For nearly three decades, it has been gaming’s most ruthless foe: the blue shell.
First introduced in 1996’s Mario Kart 64, I’d wager that the dreaded homing missile has been the cause of more broken controllers than every FromSoftware game combined. It’s an agent of chaos whose sole goal is to screw over whoever is in first place at the precise wrong moment, whether that’s when driving over a gap or inches ahead of the finish line.
Like a slasher villain, the Blue Shell came back for blood in Mario Kart World, but it is no longer the Mushroom Kingdom’s greatest nightmare. That honor now belongs to another long-standing menace that has only grown more powerful in a 24-player world: the dastardly lightning bolt.
A series mainstay dating back to the SNES era, lightning has always been one of Mario Kart’s most annoying items. Upon activation, bolts strike every player in front of the racer who unleashed it. Everyone afflicted is stunned and shrunk for a few seconds, giving those at the back of the pack a way to move up a few places. Mario Kart World doesn’t necessarily change anything about how the storm works; if anything, it may even nerf its power just a bit. But something about it feels particularly aggressive in World’s more chaotic races, especially in the shell or be shelled nature of Knockout Tour.
With 24 players on the field, lightning strikes feel much more common this time around. I find myself shrunken multiple times a race nowadays. It always seems to happen at the worst possible time too, because there’s no good moment to lose momentum in World. With a greater emphasis on trick chaining that encourages players to seek out risky shortcuts, a lightning bolt will inevitably hit in the middle of a death-defying wall run or while I’m partway through boosting across a patch of grass. It is an unrelenting force of nature that cares not for how cool I look; it is only concerned with hurting me.
It’s a similar pain to getting nailed by a Blue Shell, but something feels worse. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s actually quite possible to avoid the Blue Shell entirely in Mario Kart World. There are several ways to counter it, whether by holding on to a Super Horn or strategically rewinding. Since the menace loves to telegraph its arrival well before striking, the first-place player has plenty of time to act. That’s not the case with lightning. It will not warn you that it is coming. It knows no mercy. One second, you’re soaring through Rainbow Road, the next you’re plummeting 65,000 feet like a meteor headed straight for Moo Moo Meadows. The only way to avoid it is by accident.
That inevitability feels painful, but I find the collective punishment of it just as gutting. It’s one thing to get struck while in the lead. Frankly, that’s a risk that comes with wearing the crown and any good racer can work their way back in no time. The lightning bolt has no political compass. It is not trying to even the playing field for the 99%. It wants everyone to suffer. In 23rd place struggling to keep up? That’s life, kid. Sell your Li’l Dumpy and get a job at the Yoshi drive-thru slinging roadside sushi to penguins. The Blue Shell could never dream of being so uncaring.
Though I now see lightning in my dreams after over 50 hours of playtime, there is still a small comfort in it compared to the Blue Shell. When it strikes, I know that I’m not alone. Everyone ahead of me is in the same boat, struggling to pick up the mushrooms and get moving again. We’re going nowhere together, which makes the moment where I begin to see everyone spring back to full size a bit heartening. Maybe there’s hope that we can all get back on track once we’ve weathered the storm.
Lightning is a setback, but a setback doesn’t have to be the end. You put the pedal back to the metal and keep on truckin’ – at least until you get nailed by a Bullet Bill. Who is running the Mushroom Kingdom’s sports Safety Commission anyways?
