Goomba NPC Prime Ideas

[Gaston]

So, I had an idea for an NPC Prime, but I'd like some feedback. Basically, he's a Goomba, who looks like a stereotypical gangster: bandanna, knife around waist, etc. He's summoned to the Omniverse recently, and tried finding the Koopa Kingdom to join up with them, but couldn't find it. So he began living at a tavern in Camelot and becomes a bandit. I was thinking have a low defence stat, but Survival, because he's so squishy. I'm thinking about getting him Basic Telekinesis, as an explanation for him being able to hold things. And maybe having different power-ups as alternate/powered-up forms? If anyone has some feedback, please give it here.

[Arle Nadja]

I muse to myself that he seems like something you wouldn't find in a Mario game in spite of being a Mario race. I feel like there are two reasons he elicits that response for me. The first is obviously that I don't remember goombas ever being powerful, with the paper mario series being the only place they ever really got any dignity at all to my knowledge. I suppose that can't be helped, though. But the second is that he has magical abilties that would be considered very unusual in the mario universe, and yet his appearance doesn't reflect his unique skillset. Much like how you can tell the at least one of the typings of just about any pokemon by looking at it, Mario never struck me as a game where you'd expect appearances to be too misleading short of an actual transformation sequence. Perhaps he would feel more in the spirit of his home series if his appearance were altered a bit to hint at his magic use in some way?

Oh--And I find myself really wanting to know why he has survival ICly. Right now I read that and I'm just like "Woah, that goomba has zombie esque durability for... some reason?" and it comes off as slightly over the top. And then I'm torn between asking if his dad was a Dry Bones or if this is just kind of something we do here in the Omniverse. Either way, I imagine myself trying to react to this from the perspective of a Mario character and it does leave my muse a little dry.

But yeah. Those are my thoughts reading this.

[Gaston]

The Survival was meant to represent the Goombas resilience, because even though one hit, they die, they can survive in almost any environment in the game and clearly are unfazed by attacks that don't kill them (Large Goombas split into small ones that instantly attack, ignoring damage). As for the magic, I don't think I really said he had any? Excluding the Telekinesis, which is just an explanation for him holding things (which I might not get) I didn't intend for it to seem like he has any. As for him being powerful, I wasn't sure as to how I would do it, but I was planning on something in his backstory to elicit it; or perhaps just make him from Paper Mario.

[Omni]

I think if it's from a Mario game, it doesn't have to make sense :frog:

Just have him hold things in his mouth or use a foot to hold a phone to his ear or something. I imagine writing that would be part of the humour of writing a goomba.

I also think Survival is a bit overkill though unless you're then gonna go with the mini-goombas thing or something. If anything, I feel like goombas are disposable shock troops who can't do much except throw themselves headfirst at the enemy.

I wrote a goomba story once. [spoiler]It was always too quiet at this time of day, Gary thought bitterly. The castle, with its stone walls, chipped floors, and echoing hallways, seemed to reflect the stagnancy of his daily routine. Every morning he would wake up, go on lookout, and sit around until his shift was over. Slouching back in one of the wooden chairs that all castles provided in needless abundance, he wondered how he’d ever gotten into this situation.

It hadn’t always been like this. Only a few years ago, he’d been a promising graduate of Chestnut University, with a high diploma in shell-based engineering. But rather than going on to become a mechanic like his parents had urged, he’d decided he wanted more.

You see, Gary was a Goomba. A Para-Goomba to be exact; his sparkling white wings had been a source of great pride for both him and his family. He had heard all sorts of rousing stories from the army; tales of glory, honour, and victory. And it was, he decided, something that he wanted to be a part of. Ignoring the fretted cautions of his friends and family, Gary enlisted, and before long he was flying as part of a squadron. He quickly adapted to life in the barracks, and everything was going well.

That was, until he showed up.

In the ranks, they called him ‘the Stomper’. Over double the size of any Goomba, he was a bizarre, overall-clad freak of nature who could jump up to ten times his own height. His name came from the way he would flatten his victims, though other rumours claimed he could shoot balls of fire from his hands. Supposedly he had a love of mushrooms, and his stomach was bloated from eating all the Goombas he stomped.

At first, Gary, like everyone else, had snorted at the rumours. Since they were currently engaged in a war with the Mushroom Kingdom, stories from the front lines had a tendency to become exaggerated, and thus had to be taken with a pinch of salt. With all the ridiculous fables flying around, it was becoming impossible to discern between fact and fiction.

But one day, the truth was made startlingly apparent. The base Gary was situated at received a sudden call-to-arms, and his squadron was deployed.  The only description they received was that the man was ‘overweight, with a moustache, and wearing red overalls’. For some reason, hearing those words sent an ominous shiver up Gary’s spine.

And so, with barely a moment’s notice and fresh out of boot camp, Gary the Goomba was plunged into his first real battle. And suddenly, the horror of those campfire stories became a gruesome reality. The man leapt up, seemingly defying gravity, crushing all those who were unlucky enough to feel the heel of his chestnut shoes.

Months of training, and within moments the Goomba squad was decimated. The survivors fled – but not without their injuries. No longer was Gary a Para-Goomba. One fateful strike to the head had reduced him, robbed him of his wings. Now, he was a mere Goomba.

And so, having lost the ability to work as a Para-Goomba, Gary was (as they so euphemistically put it) ‘re-allocated’ to the position of castle guard. It wasn’t as though he could complain; who ever heard of a wingless Goomba being part of a para-squadron?

That didn’t make it any less of a bitch, though.

And so Gary sat in the damp, un-windproofed lookout post, musing over his past and drinking his afternoon coffee (which was a considerably impressive feat when one recalls the fact that Goombas have no hands). “Some day,” he muttered ferociously, “I’ll be the one to stomp the Stomper.”

A door from behind creaked open, letting in a gust of wind before slamming shut. A voice followed. “Awright Gaz?” A pause. “Was you talkin’ to yourself?”

“Kevin,” grunted Gary, without turning to look. Of course it was. Who else could interrupt your train of thought with such honed finesse? He wondered what the Koopa Troopa was doing up two hours before his shift, but had a strong feeling he’d find out shortly.

“We got a message from Lakitu up in World 2,” drawled Kevin, sliding into a seat opposite his fellow guard. “Apparen’ly there’s bin a few sightings of the Stomper around ‘ere, and they wanted us to keep an extra lookout up jus’ in case.”

“What?” Gary sat up in his chair, feeling blood suddenly rush to his body. “Where was he last seen?”

The Koopa looked sceptical. “You don’t really believe in that stuff, do you? ‘The Stomper’ n’ all that?”

Gary leant over the table, his face twisted into a grim stare. “He took my wings, and killed half of my team. It’s not just a rumour; I’ve seen him with my own two eyes.”

Kevin looked dubious, but shrugged noncommittally. “Awright, but--”

The Koopa’s sentence was cut off abruptly, as a loud CRASH sounded. Both guards leapt to their feet, whirling around to face the wooden door.

Or, what was left of it. The first thing Gary saw, from his less-than-impressive height, was what looked like a pair of boots standing in a pile of splinters. As his head arced back, he got the full picture. That red cap. That misleadingly plump midsection. And he could never forget, that frighteningly thick moustache.

“The Stomper …” Gary whispered.

Kevin, seeing his ally’s indecision, acted first. “CHARGE!” he bellowed, raising one stubby yellow finger and pointing it at the intruder.

Unfortunately for Kevin, turtles weren’t made for charging. As he shuffled forward, the Stomper leapt into the air. Before the slow-witted reptile could react, a pair of boots connected with his face, slamming his head back into its shell.

Gary had never held any particular fondness for Kevin, but he still felt his blood boil at the sight of the Stomper claiming another victim. Images of his past squadron flashed through the Goomba’s mind, and suddenly he was filled with an unquenchable rage. Roaring, Gary threw himself forward.

Seeing the oncoming threat, the Stomper took quick action. In a grisly display of disrespect, he kicked the shell of Kevin straight at Gary. But the Goomba was not to be deterred. Beady eyes fixed on his tubby target, Gary launched himself clear of the ground – over the oncoming shell, and into the portly stomach of his adversary. The force of the head butt threw the Stomper backwards, straight into a wall – or so he thought. The overall-clad man staggered, momentarily, at the open castle window.

And then he fell. A blood-curdling scream split the air moments before a resonating thud punctuated the plumber’s demise.

Gary’s mouth fell open. “I … I’ve done it!” he exclaimed, voice wavering in excitement. He leant out of the window, looking down. There was no doubt. The Stomper’s corpse lay on the ground, flattened just like his victims. Gary the Goomba had done what so many others could not. He had avenged his team mates, and paid back the one who had taken his wings.

He had defeated the Stomper!

Bip.

Gary turned, and his eyes widened. The last thing that passed through his mind was; fucking shells.

The End

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