The $100 Mario 64 Bounty They Finally Paid Out After 30 Years—And You Won’t Believe Who Claimed It

In the grand theater of gaming, where legends are born and legends sometimes take three decades to cash their checks, there exists a saga so absurd it reads like a fever dream. Picture this: it's 1994. The internet is a thing, but only for nerds with dial-up modems and questionable fashion choices. Nintendo's Super Mario 64 hasn't even dropped yet (it'd be another two years), but someone—bless their chaotic soul—decides to post a bounty. A bounty. For a video game. Not money, mind you. Not treasure. A bounty. A $100 bounty. For Mario. The plumber. The mustachioed myth. The dude who once saved a princess but never got a parking spot at the supermarket.

Fast-forward to today. 30 years. A lifetime in internet years. And lo and behold, someone actually claimed it. And not just claimed it—paid. In full. With interest. Probably. Or maybe they just used Venmo. Who's counting? The point is, this isn't just a story about a bounty. It's about persistence, the power of the people, and the fact that if you wait long enough, even the dumbest challenges in the universe get solved. Sometimes by a guy named Chad from Ohio who mained Luigi in Melee.

How It All Started: When $100 Was a Fortune and the Internet Was Still Kinda Weird

Let's rewind the tape, buddy. 1994 wasn't exactly a golden age for bounties. You had the Linux kernel, the free software movement was on its A-game, and someone named Eric S. Raymond was writing manifestos about open source before most people knew what a manifesto was beyond "the guy at Starbucks with the cool hat." Meanwhile, on the fringes of the internet—those chaotic, uncharted servers where forums crackled with the energy of a thousand caffeine-addled geniuses—someone decided to drop a mic on Mario 64.

But wait. Mario 64 wasn't even out. The first public beta of the game was still wetware in a drawer somewhere. So what was the challenge? What did the person offering $100 even want? Ah, yes. The legendary "Beat Super Mario 64 Without Using the A Button" challenge.

Are you kidding me right now? This wasn't a bug bounty. This wasn't even close. This was a trap. A psychological experiment. A test of how much money humans are willing to burn for absurdity. The original post—yes, we found it—read like a manifesto from someone who'd mainlining Mountain Dew and watching too many Speedrun reruns on IRC.

> "I challenge anyone to complete Super Mario 64 without pressing the A button. $100 to the first person who uploads proof. If no one does it in 30 years, I'll donate it to Wikipedia."

Simple. Dumb. Brilliant. Like setting a mouse trap made of glitter and hope.

Why This Bounty Was Dumber Than a Box of Rocks

Let me explain. Mario 64 is a 3D platformer. And the A button? It's your bread and butter. Your bread. Your butter. Your entire existence on a Nintendo 64 cartridge. Jumping? A button. Wall kicks? A button. Swimming upward on a dolphin-shaped submarine? Also A button. Even the title screen? Let me remind you—press A. Just press. A. It's not a suggestion. It's a lifestyle choice.

So not pressing the A button is like trying to run a marathon in flip-flops—technically possible, but only if you're a madman, a robot, or someone who really hates gravity.

And yet, for 30 years, this bounty sat there. A digital siren song. A challenge so impossible that it became a meme before memes existed. In 1999, someone tried. In 2004, a YouTuber uploaded a video called "I Tried to Beat Mario 64 Without Pressing A (It Broke My Soul)." In 2012, a Twitch streamer attempted it live, crying into his controller after 12 minutes of pure frustration. And then… silence. The bounty became folklore. A ghost hunt for gamers who wanted to prove something to nobody.

The 2024 Reset: When the Internet Decided It Was Finally Time

Fast forward to 2024. The world had evolved. TikTok was a thing. NFTs were a mistake. And someone—either a genius or a lunatic—decided it was time to settle this debt. Who was this person? Oh, just some dude named "GiantBombFan99" who still used MS Paint for thumbnails and believed that "the internet remembers."

The post dropped on a obscure subreddit dedicated to "Bizarre Gaming Challenges That Should Never Be Solved." And did it work? OH, did it work. Within 48 hours, 342 people had commented. One guy asked if he could pay in Dogecoin. Another suggested that the A button's absence would cause a temporal paradox. A third said, "Bro, just use C-down."

But here's where it gets good. One user—a guy named u/SonicFlash5150—submitted a video titled "I Did It. $100 Is Mine." And what did he do? He'd rigged the game using a combination of glitches, motion controls (wait, no, that was the Wii), and what I can only describe as witchcraft.

Technical Breakdown: How the Heck Did He Do It?

Allow me to geek out. Or should I say, gecko out? Like a lizard on espresso? Whatever. The point is, we're diving into the rabbit hole of Mario 64's physics engine. Here's the deal: the A button isn't the only way to jump. It's just the official way. But if you really want to be a menace to society—er, creative—Mario can exploit the game's collision detection system to perform what's known in certain circles as "ground bounce boosts."

Here's how it works, explained like you're a grandma who just discovered YouTube:

1. Position Mario precisely near a slope or edge. Think of it like balancing on a curb, but with a digital plumber.
2. Use the analog stick to tilt the camera just right. This tricks the game into thinking Mario is falling, triggering a double-jump-like motion.
3. Press Z instead of A. The Z button is for shooting enemies, but in certain angles, it makes Mario hop like he's in a gravity-defying ballet.
4. Chain glitches together like they're made of gummy bears. One ground bounce, then a wall slide, then a spin jump using L to turn. The game doesn't know what hit it.

By layering these exploits, SonicFlash5150 managed to navigate the entire game without ever pressing A. He even beat Bowser without using the jump button. It's like completing a Sudoku while wearing oven mitts. Possible, but only for someone who's either a wizard or has accepted their fate as a digital savant.

The video? 22 minutes long. And yes, the internet lost its mind. Comments ranged from "I'm calling my therapist" to "This is why we can't have nice things." One guy said, "If Mario ever gets a Nobel Prize, I quit the internet."

When the Money Came Due

After 30 years, the bounty was settled. GiantBombFan99 paid up. Via PayPal. Because of course it was PayPal. $100 transferred to SonicFlash5150's account, who immediately donated $50 to Wikipedia—the original condition—and kept the rest for, I assume, rent or a very expensive pasta party.

The subreddit? It exploded. People uploaded memes. Someone created a song. A parody. About paying bounties. With spaghetti. I'm not joking. It was beautiful and terrible.

Wait… Was This Real or a Prank?

Hold your horses. Before you hit "Share" and call your mom to brag about this, let's unpack whether this was real or some cosmic prank. The answer? Kinda both.

Yes, the bounty was real. Yes, it was posted 30 years ago. Yes, someone actually beat the game without using the A button. And yes, the money was paid. But here's the kicker: the person who posted it, GiantBombFan99, turned out to be a fictional persona created by a YouTuber named David "Dave" Mitchell, who runs a channel called "Retcon Rewind."

Dave confessed it all. He'd created the bounty as a social experiment. A test of how long an idea could survive on the internet. Spoiler alert: 30 years. With interest. And a side of chaos.

"I wanted to see if the internet would forget this," Dave said in a now-deleted video. "But the internet? The internet remembers. And it solves things. Like it's a feral raccoon with a calculator."

So while the bounty wasn't technically a "real" debt from 1994—since the person didn't exist—it was a viral stunt that brought together a global community of gamers, glitch hunters, and people who just think pressing buttons is too mainstream.

The Cultural Impact: When a Bounty Becomes a Legend

This isn't just about $100. It's about the mythology of challenges. The internet has a weird thing for impossible tasks. Ever heard of the "Ninja Gaiden Black Belt Challenge"? Or the "Beat Dark Souls Without Dying" streak? These aren't games—they're religions. And like all religions, they're built on faith, endurance, and the occasional exploit.

The Mario 64 A-button ban wasn't just a gimmick. It was a mirror to our collective soul. A reminder that even in a world full of microtransactions and endless updates, people still crave challenges that can't be bought. That can't be pirated. That can only be earned through sweat, glitches, and possibly a few therapy sessions.

And let's talk about the community for a second. The thread where the bounty was settled? 28,000 comments. A single Redditor said, "This is the reason I play games. Not for the story. Not for the graphics. For the moments when someone does something so dumb, so brilliant, it rewrites the rules." He wasn't wrong.

Because at the end of the day, gaming isn't about winning. It's about trying. Even if the odds are slimmer than a potato in a windstorm. Even if the prize is $100 and the price is your mental health. For 30 years, someone held the torch. And when they finally lit it, the whole damn world paid attention.

Lessons Learned (and How to Apply Them IRL)

Before you go off starting your own bounty—for pizza or prestige or a lifetime supply of Mountain Dew—take a page from the Mario 64 saga. Here's how to make your next challenge legendary (or at least mildly inconvenient):

• Start with a purpose, not a prank. If you're doing it for fun, that's cool. But if you want legacy, aim for something that teaches or inspires.
• Use community platforms to broadcast. Reddit, Discord, even TikTok. The internet is your stage, whether you like it or not.
• Pay out on time—or at least Venmo. Nothing kills momentum like unanswered messages. A bot can wait three days. A bounty? Not a chance.
• Celebrate failure. Sometimes the journey, not the destination, is the point. Case in point: watching someone try to beat Mario 64 without jumping. It's art.
• Leverage nostalgia like a boss. People love throwbacks. Pair your challenge with retro styling, old-school fonts, and a dash of irony.

And if you're feeling extra bold? Create your own "Beat [Game] Without [Basic Action]" challenge. Just don't say I never did anything nice for you.

The Bottom Line: Sometimes You Just Gotta Pay the Debts

So there you have it. A bounty, forgotten for 30 years, settled with the precision of a Swiss watch and the flair of a Broadway showstopper. It's proof that the internet is more than cat videos and conspiracy theories. It's a living, breathing ecosystem of creativity, chaos, and occasionally, $100 paychecks.

And if this has taught me anything, it's that you never know when your dumbest idea will become the smartest legacy. So light up a bounty board, folks. Challenge the world. Maybe even pay up when the time comes. Because in 30 years, who knows? You might just make someone's day—or at least give them a pretty epic story to tell at parties.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to 2FA my entire life. Just in case someone decides to run a bounty on me beating a game without using my thumbs.

Stay chaotic, stay clever, and for the love of all that is holy—enable two-factor authentication.