Kevin Afghani on becoming Mario: nerves, respect, and carrying a legendary voice forward

20 January 2026
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12 min.
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Kevin Afghani on becoming Mario: nerves, respect, and carrying a legendary voice forward

Summary:

When a character has lived in our heads for decades, a voice change can feel weirdly personal, like someone swapped the face on a family photo. That’s the situation Kevin Afghani stepped into when he became the new voice of Mario in Nintendo’s games, following Charles Martinet’s long run as the character’s defining sound. In a widely shared interview, Afghani didn’t try to act cool about it. He basically said the quiet part out loud: Charles is Mario, and if he wasn’t nervous taking over, he’d be the wrong person for the job. That honesty lands because it matches how fans feel. We can adore the new performance and still recognize that the old one shaped childhood memories, sleepover marathons, and that familiar “let’s-a go” energy that’s been glued to Mario for years.

This moment is also bigger than one actor. It’s about how Nintendo keeps a character consistent across eras, consoles, and new audiences without freezing Mario in amber. Martinet shifting into the Mario Ambassador role signaled change, but also continuity, because the goal clearly wasn’t to erase anything. Afghani’s tone shows respect rather than replacement. The result is a handoff that asks us to do something simple, but not always easy: listen with open ears. Not for perfection, not for identical delivery, but for the feeling Mario is supposed to bring. Joy, momentum, and that bright, bouncy confidence that makes even a tough level feel like a playful challenge instead of a punishment.

The baton pass to Kevin Afghani and why Mario’s voice feels personal

Mario isn’t just a character we play as. He’s the little spark that starts a weekend session, the sound of a jump that somehow feels like a smile, and the friendly energy that makes even competitive chaos feel welcoming. That’s why a voice change can hit like someone rearranged the furniture in your childhood home. Everything is still technically in the right place, but your brain notices the difference immediately. We don’t experience Mario’s voice the way we experience a random NPC line. We attach it to memories: late-night Mario Kart rivalries, first clears of tricky platform sections, and that warm feeling that Nintendo games often aim for. So when the voice changes, it’s normal to feel protective, curious, and a little suspicious all at once. The key is remembering what the voice is meant to do: carry the character’s spirit, not copy a museum exhibit.

Meeting Kevin Afghani and what changed in 2023

Kevin Afghani stepped into one of the most recognizable roles in entertainment when he took over Mario’s voice work in Nintendo’s games, starting with releases in the modern era where every performance gets clipped, compared, and debated in public. This wasn’t a slow, quiet shift where only hardcore fans noticed. It was the kind of change that trends, because Mario is basically gaming’s mascot for the whole world. The transition also happened alongside a clear statement that Charles Martinet would no longer be recording character voices for the games, moving into a new ambassador role connected to meeting fans and sharing the joy around the character. That framing matters. It told us Nintendo wasn’t pretending the past didn’t exist. Instead, it was acknowledging a new chapter while keeping respect for what came before. In other words, we’re watching a relay race where the baton is handed off with a handshake, not tossed into the crowd.

Charles Martinet’s legacy and why it sets the bar so high

Charles Martinet didn’t just voice Mario for a long time. He built the modern sound of Mario in a way that became shorthand for happiness in games. That’s a wild thing to say about a voice, but it’s true. The performance became instantly recognizable, even in tiny bursts, and it helped define the tone of entire series across decades. When people say “that’s Mario,” they’re usually describing Martinet’s version, because it’s the one that lived through so many eras of Nintendo hardware and so many different kinds of games. Even people who don’t follow voice acting closely know the sound. That’s what makes replacing him feel intimidating. It’s not like taking over a role that has been rotated every few years. This is stepping into a performance that has been baked into pop culture, like a theme song everyone can hum. And yes, that kind of legacy can feel like standing at the bottom of a mountain and realizing you forgot your water bottle.

The quote that says everything about nerves and respect

One of the most striking parts of Afghani’s comments is how direct he is about his nerves. He doesn’t frame nervousness as weakness or doubt. He frames it as proof he understands what he’s inheriting. His point is simple: Charles is the person who created something iconic, and if Afghani didn’t feel nervous taking over, that would be the real red flag. That mindset tells us a lot about how he approaches the role. He isn’t trying to “beat” Martinet or compete with him. He’s treating the role like a responsibility, the way you treat holding someone’s baby, carrying a wedding cake, or driving your friend’s very expensive car. You can do it, you can do it well, but you definitely don’t swagger into it pretending nothing matters. That humility is also a signal to fans: the goal here is to honor what works, then do the job with care, not ego.

Pressure, expectations, and the strange spotlight of fandom

Replacing a beloved performer comes with a unique kind of pressure because the audience isn’t neutral. We come with history, preferences, and a mental “default Mario” that’s been reinforced for years. On top of that, the internet has a habit of turning small differences into big debates. A slightly different “woo-hoo” can become a headline. A single line delivery can get replayed a thousand times with people arguing over whether it feels “right.” That’s a lot to ask of any actor, especially when the character is meant to feel effortless and joyful. Afghani’s situation is also unusual because Mario’s voice is often short bursts rather than long emotional monologues. That means every syllable carries extra weight. There’s less room to hide. The good news is that fandom pressure fades when the work becomes familiar. The more we hear the performance in context, the more our brains stop treating it like a test and start treating it like Mario again. Familiarity is powerful. It’s basically the brain’s way of saying, “Okay, we get it, we’re safe.”

How Nintendo handles a voice transition without breaking the character

Nintendo’s approach to this kind of change tends to be careful, because Mario is not a character that can swing wildly from one interpretation to another. The character is supposed to be consistent across games, genres, and generations of players. That means the performance has to fit a specific shape. We can think of it like a recipe. You can swap the cook, but the dish still needs to taste like the dish everyone ordered. Nintendo also made the transition easier to understand by clearly communicating Martinet’s shift into a different role connected to fan interaction. That kind of messaging reduces the sense of mystery. It tells fans, “This isn’t a messy breakup. This is a planned transition.” In practice, a smooth change usually relies on direction, reference, and quality control. The goal is not to create a brand new Mario. The goal is to keep the character intact while allowing a new performer to sustain the role for the long haul. That’s how franchises survive. Not by refusing to change, but by changing without losing their identity.

Auditions, direction, and keeping Mario instantly recognizable

Even without seeing the behind-the-scenes process, we can infer what matters most: Mario has to sound like Mario to a global audience in multiple languages, across decades, and across different moods. That doesn’t mean every actor must be a perfect clone of what came before, but it does mean the performance needs a recognizable core. Voice casting for a role like this likely focuses on consistency, stamina, and the ability to deliver the character’s signature energy on demand. Direction matters just as much. A voice actor can bring skill, but the production team shapes how that skill lands in the final game. They decide what reads as “too far,” what reads as “just right,” and what feels like it breaks the character. If you’ve ever heard someone do an impression that’s technically good but still feels off, you understand the challenge. The performance has to feel authentic inside the world of the game, not just accurate in isolation. That’s the difference between a voice that sounds like Mario and a voice that feels like Mario.

What voice direction really does in modern game development

Voice direction is the invisible hand that keeps a character stable across different recording sessions, different games, and even different years. Games aren’t recorded in one neat weekend. Lines are often captured in batches, with pickups later to match new gameplay moments or revised scripts. Direction helps ensure the character’s personality doesn’t drift. For a character like Mario, the direction also guards the tone: upbeat, friendly, confident, and never cynical. It’s like keeping a balloon floating at the right height. Too low and it feels flat. Too high and it feels frantic. Direction also helps with rhythm. Mario’s voice often sits on top of fast action, so timing matters. A line has to land in the right window, with clarity, without dragging the pace. That’s why comparing a single isolated clip can be misleading. In a finished game, voice, animation, music, and effects work together. The performance is designed to fit the movement. It’s less like a speech and more like a musical note that hits at exactly the right beat.

Where we first heard the new voice and why first impressions vary

For many players, the first real exposure to Afghani’s Mario performance came through a modern mainline release where the character is front and center, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because you hear the voice in the exact environment it was made for, surrounded by Nintendo’s trademark sound design and pacing. It’s a curse because the first impression becomes a “baseline moment” that people compare everything else to. Humans are funny like that. We can hear a new voice for ten seconds and decide we’ve solved the whole situation forever. In reality, the voice grows on people as they spend time with it. It becomes associated with new memories, not just old ones. That’s when acceptance happens naturally. You stop analyzing and start playing. You stop listening for differences and start listening for vibes. And Mario’s vibe has always been simple: optimistic momentum. If the voice supports that, it’s doing its job, even if it’s not the exact same flavor as before.

Super Mario Bros. Wonder and the first impressions problem

When a new performance arrives, fans often treat the first few clips like a courtroom exhibit. We replay them, slow them down, and ask friends, “Do you hear it?” The problem is that first impressions are often shaped by expectation rather than reality. If you expect a carbon copy, anything different can feel wrong. If you expect a disaster, anything decent can feel surprisingly good. The honest way to evaluate a performance is boring, but effective: hear it in context for hours, not seconds. Mario’s voice is designed to support movement, humor, and that quick, bright feedback loop that makes the character feel alive. In a full play session, your attention is on jumps, surprises, and timing, not on whether a vowel sounds identical to 2004. That’s why time matters. The more we play, the more the performance becomes part of the experience rather than a separate object to judge. And once it’s part of the experience, it’s easier to accept the truth: Mario is bigger than any single clip, and the voice is one piece of a larger feeling Nintendo is trying to deliver.

How we can listen without turning every syllable into a trial

It’s normal to care about a voice we’ve heard for decades, but there’s a difference between caring and nitpicking. Nitpicking turns fun into homework. It’s like going to a pizza party and spending the whole time critiquing the crust bubbles instead of enjoying the fact that there is pizza. A healthier approach is to focus on what Mario is meant to make you feel. Does the performance carry warmth? Does it carry confidence? Does it still feel playful and energetic? Afghani’s own comments about being nervous and respecting Martinet suggest he understands the emotional stake fans have in this transition. That respect is a bridge. It invites us to be a little generous, to give the performance room to breathe, and to let new memories attach to it over time. We can also remember that Martinet’s work isn’t being erased. It’s still in our memories, still in older games, still part of the character’s history. This isn’t a demolition. It’s an expansion. The character continues, and we get to see how a new performer carries the torch with care.

Separating character, performer, and internet noise

The internet loves turning creative decisions into drama, but that doesn’t mean we have to play along. One of the best ways to keep perspective is to separate three things: the character, the performer, and the noise around the performer. Mario is a fictional character with a consistent purpose: bring joy and momentum. The performer is a real person doing a job that requires skill, consistency, and emotional resilience. The noise is everything else: hot takes, clips stripped of context, and the endless urge to declare a verdict immediately. Afghani’s quote about being nervous lands because it cuts through the noise with something human. It’s not a defensive statement. It’s not a victory lap. It’s a respectful acknowledgment that the role matters. That tone deserves to be met with the same energy. We can be honest about what sounds different while also respecting the work it takes to step into a role like this. If we want the character to remain joyful, it helps to keep the conversation joyful too. Mario’s whole brand is basically “let’s have fun.” The least we can do is let the guy say “woo-hoo” without a thousand microscopes pointed at his throat.

What this handoff means for Mario’s future

Big franchises survive because they adapt without losing their identity. Mario is the ultimate example of that. The character has moved through hardware generations, graphical styles, and gameplay reinventions while still feeling like Mario. A voice transition is another part of that evolution. It signals that Nintendo is planning for the future, not just protecting the past. It also opens the door for Afghani to grow into the role over time, gaining confidence and comfort as the performance becomes routine rather than surreal. For fans, this moment is an invitation to build new memories. The first time you laugh at a silly line delivery in a new game, the first time a “here we go!” hits right as you nail a tricky section, the first time you hear the voice and don’t think about the change at all, those are the moments that turn “new” into “normal.” Martinet’s legacy remains foundational, and Afghani’s respect for that legacy is a strong sign that the handoff was approached with care. In the long run, that’s what we want. Not a perfect imitation, but a steady, joyful Mario who keeps showing up for all of us, year after year, console after console.

Conclusion

Kevin Afghani’s most important move wasn’t trying to sound like a headline. It was sounding like a human being who understands what he’s inherited. By openly saying he was nervous and by treating Charles Martinet as the definitive Mario, he framed the transition as respect, not replacement. That matters because fans don’t just react to the voice, we react to the meaning behind it. Mario is comfort food for a lot of people. When the recipe changes, even slightly, we want reassurance that the chef cares. Nintendo’s messaging around Martinet’s ambassador role and Afghani’s tone together create that reassurance. Over time, the debate will fade and the new memories will take over, because that’s how Mario works. He keeps moving forward, and he pulls us along with him, one jump, one cheer, and one bright little burst of joy at a time.

FAQs
  • What did Kevin Afghani say about replacing Charles Martinet?
    • He said Charles, in his view, is Mario, and that he felt nervous taking over. He framed that nervousness as the correct reaction, because the role is iconic and deserves respect.
  • Why does a Mario voice change feel like a big deal to fans?
    • Because the voice is tied to decades of memories, and Mario’s sound is part of what makes the character instantly recognizable. Even small differences stand out when a voice has been “the default” for so long.
  • Did Nintendo explain Charles Martinet’s new role?
    • Yes. Nintendo described him shifting into a Mario Ambassador role, stepping back from recording character voices for games while continuing to represent Mario and interact with fans.
  • How should we judge the new Mario performance fairly?
    • By hearing it in real play sessions rather than isolated clips, and focusing on whether it delivers Mario’s core feeling: upbeat energy, warmth, and playful confidence in motion.
  • Does this change erase Charles Martinet’s Mario?
    • No. Martinet’s work remains the foundation and lives on through decades of games and shared cultural memory. The change is a new chapter, not a rewrite of the past.
Sources
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