Creepypasta - el "concurso" perverso de Mario 64 (retake)

Overview

Jorge, 34, a criminology student, recounts a “final victimology” assignment: analyzing old, closed case files that had no real chance of being reopened or investigated. One 1999 file appears harmless at first—typed notes, stamps, and ordinary handwriting—but in the appendices he finds a faded, heavily copied flyer.

The flyer is in a Mario 64 fan-art style and proposes a children’s video-game contest.

The “Mario 64” Trigger and Jorge’s Childhood Memory

The flyer instantly pulls Jorge back to childhood. When he was 7, he stayed in a ranch town that wasn’t his own (at his mother’s ranch). He desperately wanted to attend a caravan running a Mario 64 contest for kids.

The rules were simple:

• Collect the most stars to win a prize.

The caravan arrived early morning. Mothers dressed their children in church shoes, waited all day, and then received them back with candy and cheerful stories—stories claiming the kids’ friends had won.

But later, nothing worked out:

• Phone calls never came.
• Adults checked with the booth and the municipality.
• Reports began to pile up.

What the Investigation File Reveals

Jorge reviews the documentation:

• 11 statements from families describe the same “role” or organization.
• There is no official permit, no company name, and no real documentation—only consistent stories.
• Photos are scarce: only seven images for 40 children.
• Several photos look generic or resemble school IDs.
• One photo seems “frozen,” as if the children were instructed not to move.

As Jorge digs deeper, the case stops feeling like a simple mystery and starts feeling engineered—arranged to be missed.

The Online “Aha” and the Pattern of Avoidance

Jorge tries to find names online and watches community-outreach clips from a different channel. He learns the campaign targeted cities with phone access—not a rural ranch town.

He realizes the operation’s design made it easier for authorities to fail to notice.

The Ranch Village Visit

Jorge finally visits the ranch village to ask questions. Many residents brush him off:

• “It happened long ago.”
• “We were kids.”

It’s as if the community collectively stopped trying to reopen the topic. Others are cruelly dismissive or simply uncomfortable.

Still, two people do share more direct information—both in ways that feel like half-confirmations.

Interview 1: The Older Man (46)

The first interview is with a 46-year-old man, the narrator’s initial source. He insists the tournament truly occurred and describes it in concrete detail:

• The day involved real playing.
• There was a scoreboard, cake, soda, and a TV.
• Turns were taken.

The defining moment comes near the end:

• Kids were called one by one into a door.
• After one boy turned back toward Jorge’s narrator, shouting begins.
• Children scream for their moms.

The older man reports one phrase that has stayed with him ever since:

“See you Monday, you lucky bastard.”

Even after decades of normal life, the phrase erupts into his mind when he’s alone.

Interview 2: The Second Man (34–35)

The second interviewee, about Jorge’s age (34–35), describes the horror more specifically and more intensely.

He claims the “final” was real and describes the calling process, then adds that the screaming escalated into something beyond comparison—similar to screams from car crashes, but different.

He also says:

• He tried to tell a psychologist long ago but “couldn’t speak,” as if the words do not exist.

He adds a detail that seems both surreal and terrifying:

• A man in a Mario costume remained in place during the shouting.
• Over time, the “Mario” image became unreachable—he says he “can’t see Mario.”

He further suggests it wasn’t random madness, but organized and profit/benefit-driven.

Finally, he claims he ran through a door and escaped without anyone chasing him—yet he is most haunted by that lack of pursuit.

How the Accounts Converge

Both accounts align on the same chilling premise:

• Kids were taken from a rural ranch under the false cover of a “contest.”
• Candy and coordination helped delay suspicion.
• Documentation appears missing on purpose.

For Jorge, it becomes personal in an unexpected way. His mother had refused to let him go that week, dismissing the idea as “bad music” and “family trouble.” Now Jorge realizes her refusal may have protected him—without anyone being able to foresee it.

The Present-Day Resolution

Back in the present, Jorge completes the required analysis, scores a 9, and reflects on how the case stayed invisible:

• letters were unanswered,
• archives remained closed,
• official records were absent.

Meanwhile, a list of 40 names sits like a silent inventory of what never made it into the system.

Closing Mood

The video ends with Jorge still unsettled—grounded by:

• his mother’s refusal,
• his own survival,
• and the idea that “miracle” didn’t arrive through rescue from above.

Instead, it’s described as saving yourself by accident—without explanation for why.

Highlights / Memorable Bits

• The Mario 64 flyer functions like a horror trigger—visually matching Jorge’s obsession and instantly linking the academic case to his own memory.
• The story’s bureaucratic “victimology paperwork” framing makes the horror hit harder once the “contest” is revealed as fake and undocumented.
• A small irony: residents expected a normal phone call like any event—then silence arrived instead.
• There are no real jokes, but there’s dark irony in the way “prize/contest” language masks something predatory.

Main Personalities

• Jorge (narrator): 34, criminology student.
• Jorge’s mother: refused to let him attend the contest; later implied to have protected him unintentionally.
• Older man interviewed (46): insists the contest happened and recalls the recurring phrase about “See you Monday… lucky bastard.”
• Second man interviewed (34–35): claims he escaped via a door; describes the screaming and difficulty articulating it to a psychologist.