Where Are They Now? Mini-boss Chronicles

Mini-bosses have it rough. Life’s final bosses, the Bowsers, Liquid Snakes, Tyrants, corporate owners, and superintendents of the world, have it easy. They usually come back to sow chaos and discord in a sequel. Mini-bosses are different. They may be children of the final boss, clones, Vice Presidents, associate editors, random animals, or principals, but the story is always the same. They slow the hero up; they get their ass kicked; and when the next game rolls around they’re kicked to the curb in favor of newer, sexier mini-bosses.

Where are some of these classic mini-bosses now, and what are they doing now that they’re out of video games? I took it upon myself to find out.

—

“I was just your hungry, fun-loving fresh-water octopus.”

I’m in a bar in the Las Vegas area, lending a sympathetic ear to the eight-tentacled monstrosity known as Ultros. It took me awhile to track down the former Final Fantasy VI star, but anonymous tips from his last employer led me to Chupon’s, an upscale establishment where Ultros now works as bartender and co-owner. I can’t get him to shut up, but as reporters know, that’s not always a bad thing.

“Then this raft comes along.” Ultros continues. “The next thing I know I’m getting roasted, drilled, and pummeled by a chick in a bikini, a pimp, and a bodybuilder. It all went south after that… My dreams of being an opera star were shattered, and then the world went straight to hell.”

His tone softens, and he clasps two tentacles together and smiles for the first time since I’d met him. “But I’d do it all over again, because it was during all these calamities that I met… him…”

He points one tentacle towards the opposite side of the bar, and I turn to see the owner of the establishment, an amorphous pink windbag, chats up some important looking people in suits.

“Ahem.” I’m starting to see the octopus likes attention, and I quickly turned to face him again as he continues talking. “We opened this bar together after a stint in what you could say was mixed martial-arts, and we haven’t looked back. So long as the kids remember not to tease the octopus, it’s not so bad.”

I’m debating whether or not to ask him to clarify that statement when he cuts me off.

“Ain’t that right, lover?” The octopus yells across the room, throwing the pink windbag a wink.

“You bet!” The windbag puffs back.

This has officially gotten too weird, and I make preparations to excuse myself.

Ultros pauses and indicates the half-finished meal in front of me. “You gonna eat that?”

Yeah, I’m done here.

—

Boom Boom wasn’t much for words once. The real forgotten mini-boss of Super Mario Brothers 3, Boom Boom is the rare Mario enemy that only appeared in a single game, unless you count the remake: Super Mario Advance 4. I found him working as a construction worker barely above the poverty level, far-removed from his one-time affluence as an owner of fortresses across the Mushroom World. Nonetheless, he comes off as a much richer turtle-man-thing. At night he volunteers for local charities, counseling recovering gambling addicts.

Back in the day, Boom Boom had a gambling problem, and to hear him tell it, that crippling addiction was the reason Mario destroyed so many of his fortresses.

“I had it all.” Boom Boom explained. “Thwomps, roto-discs, even some laser-firing statues in my image; do you think Bowser would really save all of those for the end? But those things came with some complex setup instructions, and I was too busy whittling my coins away at the local Mushroom House. By the time I’d hear Mario was knocking on the door of one of my fortresses, it was too late to get those things set up. I had to fight Mario alone, and…”

His tone grows serious as he seems to recall a painful memory. He may have a stupid name, but I realize he’s a much wiser than the laughably easy mini-boss I helped crush in my youth.

“Stay away from this stuff unless you have self-control, kid. Building things is compelling work. So is trying to kill Mario. Gambling too much will get you nowhere.”

—

Las Vegas is supposedly home to another popular Mario mini-boss. Every bathroom I visit in the city mentions something about Birdo and a good time, followed by a phone number. I think I’d better leave that stone unturned.

—

Move over, Don King. There’s a new boxing promoter in town, and he’s larger than life.

I caught up with two more mini-boss legends when I discovered that Punch-Out’s King Hippo had retired from boxing and had taken to managing Double Dragon’s Abobo. It seems like a natural fit to me, with both enemies wearing gym shorts, favoring grotesque appearances, and being incredibly easy to down with a few well-timed blows to the mid-section.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand what in the hell King Hippo was saying, but Abobo translated. Abobo had responded to a want ad from the King and had gotten his start under King Hippo in early 2007.

“It’s only natural, having hung out with such a talent like Mike Tyson, that King Hippo would have learned something about boxing skill and boxing promotion,” Abobo explained. “He tells me that if I can just learn to keep my hands up, there isn’t a man alive that can match my strength. I’m really taking it to heart.” The hulking, handlebar mustachioed man with the beady eyes seemed remarkably intelligent and articulate for a guy I’d previously known only for getting dispatched via conveyor belt and exploding out of rock walls: until I brought up Double Dragon.

“After Double Dragon, a lot of us were in a funk. Billy and Jimmy of course latched on and found other work, but you know how it is; we bad guys in video games are a dime-a-dozen, and if you don’t win early or cultivate a fanbase, you’re history. Me, I don’t understand it. Everyone knows Abobo! I can’t even name that big guy they got to replace me in Double Dragon II, and in Double Dragon III you went to Egypt. Fucking Egypt! I’m glad I left the series. It’s been all downhill since I.”

Abobo tried to continue his tirade, but King Hippo cut him off, and even though I still couldn’t understand a word he was saying, I saw the interview was over. That’s a promoter for you.

—

Not every mini-boss unemployment story had an agreeable ending. Sure, Ultros found new life and love. King Hippo and Abobo are tearing up the Heavyweight circuit. Boom Boom has conquered his demons and Birdo… well… Birdo has lots of “friends”. But while as I was on my way back to the hotel, I encountered another mini-boss, as a fat figure pulled a gun and demanded my cash. I was in the midst of removing my wallet when it hit me.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Aren’t you Kraid?” My would-be assailant was so happy to be recognized that he immediately threw down the gun and asked if I wanted an autograph for $5. I offered to buy him a drink instead, and found myself back at the bar where the whole adventure had started.

Kraid was still unemployed, having been let go by Nintendo following the release of Super Metroid years ago. He’d been computer-generated for Metroid: Zero Mission, and so hadn’t seen any royalties.

You’d think a large, reptilian alien with the ability to fire spikes from his gut could find a job in Vegas.

I listened to half a dozen rants about the state of the Metroid series in general, that “no-good double-crossing Nintendo,” and a lament that former Metroid co-star Ridley refuses to acknowledge his existence or contribution.

“I got two stinkin’ games, three if you count that remake. Ridley is in what, six games? In the good old days it was always ‘Ridley and Kraid’, but nowadays it’s just Ridley. I was actually slated to appear alongside him in Prime, and the double-crossing bastard told them he wouldn’t work with me. I was unique. Ridley’s just some trashy gargoyle wanna-be. Us little guys always get screwed.”

Ultros chimed in his take on why he’d never gotten a legit offer back for Final Fantasy VII, (or VIII, or IX, or X, or XI, or XII…) and a vigorous argument started over exactly why these two fat, off-kilter mini-bosses never got another shot. When Chupon threatened to settle any arguments with a sneeze, I knew it was time to leave. Again.
—

These mini-bosses got the pink slip and faded into video game obscurity: to be remembered fondly only by hardcore fans and writers with little else to do. Once locked into cushy (and not so cushy) jobs in the employ of bigger, badder video game bosses, they found themselves lamenting the ones that got away, but life went on.

I encourage all of you to make your way to Las Vegas and see if you can find these stars yourself, but remember: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

And if you see Birdo, tell…it…that Rocco sent you.