The first Super Mario Bros. and the first Legend of Zelda are pretty adequate games. I can appreciate the phenomenal impact both of these games had on the medium of gaming while enjoying my time playing them to some degree. I can declare that both games are well crafted, and their age hasn’t entirely diminished their competency. While I can praise these games for retaining some sense of enjoyment, neither of these titles is even in the top five of my favorite games from either franchise. Any emphatic appreciation for both debut titles mostly extends to the sense of respect I have for both of them while not feeling too passionate about either as individual gaming experiences. The same sense of respect also applies to the first Metroid game, the first entry of Nintendo’s staunchly bronze-winning franchise, while Mario and Zelda fight over which of the two franchises gets gold or silver. The Metroid series is near and dear to me as Mario and Zelda. However, this is mostly due to the myriad of sequels after the first title of the series, as is the case with Mario and Zelda. The respect I have for the first Metroid game on the NES does not extend to the same level of admiration I have for the first Super Mario or Legend of Zelda game, or at least not to the same extent.
I get the impression that Metroid was intended to be Nintendo’s mature franchise meant to offer something for an older demographic. The whimsical influences that crafted both Super Mario Bros. and The Legend of Zelda stem from quaint Japanese folklore and nostalgic memories from Miyamoto’s childhood. Alternately, Metroid’s influences borrow inspiration from science fiction films like Alien and the surrealistic, otherworldly art of H.R. Giger. I don’t think I have to further detail how these influences would warrant a completely different experience from Mario and Zelda. Metroid is concretely in the science-fiction and space epic genres, but the series has always straddled the horror genre as well. The Alien influences are conspicuously interwoven into subtle aspects of the game, like Ridley being named after the film’s director and the protagonist being a woman. Do I really need a spoiler veil for this anymore? More so than these minute aspects, Metroid channels the ethos of Alien’s iconic tagline, which is “in space, no one can hear you scream.”
Metroid’s atmosphere is intended to make the player feel isolated. The dreary emptiness of space has been portrayed more cinematically in the sequels due to graphical enhancements. Still, the 8-bit presentation that makes up the first Metroid evokes this feeling quite well. The consistent pitch-black backgrounds signify space better than anything, and it gives the developers an excuse not to implement vibrant backgrounds. The soundtrack runs the gamut from sounding triumphant to having a sublime eeriness, supported by one of the most effective 8-bit soundtracks of all time. Metroid also achieves this sense of uneasiness because everything on this extraterrestrial planet is hostile. Lava flows on the surfaces of Planet Zebes like a flowing river stream, and every strange creature Samus encounters wants her dead. Even the shrubbery on Zebes is bound to kill Samus in the blink of an eye if she isn’t cautious. Metroid conveys tension by making the player feel like a stranger in a strange land with no practical sense of respite or familiarity. Mario had Toad tell him that the princess and another castle and Link had the old mages to aid him in his quest, but Samus is on her lonesome. The galactic federation that assigned Samus on this lone mission never made one brief appearance or signal to survey the mission, leaving Samus to her own devices with total uncertainty surrounding her.
This sense of discomfort is also supported by Metroid’s general difficulty. The term “NES hard” is usually synonymous with linear 2D platformers and beat em’ ups. Still, an unconventional game like Metroid upholds the reputation of difficulty the system was known for. The minimal graphical elements are an alluring part of the discomfort Metroid exudes, but the difficulty is a level of discomfort with negative connotations. I could attribute this to the myriad of aggressive enemies fling themselves at Samus from all angles. I could credit this to the fact that Samus can only shoot in two directions. The biggest detriment of Metroid’s difficulty is that health isn’t recharged after the player dies. Metroid was released the same year as the first Legend of Zelda, so it’s probable that both games borrowed features from one another in their development time. Once the player dies in Zelda, they restart from the beginning of the overworld with only three hearts. In Metroid, the player starts with only a fraction of one energy tank. It’s fine in the early sections of the game but becomes a giant hassle once the player seeks out energy tanks. In Zelda, the player could purchase healing potions, find a fairy fountain, or just come by the likely chance of finding a fairy in the field. In Metroid, there are no quick solutions for recharging Samus’s energy tanks. If the player dies, they’ll have to grind intensively to regain their health. The only efficient way to do so is by shooting at the insectoid creatures that pop out of vents, and they only give the player five points of health. This process was always so mind-numbing that I didn’t care that I was parading around a hostile alien world with only a fraction of my total health. Metroid also doesn’t come with the same save feature as the one The Legend of Zelda has. It’s not a very long game, but there is so much collecting involved that a save feature would slightly relieve the player.
Metroid is arguably the progenitor of the Metroidvania sub-genre, hence the first part of its namesake. The way the game functions is more like a “proto-Metroidvania” game because the genre's hallmarks were still in its infancy. Unfortunately, this means that the essentials of the Metroidvania genre aren’t quite present here. A map is vital to this genre because of all the backtracking, and there is no map to be found in Metroid. The alien planet in Metroid is a spacious realm of towering sections and long corridors, and it would have been nice to get the aid of a map considering the graphical limitations to make each section practically indiscernible from the next. Getting lost and feeling stuck is a core tenet of Metroid’s atmosphere, but its execution just pissed me off. Often, I’d kill Samus on purpose just so the game would send me back to the start of the area. That’s the extent of my frustration with being lost in this game.
I mentioned in my review of The Legend of Zelda that the game could be cryptic at points, but that game is as straightforward as walking down the yellow brick road compared to Metroid. Zelda’s more cryptic sections were still rather fair and just required thinking outside the box a bit. Some of the sections of Metroid are so obtuse that it feels like the player needs to exploit the game to progress. Some heart containers in Zelda took some extraneous searching, but most were rewards for defeating bosses. The energy tanks in Metroid are all hidden so well that I doubt anyone could find them naturally. These energy tanks are also imperative to comfortably facing the hectic final challenges of the game, so I wouldn't judge the player one bit for using a guide. Getting the Varia Suit was one of the most exploitative endeavors I’ve ever faced in any video game, to the point where I’m still skeptical as to whether or not what I did to get it was the intended method. It’s a suit that changes Samus’s color and adds a layer of defense, so its usefulness might give off the impression that it’s essential to obtain. However, the incredibly obtuse way to secure this valuable upgrade makes me think otherwise. It almost feels like the developers are fucking with the player.
The general objective of Metroid is to unlock a path near the entrance of the game that will take Samus to the final boss of the game. Before she does that, she has to track down both Kraid and Ridley and defeat them. For the extraneous trek, the player has to endure to get to both of them, their fights are laughably pitiful. These supposedly threatening galactic beasts are munchkin-sized foes with lazy, predictable attack patterns. Once the player unlocks the passageway after defeating both of these foes, nothing they’ve faced so far can prepare them for the trudge to Mother Brain. Metroids litter the corridors and can make the game hell for the player if they don’t utilize Samus’s ice beam with sharp reflexes. At the core of these halls lies Mother Brain sealed in a large glass container. It’s an iconic scene in gaming, but I was not aware that this is because of how brutal it is. Samus will endure an onslaught of laser beams, energy balls that appear from seemingly nowhere, and expunge at least 150 missiles on the regenerating blocking tubes and Mother Brain herself. I couldn’t tell you how often I had to restock on energy after dying in this section, probably enough to contemplate my life’s decisions. The player’s eventual success will result in an anticlimactic escape that almost cheats the Mother Brain fight.
Metroid is a game that was way too ambitious for the NES. The Legend of Zelda was ahead of the curve but understood the system's confines. Metroid wanted to fill a kiddy pool with the water it takes to fill an in-ground one, and overflowed. While I can admire the level of innovation the first Metroid offers, this only extends to the apparent building blocks that future Metroid titles and Metroidvania games stack upon. The design and gameplay aspects of Metroid are far too primitive to be executed competently in an NES game. The cryptic design, the lack of a save feature, and the heavy grinding for health grated on me. The other pioneering titles of these landmark Nintendo franchises may suffer from the imminent aging process, but the first Metroid was still heavily flawed back in its heyday.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com
I get the impression that Metroid was intended to be Nintendo’s mature franchise meant to offer something for an older demographic. The whimsical influences that crafted both Super Mario Bros. and The Legend of Zelda stem from quaint Japanese folklore and nostalgic memories from Miyamoto’s childhood. Alternately, Metroid’s influences borrow inspiration from science fiction films like Alien and the surrealistic, otherworldly art of H.R. Giger. I don’t think I have to further detail how these influences would warrant a completely different experience from Mario and Zelda. Metroid is concretely in the science-fiction and space epic genres, but the series has always straddled the horror genre as well. The Alien influences are conspicuously interwoven into subtle aspects of the game, like Ridley being named after the film’s director and the protagonist being a woman. Do I really need a spoiler veil for this anymore? More so than these minute aspects, Metroid channels the ethos of Alien’s iconic tagline, which is “in space, no one can hear you scream.”
Metroid’s atmosphere is intended to make the player feel isolated. The dreary emptiness of space has been portrayed more cinematically in the sequels due to graphical enhancements. Still, the 8-bit presentation that makes up the first Metroid evokes this feeling quite well. The consistent pitch-black backgrounds signify space better than anything, and it gives the developers an excuse not to implement vibrant backgrounds. The soundtrack runs the gamut from sounding triumphant to having a sublime eeriness, supported by one of the most effective 8-bit soundtracks of all time. Metroid also achieves this sense of uneasiness because everything on this extraterrestrial planet is hostile. Lava flows on the surfaces of Planet Zebes like a flowing river stream, and every strange creature Samus encounters wants her dead. Even the shrubbery on Zebes is bound to kill Samus in the blink of an eye if she isn’t cautious. Metroid conveys tension by making the player feel like a stranger in a strange land with no practical sense of respite or familiarity. Mario had Toad tell him that the princess and another castle and Link had the old mages to aid him in his quest, but Samus is on her lonesome. The galactic federation that assigned Samus on this lone mission never made one brief appearance or signal to survey the mission, leaving Samus to her own devices with total uncertainty surrounding her.
This sense of discomfort is also supported by Metroid’s general difficulty. The term “NES hard” is usually synonymous with linear 2D platformers and beat em’ ups. Still, an unconventional game like Metroid upholds the reputation of difficulty the system was known for. The minimal graphical elements are an alluring part of the discomfort Metroid exudes, but the difficulty is a level of discomfort with negative connotations. I could attribute this to the myriad of aggressive enemies fling themselves at Samus from all angles. I could credit this to the fact that Samus can only shoot in two directions. The biggest detriment of Metroid’s difficulty is that health isn’t recharged after the player dies. Metroid was released the same year as the first Legend of Zelda, so it’s probable that both games borrowed features from one another in their development time. Once the player dies in Zelda, they restart from the beginning of the overworld with only three hearts. In Metroid, the player starts with only a fraction of one energy tank. It’s fine in the early sections of the game but becomes a giant hassle once the player seeks out energy tanks. In Zelda, the player could purchase healing potions, find a fairy fountain, or just come by the likely chance of finding a fairy in the field. In Metroid, there are no quick solutions for recharging Samus’s energy tanks. If the player dies, they’ll have to grind intensively to regain their health. The only efficient way to do so is by shooting at the insectoid creatures that pop out of vents, and they only give the player five points of health. This process was always so mind-numbing that I didn’t care that I was parading around a hostile alien world with only a fraction of my total health. Metroid also doesn’t come with the same save feature as the one The Legend of Zelda has. It’s not a very long game, but there is so much collecting involved that a save feature would slightly relieve the player.
Metroid is arguably the progenitor of the Metroidvania sub-genre, hence the first part of its namesake. The way the game functions is more like a “proto-Metroidvania” game because the genre's hallmarks were still in its infancy. Unfortunately, this means that the essentials of the Metroidvania genre aren’t quite present here. A map is vital to this genre because of all the backtracking, and there is no map to be found in Metroid. The alien planet in Metroid is a spacious realm of towering sections and long corridors, and it would have been nice to get the aid of a map considering the graphical limitations to make each section practically indiscernible from the next. Getting lost and feeling stuck is a core tenet of Metroid’s atmosphere, but its execution just pissed me off. Often, I’d kill Samus on purpose just so the game would send me back to the start of the area. That’s the extent of my frustration with being lost in this game.
I mentioned in my review of The Legend of Zelda that the game could be cryptic at points, but that game is as straightforward as walking down the yellow brick road compared to Metroid. Zelda’s more cryptic sections were still rather fair and just required thinking outside the box a bit. Some of the sections of Metroid are so obtuse that it feels like the player needs to exploit the game to progress. Some heart containers in Zelda took some extraneous searching, but most were rewards for defeating bosses. The energy tanks in Metroid are all hidden so well that I doubt anyone could find them naturally. These energy tanks are also imperative to comfortably facing the hectic final challenges of the game, so I wouldn't judge the player one bit for using a guide. Getting the Varia Suit was one of the most exploitative endeavors I’ve ever faced in any video game, to the point where I’m still skeptical as to whether or not what I did to get it was the intended method. It’s a suit that changes Samus’s color and adds a layer of defense, so its usefulness might give off the impression that it’s essential to obtain. However, the incredibly obtuse way to secure this valuable upgrade makes me think otherwise. It almost feels like the developers are fucking with the player.
The general objective of Metroid is to unlock a path near the entrance of the game that will take Samus to the final boss of the game. Before she does that, she has to track down both Kraid and Ridley and defeat them. For the extraneous trek, the player has to endure to get to both of them, their fights are laughably pitiful. These supposedly threatening galactic beasts are munchkin-sized foes with lazy, predictable attack patterns. Once the player unlocks the passageway after defeating both of these foes, nothing they’ve faced so far can prepare them for the trudge to Mother Brain. Metroids litter the corridors and can make the game hell for the player if they don’t utilize Samus’s ice beam with sharp reflexes. At the core of these halls lies Mother Brain sealed in a large glass container. It’s an iconic scene in gaming, but I was not aware that this is because of how brutal it is. Samus will endure an onslaught of laser beams, energy balls that appear from seemingly nowhere, and expunge at least 150 missiles on the regenerating blocking tubes and Mother Brain herself. I couldn’t tell you how often I had to restock on energy after dying in this section, probably enough to contemplate my life’s decisions. The player’s eventual success will result in an anticlimactic escape that almost cheats the Mother Brain fight.
Metroid is a game that was way too ambitious for the NES. The Legend of Zelda was ahead of the curve but understood the system's confines. Metroid wanted to fill a kiddy pool with the water it takes to fill an in-ground one, and overflowed. While I can admire the level of innovation the first Metroid offers, this only extends to the apparent building blocks that future Metroid titles and Metroidvania games stack upon. The design and gameplay aspects of Metroid are far too primitive to be executed competently in an NES game. The cryptic design, the lack of a save feature, and the heavy grinding for health grated on me. The other pioneering titles of these landmark Nintendo franchises may suffer from the imminent aging process, but the first Metroid was still heavily flawed back in its heyday.
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Attribution: https://erockreviews.blogspot.com