Late in the night, after closing hours at a nearby bar, my friend Ian stepped through the red door with a double-wrapped plastic bag containing 20 game cartridges, two green controllers, and a precious toy from a bygone era: the Nintendo 64.
And there it was, the object that would be my obsession for the next two straight weeks, Mario Kart 64. How’s the condition, I asked. He explained some common fixes: dry Q-tip to clear out dust, alcohol to clean the computer chips.
“There’s also a tried and true method used by gamers everywhere,” he said. “If all else fails, you can still blow on it.”
POWER ON
A visit to One Stop Coney in Grand Rapids guarantees a whimsical peek into the life of any 90’s kid. All around you can find framed covers of Nickelodeon Magazine, boxes of Rugrats’ “Reptar cereal” sat atop mounted displays, and crystalline themed souvenir glasses from McDonald’s. It’s a comfortable setting, but certainly not a typical diner with flowers on the table and paper napkin dispensers. Large houseplants overhang the shop’s window display, casting in natural light and bringing a clean freshness to the space. Beyond its creative interior design and eclectic menu (popular items include their kimchi dog, spicy grilled cheese and Belgian fries), the primary draw for many has been the fairly recent addition of a Nintendo 64.
“Even when you’re waiting for your food, having something like the N64 helps make the atmosphere fun,” said Conor Malloy, co-owner with his wife, Olivia, and head chef. “Making fun food in a fun environment. Trying to bring a little something to your regular lunch.”
The shop’s challenge is simple: Place first in Mario Kart 64’s Special Cup at 150cc before your order is up, and it’s free (up to a $25 value). Conor hasn’t owned a home console in decades, so bringing some video games from his own childhood to One Stop Coney seemed an appropriate, personal way to elevate the customer experience while also introducing something memorable and nostalgic. What Conor couldn’t have known, however, was the base incredulity his little “challenge” inherently poses. To prove my point, I timed an order myself: one fried bologna sandwich.
Conor flips the thick-cut meat in the vat mid-fry, ensuring an even distribution of heat. Like anything on One Stop’s menu, the simple and fresh ingredients conceal a surprisingly considered and careful process behind the counter. Next, he adds chips as a cushion between the bologna and bread, which has been quietly toasting under some nearby “hats” that condense the grill’s heat and melt two slices of cheese evenly onto the bun. Throw in some pickles and iceberg lettuce, and then execute a vertical cut, minimizing potato chip breakages and keeping clean-up easy.
“We want it to be a big sandwich, but there’s a line where it just starts to be intrusive,” Malloy said.
It takes Malloy 4 minutes and 18 seconds to do all of this. For the uninformed, a “cup” in Mario Kart is comprised of four tracks, each with three laps. Any given track could take you somewhere between one and a half to two minutes to complete, and that’s assuming you play the game quite well. In Mario Kart 64’s Special Cup, which Conor has so conveniently chosen for One Stop Coney’s new challenge, the final track (called Rainbow Road) takes an approximate six minutes to complete, three laps and all. It is the single longest racetrack in Mario Kart history.
So, how does one compete in a game that seemingly cannot be won?
CHEATER, CHEATER
“Speed Running” is the hobby of taking a particular video game, regardless of genre, and attempting to finish it as quickly as possible. This can be done in all manner of ways: with exploitative glitches, without glitches, with all “unlockables” achieved, with controller restrictions, with modified rules, with anything. It depends on the game, and, with Mario Kart 64, it usually comes down to one thing: shortcuts.
In 2013, Beck Abney owned an N64 and had the game, but wasn’t necessarily interested in speed running.
“I was looking up how to do the mini-turbos in the game, the little speed boosts, and just accidentally came across the time trial ranking website,” Abney said. “I decided to play all the tracks and send in a timesheet. That was over 10 years ago, and I just haven’t stopped playing.”
Since then, Abney has become the single best player in the world. His world record for completing the Special Cup alone is 5 minutes and 49 seconds, for the entire game an astounding 22 minutes and 58 seconds. On the live streaming platform Twitch, Abney regularly competes for new records with an audience of over 50,000 followers.
Miraculously, Abney has managed to turn his once off-hand interest into a successful career online. Every day, more and more Mario Kart enthusiasts find his video tutorials on how to execute each track’s cuts, skips and glitches. When the difference between success and failure is only a few well-timed button inputs, why shouldn’t anyone become a pro at this? With nine days before race day, Abney became my consultant.
First, he informed me that, while Special Cup may be one of the harder cups in the video game, most of Mario Kart 64’s exploits don’t necessarily need to be “pixel perfect.”
“All of the shortcuts in this game are about tricking the finish line into deactivating,” Abney said.
In practice, this means somehow escaping the developer-deigned barriers of a track and sending your racer hurtling into a liminal space. Then, once the game’s lost your location and attempts to bring you back, some careful positioning puts you in the perfect spot to skip a lap and majority of the course. On Special Cup, you can do this on all but one track: Banshee Boardwalk. You have to complete it as intended, no shortcuts at all. This would prove troublesome.
Practice began immediately. For two or more hours each morning and night, I accelerated my journey into Mario Kart 64 speed running. A couple days later, I could consistently phase through a cave tunnel wall. I was jumping over cliffs and knocking myself into mountains. I was sailing over empty regions in outer space, firing heat-seeking “red shells” at myself and plummeting into endless voids beneath my competitors.
“Consistently” may be a bit of a misnomer here—I could execute any of the aforementioned shortcuts only about half of the time. It’s not that Abney wasn’t an effective teacher; quite the opposite. No, the issue was the game itself. Specifically, the triple-pronged monstrosity you hold in your hands while playing.
“It’s not really a great controller,” Abney said. “All of the parts wear down, plastic stuff on plastic stuff, and it shaves down. It’s a pain and definitely a problem for speed running.”
In my own experience, I simply could not get my character, a mushroom-capped man named Toad, to do what I’d like him to do. The night before race day, I hadn’t completed the cup in its entirety even once. Despite that, I anticipated walking into One Stop Coney the next morning being able to finish within 11 minutes (that’d be with all the shortcuts done properly, except for that difficult red shell strategy on Rainbow Road that I’ve only ever seen Abney attempt). Accounting for One Stop’s usual lunchtime rush on the weekdays, plus a strategically complicated order on my part (fried bologna and a breakfast burger take up two whole stations, and they surely hand dip their corn dogs, right?), I felt hopeful for a close finish, if not outright success.
Boy, would I be disappointed.
START THE CLOCK
Conor Malloy assured me that Fridays at noon were their busiest time and weekday for business. Their diverse daily specials and friendly staff maintain a close, passionate customer base that continue to visit every week. My entire plan was oriented around that fact. So, let me tell you, reader, that when I entered One Stop Coney at 11:40 AM on Friday, July 12 and saw only TWO customers in line, I felt a wash of defeat enter my lungs and drown me in place. I misplaced the weekly rush, one employee consoled me. It was Thursday, after all.
With three cooks behind the counter and a fatalistically empty shop, my dreams for a free meal were dead on arrival. Six minutes and twenty-seven seconds. That’s all it took for my food to arrive.
That isn’t to say my practice didn’t pay off, however. With all things said and done, I finished Special Cup in just over 13 minutes. The shortcuts surely paid off, and my disastrous practice attempts at Banshee Boardwalk were nullified by a surprisingly decent run. In a way, I had done what I set out to do. Right?
Speed runners must compete only to win, otherwise their breaking of a game would be meaningless. Unless, Abney and others actually ENJOY playing Mario Kart this way?
My body and mind finally relaxed when Chance—a One Stop employee my partner had ceremonially presented a “Coney Crony” handmade charm bracelet to—delivered me my order on the second lap of Banshee Boardwalk.
“Rough stuff, brother,” he said. “Pause it. Time for dinner.”
I sat down with my pit crew, the three friends (including Ian) who agreed to meet me that morning and offer support. Despite everything (the stress of practice, the frustration, the sting of defeat), I was relieved to have it over with.
I knew, regardless, a delicious meal was waiting for me at the finish line.
