Metroid Prime 4: Beyond has at long last emerged into the public eye after an extraordinarily protracted and challenging development process, one marked by multiple delays, internal reboots, and years of uncertainty. Yet, despite the joy of finally holding a new installment in this beloved series, and notwithstanding several moments that sparkle with the charm and atmosphere fans have waited for, the final product cannot fully shake the shadow of its own age. What was once a groundbreaking vision of first-person exploration and isolation now feels, in many respects, constrained by the design philosophies of an earlier era.
Nintendo has always been celebrated for forging its own path, often ignoring prevailing trends in the gaming industry and instead redefining them in its distinct creative dialect. Beginning with the original Nintendo Switch era—particularly since the release of *Super Mario Odyssey* in 2017—the company has increasingly leaned into a philosophy of expansive, open-world gameplay. In doing so, it breathed vital life into several of its cornerstone franchises. Titles such as *The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild* and *Tears of the Kingdom* reimagined vast landscapes teeming with exploration and discovery, while *Super Mario Odyssey* transformed the platforming formula into a globe-trotting adventure of vibrant experimentation. Even series such as *Donkey Kong* and *Mario Kart* gained from this spirit of reinvention. Yet, despite adopting certain elements of that open-world ethos, *Metroid Prime 4: Beyond* never quite achieves the same revelatory transformation.
In Nintendo’s other reinvigorated properties, these open-world mechanics were additive—an enhancement of what was already beloved rather than a distraction from it. Traversing the immense plains and mountains of Hyrule in *Breath of the Wild*, for example, reliably rewarded curiosity; nearly every hill promised a shrine, a Korok seed, or some hidden treasure that deepened one’s connection with the world. In that game, wandering was an act of continual discovery, each detour rich with purpose and reward. By contrast, exploration in *Metroid Prime 4: Beyond* seldom feels gratifying. Instead, the act of roaming through its wide deserts often becomes a mechanical exercise rather than a joyous adventure.
As critic Andrew Webster observed in his analysis, the game’s central hub—a windswept desert region through which Samus must repeatedly travel—feels bereft of vitality, a barren expanse dotted with lifeless curiosities that constitute little more than checkpoints on a featureless map. There are indeed things to uncover, but none that stimulate the same sense of revelation characteristic of earlier *Metroid Prime* titles. This emptiness undermines the rhythm that has always defined the *Metroid* experience: the elegant alternation between tension, discovery, and reward.
The fundamental issue seems rooted in the very DNA of the series. The *Metroid* formula—sometimes called the “Metroidvania” structure—depends on careful gating, where progress is deliberately constrained by locked doors, unscalable ledges, and obstacles designed to be surpassed only once the appropriate power-up is obtained. Within a closed environment—a labyrinth of corridors, alien biomes, or subterranean chambers—this structure feels natural, even exhilarating. Each upgrade invites a moment of remembrance as players return to earlier areas now newly accessible. In an open-world context, however, that same loop falters. When the environment expands outward rather than inward, detours often lead to dead ends, and the return on investment for exploration diminishes sharply.
In the opening hours of *Beyond*, for instance, while speeding across the desert on the sleek and visually impressive VI-O-LA bike, one might encounter the ruins of a smoldering structure. Eliminating the scattered enemies reveals no tangible reward—no hidden puzzle, no collectible artifact. Something tantalizing glimmers above, seemingly just out of reach, but without the proper upgrade, there’s nothing to be done. The player moves on unsatisfied, knowing intellectually that this site might be worth revisiting later, yet emotionally unmotivated to do so. This disconnect drains momentum, transforming curiosity into fatigue. Unlike *Breath of the Wild* or *Super Mario Odyssey*, where almost every diversion paid dividends, *Beyond*’s world often leaves players feeling that their time was spent in vain.
Compounding these frustrations is what can only be described as a false sense of freedom, an illusion of boundless choice undercut by invisible constraints. Early in the game, Samus receives radio messages from her colleague Mackenzie, whose voice—both literal and symbolic—functions as that of the designers addressing the player directly. Mackenzie asserts that the entire world is open, that one can venture in any direction at will. Yet the moment one attempts to test that invitation, progress halts before an impenetrable barrier—a literal wall of fire that demands specific equipment to bypass. The experience feels less like a clever misdirection and more like an unintentional joke at the player’s expense, a reminder that for all its promises of openness, the game remains rigidly structured. In earlier Nintendo adventures such as *Tears of the Kingdom*, such artificial constraints were elegantly avoided; player agency there was both genuine and meaningful.
An additional sign that *Metroid Prime 4: Beyond* lags behind contemporary trends appears in its companion system. The game introduces several supporting characters who, rather than enriching Samus’s isolation or deepening her mystique, often serve to undercut it. The companions incessantly offer advice—what to do, where to go, how to overcome each obstacle—as though the developers feared players might lose their way. This heavy-handed guidance mirrors the style of certain modern cinematic action games such as *Horizon Zero Dawn*, in which non-player characters constantly direct the player’s activities. While such hints can be useful in labyrinthine quests, they run counter to the very soul of *Metroid*. The franchise has always celebrated solitude, intellect, and self-discovery; the thrill lies in piecing together environmental clues, experimenting with equipment, and learning through failure. When Mackenzie interrupts unprompted, providing unsolicited instructions, it feels not only unnecessary but patronizing—both to the player and to Samus herself. The legendary bounty hunter, whose reputation as the fiercest warrior in the cosmos precedes her, is treated as though she needs hand-holding from a sidekick far her inferior.
All of these missteps may be symptomatic of the game’s broader creative conservatism. Nintendo’s most triumphant modern titles have consistently achieved something rare: they retain the core identity of their predecessors while introducing radical new mechanics that transform the familiar into something astonishingly fresh. *Super Mario Odyssey* reinvigorated its world through Cappy’s possession-based transformations. *The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom* elevated *Breath of the Wild*’s foundation with the intricacy of the Ultrahand system, enabling players to assemble complex contraptions and thus craft emergent gameplay that felt spontaneously magical. Even in smaller releases, Nintendo has shown a remarkable facility for reinvention—offering simple new tools that open massive frontiers of interaction.
By contrast, *Metroid Prime 4: Beyond* feels trapped in the orbit of its ancestors. The psychic abilities that Samus acquires throughout the campaign are essentially reimagined iterations of tools and weapons she already mastered decades ago. A so-called psychic lasso functions merely as a more flamboyant version of the old grapple beam, lacking the creativity or versatility to stimulate new ways of engaging with the environment. It’s emblematic of the game’s broader reluctance to take creative risks. Where past Nintendo titles invited experimentation, *Beyond* seems to fear deviation, clinging instead to a formula that, while once revolutionary, now feels static.
And yet, for all its shortcomings, there remains something singular in the experience that no other franchise quite reproduces. The immersive first-person perspective, the eerie atmospheric soundscapes, and the deliberate pacing of exploration still evoke a sense of wonder—a haunting loneliness that pulses through every corridor. This remains the essence of *Metroid*: a science-fiction mystery that invites the player to uncover secrets piece by piece. However, after eight years of development and a full-scale restart, expectations necessarily soar higher. When comparisons are drawn to Nintendo’s most successful reinventions, *Metroid Prime 4: Beyond* cannot escape the impression that it delivers too little evolution for the time invested. In this new age of dynamic, player-driven creation, the old fails to feel revitalized, and the new fails to feel meaningful. The result is a game that, while polished and occasionally mesmerizing, ultimately settles for competence where transcendence once seemed attainable.
Sourse: https://www.theverge.com/games/838428/metroid-prime-4-analysis-open-world-nintendo
