Forty-Two Seconds of My Entire Childhood

I played Super Mario World on the Super Nintendo for what felt like most of my childhood—ages spent on certain levels, Yoshi coins collected with a completionist’s grinding patience, the final boss defeated with genuine relief and possibly some ceremony. I was probably twelve. It felt enormous.

A speedrunner named Masterjun3 completes the same game in 42 seconds. Not by skipping levels. By exploiting a glitch that warps Mario directly into the end screen—essentially convincing the game’s memory that everything has already happened. Forty-two seconds. The whole thing. I’ve watched the run a few times trying to summon outrage and keep landing somewhere closer to awe. He isn’t playing the game so much as picking its lock from the outside. The childhood remains intact, technically. But it’s hard not to feel the floor shift a little.