Retro Gaming Essentials – DaveGladow.com

Super Mario 64 — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 40)

Modern 3D gaming – particularly if we put aside the first-person shooter as being its own distinct category – owes a great deal of appreciation to many trailblazers, but especially two stupidly influential games in particular:

“Super Mario 64” and “Tomb Raider.”

The specifics of how we got to the point that those two games could be as successful as they were is probably a little too boring and certainly too technical (at least for me) to dive into fully. It’s hopefully enough to say that years of development led to advances in the technology (and even a few games reaching the market) that predated the dual releases of Super Mario 64 and Tomb Raider in 1996 (we should acknowledge that lots of people were working hard on this).

And yet, while all of that development was important, none of it hit with the force of my kids stampeding to the front of a dessert table quite like those two did.

1996 was a very big year.

The industry was NOT the same afterward.

And so, with that context, we can probably safely say that those two games are essential. They each, in their own specific way, offered the gamer of the mid-90s something new, and they left an undeniable impact on all of the 3D gaming that would come afterward.

Yes, there were other 3D games to land that year and in the years following. “Crash Bandicoot” gave Sony its own mascot for their new PlayStation, which in and of itself was no small thing, but if we’re honest, that game was also somewhat limited in its approach and also just not as popular as those other two.

In a similar way, no one today is pointing to “Bubsy 3D” as being particularly influential in this sphere, because we’re not crazy. (The game was VERY rough around the edges, the main character is generally reviled rather than adored, and it also didn’t sell super well.)

Conversely, we can speak to the fact that Tomb Raider was a well executed and well regarded game that sold over 2.5 million units in its first year of release, and Mario 64 was considered a landmark title by nearly everyone and sold about 3 million copies in six months itself.

So yes, those were the two biggies. And despite differing from one another in fairly significant ways, they deserve to be joined at the hip in these kinds of discussions as being important, influential titles.

Certainly, at the time, I recall vividly that each game was a “killer app” of sorts for their respective consoles.

Tomb Raider was on the Dreamcast and PC in addition to the PlayStation originally, though it came to become synonymous with Sony’s system (by design … Sony signed an exclusivity deal with Eidos for all of the sequels shortly after the release of the first game).

Mario, naturally, was strictly Nintendo, through and through.

As a result, gamers were presented with a distinct choice in the mid ‘90s. Go with the new hotness and the PlayStation, personified by one Laura Croft, the curvy star of Tomb Raider. Or stick with the colorful and playful “sandbox” cartoon-like stylings of Nintendo.

Having recently become a college student in 1995, it’s not difficult to understand why I would have gravitated toward Sony at the time.

Circling back to Mario 64 many years after the fact, I was struck by the depth of the controls and the craftsmanship that went into his first 3D offering. And yes, while there is undoubtedly some jank present, the game largely succeeds at its objectives in an impressive manner.

Much of the same can also be said of Tomb Raider, of course, and it deserves its flowers too. But as I look back at the two games and consider which to recommend above the other, I come back to a pretty simple equation.

Mario 64 is more fun.

So, let’s dive into why that is.

Mario 64 at a glance:
Genre: 3D platformer
Released: 1996
Platform: Nintendo 64
No. 4 on EGM’s Top 100 Games of All Time

GoldenEye 007 — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 39)

“GoldenEye 007” might be the biggest conundrum (or at least the toughest call for inclusion) on this entire countdown of what I consider to be the most essential retro video games a person can play.

On the one hand, you have a game that is by many metrics among the most important games in the entire history of gaming. GoldenEye personified a platform – the Nintendo 64 – in a way few other games have ever come close to doing. It provided a template for first-person shooting on home consoles for essentially the next decade (and to some degree, it mapped out what developers are still doing today). And it was immensely popular, providing joy (and misery) to countless millions of people.

However, on the other hand, you also have a game that is virtually unplayable for many younger gamers, who upon playing it will almost inevitably declare it overrated and terrible and miss the whole dang point of why it mattered in the first place.

The reasons for this are easy to identify.

Firstly, it’s the general look of the game, which featured early-polygons that are fuzzy, colorless, and ugly and offer comically unrefined edges, creating the “blocky” effect that so many games of that era had.

“Oh hey, that guy looks like an extra from Dire Strait’s ‘Money for Nothing’ video!”

“Wow, that lady’s chest looks like Madonna’s famous cone bra for some reason.”*

* That these jokes are themselves somewhat dated does not escape me. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. We all get old. I linked to the source material for the younger pups out there. Also, here’s a more modern version for you: These people look like less colorful Minecraft characters.

So yes, the graphics were super ugly. But that would be easy to forgive with good controls and … WELP.

Yeah, here you’ve got to contend with that wonky N64 controller,* early first-person “tank” controls that everyone has by now (justifiably) declared to be entirely inefficient at accomplishing things (you can’t aim or move quickly), and perhaps worst of all, critical stuff mapped to those silly yellow arrow buttons on the N64 which are annoyingly small and difficult to find in real time … which is unfortunately what we’re dealing with here – real-time battles wherein baddies are trying to shoot you in the face.

* The N64 controller is famously wonky. It features three prongs giving it the appearance of a tripod, those stupid tiny yellow buttons your fingers can’t locate without you glancing down at the controller (getting you killed in the process), and a cute little joystick for analogue control which is positioned squarely in the middle of the controller for some reason and baffles newcomers endlessly. The idea behind the whole thing is that you use the middle prong when you’re using the joystick and the left prong when using the standard d-pad, but that’s not intuitive, people constantly get it wrong, and the whole dang thing is super weird regardless.

In summation, the controls and visuals of GoldenEye 007 can best be described as “dated” and at worst be labeled as something akin to getting a splinter stuck under your fingernail.

You don’t want that there. It hurts. As a piece of a greater whole, it served a purpose. But now it sucks and you want it to go away.

These controls and graphics suck, and you want them to go away.

Thusly, encouraging people to play this is to invite scorn and misunderstanding.

And yet…

People LOVE this game.

I LOVE this game.

GoldenEye is an all-timer, and it represents a simpler time for so many of us, full of gaming, friends, laughs, continual virtual murder, and general hilarity. The flaws, such as they are, weren’t really flaws at the time, because nothing better existed to compare them to. It was just an awesome game.

So, the case for GoldenEye essentially comes down to this: Either we encourage people to play it knowing they simply won’t have the same experience people did in the late 90s, OR we let it be forgotten completely as us older people die off.

Morbid, I know, but that’s kinda the point here. What games shouldn’t pass away from our society’s consciousness. Which ones need to be celebrated and remembered?

GoldenEye, for better AND worse, needs to be celebrated and remembered.

So, prepare to have a nice, long splinter shoved up under your fingernail, because we’re doing this thing.

GoldenEye 007 at a glance:
Genre: First-person shooter
Released: 1997
Platform: Nintendo 64
No. 29 on IGN’s Top 100 Games of All Time

Pong — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 38)

My thoughts are going to jump all over the place on this one, and I apologize for that in advance. But as you shall soon see, this is absolutely necessary, because of the following:

The history surrounding the granddaddy of video games is rich and some of the most important gaming lore you can expose yourself to.
The game itself is stupid simple.

This dictates we’ll spend less time on the game itself and more on its context, which I think is appropriate.

So buckle up for a trip through the earliest EARLIEST days of video game history, a crap-ton of Atari trivia, a significant tangent into Breakout, and oh yeah, even some discussion of the game in the headline itself.

This, my friends, is “Pong.”

Pong at a glance:
Genre: Twitch arcade game
Released: 1972
Platform: Arcade
No. 34 on Next Generation’s Top 50 Games of All Time

Double Dragon — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 37)

Here’s a fun thought experiment.

If I were to walk into a random Dave & Busters or other arcade nostalgia pump station, and if I were to subsequently ask 100 people if they knew what “Double Dragon” was, how many people do you think would be able to answer the question in the affirmative?

10-20?

35?

Less than half?

Definitely less than half, right?

(I’m almost certainly not finding a functioning cabinet in said hypothetical establishment, either.)

As I scroll back through the first 36 entries in this retro gaming essentials list, I see about four or five other games I could probably say the same thing for: that the average person in an arcade, today, wouldn’t know anything about it.

But those other games are all genuine oddball weirdo games. They were never super popular to begin with. They were outcasts in an industry that perhaps never gave them their just due.

Games like “Air Zonk” and “Katamari Damacy” are relatively obscure treasures that I will go to the mat to in defending their honor – while also acknowledging that they were never especially popular or important to the industry at large, even at first release.

“Castlevania: Rondo of Blood” is a highmark achievement in platforming that everyone should get to experience, and yet it wasn’t released in this country.

Those games, put simply, are personal indulgences.

Double Dragon is … not that.

Released in 1987, Double Dragon was a side-scrolling beat ‘em up (or “brawler” as I prefer to call the genre) that set arcades on fire, going on to earn the distinction of being the highest grossing arcade game in the United States in both 1988 and 1989. It was eventually even made into a cartoon television series and a live-action movie, and its (many) ports to various home platforms (NES, Atari 2600, Master System, etc.) were all hugely popular as well.

If you were even moderately interested in video games at the time, you knew about Double Dragon. It was a certified blockbuster, among the most celebrated games in the industry.

But more than that, the game is also justifiably credited with popularizing the beat ‘em up genre, sparking a slew of sequels, copycats, and competitors who all wanted a taste of that delicious blood-soaked pocket change.

As such, it remains influential today – every time you see a new brawler get released, that Double Dragon DNA is likely in there somewhere.

Yet modern audiences rarely even give it a second thought.

So … what the hell happened?

Why isn’t Double Dragon talked about in glowing terms today as one of the all-time great video game properties?

Double Dragon at a glance:
Genre: Brawler
Released: 1987
Platform: Arcade
Highest-grossing arcade video game of 1988-89

The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 36)

By now, I’ve pretty firmly bought into (my own) dogma that states the following:

Mario is better in 2D.
Zelda is better in 3D.

I am not alone in thinking this. It’s not a consensus view or anything, but I feel pretty good about it.

However, that also doesn’t mean that neither property can’t flourish within the either’s domain.

The best possible case to be made in this regard, that each series CAN do well in a different format, is probably “The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past,” a game that builds upon its predecessors’ achievements in logical, beneficial ways and ultimately establishes a true pattern that its successors would take and run with in establishing the franchise in its next logical landing point with an over-the-shoulder perspective.

Can the formula be taken any further than this within the classic, overhead “2D” perspective?

No, not really. This is about as good as it gets.

Some might argue that other games in the Zelda canon have done a slightly better job than this one at providing a fun, engaging, beautiful gaming experience within that 2D limitation. And that’s cool! Tastes differ. But I think few would argue that this game doesn’t do those same things exceedingly well in its own right.

Put another way: We might quibble that other 2D Zeldas are slightly better than this one, but to say this one isn’t great itself is probably folly (and we should all throw rocks at that person).

And – let’s not undersell this – this game was innovative as hell. It created the template for the next two decades, not only for classic 2D Zelda experiences, but for the new 3D ones as well.

Taken in that context, “A Link to the Past” is not only a great game, it also absolutely established (rescued?) Zelda’s future, and for that it should be celebrated among the very best games in the history of the industry.

The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past at a glance:
Genre: Action/adventure
Released: 1992
Platform: SNES
Entertainment Weekly’s best game of all-time

Super Mario Bros. / Duck Hunt — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 35)

They say age is but a number, but I do believe that our age can come to define us in many respects.

For instance, age can be an important point of common ground. An indication of shared experiences. A garden for bonding.

This reservoir of a common language, both figurative and literal, which arises from those shared experiences represents an easier connection point. It facilitates communication and understanding.

Whether I yell out “Norm!” in a bar or start humming the theme song to “Mission Impossible,” my actions can elicit an emotional response in the people around me. That emotion triggers a willingness or eagerness to connect. And off we go.

Those things that we have watched, heard, read, and experienced differ from generation to generation. And while me aping “Star Wars” for my immediate family is going to yield positive results, the communication will inevitably be lost for folks who have yet to see it. And that – whether they’ve experienced a thing – is determined, at least in part, by age.

Super Mario Bros., the definitive pack-in title for the Nintendo Entertainment System, stands tall as an incredibly important title historically. We’ll get into some of the reasons for that shortly, but it is enough to know at the outset that this game helped define an entire industry, saved a company from near-death while vaulting it to the head of that video gaming industry, and launched a mascot into the sort of fame generally reserved for the likes of Mickey Mouse.

A lot of people know this.

I mean, when I wear a Zelda shirt in public, I get the occasional question: “What is Zelda?”

Maybe this is a meme I am unaware of, but mostly I take it at face value: people who don’t game very often don’t know what Zelda is.

Yet people who don’t game still know who Mario is. And that often cuts across generational divides. Most people can grasp the significance:

Mario and by extension Nintendo are super important/popular in video games.
This was Mario’s first big starring adventure.

That second point is of course muddier than it needs to be, as Mario had previously appeared in a number of other titles, but the modifier of “first big starring” hopefully adds some clarity. This game was a gigantic hit, and the game was about him, Mario.

And people can accept this thing, because they’re at least vaguely aware of the other games that have come along since.

Super Mario Bros. 1.

One.

It was the first.

Okay, I can understand that.

Even a non-gamer in their teens can probably accept these basic truths and connect with an aging gamer in his 50s and carry on a brief conversation about the topic, just through general historical pop culture knowledge and logic.

Where the age gap enters the discussion is when the “other” pack-in game for the Nintendo Entertainment System is brought up.

“What about Duck Hunt?”

And this is why I “cheated” by listing both games here. Yes, they’re technically both included in a single cart. They’re both included as pack-in games for the NES. And each game is provided its own optimal control device in the form of a standard d-pad for Mario and the light-gun zapper for Duck Hunt. But let’s acknowledge: these are two separate games.

So why list them both?

It’s really pretty simple.

I don’t think either game is as good on its own. And I further don’t think that I can ever truly think of one without thinking of the other.

For a certain number of people who lived through that time period in the 1980s, these two games are unfailingly joined at the hip.

And for those people, who lived the experience in real time, that is as it should be.

Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt go together like peanut butter and jelly.

Super Mario Bros. / Duck Hunt at a glance:
Genre: Side-scrolling platformer / Shooter
Released: 1985 / 1984
Platform: NES
GameSpot community rated 9.1 out of 10

The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 34)

As a grotesque, anthropomorphized moon threatens to collide with your world and bring about total annihilation, you, as the gamer, wrestle with the very real notion that you don’t know how to stop this, and moreover, that you’re not going to have the time to do anything about it anyway, even if you could figure out what that was supposed to be.

In short, you’re doomed.

And you know it.

Bummer.

Quite obviously, it is not a stretch to say that “The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask” is one of Nintendo’s darker creations, nor is it unfair to say that the game isn’t shy about throwing the player into the deep end quickly. The primary objective of the game, that of preventing this global apocalypse, is shoved in your face right away.

And it is added upon with still more to burden yourself with, as though preventing widespread death and devastation is … somehow not enough.

Whereas its immediate predecessor (and certified gem) “Ocarina of Time” started you out in the comfy confines of your personal home and community, introducing you gradually to external threats (with mostly obvious methods – and fairly introduced abilities – to overcome them), Majora’s Mask at the outset puts you in a vulnerable position alone on the road, makes you an immediate victim of a robbery and a curse(!), then leaves you with this hellish scenario of the moon colliding with your immediate location raining certain destruction … with just three days to try to stop it from happening.

Feelings of dread and doom overwhelm, to the extent few games have emulated before or since. We’re 45 minutes into this game, and we cannot in our wildest imaginations begin to understand how we’re going to get our heroic alter-ego, Link, through this one.

“Well, it’s been a good run buddy, but I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one alive.”

“Me neither. See you on the other side, champ.”

Compare this to previous Zelda games. An enemy, even a grossly overpowered one like Ganon, is still just one entity. The challenge is easier to wrap your arms around.

Take down this bad guy.
Save the princess.
Win the day!

The threat in Majora’s Mask is more elusive, ultimately, and more conceptually difficult to process. Its scope is immense, akin to asking a person to solve a problem like world hunger or devise a method for ridding the world of cockroaches.

“Where do I even begin?”

Where indeed. The trick, which is revealed in those early moments (but only after a sort of dread-panic has taken firm hold), is that time travel once again comes into play, as it did in the previous game.

Here, it’s implemented differently, as a kind of looping dynamic. You can go back to the beginning of this hellish scenario as many times as you like, as it turns out, as a way of “buying” yourself more time.

But this is a true deal with the devil, Faustian in its intent.

Yes, you get a chance to restart. But it’s a return to the same initial feelings of despair that so overwhelmed you to begin with. It’s the same place, with the same people, with the same scenario. Played out, over and over again. And as if that doesn’t sound problematic enough – retraumatizing yourself over and over again – certain things you’ve done to rectify the problems in the world around you … well those reset as well. Progress is lost. You must begin all over again. And perhaps worst of all, once you reach a certain point in the time loop, you reach yet another level of horrifying understanding, and it’s that your first impression was actually correct:

The breadth of the task in front of you is simply impossible.

You cannot do it. There’s just no way to save everyone and fix everything. Some wrongs will not be corrected, and there’s nothing you can do about that.

In a sense, you truly ARE doomed.

THIS is the essence of Majora’s Mask. And it’s effing brilliant.

The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask at a glance:
Genre: Adventure
Released: 2000
Platform: Nintendo 64
Runner-up for GameSpot’s “Best Nintendo 64 Game”

Katamari Damacy — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 33)

I’ve been thinking for some time now that writing this feature, my own take on THE Retro Gaming Essentials, is probably going to end up being a bigger spend of my time than I originally anticipated, more than likely topping out around 100 entries, give or take.

I’ve already got a list that I maintain that has more than double that amount of games under consideration, though that number – that of multiple hundreds – of reviews looks, quite frankly, daunting and unfun. The 100 number seems to be a good, sensible target.

And yet … it’s still ambitious. Each entry takes several hours to put together. So, that’s basically 100 relatively long think-pieces on games that, for the most part, have also already been written about ad nauseum.

One wonders if this might all be a tremendous waste of time.

But then again, gamers are getting younger all the time, and even genuine Grade-A bangers might need that little extra push from people like me to have the younger set move some retro games off their backlog and actually get to playing the darn things.

Regardless, there are certainly gems that will slide into a countdown of this sort that haven’t been discussed enough already, and giving those games more of an audience seems a worthwhile endeavor.

Video game preservation has become more and more of a topic of discussion, and with good reason.

Unlike other media, like film, the method of delivery with games is constantly becoming outdated. Yes, in movies you have film -> cassette -> DVD -> digital … and yet, those movies can be preserved via standard methodology of digitization and basically not be lost to time at that point. At least, it’s not a feature of the experience. It takes actual neglect/oversight for a movie to vanish from existence (at least at the studio level).

Conversely, when a game was released as an exclusive for an unpopular system or for a PC so underpowered you can’t even properly emulate it anymore, well that presents a problem. The ability to even play the thing will be called into question. Games will be lost and forgotten about. Things that were genuinely beautiful … will be gone. Possibly forever.

The oddball, less popular games therefore require extra advocacy.

Criminally underrated gems like Chrono Cross and Air Zonk deserve their flowers, and so to include them here, and to give them a little extra attention, is to my way of thinking, a good thing. Perhaps even an important thing.

Yes, for preservation and historical documentation purposes. But also because so much of the web seems dedicated to hate nowadays that spreading some love feels like a positive thing on its own merits.

Truly, everyone deserves love.

Even the weirdos.

Especially the weirdos.

Katamari Damacy is one of those weirdos.

Katamari Damacy at a glance:
Genre: Puzzle Action
Released: 2004
Platform: PlayStation 2
No. 13 in USgamer’s “15 Best Games since 2000”

Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 32)

Rhythm games haven’t always been so explicit.

Today’s generation of rhythm games – including such noteworthy examples as “Thumper” and “Crypt of the NecroDancer” – are very clear about their design choices in relation to the objectives, generally providing an on-screen timed graphic of some sort meant to coincide with a gamer’s button press.

It all works within the flow of the music, but the idea being conveyed is clear. “Press a button … now!”

If the person playing times their button presses well enough, they are rewarded with praise, advancement, and sometimes even rewards.

This simple concept, of indicating to a gamer when and where they should push a button, as though the music itself isn’t enough of an indicator, has been around quite a while.

1996’s “Parappa the Rapper” is often credited with popularizing this template, and that game absolutely deserves every ounce of praise it has ever received … though it wasn’t exactly alone in creating this sub-genre.

Of course, musical games like “Simon” predate Parappa by a good bit, and if you consider them for longer than a minute, you do realize that while the rhythm of those games is an afterthought, it does emerge organically, particularly as it relates to the avoidance of running out of time.

Moreover, though Simon was an external device/toy unconnected to any dedicated hardware, it was absolutely electronic in nature with a requirement of interactivity in order that it might operate properly.

Within that context, we might accurately say that the origins of the rhythm video game actually lie nearly 50 years past.

And yet, the true heyday, the “golden era” if you will, was the mid-90s to mid-2000s.

“Parappa the Rapper” beget “Beatmania” which beget “Dance Dance Revolution” (Dance Dance is a whole different conversation that we shall come to at some point in this countdown, I can assure you) which went on to beget “Bust a Groove,” and on and on we went, along through games like “Rock Band” and “Guitar Hero” which themselves became MONSTER hits (with gamers and non-gamers alike).

The newer games within the genre (released within the past decade or so) distinguish themselves by offering interesting thematic elements such as specific characters and music an audience might gravitate towards (Kingdom Hearts! Zelda! The Beatles!), as well as deeper environments to explore that don’t merely consist of one static screen, or perhaps if we’re really gonna get crazy, a screen that scrolls towards you while the notes/button presses come flying at you in real time.

But there’s a noticeable, familiar chaining to this system. “Press a button … now!. Press a different button … now!”

It’s pretty much always this way.

And it doesn’t have to be.

To understand this, we merely need to circle back to a different sort of rhythm game that predates the likes of Dance Dance Revolution, Rock Band, and Parappa the Rapper. One that’s less explicit in its stated intent, yet no less demanding when the game fires up.

You are not visually or verbally told to press certain buttons … the game merely demands it of you instead.

You are required to do things a certain way to progress, and that way is rhythmic in nature.

Jump. Jump. Bounce. Bounce.

Pause. Jump. Pause. Jump.

Attack. Move. Attack. Move.

Enemies are spaced from one another to encourage these inputs. The music is smooth and appealing enough to pull you in, yet urgent enough to pull you forward.

Patterns emerge. The soundtrack mirrors the action and vice versa.

Jump. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

And as you progress through the game, this oddity, of there being a rhythmic nature of one’s inputs, becomes more and more obvious, until eventually, there is little point in denying what is happening.

For those who have been paying attention, “Donkey Kong Country” offered up its own kind of rhythm game when it launched as a reboot/rebranding of Nintendo’s big ape in 1994.

And the series’ first sequel, “Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest,” managed to not only continue that tradition in resounding fashion, but also remains an absolute masterclass in incredible platforming to this day, refining and perfecting what its predecessor laid the groundwork for.

And what is that, exactly?

A true A+ rhythm platformer.

Donkey Kong Country 2 at a glance:

Genre: Side-scrolling platformer

Released: 1995

Platform: Super Nintendo

No. 17 in Complex’s “Best Super Nintendo Games of All Time”

Metroid Prime — Retro Gaming Essentials (No. 31)

Metroid Prime is a testament to the concept of “where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

For the better part of a decade, the idea that a game like Metroid Prime could even exist stretched the imaginations of developers and gamers everywhere.

Could it be done?

A decidedly 2D concept, that of a large, atmospheric map that is gradually unlocked through the accumulation of additional powers acquired via backtracking and exploration, dependent upon tight, precise controls as well as highly specific memorization of not just enemy attack patterns but also more critically of the terrain itself … Metroid just didn’t seem like an easy thing to convert into a 3D space.

Also problematic was that Metroid, as a franchise, had never, not once, ever been a big seller.

We’re talking about a brand that had traditionally been outsold by such glorified tech demos as Pilotwings and Mario Paint (fine experiments in gaming to be sure, but not exactly the first games that roll off the tongue when talking about the greatest or even the most popular video games of all time).

Overwhelming financial incentive to engineer such a difficult switch-up just wasn’t there.

So, thusly, a 3D conversion for Metroid wouldn’t happen for a long time.

Eventually, of course, it did. But by the time Metroid Prime released on the GameCube in the fall of 2002 to glowing reviews, Nintendo had lost its stranglehold on the gaming industry to Sony and the mighty Playstation 2, thereby ensuring that Metroid would, once again, sadly not sell a gazillionty copies.

I think this is important to note, as Metroid, to this day, remains a niche property, appealing to a relatively small audience. This is despite the fact that:

Metroid games, by and large, are incredibly good. Like almost illogically good?
Metroid Prime should have been an absolute gold standard, Grade-A system seller.

On that second point, my contention is that Metroid Prime would have had every opportunity to find an entirely different level of success above and beyond the 2.84 million copies it sold had it not been married to a gaming system that consumers just weren’t buying.

Speaking from personal experience as a PS2 owner back in the day, I had little incentive to double-dip and buy a second gaming system. I, like many others, knew there were only so many hours in the day to devote to gaming, and also, I was poorer than dirt.

So … no GameCube for me. The temptation to go against this very sound logic was literally one game: Metroid Prime.

And that just wasn’t enough.

The GameCube, still utterly beloved by generations of Nintendo stans, finished third in sales (21.74 million units sold) during its generation’s heyday, behind the aforementioned Playstation 2 (155 million!), and the new kids on the block, Microsoft and their Xbox (24 million).

Xbox’s system seller was Halo, a game that very much deserves its flowers (while the Playstation 2 had too many “system sellers” to even count – that system’s library is insane!).

But Halo – to this day a monster of a property for Microsoft (perhaps its most important) with over 81 millions copies sold – was simply no Metroid Prime.

Was Halo excellent?

Yes. (It’ll absolutely make an appearance on this countdown at some point.)

Was Halo revelatory?

No. Not quite.

So … why didn’t Metroid Prime take off in quite the same way?

Well, we noted it being chained to a comparatively unpopular system, but beyond that, the game itself was a quieter, more thoughtful affair. “Cerebral” isn’t usually one of the first characteristics one might list when noting what mass audiences crave.

Nintendo as a brand was also no longer seen as cool or edgy in the GameCube era. Having hemorrhaged developers during the N64 days due to an odd commitment to cartridges (a commitment they dumped a generation later), Nintendo WAS at least trying interesting things with its main properties. Zelda was now a cell-shaded cartoon. Mario was wandering around a tropical resort with a water cannon on his back. Luigi had his own game, and it was very much unlike a traditional Mario platformer. Heck, even Mario Kart had a gimmick.

But some of those creative decisions alienated long-time fans while simultaneously failing to court new users. At best, some of that generation’s games might be characterized as colorful diversions (Luigi’s Mansion). At worst, they could be called actual missteps (Mario Sunshine).

But regardless, it felt like Nintendo was throwing things against a wall to see what would stick.

And it was within that type of environment, with spaghetti dripping down the walls, that they handed the keys to Metroid over to a subsidiary, Retro Studios, to take on an unenviable task:

Make Metroid 3D.

They succeeded brilliantly.

Metroid Prime at a glance:
Genre: First-Person Action-Adventure
Released: 2002
Platform: GameCube
No. 10 in Nintendo Power’s “Top 200 Nintendo Games Ever”