Metroid is really something. The series is easily the most dark, foreboding and challenging of all of Nintendo's games, and the blueprint for the series is, in effect, all here in this first game, which to me is really quite amazing. Metroid is not a game to make you feel like a superhero – this is a game to remind you of the fragility of life, of the thin, thin line between life and death.
First, a little history. Metroid was developed alongside its very similar sister game Kid Icarus in 1985/1986, and was designed to incorporate elements of the platforming of Mario along with the exploration and power-up-enhanced nature of The Legend of Zelda. What Metroid ends up being, though, is something all its own. For one, the tone is considerably darker than either of those games. Playing through the game, I felt tense and anxious, mostly because the game sets up an incredible mood and doesn't really let its guard down at all. The music is the absolute best spooky chiptune music I've ever heard, and the dark, even somewhat drab colours keep the tone of the game in check.
The second reason why I was so anxious? Well, this game is fuck-ass hard.
The best part? It's hard in two ways. Hurrah! First, the game requires you to have some lightning-fast reflexes and precise jumping capabilities. It's like the developers thought you'd been cutting your teeth on The Lost Levels or something, and decided to move from there. As well, your health starts quite dangerously low, so you can only get hit like three or four times before dying. The second way in which the game is incredibly difficult is a staple of all Metroid games. Whereas in Zelda games, you're really just tasked with figuring out whatever room you're in, in Metroid, you have to do that, as well as figuring out the entire game's layout. Because the game requires significant backtracking, as well as a knowledge of what weapons will open what doors or kill which enemies, you have to have, in the back of your mind, the entire world's layout in the back of your head.
It's this kind of design that made me think, oddly, that this would have been a great game to tackle as a kid, when I had a ton of time to try to conquer NES games. I'm sure that if I played this game every day for a summer, I'd have it down pat. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to do that, but talk about replay value – this is a game you could play forever. As well, although I've complained a little bit about how difficult the game is, don't let that fool you – the difficulty is perfectly suited to the grim atmosphere and the context of the game, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, the perfect controls make playing this game just a blast, and kept me saying "just one more time" over and over again.
Metroid is really impressive to me, because it shows that you can have a fully-developed world without saying a single word. The game basically just drops you off in Zebes, without anyone to talk to, without a single plot development, and yet, through the game's gameplay, you basically begin to understand what's going on. (PS: If you want to read about the story of this game, you should check out its excellent Wikipedia page here.) It's a lesson that I wish more developers would take heed of in this age of "cinematic" gameplay. Despite the fact that Metroid is and continues to be highly influenced by the Alien series of films, it's not something that rules the game. You're not saying to yourself, "oh, this feels just like Alien."
Confession time: I've never beaten this game. And despite the fact that I have a pile of games I want to play, this is a game I want to finish. That's saying a lot of an obtuse, incredibly difficult NES game, especially considering that the series only gets better from here.