A New Challenger Approaches...

Eheh.

"Your brothers, as skilled of fighters as they are, are far too similar to warrant giving each of them a slot of their own on the Roster. But you... I've seen you do things the others couldn't. Standing up to a magnificent foe, and having the courage, the strength, to..." The Hand gave a slight chuckle. "Well, I don't need to tell you what you've done."

Eugh. That didn’t sound all too favorable. Now that he thought about it, the odds of this going in anyone’s favor but his own were incredibly high, his own self-confidence aside. “That’s rigged! How do you expect me to topple whatever abominations you have in store without my tools to aid me? You should know that peaceful creatures or not, it is my own genius that gives my robots their intellect!”

"The problem there lies within exactly what that creation is: a replication of another one of the contestants. I've already dabbled in the inclusion of multiple versions of certain characters, and I must say, the results were far less interesting than I would have hoped. Too many similarities, not enough variety to validate giving them an entire slot of their own. Some might as well have simply been another option of color."

An enormous hand emerged from the darkness before the mutant turtle, chuckling darkly to itself as its fingers waved idly while it bobbed up and down in the air. “Greeting, Donatello.” The Hand began, its voice proud and imposing. “I am Master Hand, overseer of the Smash Tournament.”

It didn’t take much to make Donatello drop his guard a little. Sure, it was a giant hand that was capable of some unknown means of speech, but when you’re a teenage mutant ninja turtle, you see a lot of strange things. This just further proved that Donatello was probably the biggest weirdness magnet amongst his brothers. The intimidation factor wasn’t even of his first concern.

the-master-hand started following you

An enormous hand emerged from the darkness before the mutant turtle, chuckling darkly to itself as its fingers waved idly while it bobbed up and down in the air. "Greeting, Donatello." The Hand began, its voice proud and imposing. "I am Master Hand, overseer of the Smash Tournament."

The captain shook his head. “They may follow me, but I cannot control them totally. I lead their battles, but nothing stops these creatures from ignoring me. Unlike me, they… do not hesitate; they do not revolt. Their loyalty never wavers, no matter how many mistakes I make.” With that, Olimar sighed. Already he felt his steely words exhaust and fade. “I would be unable to accomplish anything on my own. That is why they must come before my own selfish wants now.”

The Hand floated silently in thought for a few moments; the small Captain's description of his Pikmin sounded not unlike the Fighting Alloy Team, creations of the Hand which it used to help the contestants of the last Tournament push themselves to the best of their abilities. Although it certainly had an amount of apathy towards how many of them fell in battle, the Hand also held great pride in them for being able to add an extra challenge to the competition. The Hand would never consider sharing a title with them, but it wouldn't deny that they, and their past iterations, definitely held a role of importance in each of their respective Tournaments.

"Why you stuck-up no for good - Tell me then, how did the pint-sized alien earn himself a spot? He tosses around those small plant things like it’s nobody’s business! How is that different from me?!" The doctor pointed a finger at the… well, hand, practically fuming at the very idea he’d be denied when so many less worthy of a spot got in over him. The nerve of some gods.

"The small Captain was indeed a special case. He took a weak, peaceful group of creatures and used them to his advantage. Without them, he's nothing particularly special, and without him they're practically harmless, useful for little more than carrying goods back to their homes. But together, they were able to take down creatures easily more than ten times his size. They are a team, and while his Pikmin essentially serve as mere tools or weapons, your machines think and attack on their own, making them count more as a separate unit."

olimar-of-hocotate replied to your post:"I certainly hope the small Captain is satisfied…

"To defeat Sonic is but one of my many goals, yes. Through your battles or otherwise." The doctor clasped his hands together with a pleasant grin. What a bizarre specimen this thing was, he mused on it’s power - The ability to warp between dimensions, not to mention the wonders of influence it undoubtedly had. And yet he had no idea where to even begin.

"I’m quite proud of my Tournaments." The hand replied, almost smugly. "For sport, yes, but also they fight for their own reasons. Fame, honor, to meet other fighters of similar caliber. Some fight for the same reason you seek to join, to defeat another contestant, and, my personal favorite, some only join simply for the joy it brings them."

"What?" That turned sour much faster than he had originally envisioned. Here he thought he’d at least pry out a little bit of information from the giant disembodied glove-god, but this? Before it wasn’t personal, it was just a power gambit. But nobody was going to tell him he was lacking. "I’ve competed in the Olympics against that fool Mario and the pincushion’s little imbecile friends! I’ve enslaved gods, I’ve taken countries, I have an army and I’m the smartest man you’ll ever dare to cross! How am I under-qualified?!

"I've heard of these accomplishments, and from what I understand, they've either gone sour, or were with the aid of many a machine." The hand, if it could, would have smirked as the Doctor questioned his choices. "The green plumber defeated monsters alongside his brother, and even overtook a mansion filled with ghosts. Wario, while indeed an all around questionable individual, is a powerhouse with his own share of... strange abilities." It let out another chuckle as it added, "And from what I hear, the 'goody-goody freak' was the very one who defeated your gods, stood up to your armies, and all of your machines, as well. Every competitor has their own accomplishments, some varying in greatness, but they are all their own... not a machine's."

"To defeat Sonic is but one of my many goals, yes. Through your battles or otherwise." The doctor clasped his hands together with a pleasant grin. What a bizarre specimen this thing was, he mused on it’s power - The ability to warp between dimensions, not to mention the wonders of influence it undoubtedly had. And yet he had no idea where to even begin.

"I'm quite proud of my Tournaments." The hand replied, almost smugly. "For sport, yes, but also they fight for their own reasons. Fame, honor, to meet other fighters of similar caliber. Some fight for the same reason you seek to join, to defeat another contestant, and, my personal favorite, some only join simply for the joy it brings them."

"That…  Makes as much sense as any of this, I suppose. "  She gives a curt little smile, drawing her needle wands and going through a few manoeuvres. Thick, purple bolts fly, forming a barrier that can both protect her and damage enemies, though she stops the show early, not wanting to outdo herself.