Soapbox: What makes a game a good Metroidvania anyway?

You will be forgiven for thinking that nothing could be simpler than developing the secret formula that unites all the great games of this popular genre: the clue is in the name! They need to be like Metroid, with all the shooting and the aliens and the science fiction and the quiet loneliness that goes with it, and they must also be like Castlevania, with its incredibly similar selection of… um, swords. And whips. And, uh, magic castles backwards. Oh, and his penchant for lengthy scenes that can feature characters that appeared once, a decade earlier, unlockable playable characters, and supernaturally handsome men with gorgeous knee-length hair as well. Just mix the two and sell whatever comes out the other end, easy!

Anyway, that’s the theory. In reality, the genre is a mad jumble of contradictions, modern action inclinations of The Demastered Mummy being as authentically “Metroidvania” as Blasphemous‘Gothic religious theme o Guacamelee! 2vivid style. A “real” Metroidvania can make you control ninjas, vampire hunters, whatever Dead cells fire-headed lead is … you don’t even have to be a hero (or reluctant antihero) either – CarrionThe playable “character” is a relentless mass of flesh and teeth, a violent thing eagerly consuming anyone who stands in their way, slim down down hallways and slipping through incredibly small crevices.

So if it’s not the way they look or even how they play that determines Metroidvania’s legitimacy, then maybe it’s the level of challenge they face that unifies this disparate genre – all the best examples are relatively easy, like the legendary Symphony of the night, or … really difficult, like Hollow knight. No? To make matters worse, large amounts of accepted and even Welcome The design of Metroidvania goes against everything that we are told that it should be a good game of any other genre; progress is blocked by doors that only open to missiles that we may have currently run out of, or that rely on new abilities awaiting us behind an intimidating high-screen monster in an unrelated part of the map that is still we did not know it existed. We hope to be left alone and aimlessly while other games rush to cover the screen with markers, compasses, and loading screen suggestions. Meanwhile, backtracking, the review score killer of countless other titles, is just an expected part of the Metroidvania experience.

So if they can settle where they please, be as easy or difficult as they choose, and often do the exact opposite of everything they tell us that makes a traditional game fun, what is it that makes Metroidvania good? What is it that really makes them, well, them?

You do.

Or rather, how you personally relate and interact with the environment presented in these games. Everything else that surrounds this almost intangible and extremely open-to-interpretation core can be whatever it wants to be, as long as the game in question always remembers that it is really about the player and how they interact with the virtual playing field that is being played. It was given.

And just when it seems like we’re getting somewhere, we realize that this one truth can manifest itself in at least a dozen different ways. He’s an area designer who deliberately places something in plain sight but out of reach, both you and them knowing that with time, effort, or a new skill, perhaps all three combined, whatever the promised prize is will eventually be claimed. , another part of your ever-expanding inventory and expanding your skill set. It’s the visceral thrill of taking down enemies that once needed to be approached with caution with a single casual shot, your character’s strength and your personal prowess only increase with each enemy defeated. It is seeing a distant exit to unknown places tantalizingly placed on top of a vertical surface ten seemingly unreachable tiles high or far beyond an inevitable floor bristling with deadly spikes and thoughts. “I know exactly what I have to do hereBefore reaching your goal easily.

These are those incomparable moments that are rhythmically spent jumping and kicking smooth walls where you would once have been forced to turn around and find another place to go, or fearlessly plunge into lava that would have been deadly an hour earlier. Harsh alien worlds, monster-filled forgotten pathways, and grand staircases leading to climactic battles with the lords of darkness transitioning one room at once from the dangerous and unknown to the familiar and safe, your own knowledge and confidence are part of your characters as any ammo count or defense stat.

It doesn’t even have to be about getting tougher, better, faster, or stronger either; Who hasn’t smiled as he nonchalantly searched for one of the ninety-nine potions that waited in his extensive endgame inventory during what might otherwise have been a difficult encounter? Or maybe you spent time enjoying the quiet pleasure of “ordering” an area map, exploring those high ceilings and other “useless” nooks and crannies thanks to the levitation powers granted by a newly acquired special item, simply for the simple fact. to complete each last square? Who doesn’t want to complete a game’s bestiary or collect as many trinkets as possible for no other reason than the sense of satisfaction it brings?

This It is what defines Metroidvania. It has nothing to do with the perspective used, the type or amount of skills you gain, the characters you play, the enemies you defeat, or any “ambient storytelling” that may emerge from easily lost background details or animations. silent NPCs. Surprisingly, it has little to do with any of the genre’s famous namesakes. Good Metroidvanias are a feeling – maybe even a promise – that the strange new world that lies ahead is only for you; somewhere you will conquer slowly but surely, each step forward is an iron test of your developing knowledge of its secret hiding places, arcane abilities and monster collection.

Do you agree? What do you think makes a Metroidvania a Metroidvania? What do you like about them?