Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl Proves Super Smash Bros. Has Inspired a New Genre. What Should We Call It?

In Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl there are a lot of elements long-time Smash Bros. players will find familiar. Characters battle with combinations of basic melee and unique special attacks to raise the damage percentage of other fighters with the goal of shooting them off stage; aerial and tilt moves are combo’d into spikes to finish off competitors; the roster boasts a heavy dinosaur-type character (Bowser/Reptaur), a duo controlled character (Ice Climbers/Ren and Stimpy), and a character with a tiny but explosive down special (Jigglypuff/Nigel Thornberry). The two games are so similar that even techniques that emerged from the longstanding competitive Melee scene were hyped up in the beginning of the game’s promotion with wavedashing given a bit of spotlight. Considering all these points, and many more, it was clear from the get go that All-Star Brawl was aiming not just for the same audience, but to be a very similar game as the longtime favorite Smash Bros.
As many on Discord, Tiktok and Twitter shout about All-Star Brawl being a cheap clone of the Nintendo fan favorite, something more is missing from the conversation. In all the fervor that the Smash brand has garnered, a lot of players can’t imagine that there could be a realm of possibility beyond Smash. With the comparative language of “clone” and ”-like” battling with the language of “platformer-fighter,” the release of Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl has not only introduced a solid entry in the genre, but ushered in a period of questioning the possibilities of genre itself.
Genre is a funny thing to conceptualize because it seems so obvious that it almost feels arbitrary to discuss in depth. But how do we conceive of genre? Years-old debates over the rejection of labels like “walking simulator” still remain. Paste’s own gaming editor discourages the term “metroidvania.” Does this even matter, though? It doesn’t necessarily effect our experience of playing the games we enjoy, so why treat it so seriously?
Well, I’d argue it is actually pretty important to how we experience the games we play.
Recently I was debating with a friend on whether Weezer’s Pinkerton was the band’s emo era (outrageous I know). After a while of trying to determine what emo even was they exclaimed, “My stance is that genre is fake.” In some ways, yes, genre is a bit of a silly thing that we all debate over. If I find that a work has meaningful value to me, it’s easy to say that we don’t really care to debate how it fits into a rigid label. This is especially true in games where these conversations traditionally have been utilized to maintain white patriarchal values. Yet, outside of debating who is right or wrong about Weezer’s (definitely not!) emo second album, genre is an inherent part of culture we use to comprehend media.
In every medium, a genre lets the audience know what qualities an expressive work has in order to better comprehend it. I use “comprehend” in two different senses; firstly, when someone doesn’t know anything about a piece of work, genre can help them understand whether or not they are interested in engaging with it further. Think of how people browse through sections at the library or the categories of games they would like to try on Steam. Secondly, genre helps us process and recognize the logic of a media. For example, a pop culture film-goer will have a different understanding of a film depending on if it’s a high budget, newly released action movie versus a cult classic horror film that’s a couple decades old. Thus, if I bring back the Weezer debate again, using a generic lens of emo, a genre which has a history of personal political and emotional pain, changes the way one reads the music.
Genre functions similarly in games, one of the primary differences being that typically they give us information about what the player is going to do during play. A city management game lets us know that we are going to be making decisions surrounding a city. A turn based strategy game lets us know that we are going to be moving characters around a map against other characters as we take turns. However, there is also another series of genres that are unique to videogames which grow when games take heavy and specific inspiration from a game, or games, that came before them. Many times this results in the ”-like” suffix genre which are commonly seen in the Souls-like and Rogue-like genre. If we wanna get really wild we can even combine two names to create a genre like “metroidvania.” These genres which have grown immensely over the last decade have also gathered criticism for holding onto their originator’s titles. This isn’t solely because of originality, but also because their titles limit ways that we can imagine what games in a specific genre can be.
Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl is unique in that it exists in a space of games that have been made for the past two decades, but wasn’t considered as its own genre until the last couple of years. In each medium, genre forms uniquely from the culture surrounding the media itself because genre is a distillation of communities, emotions, and language surrounding said media. In games, one of the ways that genre forms is through prototypical comparison due to the canonical fan culture the industry has created over the years. In this type of genre, there is typically a game that becomes fairly popular that clearly and directly inspires games that release afterwards; once these games move past the point of reference to that original title, a genre forms.
Doom is a popular example of this, as early first-person shooters right after Doom used a lot of the same elements, until gradually evolving the formula more extensively. During that period a lot of these games were called “Doom clones” because of the innovative impact the original game made on player culture and expectations. As multiple critics and developers have noted, many times these games that were deemed as Doom clones were not clones, and in many cases did more than Doom, but were doomed (sorry) with the label due to the original game’s impact. Only later would the conceptualization of the first-person shooter form.
From the height of Doom clones to the conceptualization of the first-person shooter we can see that genre isn’t something that arises from games, but from the ways we talk about games. In games, we have upheld a history of mechanical and technological innovation, and because of this we have garnered a culture of centering innovation as canon, therefore leading to the language of cloning and a very conservative, slow paced development towards a more nuanced language.
This might raise the question of why we need labels that go beyond a prototypical game title. If we think back to the original point about genre, we can recall that genre is what helps us conceptualize what we are interacting with. In this same way, the conversations, criticism, discourse, and fandom surrounding these genres is what forms our understanding of what games can be, and that happens through the conceptualization of genre. If we stick to the language of clones, we are stuck with a conservative centering of a canonical work, but if we aim to create language that allows for more ambiguity, we can create a larger scope of possibility in games in the past, present, and future.