Welcome the the penultimate part of “Metroid and Me!” This is part six in a seven part exploration of my personal affection for this wonderful video game franchise. I’ve been taking a long, hard look at exactly why this series holds such a strong appeal for me, and if you’re stumbling across this blog for the first time I highly recommend going back and beginning with part one. You’ll find links to all the parts below, and reading them in order should flow much more naturally; that’s how I wrote them after all. Last week I discussed Metroid’s broader gameplay design, and how it works so well for me on a fundamental level. Today I’m going to continue talking about gameplay, and I’m simply going to narrow the focus. Think of this part as an extension to the previous one, and it will have a slightly different tone as a result. This will simultaneously be the most technical I’ll get in this blog (admittedly still not that technical), and the least focused on me personally (that ground was already covered last week for this topic). In short, I’m going to be looking a little closer at the specific actions you perform in a Metroid game: this part is all about puzzle solving, platforming, and combat.

Torvus Chips

After taking out the joints of your foe, a giant four-legged machine, you receive a short respite. The creature, clearly injured, detaches its head to send after you, but things only get trickier from here. Seeing no clear weak point, you switch visors, revealing a structural flaw that can be damaged with the right weapon. Dodging and weaving your way through a variety of attacks against you, you injure the creature once more, but it’s still not done. You need to find a way onto the top of its head to finish it off. Using its crippled body as a ramp, you ball up and launch yourself on top of its head, and plant a bomb to finish the job. Another larger-than-life foe has fallen before you, but not without a fight.

Beneath their big picture ideas and structure, video games are held together by carefully tuned nuts and bolts. There’s a layer of craft and execution that can make or break an otherwise interesting game idea, and Metroid is no exception. Last week I talked about its ability to keep the player “in the moment,” but those high level ideas only work if there is lower level machinery to support them. In Metroid’s case, most of the player’s direct actions can be boiled down to puzzle solving, platforming, and combat at the most fundamental level, at least in video game parlance. I’m not going to argue that Metroid is “best in class” in any of these areas from a purely technical standpoint, but that’s also not our concern here. I’m interested in how Metroid’s core gameplay mechanics work, and how they support the series’ goals and enhance my enjoyment of them. These mechanics form the underlying support that holds up the series’ big picture ideas I’ve been extolling, and are thus another important component that contribute to Metroid’s personal appeal. It’s not the flashiest job, but an extremely important one, and I think these mechanics are more than good enough at it. And in true Metroid fashion, it all works very simply, but there’s also some subtle quirks that go the extra mile towards really keeping the player flowing and in the moment. We’ll tackle each of the three aforementioned areas one at a time, beginning with puzzle solving.

I’ve already discussed the bulk of Metroid’s puzzle solving when talking about world design, as Metroid’s puzzles are predominantly environmental ones. They are baked directly into the world itself, where exploring is akin to solving a big puzzle. Identifying when and how to use your array of items and abilities to navigate these large, complex worlds is a methodical and logical process that requires a satisfyingly thoughtful approach. Even when you narrow the view to a single room or construct, the focus of Metroid’s puzzles almost always remain on getting from one spot to another. Maybe you need to bomb jump to a spider-ball track to cross some lava. Maybe you need to scan for a weak pile of rocks that you can blow away with a power bomb. Maybe you need to use your boost ball to get through a door before time runs out. It’s all about figuring out how to get places, and that’s exactly why they work so well within the context of Metroid; these puzzles are not disjoint brain teasers, but are part and parcel of the overall exploration. They exist to test your knowledge of your items and abilities, and train you on new ways to use them. And as you advance through the game and acquire new items and abilities, the puzzles continue to ramp up in complexity by combining all your tools together. This allows the puzzles to remain fresh and challenging throughout the game while never succumbing to frustrating leaps in logic. It’s all a smoothly constructed series of tests that keep your mind pleasantly engaged while exploring, which ties in perfectly with Metroid’s existing ethos.

Just like its puzzles, Metroid’s platforming exists to serve its exploration, and folds into the adventure seamlessly. There’s nothing fancy about it, but it provides effective obstacles to supplement your journey. Platforming is a common gameplay device in video games, and for the most part, outside of pure platformers, it’s an element that only stands out when done poorly. Plenty of non-platformers try to sprinkle in platforming that’s incongruous with the core of the game, but Metroid pulls it off in a way that feels natural. For the most part it’s a combination of physics, control, and platform placement; jumping from one platform to the next feels like a natural extension of your movement, rather than a dissonant action that requires frequent mental shifts. The same movement that works horizontally while running and fighting also works vertically while jumping. It’s easy to judge platform distances, and none of the jumps are really that hard to pull off; there’s a margin of error that’s not too punishing. This means that the player’s focus can remain on exploring, where the platforming adds extra texture to that exploration. Metroid’s movement and jumping controls are simultaneously unspecialized and polished enough such that platforming can be baked into the adventure in a positive way, without dragging anything else down. There’s a flow to it all that works, and it makes platforming a smooth action in your journey. (It’s worth a special mention that this holds true in both 2D and 3D. The Metroid Prime games are among the few first person games with smooth platforming of any kind, which is impressive.)

Metroid’s combat is also woven into the adventure in supporting fashion, yet it manifests in ways slightly more nuanced than our previous two topics. First and foremost, the enemy design in Metroid has always been top-notch. Artistically, these creatures look and sound fantastic, and always fit the thematic environments you fight them in. This feeds into the idea that you are the outsider, exploring a world that is strange to you, but very natural to its inhabitants. Mechanically, these enemies rarely boil down to mindless shootouts. Where many shooters (both 2D and 3D ones) are primarily a test of reflex and dexterity, Metroid’s combat is more, well, explorative. When you encounter a new foe, there’s almost always something to figure out about it. Perhaps they are susceptible to certain weapons or items, or they have a precise attack pattern you must learn to dodge, or they have a hidden weak point you need to discover and expose. Working through a fight in Metroid can be an adventure in and of itself, which is especially true for boss fights. These giant creatures can test everything you’ve learned all at once, bringing the breadth of your Metroid experience together into exciting moments. The scenario described at the top of this part, which is the Quadraxis fight from Metroid Prime 2: Echoes, is a great example. And in keeping with the pace of Metroid’s combat, you’re given time to explore these fights. They can be epic, memorable encounters as a result.

Furthermore, keeping in line with Metroid’s larger design, combat does its best to keep distractions and tedium at a minimum. Outside of missiles, which are almost never mandatory outside of red doors, there’s very little ammo conservation to worry about or keep track of. With rare exception, once you acquire a weapon or item, you’re free to use it to your heart’s content. This keeps the focus on weapon functionality rather than any kind of management, and this philosophy carries over to the enemies themselves. I already mentioned how most enemies are unique, and this is because they require different tactics. Where many games simply increase enemy health, damage, or numbers as the game goes on, Metroid keeps things fresh by changing up enemy functionality without necessarily making them stronger, at least not relative to you. That power beam you’ve had since the beginning of the game is still useful against the right enemies at the end, and enemies rarely, if ever, boil down to rote “bullet sponges.” The hardest enemies in the game, particularly bosses, are tougher primarily because they require more careful and calculated use of the tools at your disposal. This keeps combat interesting and challenging throughout the game, but in a more cognitive way than a reflex-intensive action game would be. The 3D games even emphasize locking on rather than free-form aiming, which is a big way to de-emphasize reflexes. It fits perfectly within Metroid’s existing exploration focused framework, and like the platforming it all controls well. It’s not the snappiest shooter ever made, but it feels good in the context of the rest of the game, and most importantly works immaculately towards serving Metroid’s adventuring goals.

I’ve talked about puzzles, platforming, and combat individually, but Metroid’s best, most exciting moments have you thinking, jumping, and shooting in perfect harmony. These gameplay actions color an already compelling adventure, and exist primarily to support that ultimate goal. I’ve mentioned time and again today how Metroid’s puzzles, platforming, and combat aren’t that complicated. This is because they are not the primary focus, and if they took the spotlight too far away from the adventure, I believe the game would be worse for it. Metroid understands this, and integrates these aspects smoothly and intuitively, lending more nuance to your journey without letting them bog the game down with unnecessary tedium. They join the atmosphere, world design, and any number of other topics we’ve discussed that define the Metroid experience, and ultimately keep the player engaged and focused on the adventure at hand. If we’ve learned anything through these six lengthy blog posts so far, it’s that that is the Metroid way, and it’s why I hold the series so dear. And with that, we have but one more part to go, and it will be another slight gear shift. I will wrap up this series by talking about one of Metroid’s more personally appealing attributes: its sense of isolation.

It's been a while since I fought Quadraxis but I remember that being a great fight.