After achieving his "super" status, Mario appears to have left his old life far behind. The blue-collar kid from our hometown found success in the Mushroom Kingdom’s elite circles, abandoning his plumbing job for a lavish existence as Princess Peach’s favored royal companion (whatever that role might entail). He and his brother are set for life, so it’s hardly shocking they stayed quiet during the Toadette controversy—when the real estate tycoon faced criticism for anti-union tendencies.
Just as it seemed Nintendo’s biggest star had fully turned his back on his roots, another figure steps in to champion working people: Donkey Kong, specifically in Donkey Kong Bananza. Though "mascot" might be a more fitting label than "hero" here—his main activities involve munching bananas and smashing rocks—it’s the underground worlds he explores that showcase a society built on fairer, more equal ideals.
Admittedly, dissecting the story of a first-party Nintendo game is an odd task, and it’s even odder when you recall the studio’s last major narrative (Super Mario Odyssey) centered on three evil rabbits plotting a wedding. I don’t make the rules of coincidence; I just observe them. And Bananza is full of more than just a couple of passing nods to creating safe, equitable spaces for workers.
Fair workplace practices are practically a recurring motif throughout Bananza. Early on, in the Canyon Layer, you’ll stumble upon a stone slab with workplace guidelines from Sturdy Rope—a company whose closing message holds a lesson the games industry (and many others) could stand to learn:
“Sturdy Rope: Because a safe, stable workplace is a happy workplace.”
In the Forest Layer, the Eggshell Hotel and its surrounding village have similar handbook-style stone slabs. Some offer tips for delivering great guest experiences; others remind staff that they can only excel if they take time to care for themselves. Even Poppy Kong, if you challenge her to a fight in The Junction, makes it clear she won’t work overtime without fair pay.
Even in one of the loading screen texts, the game urges you not to blame Void Kong’s underlings. The villain’s sky-high turnover forced him to brainwash and conscript underground creatures into service. Bananza suggests: if you’re going to be angry, direct it at the one who created the problem—not those caught in it.
The impact of this more equal worldview is visible in how most of Bananza’s layers operate. The snakes of the Radiance Layer use their intelligence and rare, precious gems to craft artificial lights that power other layers. The zebras of the Freezer Layer spend their days making frozen treats loved by all. There’s likely a barter system at play—or maybe money isn’t needed at all, given the piles of gold everywhere—but everyone seems content to do meaningful work and look out for one another.
Even the elders leading each community traded business careers to pursue their love of music and DJing. They still check in on their old ventures to keep things running smoothly, but they’re happier than ever now that they’re following their passions. They’re a stark contrast to Void Kong, whose hyper-individualism and greed drive him to steal resources, destroy communities, and make others miserable just to boost his own ego. Donkey Kong Bananza’s ending might feel unexpected, but it fits Void Kong’s story: after a life of selfishness and causing suffering, the villain is swept into obscurity by the very chaos his greed created.
The main goal of the story is to get Pauline back home, but the dozens of subtle messages in Bananza are clear: building a better world for everyone means life and work shouldn’t revolve around endless accumulation—and it’s not up to workers alone to make it happen.