[COLUMN] Metroid Fusion Isn’t Fun (and That’s the Point) | by Marty Sliva (Patreon)

I have a weird relationship with the Metroid franchise. Super Metroid is one of my favorite games of all time, and I replay it on a near-annual basis. The atmosphere, player freedom, and intricate design are mind boggling for something from three decades ago. It’s one of those rare games that birthed a genre and arguably hasn’t been topped since.

But despite my deep reverence for the SNES classic, I’m relatively agnostic towards the rest of the series. I’ve always considered myself a fan of the franchise, but maybe I just really like that one single game?

Like a lot of NES games, the original Metroid felt like a proof of concept that was perfected during the next generation—similar to how I hold games like Super Mario World, A Link to the Past, and Final Fantasy IV. Over the years, I’ve logged single playthroughs at release for Metroid Fusion and the Prime trilogy, but none of them really stuck with me in the same way that Super Metroid did. The closest any has come was Metroid Dread, which I devoured the weekend of release and loved at the moment but have yet to revisit since.

But this apathy has thawed throughout the past few weeks, as KC and I have slowly made progress in our Metroid Prime playthrough. Spoilers: that game rules. I’ve grown a newfound respect for Metroid’s 3D evolution, which expertly translates the puzzle-box structure and impeccable vibes of Super Metroid in a really impressive way. This has made me want to revisit all of the other games in the series and see if fresh eyes might allow me to glean something new.

So, last week, I sat down with 2002’s Metroid Fusion via Nintendo Switch Online, and over the course of a few hours, I was gobsmacked by how weird, frustrating, and ultimately brave the GBA entry was at deconstructing the formula laid down by Super Metroid and examining the act of us doing what we’re told while playing a game. And while it’s no Super Metroid, it’s humming an entirely different tune that I can’t get out of my head.

Right off the bat, Samus herself feels great to control—it’s wild how much of a game changer it is to be able to grab onto a ledge and pull yourself up. This adds a layer of expression to combat, puzzles, and traversal, making the moment-to-moment gameplay a joy. Going along with this are the small bits of story, dialogue, and characterization sprinkled throughout the adventure. Though it’s less elegant than the mostly nonverbal storytelling found in Super Metroid, it takes bigger swings in the themes it chooses to tackle. More on that in a bit.

There are also some aspects of the game that I’m neutral on. For example, the wealth of ammo upgrades and recharge stations scattered throughout the map meant that my pockets were always filled to the brim, and while that kept me clear of frustration, I kind of missed having my missiles and bombs feel precious, with enemy drops acting as genuine life savers. I’m not sure if either way is the “correct” way, just two different methodologies.

But other initial thoughts weren’t as cheery. While Super Metroid’s Planet Zebes twists and turns in on itself—a kind of spaghetti-bowl map design that would become a staple of the genre for so many games going forward—Metroid Fusion’s Biologic Space Lab is much more simplistic in its structure. There’s a main hub with six elevators leading to the six different zones, making each trek into one feel much more like a confined “level” than the unfolding exploration of Zebes.

This rigid format means that there are fewer instances of excitedly retracing your steps to see which previously locked doors and unreachable ledges can now be surmounted thanks to the new toys you’ve come across. Fewer of those Metroidvania “aha!” moments of revelation. Along with that, having a voice in your ear that literally points to the exact spot on the map you need to go to makes you feel less like an explorer and more like a gofer.

And while I stand by my thought that this yields a playspace that lacks quite a bit of the fun and discovery of its predecessor, Fusion’s secret weapon is that it’s fully aware of this. It’s a feature, not a bug.

Nearly every design decision that might seem cliche or frustrating has a purpose behind it. For example, there are no shortage of games that find an early narrative conceit to strip you of all your nice and shiny abilities. But Metroid Fusion differs by then forcing you to confront a being that still has all of those wonderful toys, the SA-X. I loved every single encounter with Samus’ parasitic doppelganger despite knowing how scripted they were. Holding your breath as it stalks the room you’re hiding in, or the later scare of the floor crumbling beneath you, instigating an escape chase for your life as the SA-X throws all of your familiar weapons your way. These are the kinds of moments that’ll stick with me for a long time.

And Metroid Fusion is filled with these swift darts of brilliance. Powering through an icy laboratory only to see the shape of a frozen Ridley on the other side of a wall is an excellent jump scare. Taking yet another elevator ride to a new area, only to have the lift break down midway and force you to creep through the ventilation system is a masterful subversion of expectations. Noticing the subtle tonal changes and growing discontent of your computerized commanding officer as you start disobeying orders recontextualizes all of the prior hand holding.

And that last bit is the one I have the hardest time wrapping my head around. I think the more regimented structure of Fusion is decidedly less fun than the open-ended adventure of its SNES predecessor. But that’s the point, and the game addresses it well in the final act, not dissimilar to the subversive aspects of games like Silent Hill 2, Spec Ops: The Line, and the Nier franchise. Of course, I don’t think Fusion holds the same narrative weight of those masterpieces, but it’s an impressive swing for a GBA game nonetheless.

A few days removed from rolling credits, I’m still not sure how I feel about Metroid Fusion in totality. Its highs had my mind racing, its lows made me just want to replay Super Metroid for the hundredth time, but its big swings in the design department remain fascinating to examine. Immediately after finishing it, I started up and jammed through Metroid: Zero Mission. I loved it. And hell, I’m even looking at the haunted copy of Metroid: Other M on my shelf and seriously considering giving that black sheep another try with fresh eyes. What could possibly go wrong?

The last bit I keep tumbling over in my mind is how wild it is that Metroid Fusion and Metroid Prime released on the same day in the US—November 18th, 2002. After nearly a decade without a proper installment in the franchise, Nintendo and Retro dropped two very different but very successful visions of what a Metroid game could be. And I’m happy to report that both are holding up excellently 22 years later.