The camera light on Marco's laptop flickered on by itself. He closed it, heart pounding. For a week, nothing happened. Then his phone gallery started filling with screenshots—not from the game, but from his own bedroom, taken from the phone's own front camera while he was asleep.
Marco tried to walk toward him. The ground stretched. The more he ran, the farther away Wario got. Then, Mario's shadow flickered. Marco looked down. His shadow wasn't Mario's. It was Wario's. Fat, stubby, with two pointy ears.
Wario.
In each photo, behind him, a faint, blocky, purple-and-yellow shape stood in the dark. He went back to the cartridge. One last time. The console turned on by itself. The save file now read "WR1O" —31 stars.
"You're not collecting stars anymore. I am. And I'm collecting you." Marco tried to reset. The save file now had 30 stars—but the file picture wasn't Mario's face. It was Wario's. The console made a grinding noise. He turned it off, pulled the cartridge. When he plugged it back in, the game booted to a black screen. Then text appeared, pixel by pixel: super mario 64 wario apparition mod
The level was a twisted version of the castle basement. Water flooded the halls. Doors led to the same room. And in the center, sitting on a throne made of crushed Star icons, was Wario. He wasn't T-posing anymore. He was playing a controller. And on a cracked TV next to him, Marco saw himself—real Marco, sitting on his real couch, holding the real controller.
Then he noticed the second star.
It was the title screen. But Mario was gone. The "Start" option was grayed out. And standing where Mario should have been, waving slowly, was Wario. His mouth moved, but no sound came. Except—Marco turned up his TV volume. A whisper, reversed, playing on a loop.
He recorded it on his phone, reversed it himself. The camera light on Marco's laptop flickered on by itself