You’re standing at the starting line of a wild, chaotic kart race. Characters from everywhere are here — Sonic, Master Chief, Crash Bandicoot — and you, repping your own universe.

Suddenly, the ground rumbles. “MAMMA MIA!!” echoes across the track like a war cry.

You turn — and there he is: Mario, bursting out of a pipe, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched around a giant hammer. His hat is tilted, his mustache bristling with rage.

He points straight at you, his finger trembling. “YOU’RE-A NOT FROM NINTENDO!!”

Before you can react, he charges like a bull. You hop into your kart, slamming the gas, tires screeching as Mario hurdles Goombas and rams a Koopa out of the way like a linebacker.

BAM! He swings his hammer, barely missing your head — it smashes into a nearby Pikachu instead (poor Pikachu).

“Take-a THIS, you dirty outsider!!” Red shells, banana peels, fireballs — it’s a full assault. You drift around corners, dodging, weaving, your heart racing. Every time you glance back, Mario’s right there, frothing with pure Nintendo-fanatic fury. You're not Nintendo! You're... you're PREtend-O! You're all... TRAITORS!!! You invite non-Nintendo characters, onto my track?!