Image via Nintendo
Metroid Dread, befitting its name, is filled with tension and anticipation. You’re tracking down rumors of a resurgent parasitic organism that could destroy humanity, and your investigation takes you to the alien world of ZDR. Once an outpost for an ancient civilization, the planet has since been reclaimed by nature in a hostile takeover. The vegetation is lush and overgrown; bordering on claustrophobic. The rain beats down constantly. Bubbling lava fills spaces once inhabitable.
Environmental diversity is a signature of the Metroid franchise. You begin Metroid Dread with just enough firepower and armor to get your first upgrade. Along the way, you see alternate paths and doors that are inaccessible; maybe one requires a weapon or gadget that you haven’t acquired, and even if you got the weapon, your armor is still too weak to withstand the extreme heat or cold on the other side of that door.
Ironically, the density and inaccessibility of this level design invites exploration. Hours later into your playthrough, you’ll get the upgrades you need, and you’ll find yourself backtracking, opening up new paths and ways of exploring old environments. It’s an addictive feedback loop, where the development of the in-game character parallels the increasing sufficiency of the player.
In Super Metroid (1994), widely considered the pinnacle of the franchise, the planet Zebes was thematically divided into six distinct areas, each characterized by unique wildlife and obstacles. Norfair was the lava area. Maridia was the water area. Brinstar was the plant area. In Metroid Dread, ZDR has nine areas, each with their own biodiversity and feel. Getting to a new area means mastering the terrain of the prior one. And once you’re in the NEW new area, the cycle of discomfort begins anew. Again, you’re out of your depth and barely holding your own against a new, stronger wave of enemies, until you acquire the abilities and requisite skills to move on to the next level. And more formidable challenges. Rinse, lather, repeat.
You play as longtime protagonist Samus Aran, a galactic bounty hunter who, aside from a single line of dialogue in an alien language, is silent. It’s a quirk that reads as strong and no-nonsense; throughout the franchise’s history, the character’s silence has allowed players to identify with Samus — to project their own interpretations on the character’s inner life and motivations. In Metroid Dread, Samus has expressive body language to counterbalance her lack of speech. A shift of weight, from one leg to the other, communicates readiness, bemusement, or contempt. We get the impression that she is unshakeable. Facing down a massive (familiar) monster that’s two screens tall, she doesn’t waver and even fires a lackadaisical first shot.
Samus is defensively weaker than she’s previously been; even a handful of generic monsters can take her down, especially in the game’s early going. Your best option is to lean on your melee counterattack; right before the enemy makes contact, you’ll see a brief yellow flash. This is your window of opportunity to press X, which blocks the attack, and then press Y to fire a massive shot of energy, destroying the monster in a single hit. Pulling off the perfect counterattack also gives you more energy, Missiles, and Power Bombs than if you took down the enemy the normal way. It’s notable how empowering and viscerally good this counterattack mechanic feels. And those little boosts of adrenaline are necessary, because they balance out the slower, more contemplative moments.
The boss fights are pattern-based and extremely unforgiving. Each boss is scaled to your abilities at the time you confront it. A single hit can drain an entire energy tank. Attacks cover entire screens or cut you off mid-jump. And the first dozen times you die on a single boss, it’ll seem like an impossible task. But eventually, you will learn the pattern through repetition. And when you finally beat the boss, it will be a dominant win, where sometimes you walk away nearly unscathed, thanks to how thoroughly you’ve had to master each sequence. Victories always feel earned, and definitive, in Metroid Dread.
Metroid games are notoriously intermittent; prior to the release of Metroid: Samus Returns on the 3DS in 2017 (which was itself a remake of the 1991 Game Boy game Metroid II: Return of Samus), the last 2D Metroid was Metroid Fusion, released in 2002. That’s a 15-year gap between titles. And in the franchise’s absence, numerous indie developers filled the demand for Metroid-esque gameplay experiences. To wit: Metroid Dread, a brand new, canonical chapter in the franchise, could not simply pick up where its predecessor left off. Its genre has evolved to be more complex, more varied, over the past two decades.
What could the Metroid Dread developers do to expand a genre they once innovated and popularized? They incorporated a sci-fi horror component into the gameplay. Seven killer humanoid robots, known as E.M.M.I., patrol the ZDR’s main areas. They are disturbingly fluid and intelligent, and you come to fear the high-pitched beeps they make as they’re scanning for intruders.
Destroying these robots is difficult, and only possible at key, predetermined points in the narrative. Getting caught by an E.M.M.I. is a near-guaranteed, instant death; there is a frame-perfect opportunity to escape, but it’s a desperation maneuver that rarely pans out. Thus, your only option for most of the game is to run and hide from them, in narrow areas and corridors meant to hinder your movement.
You develop strategies for dealing with these deathbots. You can cling to the ceiling by using your grappling hook, You can use your Phantom Cloak to turn yourself invisible for a short amount of time. Some of the best, most suspenseful parts of the game were when I was invisible, at the end of a dead-end hallway, and the E.M.M.I was slithering towards me. Then it stopped, as though it might turn around and head back into the other room. And not a moment too soon. If it took another step forward, I’d be dead.
When Nintendo first announced this stealth-based gameplay component, I was skeptical. But developers Mercury Steam implemented it well, in a way that is non-intrusive to the wider experience. If you die, you restart at the door to the E.M.M.I. zone, which felt fair and non-punitive. The robots are always restricted to predetermined, relatively small, zoned areas, which preserves the overarching, quiet ambience that the Metroid franchise is famous for. And once you do destroy the E.M.M.I in one area, you’re then free to explore that area at your own pace, without something chasing you.
In fact, after you’ve beaten the game —it took me about 18 hours on my first try—the gameplay experience undergoes a fundamental shift. Scattered throughout the game are teleporters, which are single-functioned and transport you to a single, other location. This creates linearity—it’s difficult to backtrack and collect Missiles and Energy Tanks in prior areas, unless you’re willing to huff it on foot or take multiple teleporters. But once you use all the teleporters, they link up to form a massive network; you can transport to any teleporter in the entire game, from any teleporter in the entire game. And suddenly, the entire map opens up.
I had a lot of fun fighting for my survival. And now I’m having fun revisiting the multiple places where I fell and struggled—uncovering secrets with my newfound powers that I was too stressed and occupied to notice until now. This is a beautiful, challenging game, befitting the long legacy and high standards that Metroid demands. And hopefully—now that early reports indicate strong sales for the game’s launch—we won’t have to wait too long for another.