Series starts here.
It was seven-year-old me vs. Metroid. No strategy guide. No maps. No help from parents (Most 80s parents were hopeless at video games. Good luck getting them to pick up a controller in the first place; As the NES’s popularity rose, they were actively being propagandized to believe video gaming was a meaningless pastime that had the potential to tank school grades.)
My bout with this game went straight through Summer vacation and into the beginnings of Fall. It was nothing less than a childhood-defining experience.
It was easy to get lost in the sheer scope of the game. Where do each of the four pipes above lead? Have I missed any blocks I can bomb to find even more secret areas?
And is it possible to bomb my way up from the lava (you could boost yourself in the air with your own bombs) to this mysterious door on the left? I spent countless hours trying, and found out decades later the only way to cheese this room is to glitch an enemy into the room and freeze it at just the right time (there was a freeze ray which could make enemies turn into living platforms).
I forged my way deeper beneath the surface of planet Zebes. Each new area somehow felt more menacing and hotter than the last, like you’re coming dangerously close to the planet’s molten core. Pictured above (and below) is Norfair, the second area of the game. And I was already blown away by the variety of enemies and backgrounds, and just the sheer scope of the game. I felt the true joy of exploration, and it never got boring.
I didn’t manage to find the next–and even more menacing–level beneath Norfair, called “Miniboss Hideout #2”. Instead, I backtracked and managed to find “Miniboss Hideout #1” instead, which looked like this:
And sounded like THIS:
Maybe it doesn’t sound like much by today’s standards, but in mid-1987, I’d never heard a video game sound this beautiful or atmospheric before. Not even in the arcades. This track was my maiden voyage, the beginning of a lifelong appreciation for videogame music.
Nick Enlowe 