is a bit of a stretch, you must agree – and even though they visibly follow a certain formula, each one is still unique: one has you jumping over manta rays to get to the goal in time, for example, while the other has you jumping between rails while avoiding a train to get coins, and a third has you flying to a goal while avoiding T-Rexes. And Bob, you say you like tight things, right?

Bob: Yes, please. Go on.

Charles: You will be pleased to know that the time limit of some of these missions is incredibly tight, affording you no room for mistakes.

Bob, the cynic, looks down, disappointed. We can see a single manly tear coming down from his left eye.

Charles: So, we do these missions, and we collect some Peach Medallions on the way too, which are either hidden or positioned in hard-to-reach places, being basically P-Switch Missions without the bespoke obstacles and signs, forcing us to figure out alone how to get to them. And then finally we arrive at Starview Peak. We drive around the course at our own pace, admiring the art direction which we would not in a million years pay attention to during normal races – we visit the library in the bottom floor of the observatory clearly inspired by Mario Galaxy, noticing the exquisite details, such as how the Mario symbols on the glass ceiling are painted as constellations – and then we finally discover how we can get up to the tower. We realize that if we go straight through a specific curve in the track, we will fall directly on that area of the ceiling, where we will find a special panel – each course also has approximately six to find – and a secret pipe that will lead us to the top of the tower, where lots of coins and another P-Switch await our arrival.

Bob: That all sounds great, except for one thing, Charles. What do we get for all the trouble? For these missions, the medallions, the panels, the whole shebang? We unlock characters, costumes, or courses, by any chance, uh?

Charles: No.

Bob: No? Interesting… what do we get for engaging with this open world, then?

Charles: We only get stamps.

Bob: And what do we do with these stamps, my man?

Charles, the snob, is visibly struggling to restrain himself from replying, “Stick them up your ass,” but somehow, he manages it. He must maintain decorum.

Charles: Nothing important. We pick one to represent our profile online and appear on our vehicle, but in a spot where we can barely see it.

Bob: So, in simpler words: boooring.

Charles: That was just one word. But here is the thing: the stickers are just a bonus, because the whole process of reaching the top of Starview Peak was, by itself, quite fulfilling. What you fail to understand, Bob, is the difference between intrinsic and extrinsic rewards in game design. See, you play games for the achievements, Bob, for the dopamine rush of in-game rewards, such as cool unlocks. You play games for the digital prizes. I play games for the joy of it. We are not the same.

Bob: Whatever, man.

Charles: But as I mentioned before, Mario Kart World still has tons of exciting unlocks up its sleeve to cater to your needs, such as bizarre characters and costumes. We can play as Fish Bone or a Coin-Coffer. I bet you do not even know who Fish Bone is, Bob, so I am very glad to introduce you to them: they are a fish and they are made of bones.

Bob: Woke.

Charles: Wha… Why? How? I just… I will pretend this did not happen. As I was saying, the costumes are also great. We can have Waluigi dressed as a vampire called Wampire. We can have King Boo as a Victorian Lord with a monocle. We can… yes, Bob, we can have Daisy wearing a revealing swimsuit, too, Bob.

Bob: Finally. And how do we unlock them?

Charles: Costumes we unlock by eating special food with a character while driving. The Wampire, for example, we unlock by eating popcorn in the Boo Cinema with Waluigi. As for the characters themselves, we need to have someone else use an item that transforms us into them during a race, in specific sections of specific stages, which is indeed hell if we are trying to get someone specific, such as our woke friend, Fish Bone.

Bob: Yeah, so hear me out: wouldn’t it have been better if all these unlocks had been tied to the Open World segment instead?

Charles: Well… I’ll be! Yes, I must concede to you in that. You’ve finally got a fine point, my friend!

Bob: I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I’m always right, Charles, because that’s what happens when you’re not a Last Jedi defender.

Charles: And they call me snob. Well, my friend, I must depart, but we have yet to tackle one of Mario Kart World’s most striking qualities: its music, which is so good it finds a way into the innermost soul and imparts to it the sense of beauty and of deformity. At first, the effect is unconscious; but when reason arrives, then he who has been thus trained welcomes her as the friend whom he always knew. In the clearer words you so enjoy, it’s one banger after another: there are more than ten hours of music here, encompassing the entire history of the Mario franchise, with new renditions for games such as Sunshine, Galaxy, Yoshi’s Story, and even Mario Paint. I know you do not care about this stuff, Bob, but I urge you to still look for World’s rendition of Mario 64’s Dire Dire Docks (that stage with the terrifying eel) because when the main section kicks in, your soul will simply transcend just like that food critic in Ratatouille. Your whole body will just vibe. I promise, it is ridiculous how beautiful it is. It is so good it should pay taxes. That song, and Yoshi’s Tale too, which they turned into bossa-nova, clearly inspired by Astrud Gilberto’s Tristeza, and the result is only the closest humanity will ever get to God.

Bob: That all… sounds great – see, I can do puns too – but tell me something, Charles: you can hear these lovely music tracks very clearly while playing the game, right? Because there’s no way they would have composed such a stellar soundtrack and then made the sounds of your kart engine so high that it completely overtakes most of the music? And Nintendo at least gives you the option to tune the sound mixing to your liking, right, so you can cruise through the open world while listening to these awesome pieces of music and not to your kart’s engine going graaaw graaaw all the time? Right, Charles?

Charles: Well, our physical world is just a shadow of a higher realm of perfect, unchanging forms. Ideas are more perfect than the actual tangible things we touch and experience. We cannot have everything.

Bob: Except Daisy in a swimsuit. We can have that.

Charles: Indeed, my old friend. Indeed.

July 20, 2025.