Nothing says, "I love you, man" like picking up your friends and diving into lava.
To clarify, The Lamron does not endorse murdering people with lava. Fortunately, that doesn't stop me from doing so.
After playing Super Mario Bros. on the Wii for approximately 42 hours throughout the past two weeks, I've come to the conclusion that the only way to show your affection for your all-Italian teammates and their real world counterparts is by accidentally jumping on their heads, hurling a stray shell in their direction or stealing their Yoshi.
For those of you who haven't played the game, the multiplayer mode frequently devolves into clumsy wall jumps (resulting in at least one player falling off a cliff), ground pound fights over the propeller hat or penguin suit and death by bubble.
There is something to be said for this darling display of homicidal chaos among friends. After the dust has settled, friends in the real world are still friends even though comrades in the video game are preparing to lob bob-ombs at each other.
After all, it's not like I begrudge my good friend for lifting me above his head and running headlong into the lava of Bowser's castle, killing both of us in a plume of cell-shaded flames. It's not like I begrudge my other friend for slipping off a cliff in a crucial boss battle, sending us back to the beginning of the stage. It's not like I begrudge my housemate for running so far ahead that the rest of us are murdered off-screen.
Rather than sick piranha plants on my friends while they sleep, I accept that these avoidable, unnecessary and fatal things do happen. After all, I understand that when my friends invent new and creative ways to torment me via their electronic counterparts, it's really no different than a painfully enthusiastic high five or a bone-rattling pat on the back. They kill because they care.
But so do I.
On that note, I may or may not be hatching a diabolical scheme of vengeance to be carried out at my leisure.
I know what you're thinking. Why seek revenge for a little friendly fire that you just admitted was no more harmful than a high five?
Because, young toadstool, there comes a time in every plumber's life where he needs to stand up for his right to commit genocide on goombas and koopas in peace.