Interview Archives: Luigi & Crash Bandicoot
A couple of interviews I somehow landed years ago.
Hey, Skitchers! I was recently reflecting on my career in bullshit, and thought about a series of interview pieces I conducted years ago that I remain especially proud of, and thought I’d republish them here.
Below are the first two entries in a weekly series that found me continuously disappointed and shocked with how my childhood heroes turned out. Enjoy, and stay tuned for more in the future.
(Also, for what it’s worth, this was written before someone named Luigi famously killed a guy!)
Luigi: The Interview
I haven’t slept in three days. I’m on my way to meet Luigi, the idol of my childhood. Sure, Mario was the flagship character and probably the one person most associated with gaming, but for me, and I suspect many younger brothers of the world, our bond was formed with Luigi. Where most people looked at us and saw a palette swap, Luigi was there to prove that younger siblings are more than just uninspired sequels. He was the one we looked up to. He was the one we wanted to be. He was the one I’ve been up all night sick about meeting.
I raced across town to meet the man that had given me confidence in my youth, arriving 15 minutes early to the Bob Evans Luigi had asked to meet at.
To my surprise, there was Luigi already seated in a booth. My childhood hero had his face laid on the table, and he was sobbing. There was a stack of extra napkins on the table that’d been left by the waitress the last time she checked on him.
My initial reaction was that Luigi perhaps had received some bad news that day, or possibly wasn’t feeling well, and had decided to fulfill his media obligations anyway, displaying the professionalism I’d long hoped my hero would have.
Nothing could be further from the truth, however, as I quickly learned Luigi is just a huge mess, man. Really struggling.
I did my best.
Mark: Hey Luigi, thank you so much for meeting me. I’m really thrilled to get to speak with you today.
Luigi: I’m-a so scared, I think I am-a going to die.
Mark: Oh no, is everything okay?
Luigi: Eh, this is how I generally-a feel. So yes and-a no.
Mark: I see. Well just the same, thank you for meeting me.
Luigi: No problem. Let’s-a try to eat and maybe we’ll feel better.
Just then a car drove by the diner and honked its horn, prompting Luigi to scream “I’m-a gonna die!”
After awkwardly convincing the other patrons it was a bizarre joke, I attempted to resume the interview.
Mark: Does that happen a lot?
Luigi: Does what happen a lot?
Mark: Do you get scared and scream “I’m gonna die,” when you hear a car horn, even while you’re indoors?
Luigi: Oh, yeah. That happens a lot.
Mark: What do you think is going to make you die?
Luigi: Oh, it’s a general sense of dread that I feel. I don’t have a hyper specific scenario in mind. It’s just a feeling, like being hungry, or falling in love. I just-a feel like I’m-a gonna die all the time. Mamma mia! Oh no!
Mark: This surprises me, and I’m sure it would surprise a lot of your fans. We’ve all seen you do some pretty brave things. You’ve been fighting Smash for years, you participated in all kinds of sports.
Luigi: That sounds scary!
Mark: No, listen, I’ve seen you do these things.
Luigi: Mamma mia!
Mark: Luigi, I am telling you, I can think of a dozen things I’ve seen you do that are scarier than a car horn. Do you understand why this would be confusing for me?
Luigi: I understand. Really, I do. And I think the answer is simple. When Mario is around, I feel less scared of everything. He is my big brother, my best friend, and the only one that makes this big cold world any less scary. I know that we’re practically the same person on a lot of levels, but he’s so much more brave than me. Than anybody. I love Mario. He makes it-a okay.
Mark: You say this, but I’ve seen some pretty gnarly footage of Mario hitting you with shells and stuff.
Luigi: He just-a do that to make me-a tougher. Like a good brother. He explained this to me.
Mark: I suppose that makes a bit of sense. Thanks for sharing that with me Luigi, I think people will really enjoy reading what you said about your brother.
Luigi: Sure. Say, can I ask-a you something?
Mark: Sure, Luigi. Anything.
Luigi: Do you think I’m-a gonna die today?
Mark: What? No! Why would you think that?
Luigi: Just-a something in my bones, I guess.
Mark: That says you’re gonna die today?
Luigi: That’s right.
Mark: And it feels pretty serious?
Luigi: Oh yeah, big time.
Mark: How did you feel yesterday? And the day before that?
Luigi: The same. Exact same. Every day, always the same-a.
Mark: And?
Luigi: I did not die.
Mark: Do you see what I’m getting at?
Just then the waitress approached our table, dropping off some more napkins and checking to see if we were ready to order. I was. I’d hoped Luigi was, too. He had been looking at the menu as we chatted, but as soon as the server introduced herself, Luigi was under the table, sobbing, and calling me a liar. I hopped down there to try and comfort him.
Luigi: You said I wasn’t going to die!
Mark: You didn’t die! That woman just wanted to take your order!
Luigi: Wah! Leave me alone down here!
Mark: Sure thing, Luigi. I can give you a minute. I’m gonna be up above the table if you want to join me, okay?
Luigi: Okay.
Occasionally Luigi would try to conquer his crying, the noises coming from beneath the table shifting from open mouth wails to forced breathing through gritted teeth. The more he tried to calm down, the more upset he got. He started making those short, stabby breaths that kids do when they’re crying. One guy walked up to my table and asked if that was Luigi I was talking to down there. I lied and said it was my son currently crying under the table and begging to go home. It was the quickest excuse I could think of. The guy looked at me like he didn’t believe me. He had probably seen Luigi’s mustache.
What was I supposed to do? Luigi made this big stink about meeting me at this diner, because he didn’t want anyone to know where he lives “no matter what happens.” We hadn’t even gotten our drinks yet and he was pleading with me to take him home.
I tell him I just have to use the restroom and that I will take him home after that. It’s a lie. Instead, I scramble home to write up what I believe to be the interview of a lifetime. At this point, I’ve been scared for weeks that I would meet Luigi and not be able to turn it into a decent article, tossing and turning at night because of my doubts.
The night I left Luigi under the table at Bob Evans, crying and frantically checking his pulse, I slept better than I had in months.
Crash Bandicoot: The Interview
I don’t know what I expected Crash Bandicoot to be like in real life, but it wasn’t this. To start, he’s 40 minutes late to meet me at the diner he chose. That part’s not so weird. One time Ms. Pac-Man left me waiting in a hotel lobby for three hours while she decided what bow to put in her hair. No, what’s strange is when the star of over 20 Crash Bandicoot games blames car trouble for his tardiness, even though I watched him spin his way into the parking lot like the Tasmanian Devil. He keeps stepping outside for cigarettes the entire time we’re together. He stops the waitress four different times to ask her if he can get an apple, even though she’s told him they have none. He’s just a little off.
Still, although he was grumpier than I would’ve liked, and the conversation ultimately took an unfortunate turn, it still was truly a remarkable experience, sitting and chatting with an icon of my childhood.
In between cigarettes, that is.
(Note: Excerpts of the following interview have been edited for clarity, and I took out a lot of the apple stuff.)
Crash Bandicoot (returning from outside): Hey, sorry about that. This would be so much easier for the both of us if we could still smoke in diners, you know?
Mark: Yeah, you’re right. It’s no problem. I’m glad you’re here. Thanks for doing this.
Crash Bandicoot: No problem. Let me see one of those menus, okay? You’re paying, right? You said you’d cover?
Mark: I don’t think we said, but sure. I can grab lunch.
Crash Bandicoot: Breakfast. It’s breakfast for me. I just woke up.
Mark: It’s 3:00 PM.
Crash Bandicoot: Yeah, but I’m a bandicoot.
Mark: Oh, sure. That’s right.
Crash Bandicoot: If I wasn’t famous, I’d be sleeping in a nest with my boys all day.
Mark: Aww.
Crash Bandicoot: But also without Hollywood doctors I would’ve died like 20 years ago.
Mark: Damn!
Crash Bandicoot: Yeah, it’s crazy. A lot of people criticized me and said I “went Hollywood” when I moved out here, but Bandicoots generally only live two to four years on their own, so you know. On the plus side, that backlash all sort of died down as everyone back home, uh, died down. Hey you think they’d bring me an apple if I asked? Where’s the lady?
Mark: They might.
Crash: Apple! Someone! An apple!
Mark: Hey, sit down, Crash.
Crash Bandicoot: You think I’m being rude, huh? You just don’t know what it’s like for a big ass bandicoot. It’s really fucking hard, man. You think I like wearing jean shorts? I hate these things. I just need to make myself look like a little bit of a dork so no one’s scared of me. My first game was almost rated M for that reason, you know? On account of children being scared of actual bandicoots. Which is insane, by the way. There’s no reason for a child to be afraid of bandicoots, unless that child smells like earthworms. Then they’re in trouble. I’ll give you that.
The interview carried on in bursts, in between Crash’s frequent visits to the bathroom and trips outside to smoke another Marlboro. A lot of the exchanges were difficult to transcribe, bordering on impossible, due to the erratic nature of Crash. He would shout at people who recognized him, insisting he wasn’t Crash Bandicoot. For some reason, everything made him ornery. Every interaction, every topic.
I asked him if he followed sports and he yelled that they were all rigged. I asked him if he’d been enjoying the weather, he slammed his fists on the table and said it was all rigged. Try as I might, I couldn’t help the situation.
I lost my patience once he wandered into the diner’s kitchen and demanded the staff tell him how “everything works back here.”
Mark: I wish you wouldn’t keep fucking around like that.
Crash Bandicoot (returning to his seat): Yeah, and I wish they still made Crash Bandicoot games!
Mark: Didn’t Crash Bandicoot 4 come out a few years ago?
Crash Bandicoot: Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Cool!
Mark: So what are you so upset about? What is it that has you so agitated?
Crash Bandicoot: Do you mean, like, politically?
Mark: Not necessarily. Could be jungle shit or whatever. Relationships. Whatever’s bothering you.
Crash Bandicoot: I feel like you’re trying to take this down a political path, and I really don’t know if that’s the best thing to do here.
Mark: No, I don’t want this to get political at all. Really.
Crash Bandicoot: Look, I’m supporting Ron DeSantis1. I know it’ll surprise some of my fans, but I just think he’s the guy for the moment.
Mark: This is not at all what I wanted to talk about, Crash.
Crash Bandicoot: The woke mind virus was the real pandemic.
Mark: Oh geez. Okay Crash, is this why you called me? To get some talking points out? I used to love playing your games, man. What happened to you?
Crash Bandicoot: I started watching some really good things on my phone. Some really, really powerful things.
Mark: I don’t know what to say. Can we change gears here? Hey, was it fun making that Crash Team Racing game? Or was it pretty intense?
Crash Bandicoot: I’m starting a streaming service with Kevin Sorbo and James Woods. We’re working on a sketch comedy show where they dress up like girls and I poop in their safe space. Most of the sketches are some variation on that. It’s called America+. And the sketch comedy show is called Triggered, but I wanted to call it Crashing the Party.
Mark: I don’t think that sounds very good, man.
Crash Bandicoot: Hey, that’s fine. We knew this would offend a lot of people.
Mark: No, I’m not offended. It just sounds really bad.
Crash Bandicoot: Oh, I gotcha. Hey, I’m gonna go have another cigarette.
And with that, Crash spun away, the same as he arrived. I’d technically received answers to most of my questions, but the interview hardly felt like a success. It’s true what they say: never meet your heroes.
And if you must, do your best not to get stuck with the bill after they heavily damage a public bathroom.
This was when this was something people would say.