In the last couple weeks, I’ve been enjoying an old SNES game on my emulator that I’d never gotten a chance to play since its 1991 release–the infamously difficult racing game F-ZERO. Got its ups and its downs overall, but the curious bit for me came when I saw a copy of its rulebook online at http://www.replacementdocs.com/download.php?view.1304 . Capping off its disappointingly sparse driving tips was a short comic recounting the life and times of intergalactic racer/bounty hunter Captain Falcon. Well, I have to tell you that this comic is just pretty packaging for the reality of this man’s life. I’ve got a hard copy of the rules in my basement, see, and I dug that out for you so you can see what racing was really like…IN THE FUTURE! (A word of warning: all voices are much louder in the future than they are now.)

The True Story of Captain Falcon

Hello, my name is Captain Falcon.

You don’t care about my real name, and my lawyers don’t either, so moving right along–I’m the guy who won the big race. Won it last year, won it this year, lay your odds on it next year and you can afford a less ugly house. Since I’m told I have to keep addressing you directly, I would first like to blame you all for your tasteless rubbernecking, as you’ve only broke down and bought this rulebook because I did something really awesome and died horribly or because I did something really horrible and died awesomely. Either way, fuck you and enjoy.

It occurs to me by this my 38th year that people don’t actually want to hear about what it really takes to win F-ZERO. *Who* it really takes. Well, it takes me and all the shit that I do in my spare time to make sure it’s me at the finish line come pay-me-day. And you can talk to the fans and get some inspiring stories, and the guy who managed to heave his torso halfway out the windshield before cussing me out and throwing a lung was very eloquent, but that’s got nothing to do with winning the galaxy’s premier race. Ain’t how well you drive a stick, kids.

Lotta rumors, aren’t there, about how I’m a bounty hunter on the side. Tales about the alien scum I bring in after a rousing round of fisticuffs and laser-dodging. Truth is I shoot most of ‘em while they’re busy eating or screwing. That’s a good time to get ‘em, especially screwing because they always look down for a second ’cause it’s just an embarrassing situation to die inside your nasty space-whore. Not here to judge you, hoss, just whack ya. And target selection is very important here. You wanna chase the ones who might have done something mean to an Earth girl or three. They’re the ones get the fat figures over their heads. Tellya though, all that blasting and heavy lifting gets a little much at times. So to get me through the job, I like to think of these couple months as the Qualifiers. See, the amount of galactic credits you need to keep your machine in top condition is a reality-raping number right there. Register for F-ZERO itself and that’s another leafpile of cash. Me I like to throw a little bit around over the course of a year, too. You see my fancy jumpsuits on TV and think I’m rich, and my creditors come to that same conclusion when they holophone me butt-naked at five in the morning. They’re not all that polite, either; I mean my bookie starts in every Neo-vember about grinding down my legs in something strictly industrial, and I’m all yeah, great, let’s both die broke ’cause I can’t race my Blue Falcon this year. But you got more legs so you win, huh fatass? So he kicks me in the throat couple times and leaves it at that. Best bookie ever.

Point is I don’t grab three condos on some asteroid belt after the flag comes down.

Now, when I pass the qualifiers, it’s time to bone up on the year’s competition. This takes on average about three seconds as I remember how much I hate that pretty-boy Dr. Stewart, and have a good laugh when I realize old Samurai Goroh isn’t dead yet, and watch old footage of Pico hugging my Blue like Hell’s own homo on the hairpins. You’d think in a race this big there’d be more than four of us guys who could actually win, but I guess that’s life. Maybe my backyard gets that many Tandegaarian strays and God knows they kill everything comes in. Anyhoo, these guys are the annual jock-itch that makes F-ZERO ‘suspenseful’ enough for Your Sponsors. And THOSE are the guys I gotta pretend I like, so I do a little math and realize I can’t strangle Pico on the shitter anytime soon. You guys watch for that a couple years down the line though.

Then I upend my wallet to get into the race and requisition various and sundry from my pit crew this year. His name is Tony and he’s good with chemicals. Average entry is trying to hack your rig’s console if it’s new enough, or rough you up a little by the back exits, but I just like the idea of putting things into things. Bad things. Maybe your cocoa has a dead lipskinner in it but you don’t know ’cause I weighted him down. That’s old Cap during most of the year. On Race Day, I make Tony give your undercarriage a good coating of green invisible alien spores, the ones closed down all those steel plants on Gropak IV. Functional and it’s funny–bonus. Remember, kids, you can’t pass Cap with a car ‘fulla Grop-rot.

Seriously I hafta pull this King-League crap, is my point. I mean I’d do it anyway, but everybody else is too. Red Queen was born on a racetrack and she’s a fiery beautiful bitch. While I’m waxing philosophical here, any of you remember F-ZERO ’83? That one’s got my record for Red Canyon, way-too-proud home of #1 asshole Samurai Goroh himself. Back in that one I saw the Canyon was on the docket and immediately had Tony go steal a syringe fulla diarrhea to celebrate. I don’t mean that vanilla Earth diarrhea, like Mom used to cure with a smile, I’m talking full-blown Interstellar Diarrhea. Goroh always sipping his sake…couple covert drops of that later, he’s not feeling so hot. Fact, I heard his biographer definitively claims Samurai shat out most of his colon before he pulled out on Lap Four. Now you all saw the action, but you didn’t really see anything, you get me?

What? I’ve got four BF-2001 engines topping out at 457 kilos an hour and four bastard kids topping out at $480 space-bucks a month. EACH. I’m not in the business of hearing it.

Oh, right. “You were cheating when you beat Dr. Stewart last year!” Honestly? I didn’t do anything to him or his Golden Fox. I don’t have to when they turn that sloppy all race. Sometimes all it takes to make those first cuts is good driving. I know, I was surprised too. And a word as to that–winners don’t need nerves of steel, they need no nerves at all. By now I’m up to horse tranqs cut with Zelphian Fly to keep my drool off the wheel. Am I gonna nail this jump-pad landing again or spend the next few seconds dying and screaming? Who cares! Looks like I’ve got my shit together when the networks zoom in on Car 1. Another hundred million posters sold and don’t forget, the Cap uses Sparkle toothpaste or whatever the fuck. Seriously, keep buying this shit. Liking Keno these days. Doc’s reading this same time you are, I’m sure, so he should mark his Hello Kitty calendar for the 23rd ’cause we’re paired in the Team Finals again out on Neo-Daytona. No fuckups, Doc, this ain’t your operating theatre. Haha.

What awaits me at the end of the tunnel every year? Well, there’s definitely something magical about the finishline. It’s where I met your mother. My ride heaves a sigh and I can just coast and be part of it all and suddenly there’s no current to swim against. I am the current. It’s so peaceful that I’m only a little pissed off when my bumper starts pushing people and they make me stop, and then even less so when they hand me that goofy check. 20,000,000,000 galactic credits is a lot of money…if you’re a hick…but sure as shit buys you schlubs an action-packed month fulla Falcon. Yeah, don’t get used to him sticking around unless you’ve upgraded your boobs to those sweet new Alphafemme 8′s. Hey babe, if I’m gonna risk my ass out there, you’re gonna risk it in HERE. Oh yes you are.

F-ZERO fans, that’s all I gotta say about how all the shit you see on TV actually plays out. Go and find yourselves another hero if you need to, but good luck finding another winner. Now feel smart paying more attention at the races and try new Sparkle with Albedo whitener.

–Captain Falcon, Terran Spring 2565