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This is the first of a three-part editorial that tasks itself with taking an in-depth look at a classic from the 16-bit era, Super Metroid. Everyone knows the science fiction masterpiece was great in 1994, but is it great now? This will be a three-act discussion. First, we will begin with its roots: the 1986 NES classic Metroid. Then we will look at Super Metroid itself. Finally, we will step into the 21st century with Metroid: Zero Mission to see where its legacy has gone and how that legacy can inform us about what makes a great game so great, or not.
The first time I experienced Metroid was at an old family friend’s house when I was eight years old. It was an illuminating day. While there, I tackled classics like Excitebike, Dr. Mario, Castlevania, and Metroid. The friend’s daughter even helped me solve that damn key room puzzle in Link’s Awakening’s swamp grotto dungeon. Unfortunately, this was to be the last time for over a decade that I encountered any of the above games. And Metroid simply went right over my head. I remember controlling some weird robot (whom I was assured was actually a girl – yeah right!) through a blue maze filled with strange, flying creatures, but little else. I don’t even think I found the missiles. Maze games confounded me considerably at that age.
Well, maze games aren’t so bad now. In fact, I am altogether quite handy at finding my way around these types of games today, much to the chagrin of my fiance. Jealous wench. She owned the thing on her own NES, though, which puts her two steps ahead of my childhood, so I guess I’ll let it slide. Seeing as how she had never beaten the game, she was also to be my wingwoman on my long-overdue trip to Zebes on the Wii’s Virtual Console.
Metroid was amazing in 1986, I am sure. Nintendo Power even ranked it the 11th best game on a Nintendo console. Sadly, it doesn’t hold up quite so well today. Despite the size of the game, there are really only a few variants on the same corridor/shaft. For that matter, a lot of the platforming involves near-pixel perfect jumping, sometimes across blocks only a single tile wide. Throw in a bunch of aliens flying all over the screen, including those beetles that pop out of the Mario Bros.-type pipes ad infinitum, and you have a recipe for controller-tossing frustration.
In fact, the game pretty well requires exploitation to progress. You can halt the beetle-spawns by not scooping the last one’s missile or health drop, for example. And finding your way to the next power-up or boss occasionally, quite literally, requires you to bomb an arbitrary ground tile in some obscure tunnel.
So far, though, Metroid doesn’t sound all that different from any other NES title. The poor 8-bit carts had to wring their 8-10 hours of gameplay out of you somehow, and that rarely meant putting in 8-10 hours’ of a linear, ever-changing experience. No, most of my NES memories involve replaying the same series of stages over and over, distinguishable only by color and enemy placement (and color).
In retrospect, Metroid is rather like a proof of concept. On display here: a strange, expansive alien world, a main character that grew increasingly more capable as she found weapons and items, backtracking using those new items, and creepy-ass face huggers. Seriously, the metroid is scary as hell, even in 8-bit and even today. My fiance will deny squealing at them, but she would be a liar!
So next week we’re going to head to Zebes again, and we’re going to find all of the above on display, only ratcheted up to the next level. Metroid may be barely amusing now, but it was a necessary moment. And it led to something absolutely amazing.
