1. The Impossibility of the Internet

I did not think I would ever play Mother 3, but I did. The window for a real release by Nintendo had come and gone several years ago and every time I checked on the fan translation efforts, they were either mired in drama or seemed hopelessly far away from completion. I had made my peace with it, was content simply to imagine what it might be– the way I had a fever dream once when I was a little kid about playing Super Mario Bros. 3 years before it was released, with mutated Tryclydes and Shyguys that would chase you through mazes.

But — all things are possible given the Internet and enough time, and so I’ve played Mother 3. I am curiously happy about this, the same way I would be if I ever got to experience zero gravity. There are some things you simply don’t expect to ever do.

This is not a review of Mother 3. If you would enjoy playing it, you probably already have by now. But if you do need a review, here it is: it is superior to Earthbound in every way except one (the ending). If you ever liked playing Earthbound, you should play Mother 3. If you don’t — it may be worth a shot, even then. The only other thing I can say is that if you haven’t played it yet, then stop right now.

This is instead a reaction, a reasoning in four parts why I think Mother 3 deserves more than simply being played — it deserves to be remembered. And so it only really will make sense if you’ve already experienced the game.

2. The Essential Darkness of the Tale

Earthbound is well-known because of its childlike simplicity; Ness and his friends go out into a strange world, come to terms with it, master it, and ultimately save it. It is an additive tale, with clear signposts indicating progression — the simplest of these being the names of the towns Ness discovers: Onett, Twoson, Threed, Fourside.

Mother 3 is its reverse. It is centered in one place, Tazmily Village, and though there is some exploration, Mother 3 is primarily concerned with time. In the first chapter of the story, Lucas witnesses his mother being slain by creatures he had been told were harmless and friendly, and then his twin brother disappears, clearly intent on revenge. His father, his only remaining family member, is distant and undirected, unable to deal with what has happened. Ness’s family was distant, too — his mom stayed behind and his father was only a voice on the telephone — but they were always available and supportive, only kept themselves hidden so that Ness had space to grow.

The remaining seven chapters of Mother 3‘s story are an attempt to find a resolution to this tragedy, to heal Lucas’s family. Because of this, the story’s center remains in one place throughout the game: Tazmily, Lucas’s hometown. But of course video games can’t really be directly about coming to terms with emotional trauma — how can they? What strategies are there to apply, what reflexes can you draw on? — so there is a story involving Good and Evil, a Chase For MacGuffins, Levelling Up, and everything else you’d expect from an RPG. But as Lucas and his friends become stronger, a curious thing happens: each time they return to Tazmily, it becomes worse.

One of the most terrifying parts of the game is the start of chapter 4. Tazmily has become cheerily modern, with train stations, stores to buy items in, even televisions — er, Happy Boxes to be entertained by. It is breathtaking how easily the Tazmily villagers trade away their simple, communal life for something immensely more complex. They change everything without giving a single thought as to its cost or even whether their lives become better as a result; they do it only because they’re told to. What’s scary is how believable this is.

How often have you changed your life simply because you had been told to? How many of the things you possess actually make your life better instead of busier?

My own answers to these questions were not as comforting as I would have liked. That Mother 3 raises them at all makes it a darker story — but more importantly, a grown-up one.

3. The Questions We Choose To Leave Unanswered

I wonder who invented the plot hole, and how long ago they thought of it. It used to be that finding them was a sort of naughty endeavor, requiring equally strong senses of disbelief and logic. But now they’re more or less a hobby, something to casually catalog — take a look at the Goofs section on any IMDB movie listing, particularly those that nerds gravitate towards, like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. And as a result, the Plot Hole’s cousin, the Unresolved Question, has become even more elusive and unappreciated.

Mother 3 is rife with unresolved questions, and fascinatingly, they are almost entirely concerned with its villains. Why does Locria choose to turn on his fellow Magypsies, become Fassad, and try to destroy the world he’s been entrusted to protect? The Magypsies as a group are bon vivants, content with finding joy in the present. When Lucas pulls each needle from the earth and ends the existence of its corresponding Magypsy, they never try to stop him. On the contrary, they go to great lengths to reassure Lucas that their death is necessary, and they’re pleased with the lives they’ve lived.

Why does Locria become selfish? The best explanation I can find is that he became impatient with life with the Magypsies, wanted to die and saw the quickest way to do that. But I know there are other explanations.

Likewise, there are no good answers to why Porky seems to have obsessively collected every possible souvenir from the events of Earthbound — a game that tells the story of how he was defeated. Why does he idolize Ness in particular? It’s true that they began as friends, but it’s also clear that Porky never was a real friend to Ness. I wonder if he missed the days of being a child — a stupid, greedy, nasty one, but a real child nonetheless — before he became a monster.

Finally — how did Claus, Lucas’s twin brother, become brainwashed by Porky into becoming the Masked Man? Claus wanted revenge on the Dragos for killing his mother. His goals had nothing to do with Porky’s. No one explains what happened. My guess is that Porky offered Claus what he wanted most: power. After watching his mother die, he never wanted to feel helpless again. That was opening enough for Porky to control his mind.

I write these explanations not really to state the case for a definitive interpretation, but to illustrate how these questions allow people to have deeper conversations about Mother 3 than “How did you beat the Barrier Trio?” and “Were you able to get the hang of the rhythm battle system?” It also means you can return to the game and find new territory.

4. Replayability Is More Than Economics

When people talk about replay value, it’s usually about parts of games that can be repeated over and over again but are still pleasurable. Something about leading cops on long chases in Grand Theft Auto makes it in an innately replayable experience. But very rarely do people talk about re-experiencing a story when they discuss video games, and really – as well-engineered as the game mechanics are — the story is the only reason to replay Mother 3.

I don’t usually replay games very often, and when I do, it’s more to remember a period of time rather than the experience. I bought Adventure Island for my Wii so that I could remember going over to my friend Paul’s house to play it with him for hours at a time, bonding over bizarre pixellated fruit and skateboarding fat men. I want to replay the first Silent Hill someday soon so that I can remember trading theories with Joel on what was going on — we were playing simultaneously but separately, so each day brought new evidence to either support or contradict our theories. (Naturally, we were both ultimately wrong.)

I don’t have a corresponding experience for Mother 3; I played it alone, mostly in the dark in front of a TV after work. But the story remains with me. Someday — not tomorrow, perhaps not even next month — I know I’ll want to come back to it.

How many games can you say that about?