Played on the NES Classic
NOTE- as I did not complete the game, this review should not be taken as a serious critique, but more-so a set of observations
Metroid is another Nintendo cornerstone not made for the patient. It was released back in ‘87 to critical acclaim, garnering praise for its eerie atmosphere and emphasis on exploration, the latter eventually contributing to the notorious Metroidvania formula of today. Unfortunately, in lacking basic features, it stands as a trophy over anything else: beautiful to gaze at, a hallmark of intense feats, but ultimately not worth pulling out of the cabinet.
Your mileage will definitely vary, but for me personally, Metroid falls apart largely because of the absence of a map. Anyone who’s played any kind of excavation game knows that part of the fun comes from dispersing the fog of war on your mini-screen -- not only are you encouraged to traverse every part of the world for secrets and goodies, but it’s also made clear that you’re actively progressing.
Published in a time where games were expensive and not packed with requisite content, Metroid (like the original Zelda) opted not to include one, and in doing so has made its content tedious by modern standards. Unless you’re willing to pull out pen & paper, you’re left having to resort to either a guide or memory to keep track of where you were able to advance versus where you were impeded by an obstacle. If the game had consisted of one area, I might’ve been able to stomach this, but given that it’s (relatively) massive with four major zones, for me, it just wasn’t worth the effort.
My tolerance for artificial elongation has waned in my older years, and Metroid lacked enough entertainment value to warrant making an exception. Platforming and shooting are combined into one package, and while both halves are actually well-developed, they’re concurrently impeded by some of the most annoying enemies in the history of video games. You’ll often encounter multiple flying creatures capable of following you, adjusting flight paths, and tanking decent hits (at least from your base laser), and while their attack patterns are definitely memorizable, the difficulty combined with the short range of Samus’s armaments ultimately renders the excursion vexing.
For what it’s worth, Metroid is a gorgeous game. Despite being released a year after Super Mario Bros., it feels wholly advanced, with every asset, from the aliens and platform blocks to the door portals and projectile effects, having aged beautifully. Compared to SMB, where the aesthetic differences between worlds was more akin to reskinned hues, Metroid’s four regions actually feel distinct, as though you were stepping into a quadrant of Xens. The only thing I’ll criticize is Samus’s model, which more resembles an armored Hitmonlee than robotic space marine (or whatever theme they were going for here).
SFX is almost entirely limited to Samus: her movements, firearms, and leaping occupying most of the aural sphere. Besides minibosses, enemies have no cry, and it’s evident from the diminished dins elsewhere that the creators were looking to the score for atmospheric support, and on that front arcade icon Hirokazu Tanaka holds the reins. Similar to Koji Kondo’s SMB tracks, Tanaka has delivered a good yet sparse assemblage of tunes contingent on the location you’re operating in. Sadly, unlike Kondo, Tanaka was unable to smooth out the shrillness typical of the NES sound chip, meaning the game’s OST is mostly unpleasant to listen to (should you actually decide to play the game, I’d advise having the mute button/your own playlist on standby).
But that’s a decision to be made by each and every potential gamer. Metroid isn’t a bad game; however, the lack of a map really holds it back from being a long-term player investment.
NOTES
-If there was a story, it was left in the game manual.
-Experienced numerous moments of lag whenever multiple foes came on-screen; don’t know if that was because I was playing it on the NES Classic or because it was an authentic representation of what actually happened on the OG system.
NOTE- as I did not complete the game, this review should not be taken as a serious critique, but more-so a set of observations
Metroid is another Nintendo cornerstone not made for the patient. It was released back in ‘87 to critical acclaim, garnering praise for its eerie atmosphere and emphasis on exploration, the latter eventually contributing to the notorious Metroidvania formula of today. Unfortunately, in lacking basic features, it stands as a trophy over anything else: beautiful to gaze at, a hallmark of intense feats, but ultimately not worth pulling out of the cabinet.
Your mileage will definitely vary, but for me personally, Metroid falls apart largely because of the absence of a map. Anyone who’s played any kind of excavation game knows that part of the fun comes from dispersing the fog of war on your mini-screen -- not only are you encouraged to traverse every part of the world for secrets and goodies, but it’s also made clear that you’re actively progressing.
Published in a time where games were expensive and not packed with requisite content, Metroid (like the original Zelda) opted not to include one, and in doing so has made its content tedious by modern standards. Unless you’re willing to pull out pen & paper, you’re left having to resort to either a guide or memory to keep track of where you were able to advance versus where you were impeded by an obstacle. If the game had consisted of one area, I might’ve been able to stomach this, but given that it’s (relatively) massive with four major zones, for me, it just wasn’t worth the effort.
My tolerance for artificial elongation has waned in my older years, and Metroid lacked enough entertainment value to warrant making an exception. Platforming and shooting are combined into one package, and while both halves are actually well-developed, they’re concurrently impeded by some of the most annoying enemies in the history of video games. You’ll often encounter multiple flying creatures capable of following you, adjusting flight paths, and tanking decent hits (at least from your base laser), and while their attack patterns are definitely memorizable, the difficulty combined with the short range of Samus’s armaments ultimately renders the excursion vexing.
For what it’s worth, Metroid is a gorgeous game. Despite being released a year after Super Mario Bros., it feels wholly advanced, with every asset, from the aliens and platform blocks to the door portals and projectile effects, having aged beautifully. Compared to SMB, where the aesthetic differences between worlds was more akin to reskinned hues, Metroid’s four regions actually feel distinct, as though you were stepping into a quadrant of Xens. The only thing I’ll criticize is Samus’s model, which more resembles an armored Hitmonlee than robotic space marine (or whatever theme they were going for here).
SFX is almost entirely limited to Samus: her movements, firearms, and leaping occupying most of the aural sphere. Besides minibosses, enemies have no cry, and it’s evident from the diminished dins elsewhere that the creators were looking to the score for atmospheric support, and on that front arcade icon Hirokazu Tanaka holds the reins. Similar to Koji Kondo’s SMB tracks, Tanaka has delivered a good yet sparse assemblage of tunes contingent on the location you’re operating in. Sadly, unlike Kondo, Tanaka was unable to smooth out the shrillness typical of the NES sound chip, meaning the game’s OST is mostly unpleasant to listen to (should you actually decide to play the game, I’d advise having the mute button/your own playlist on standby).
But that’s a decision to be made by each and every potential gamer. Metroid isn’t a bad game; however, the lack of a map really holds it back from being a long-term player investment.
NOTES
-If there was a story, it was left in the game manual.
-Experienced numerous moments of lag whenever multiple foes came on-screen; don’t know if that was because I was playing it on the NES Classic or because it was an authentic representation of what actually happened on the OG system.