Released: February 9, 2004
Played on: 3DS (Virtual Console)

We all have our strengths and weaknesses. With effort and work, these weaknesses can be improved upon, and their prominence can be minimized by other factors, such as our overall investment or interest in the task at hand. Of my many weaknesses when it comes to playing video games, the Metroid series has always seemed to be a nexus of the worst of them. Poor ability to keep track of previous locations? Check. Poor ability in combat/platforming requiring tight controls? Check. Solving environmental puzzles requiring lateral thinking? Check. This has kept me away from Metroid (and the greater Metroidvania genre) games my entire life. The only similar game I have ever completed is Guacamelee.

So I knew I’d have to visit Metroid for this project. I considered Super Metroid, the totemic “best” game of the series, but Zero Mission appeals to the strange part of my sensibilities that loves remasters and remakes. Plus, despite the QOL improvements Zero Mission brought to the game, I wanted to embrace the spikiest bits of “Metroid”, which are surely at their spikiest in the 8-bit original.

And yes, I did need to have a walkthrough open on my phone to ensure I wouldn’t get completely stuck. However, my overwhelming takeaway from Zero Mission was that I found it much more intuitive and smooth than expected.

I found my way to a number of power-ups without much difficulty, and even environmental puzzles like turning into a morph ball in the hands of the statue was something that seemed obvious to me. Those of you who’ve conquered ‘vanias, both Metroid and Castle, probably think little of this, and those of you who played through Grim Fandango with a song in your heart and a smile on your face are scoffing, but for those of us lacking whatever lateral thinking muscle allows others to intuit the locations of what’s needed to progress do not take this stuff for granted. It speaks to this game’s design that I was able to progress smoothly.

The atmosphere of Metroid Zero Mission is, unsurprisingly, fantastic. I found the music to be excellent, but there’s a degree of Alien-ness to Zero Mission that, while I was aware of, I was unfamiliar with. I honestly can’t think of anything that both cribs from Giger as well as Metroid does while also developing its own aesthetic.

Having skipped the 8-bit generation myself, I’ve always been a bit leery of revisiting games – or even remakes – that originated in that era. Controls designed in the early days of gaming often feel clunky or unintuitive by modern standards. I’ve never seriously played a fighting game, and the extent to which I’ve ever been capable of pulling off combos has been almost entirely limited to the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater series. So I approached Zero Mission with some trepidation, expecting to wrestle with outdated mechanics.

To my surprise, the controls felt tight and intuitive. Movement is responsive, jumping is precise, and while occasionally challenging, the combat never felt unfair. The game does a remarkable job of making you feel increasingly powerful as you acquire new abilities, without ever losing the sense of vulnerability that defines the early hours.

What’s particularly elegant is how the power-ups don’t just make you stronger, but expand your perception of the environment. They change the way you perceive the world around you. Suddenly, that suspicious wall you passed an hour ago might be hiding a secret passage. That unreachable ledge might now be within your grasp thanks to the High Jump Boots or the Speed Booster. The game constantly recontextualizes its environments, turning backtracking into a rewarding exercise rather than a tedious chore.

What’s perhaps most impressive about Zero Mission is how much it accomplishes in such a compact package. It delivers a complete and satisfying experience, one that respects the player’s intelligence while also offering just enough guidance to keep things moving. It’s a masterclass in economical game design.

In the end, Metroid: Zero Mission didn’t just challenge my weaknesses, it helped me understand them. It showed me that with the right design, even a genre that has historically felt inaccessible can become engaging and rewarding. It reminded me that difficulty isn’t inherently a barrier; sometimes, it’s an invitation to grow. And it left me with a newfound appreciation for a series I had long admired from afar.

I don’t know if I’m ready to dive headfirst into the rest of the Metroid series just yet. Super Metroid still looms large, and Metroid Dread looks, frankly, terrifying. But Zero Mission has opened a door I thought was closed. Maybe I have a Metroidvania phase in me? No, definitely not. But I enjoyed Zero Mission.