1. Antarctic Adventure (Famicom)
2. Nuts & Milk (Famicom)
3. Commando (Atari 2600)
4. Binary Land (Famicom)
5. Devil World (Famicom)
6. Disney's Aladdin (SNES)
7. Popeye (NES)
8. Super Mario Land (Game Boy)
9. Ys: The Vanished Omens (Sega Master System)
10 Ys II: Ancient Ys Vanished - The Final Chapter (Famicom)
11. Final Fantasy Mystic Quest (SNES)
12. Lunar: The Silver Star (Sega CD)
13. Otenba Becky no Daibouken (MSX)
14. Metroid (Famicom Disk System)
I'll always remember
Metroid as one of those "second wave" Nintendo classics. Released after the "black label" quick plays had come and gone, it's one of the earliest "complex" NES games, though its cover art still sports that definitive pixel art look. My experience with this game back in the day was analogous to my relationship with
Zelda II. I'd throw
Metroid in the ol' gray brick every other Sunday or so, get hopelessly lost, get boned, and then eventually quit in favor of something more palatable like
Bases Loaded or
Bad Dudes. As an adult I finally "buckled down" and finished this beast - multiple times - in a sort of reverse order: first on the GBA (with online level maps perpetually open before me), the NES, and finally, the subject of this very review, the Famicom Disk System.

Yes, much like
Super Mario Bros. 2 (either one), the first two
Zelda and
Castlevania games, and
Kid Icarus,
Metriod was released on disk format in Japan. As Famicom cart technology eventually "caught up" with disks, don't expect FDS
Metroid to be much different than the version released in the West. There's no compelling reason for someone residing outside of Japan to play this, unless you're a completionist giga-nerd like myself. The biggest difference found here is that the disk original supports three save files. To delete a file one must select "KILL MODE." Yikes.
This is a landmark game, and a genre-creator. See,
Metroid is a non-linear game; while most of this ilk released prior were RPG dungeon-crawlers or top-down action-adventure games,
Metroid is instead a non-linear platformer. With the aid of
Castlevania II (1987) the "Metroidvania" genre was thus born. No, these weren't the first two games created in this style, not by a longshot, but they refined the mechanics in such a way that inspired generations of imitators. Note that unlike many similar games that emerged during this golden era,
Metroid is decidedly not an action-RPG. Problems can't be solved by level-grinding here; to guide Samus Aran to journey's end one must rely solely on their own wits and reflexes, plus the occasional power-up
Samus Aran: she's the hero of this game and all sequels to follow. Yes, she -- Samus is an early Japanese female protagonist, and undoubtedly the most important. Her debut role is a bit muddled however, as she dons a cybernetic space suit throughout her quest. Her sex can be revealed in-game, presented as a "reward" of sorts in a move that now feels a bit crass and dated. In later installments her character develops more into the hardened alien-destroyer we know and love today. Her mission is simple: infiltrate the planet Zebes and destroy the hostile alien entity known as "Mother Brain."

Aesthetically, this game is bulletproof. It opens with what I submit, in my factual opinion, is the best title screen sequence ever before seen in a video game. A bold blocky title gives way to shooting stars, and then a simple paragraph of text emerges to relay the story. The spacial sky is empty save for a few twinkling stars; the terra firma a vague crusty mass. Accompanying the visuals is the first of Hirokazu Tanaka's brilliant compositions: simultaneously menacing and soothing. Upon game start, Samus finds herself in Brinstar, the first segment of Zebes. Great attention was paid to creating distinct corridors of the hostile planet. Brinstar is stony, replete with lava and platforms resembling petrified wood. Norfair is a colorful and frothy death swamp. Bosses reside in clinical mechanical futuristic hideouts, and the final area (Mother Brain's Tourian) showcases a cold black and white palette reminiscent of Ganon's lair in the original
Zelda. Aside from the aforementioned title screen, the backing sky remains a stark black through the entire game, aiding in the creation of a feeling of utmost isolation. Tanaka's soundtrack deftly and slowly reveals itself: the game begins with a thumping percussion driven song as Samus sets off, eventually giving way to creepy alien (no pun intended) pieces that punctuate the terrors that lie ahead. Clocking in at a scant thirteen or so minutes, every bit of the soundtrack is a necessity, with each track inextricably linked to its given environment.
Samus begins her foray into Zebes comically underpowered, equipped with a short range three-directional arm cannon and possessing a scant thirty energy points (out of a then-possible maximum of 99). Success in
Metroid is predicated on item acquisition. Immediately to the left of Samus' initial spawn point is the Maru Mari: an item that allows Samus to roll into a ball and navigate tight passages. Future equipment upgrades are obtained in special rooms, held aloft by the iconic Chozo avian-alien statues. Gun upgrades are a necessity, along with bombs, an armor boost, a high-jump power-up, and the signature screw attack. In addition to the "key" items are energy tanks and missiles found in droves: the former increases Samus' health bar permanently while the latter add to her cache of more powerful ammo. Missiles are queued up by pressing select, and are useful against bosses and tougher foes, and are also needed to blast open the otherwise impervious red door bubbles.
The game controls like a dream; it's shockingly fluid for 1986 standards. There are two different jumps, standard and spin, their initiation determined by the order of button presses (pressing jump and then a direction vs. pressing them together). The spin jump can be upgraded into a screw attack, whereupon Samus can demolish enemies mid-flight. Weapons are fun to play around with. There's an ice beam, which can predictably freeze enemies -- once in stasis foes can be used as impromptu platforms. There's also a wave beam that lacks the freeze capabilities but travels across the screen in a massive sine wave type of motion. Perfect for mowing down huge swaths of enemies at once. Bombs (laid while in ball form) are effective against ground enemies, as well as revealing the locations of hidden passages. They can also be used as a boost, propelling balled-up Samus into the air into otherwise unreachable corridors. There's a bit of a "loosey goosey" feel to Samus' overall maneuverability. The game is highly exploitable. Items can easily be gathered in the "wrong" order, areas uncovered well before the "appropriate" conditions have been fulfilled, and so on.
The various labyrinths of Zebes are inhabited by some devilishly fearsome extraterrestrial foes. There is the requisite display of palette swapping, sure, but that doesn't diminish the creativity of these creature designs. "Crawlers" stick to whatever surface they encounter, looping endlessly around scenery until destroyed. There are flying monsters that emerge from pipes in an ceaseless spamming procession. Mutant arthropods swoop and swing from surfaces. Dragons inhabit lava, popping up to deliver a flaming breath. The eponymous "Metroids" appear late-game, intent on rapidly sucking HP from Samus. Defeating these bubbled and clawed monstrosities requires both a freeze attack followed by a steady barrage of missiles. Only a trio of bosses inhabit the planet. Though fearsome in design, they're a bit of a letdown in terms of strategy -- they're bullet sponges, easily (but tediously) dispatched if Samus initiates combat with an ample supply of health and missiles.
Metroid has some issues. It's an oft-repeated cliché (and one I use rarely), but the game has aged poorly. There are nagging flaws, not due to any developer sloth or malice, but instead owing to the typical game design of the era. There's no in-game map. Not a deal-breaker in and of itself, but the world of Zebes is extraordinarily difficult to self-map proportionately as it's not laid out in the grid-like structure found in old RPGs (and
Zelda for that matter). Key items are well-hidden to the point of absurdity. One must employ a "shoot every wall" strategy to uncover some of the trickier energy tanks, for instance. Certain lava pits are inescapable, while others are comprised of false lava. There's no inventory screen, and gaining one weapon upgrade overrides the previous one. In fact, during the course of a "standard" playthrough one is expected to get ice, wave, and then ice again -- it's odd. Then there's the extremely harsh Game Over penalty -- wherein Samus retains her upgrades and max HP stat, but her actual HP is reduced back to 30. A fair bit of "grinding" is then required to get back on track. Like
Zelda and other early lengthy Famicom and FDS titles, saving the game is essentially synonymous with a Game Over, with the same "penalties" applied upon rebooting. And there are no save points either, so saving itself is initiated upon loss of life or pressing the correct combo of buttons on the second controller.
Small annoyances aside,
Metroid is more than worthy of its status as an all-time legend. Its atmosphere is unmatched and the creepy perilous character and environmental designs remain ever-relevant. The game still ranks higher than most of its respective sequels, and is also one of the finest gems of its genre. While the earliest examples of, say, platformers and RPGs now feel a bit questionable when viewed through a modern lens, anyone wishing the experience all the "Metroidvania" genre has to offer would do well to head back to the origins.