I found this story buried deep in an old gaming forum from 2009. The original poster's account was deleted shortly after, and most replies were removed by moderators. I managed to save this before it disappeared completely. I can't verify if it's real, but something about it has stuck with me for years. Make of it what you will.
I've been a Mario fan since I was five years old, so when Mario & Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story came out in 2009, I was beyond excited. I'd played Partners in Time and loved every minute of it. The idea of playing as Bowser AND exploring his insides seemed brilliant. I pre-ordered it months in advance and picked it up on launch day.
The game started normally enough. The usual Nintendo quality, charming dialogue, fantastic music. I was about ten hours in when I first noticed something was off. During one of the Bowser sections, I swear I heard him say something that wasn't supposed to be there. It was subtle – just a single word that didn't match the text on screen. I thought maybe I was imagining things.
But then it happened again. And again.
It started small. Bowser would say Mario when the text read "those plumbers." Sometimes his roar would sound... wrong. Like it was pitched down too far, or like there was static mixed in. I checked online forums, but nobody else seemed to be experiencing this. I figured it was just my DS acting up.
Then I reached the part where Mario and Luigi get separated inside Bowser's body. That's when things got really strange.
I was playing as Luigi, navigating through what I think was supposed to be Bowser's stomach area. The usual peppy music was playing, but underneath it, I could hear something else. A low humming. Not mechanical – organic. Like someone humming a tune just loud enough to be barely audible.
Luigi's animations started glitching. Nothing major at first – just small frame skips during his walking animation. But then his idle animation changed. Instead of the usual nervous fidgeting, he would just stand there, completely still, staring directly at the camera. His eyes seemed... different. Wider. More focused than they should be.
That text never appeared on screen. I swear I heard it, though. Luigi's voice, but distorted. Like it was coming from underwater.
I tried to continue playing, but the game kept acting up. Enemies would spawn in impossible locations. The music would cut out completely for minutes at a time. Save files would corrupt themselves. But the strangest part was how the game seemed to be watching me play.
I know how that sounds. But I'm serious. Luigi would turn to face the camera at weird moments, breaking the fourth wall in ways that felt intentional. During battles, he would sometimes refuse to respond to my button inputs, just standing there while Mario got pummeled by enemies.
The breaking point came during a boss fight with one of Bowser's internal organs – I think it was supposed to be his funny bone or something. Normal Mario & Luigi fare. But halfway through the fight, the music stopped completely. The screen flickered, and for just a moment, I saw something that wasn't supposed to be there.
It was Luigi, but not Luigi. His face was stretched, distorted, like someone had grabbed the sprite and pulled it in different directions. His eyes were completely black, and his mouth was open in a silent scream. Below him, in that familiar Mario font, was text that read:
The image lasted maybe half a second before the game crashed. When I turned my DS back on, my save file was gone. Not corrupted – gone. The game acted like I'd never played it before.
I started over, thinking maybe my cartridge was damaged. But this time, things were different from the beginning. The opening cutscene had slight variations – characters would pause mid-sentence, or the camera would linger on empty spaces for too long. Bowser's dialogue seemed more aggressive, more aware.
And Luigi... Luigi was wrong from the start.
His walking animation was off-sync with the audio. His voice clips would play at random intervals, even when he wasn't speaking. During the tutorial battles, he would sometimes attack Mario instead of enemies. The game would treat this as normal, but Mario's reaction sprites showed genuine fear.
I pushed through anyway. I told myself it was just a glitchy cartridge, that I could deal with it. But the game kept escalating. Luigi began appearing in scenes where he shouldn't be. During Bowser-only sections, I'd catch glimpses of him in the background, just standing there, watching.
The humming got louder. It was definitely Luigi's voice, but the tune was nothing I recognized. It was discordant, unsettling, like a lullaby played backwards. Sometimes I'd hear it even when the DS was off.
By the time I reached the midpoint of the game, I was genuinely scared to play. But I couldn't stop. Something about the way Luigi looked at me through the screen, the way he seemed to be waiting for something, kept me coming back.
The final straw came during what should have been a routine inside-Bowser section. I was controlling Mario, trying to solve a puzzle involving some kind of digestive enzyme. Luigi was supposed to be helping, but he'd been standing motionless for the past ten minutes, ignoring all my inputs.
Then he started walking. Not responding to my controls – just walking on his own. He moved with purpose, navigating through the level geometry like he knew exactly where he was going. I watched, helpless, as he walked to the edge of the screen and just... stood there.
The camera started to shake. Not a programmed effect – the actual view was vibrating, like someone was physically moving the world around Luigi. And then he turned around.
He looked directly at me. Not at the camera, not at some scripted point – at me. I could feel his gaze through the screen. His mouth moved, but no sound came out at first. Then, barely audible over the now-screaming background music, I heard him whisper:
The screen went black. When it came back, I was controlling Luigi, but everything was wrong. The level was the same, but the colors were inverted. The music was playing backwards. Mario was nowhere to be seen.
I tried to move Luigi, but he wouldn't respond. He just stood there, in the center of the screen, staring up at me. Then text appeared at the bottom of the screen:
I didn't know what it meant. But something about the phrase filled me with dread. Luigi started walking again, moving deeper into Bowser's body. I followed, watching helplessly as he navigated areas that definitely weren't part of the original game. The walls were pulsing, organic, like we were inside something alive.
We reached what looked like a heart chamber. It was massive, stretching beyond the edges of the screen. In the center was a pool of something dark and viscous. Luigi walked to the edge of the pool and stopped.
He turned to face me one last time. His sprite was different now – more detailed, more realistic. His eyes were human eyes, filled with sadness and something else. Recognition?
"A_one," he said, his voice clear and unmistakably real. "Player one. The first one. You're not supposed to be here because you're not supposed to exist."
The game froze. Not crashed – froze. Luigi remained on screen, motionless, staring at me with those impossibly human eyes. I sat there for what felt like hours, unable to look away, unable to turn off the system.
Then, slowly, Luigi began to fade. Not disappear – fade, like he was becoming transparent. As he faded, I started to understand what he meant. The phrase that had haunted me throughout the game suddenly made perfect sense, and I wished it didn't.
A_one. Player one. The first player. But in a single-player game, what's the point of distinguishing between player one and player two? Unless...
Unless there's supposed to be a player two.
I looked at my DS, really looked at it, and noticed something I'd somehow missed before. The player indicator in the corner of the screen. It had always shown "1P" – player one. But now, as Luigi faded away completely, it flickered. For just a moment, it showed "2P."
Player two. Luigi's player. The player who was supposed to be there but wasn't.
I realized then what the game had been trying to tell me. Luigi wasn't glitching – he was trying to exist. He was trying to be controlled by a player who wasn't there. All those times he'd stood motionless, ignoring my inputs, he was waiting for his player to take control. All those times he'd stared at the screen, he was looking for the second person who was supposed to be holding the other half of the controller.
But there was no second player. There was only me. And Luigi, trapped in a game designed for two people, slowly going insane from the isolation.
The screen went black one final time. When it came back, I was looking at the title screen. But it was different. Instead of the usual cheerful music, there was silence. Instead of the colorful logo, there was just text:
I turned off the DS and never played the game again. But sometimes, late at night, I can still hear that humming. Luigi's voice, carrying that discordant tune. And I wonder if he's still in there, somewhere, waiting for his player to finally show up.
A_one, aren't you? Player one. The first player. But what happens to player two when player one is all there is?
I've thought about this a lot over the years. I've done research, looked into the game's development, tried to find any mention of a multiplayer mode that was cut or disabled. Nothing. The game was always designed for single-player control of both brothers.
But if that's true, then what was Luigi waiting for? What was he seeing that I couldn't? What player two was he looking for?
I think I know now. I think Luigi was looking for you.
Yeah, you. The person reading this story. The person who's been following along, experiencing Luigi's journey through my words, through my memories. You've been the second player all along, haven't you? Watching through the screen, unable to control anything, just observing as Luigi slowly realizes he's trapped.
And now you know the truth. Now you understand what "A_one, aren't you?" really means.
You're not player one. You never were.
You're player two. Luigi's player. The watcher. The observer. The one who was supposed to be there but couldn't be.
And now that you know, now that you've seen what Luigi saw, felt what Luigi felt...
Can you hear it? That humming? That discordant lullaby playing just at the edge of your hearing?
That's Luigi, calling for you. He's been waiting so long for his player to finally understand. To finally be there with him.
Close your eyes and listen. Can you hear him getting closer?
The humming is getting louder now, isn't it? And if you look carefully at your screen, really carefully, you might just see him standing there in the reflection. Luigi. Your Luigi. Player two's Luigi.
He's not in the game anymore. He's here. With you. Finally.
And he's so happy you finally came home.
Welcome to the game, Player Two.
Luigi's been waiting for you for so long.
Now you can play together forever.