Happy 20th anniversary to an all-time classic.
Every video, there’s always a shock right near the start: the GameCube logo.
But when I see the GameCube logo, I always think, really?
Is Metroid Prime timeless?
I’d put it slightly differently - it has an enduring sheen of recent-ness.
Is that the same thing?
The way the screen pauses when you scan part of the landscape.
Specific enemies, bosses, rooms: this is a game of details, of pieces.
Super Metroid, like Metroid Prime, is a rather scary game.
Unsettling, claustrophobic, for sure.
I was going deep underground, into abandoned spaces where un-named horrors lurked.
But look who I was taking with me!
This giant space hero in yellow and red armour.
Samus, so tall, so capable, so undaunted, always felt like an ideal travelling companion.
I may be a cowardly idiot, but look at her up there on the screen.
She was wearing such bright colours to this horror show!
She could turn into a ball!
If I stuck with her I’d be okay.
We never felt like quite the same person.
And her obvious heroism and panoramic sense of ability, I think it just made me feel better.
Partly it’s the horrors, and that throbbing soundtrack, those skittering enemy animations.
But partly it’s because I’m not with Samus anymore - I’m in the suit.
I truly am Samus.
And it feels a little more lonely.
Actually, what I feel is vulnerable.
Things can come from anywhere.
And the emboldening colours of the suit - the golds and shiny reds - are not as visible.
We’ve muted Samus’s impact by embodying her more directly.
This in turn makes the gradual clawback of powers more triumphant, I think.
Watching walkthroughs I feel a genuine sense of relief when we get the ball back, the grapple.
Why did I never think about this stuff before?
Stupid as it sounds, I never thought about what was gained by that transition.
I never thought about what was new.
