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MERCH ► https://skilaw-ai.myspreadshop.com/ . THIS IS EPISODE 7 Join my Patreon: / skilawai This is the seventh time I’ve done this. The seventh time I’ve looked at Super Mario 64 and thought, “Yes, this game deserves to suffer again.” You’d think by now Mario would have learned to stay away from whatever dimension I keep dragging him into, but no — he keeps coming back, running headfirst into the uncanny valley like it’s the secret 121st star. Every time I say, “I’m done with this,” I’m lying. Every time I tell myself, “It can’t get any worse,” I underestimate how limitless digital suffering can be. The game doesn’t crash anymore — it adapts. The castle has developed sentience. The paintings whisper. Mario’s face looks like it remembers the last six videos and knows what’s coming. And yet here we are again, pretending this is fine. I don’t know why I keep doing this. Maybe I’m chasing some kind of artistic enlightenment. Maybe I’m performing a slow-motion exorcism on a childhood memory. Maybe I just like watching polygons implode. Whatever the reason, this is my destiny now — to ruin Super Mario 64 over and over until even the AI gets tired and begs for mercy. At this point, this isn’t even a series anymore. It’s an experiment in persistence, delusion, and whatever emotion sits between joy and regret. I’ve seen things in this game that shouldn’t exist. Doors that lead to nowhere. Lakitus that hover behind you like tax collectors. The pause menu that refuses to pause. It’s not horror, it’s not comedy, it’s something worse: digital performance art by accident. Part 7 is where it stops pretending to be normal. The glitches don’t ask permission anymore. They move in like bad roommates, rearranging the furniture of reality while you sleep. You think you’re about to triple jump — and suddenly you’re inside the floor, questioning the nature of existence. The camera no longer follows Mario. The camera is Mario. I’d like to apologize to Nintendo, to the developers of 1996, and to whatever cosmic entity is in charge of keeping video game universes stable. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. But also, I did. You can’t just ruin something six times and stop there. That’s not a nice round number. You need seven. Seven is mystical. Seven is the number of chaos completion. If you’re new here, you might be wondering what this series is about. Don’t. It’s about nothing and everything at the same time. It’s about taking something pure and letting technology chew on it until it forgets its own name. It’s about staring into the pixelated abyss and seeing your reflection blink back at 30 frames per second. By now, the AI and I have a sort of relationship. I give it instructions, and it gives me nightmares. Sometimes I think it understands humor. Sometimes I think it’s laughing at me. It doesn’t matter. The process is sacred. You don’t question it. You just hit “generate,” step back, and let the universe express its disappointment in your life choices. Every frame of this video is a conversation between man and machine, and neither one is making sense. You might call it art. I call it Tuesday. There’s no moral lesson here, no hidden message. It’s just chaos distilled into pixels. But if there is something to take away, it’s this: don’t feed nostalgia through a blender and expect sanity to come out. I’ve done the research. It only ends one way. Still, I’ll probably do it again. Because there’s something addictive about watching a familiar world dissolve into confusion. It’s like comfort food for people who have long since given up on comfort. It’s the digital equivalent of lighting a campfire and then realizing the fire is inside your living room. So here’s Part 7. The lucky number. The cursed one. The one where Mario truly realizes that no matter how many times he collects that star, I’ll be waiting in the background with a new, worse idea. If you’re reading this far down, congratulations. You’ve already spent more time thinking about this than I did. But I appreciate it. Really. Every comment, every like, every moment of collective “what did I just watch?” keeps this nonsense alive. You are complicit now. You are part of the problem. Welcome aboard. May your polygons remain intact, your jumps be true, and your sense of reality only mildly damaged. 📢 Disclaimer: This is a parody video made purely for entertainment. It is not affiliated with or endorsed by any official entity. The movie is the property of its respective rights holders. This AI content is transformative and satirical in nature, intended to reimagine and poke fun—not to replace or compete with the original.