Chapter Text
Boredom is a universal sensation—a kind of mental emptiness that sets in when there's nothing stimulating enough to capture our attention or spark our interest. It can appear in moments of waiting, during the monotony of daily routine, or even throughout extended periods of inactivity. Far from being a simple, fleeting annoyance, boredom can become a powerful force that pushes humans to act—sometimes creatively, other times in completely absurd ways. It’s in this state that our minds start grasping for any kind of distraction, any spark that can break the monotony.
In such a context, activities we’d normally consider meaningless or pointless can suddenly become actual pastimes. Throwing rocks into the void, into water, or at a wall might seem ridiculous—but under boredom’s spell, it transforms into a fleeting amusement, a way to mark the passing of time or confirm that something is happening. In that simple, almost childish gesture lies a deeply human need: to escape the dullness, even with the bare minimum.
...I really need to stop writing philosophical stuff just to open up a chapter. The point is, Richter Belmont was bored. Because of course, six straight months where the main source of entertainment is beating each other up gets boring eventually. So now he was rummaging through some boxes in a closet, looking for something interesting to do.
And that’s how he ended up in front of an old built-in wardrobe in one of the least-used hallways of Smash Mansion. The kind only Luigi or Snake might use when they want to disappear from the world for a few hours. There was dust, cobwebs, and a faint smell of mildew that suggested no one had opened that thing since... well, probably since the mansion was built.
"Come on, there’s gotta be cards, or a board game, or... something that doesn’t smell like mold," Richter muttered as he shoved box after box aside.
He pulled out a box of what looked like old wigs—probably Peach’s or Bayonetta’s—another full of torn stockings, and one that contained what he swore was a Tamagotchi that had been dead since 1999. And then, he saw it.
A dusty, nearly forgotten box, hidden in the very back. On the side, in faded letters and clumsy handwriting, it read: "OBSOLETE MULTIVERSE MATERIAL (DO NOT TOUCH – signed by Pit and Donkey Kong)"
"Oh, that’s definitely what I’m gonna touch," he said with a mischievous grin as he opened the box with both hands.
Inside was a surprising collection of VHS tapes. Some had badly scribbled labels: "Tournament 1999," "Street Smash '01," and even one with the full series of "Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog." But what really caught his eye was one particular cover.
It was hideous. Neon colors, exaggerated 90s typography, a title with the same style as Nintendo’s old logos, and several fighters with godawful designs: Pit with red hair, gloves, and a creepy childish look; Mega Man with a blue visor over his eyes and colored green instead of blue; and behind a kid in jeans and a red jacket with an "N" on the chest... there he was.
No. Not him.
"Simon...?" Richter whispered, frowning.
Yeah, it was his ancestor. The one and only Simon Belmont, but with a redesign so extreme he looked like a rejected Saturday morning cartoon: outrageously fluffy hair, muscles puffed up to absurd levels, a modern outfit instead of 1600s garb, and an expression that clearly didn’t match the grim personality of the real Simon. Even his whip looked more like a rope than a legendary weapon.
The most striking thing of all was the title on the VHS: "Captain N: The Game Master."
Richter raised an eyebrow. "The what of the game?"
He stared at the cover again, as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no—there it was, printed in all its shameless glory: Captain N: The Game Master. And there was Simon Belmont, his vampire-hunting ancestor, portrayed like a muscle-bound soap opera narcissist with a superhero complex.
"This can’t be real..." he muttered, gently pulling out the tape as if it might explode from accumulated embarrassment.
Naturally, the next logical step was to find a working VCR. Not an easy task, considering it was the year 2019 and most Smash Mansion residents probably didn’t even know what a VHS was. But in a forgotten corner of the arcade—between a Metroid pinball machine, an old CRT TV, and a broken chair—he found what he was looking for.
He blew off the dust, plugged in the cables the best he could, and finally inserted the tape, feeling a mix of morbid curiosity and genuine fear for his family’s reputation.
The screen flickered for a few seconds... and then it began.
Richter had expected something mildly over-the-top that he could laugh at and forget about. But what he saw was so bad that all he wanted to do now... was forget.
But he couldn't.
"What the hell did I just watch?!" he shouted at the now-off TV, as if the rectangular box were directly responsible for the soul-crushing atrocity he had just witnessed.
Simon Belmont—his proud ancestor, legendary figure of the vampire-hunting bloodline—had been reduced to a mix between a poorly written gym bro, an incompetent clown, and a hopeless romantic with a cheesy ladies’ man voice. He spoke like he was constantly posing for the cover of a dollar-store romance novel, and his legendary whip had all the impact of a raw spaghetti noodle. Instead of facing horrors from the underworld, he was awkwardly flirting with every woman on screen and squealing at the sight of bats.
"That’s not Simon! That can’t be Simon!" Richter shouted, putting both hands on his head and pacing frantically. "He doesn’t even use the whip right! And... and! What kind of excuse was that to fight Dracula?! ‘I’ll throw him a killer smile’!? WHAT!?"
He stopped and pointed accusingly at the VCR, scandalized.
"And don’t even get me started on the guy in the red jacket and basketball shoes! Who the hell is this Kevin guy and why was he leading a team with Simon Belmont on it!?"
Silence. Just the electric hum of the TV in standby mode and the occasional creak of the old vinyl couch that had survived the GameCube era.
Richter collapsed onto said couch like he'd just beaten a final boss—only emotionally.
"That was so disgustingly bad, I’m not surprised Pit, Mega Man, and especially Simon never talk about it. Now I wanna pretend I didn’t see it too..."
"Pretend you didn’t see what?" a voice asked behind him. He turned around to find Isabelle, clipboard tucked under her arm, licking an ice cream shaped like a bone.
Richter froze, eyes wide as if he'd just been caught watching something illegal. Because in a way… he had. That tape held the power to destroy several fighters' credibility—or at the very least, their dignity.
"N-nothing! Just a historical documentary!" he replied, voice unnecessarily loud as he shot to his feet and used his body to block the VCR.
Isabelle tilted her head, her left ear twitching slightly.
"A historical documentary that made you yell at the TV?"
Richter laughed nervously.
"Yes! It was... very realistic. Very emotional. Dracula… uh… had some really unexpected character development."
Isabelle narrowed her eyes, though still wore that kind, nonjudgmental look that made her seem incapable of holding anything against anyone.
"Weren’t you yelling something about a ‘killer smile’? And didn’t you mention a Kevin?"
Richter swallowed hard. He looked at the tape still inside the VCR—still warm from the trauma—and then at the innocent tournament assistant still licking her bone-shaped ice cream, never looking away from him.
"Isabelle," he said quietly, sitting back down with dramatic resignation. "Promise me something."
"Yes?"
"If you ever see a tape labeled Captain N, don’t play it. Don’t watch it. Don’t touch it. Don’t even acknowledge it. In fact, if you can bury it in a deep hole along with the memory of every badly adapted 90s video game cartoon… do it. For the collective dignity of everyone involved."
Isabelle sat beside him, genuine curiosity on her face—as if she'd accidentally stumbled across an ancient curse.
"Was it really that bad?"
Richter sighed like someone reliving a nightmare.
"Simon was... an idiot. And not the endearing kind, like Luigi. I mean the kind that carries a mirror on his belt to admire himself while the castle is collapsing. Mega Man sounded like he had a toaster stuck in his throat. And Pit... Pit looked like expired food coloring in motion. I swear he turned into a balloon in one scene."
"Literally or metaphorically?"
"Literally, Isabelle. He inflated like a balloon and floated away. And no one questioned it."
The pup slowly lowered her ice cream.
"Wow... that sounds like something Kirby would probably dream up if he ate too much before bed."
"Exactly. But worse. Because this was produced. Aired. Archived."
A moment of solemn silence passed between them. Isabelle finished her ice cream with a soft final lick and then spoke with that calm tone she used whenever she was about to announce something important.
"Hmm... now that you mention it, not long ago a few of us were asking around about the animated shows some of the fighters had been in," she said. "I remember Pac-Man warned us not to ask Samus, Pit, or Simon about something they were all involved in. And when I tried looking it up online, Samus blasted my phone with her arm cannon... Is it really that bad?"
"I think it might be worse..." Richter muttered uneasily, then blinked. "Wait. Did you say Samus was in it too? But I watched every episode. She wasn’t in any of them..."
"Really?" Isabelle asked, pulling out her phone to do a quick search. "Huh... Apparently there were 26 issues of a comic based on the show where Mega Man and Simon don’t appear, but Samus does, and..." She froze mid-sentence, as if the background behind her had suddenly turned dark blue, with a matching aura forming over her head. "Apparently... that Kevin guy... had a romance with Samus in the comic..."
Now, the background was yellow for both of them, with three dramatic dots appearing slowly until—
"WHAT?!" Richter screamed. "What kind of moron writes that about Samus of all people?! A romance with Samus Aran?! That should be illegal in several galaxies!"
Isabelle blinked, staring again at the phone screen like she was hoping the words would magically change into something less traumatic.
"It says here that... in the Captain N: The Game Master comic, Samus lives in a space bar, wears green, is kind of an alcoholic, and gets jealous of a princess who’s also in love with Kevin..."
Richter snatched the phone from her and read it himself, eyes going wide as saucers.
"What kind of bad fanfiction is this?! This isn’t an adaptation! It’s a crime against logic, dignity, and Metroid!"
He handed the phone back to Isabelle as if it were cursed.
"I’m going to have nightmares about this... Not because of monsters, not because of Dracula—but because of that. Samus. Aran. Flirting with a kid in a red jacket with a giant ‘N’ on his chest. AN ‘N’! Who designs a main character like that and thinks he can stand next to Simon Belmont or Samus Aran?!"
"Suddenly stuff like Super Mario World: The Series, the classic Pac-Man show, that 90s Mega Man cartoon Rock never talks about, and even Sonic SatAM seem like quality adaptations considering this thing exists..." Isabelle said with a grimace, now eyeing the Captain N box.
"It’s official: I’m asking Bowser to burn this thing," said Richter decisively, pulling the VHS out of the player and placing it back in the box he’d taken from Isabelle. "I doubt anyone would care if I smashed it."
"What if we showed it at the next ironic movie night?" Isabelle suggested with an innocent smile, though her eyes glinted with mischief.
Richter slowly turned to her with a horrified expression, silently pleading for her to never speak those words again.
"Isabelle. Listen to me. If that tape ever goes back into a VCR... someone’s going to end up crying blood. I don’t know if it’ll be from shame, confusion, or some interdimensional curse—but it’s going to happen."
The pup nodded slowly, clearly still considering it just for the reaction it would cause. Richter gave her a warning glare.
"Not even you are ready to see Pit turned into a red-wigged elementary schooler with cardboard wings."
"Now I kinda want to see it even more..."
"Isabelle!"
"Kidding!" she said, laughing as she raised her paws in peace. "But... I have to admit, it does sound like a piece of history worth preserving. For how ridiculous it is."
Richter took a deep, deep breath. The kind meant to suck all the oxygen out of the room just to avoid exploding.
"Look... maybe... maybe it can be stored somewhere no one will ever find it. Like the bottom of the ocean. Or in a vault beneath the ruins of Brinstar. Or better yet—let Kirby eat it. Everything he swallows disappears, right?"
Isabelle laughed again, calmly grabbing her clipboard. "I’ll think about it. But I’m glad someone else in this house has discovered the hidden ‘gems’ of the past."
"No. It wasn’t a gem. It was... a rock. A sharp one. That I threw straight into my soul," Richter muttered, taking the box with the rest of the tapes and eyeing it cautiously. "And now I’m scared to watch the others. If that was just one, what the hell is on ‘Street Smash ‘01’?"
"Want me to stay and watch them with you?" Isabelle asked sincerely.
Richter looked at her... then at the box.
Then sighed. "Bring popcorn."
End of Chapter 78.