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Space is Full of Death

A piece of media can quickly become more frightening if it wasn’t advertised or overall considered scary, causing the inherent horror to creep in or strike differently, unexpectedly. This aspect resonated with me in Super Metroid, with one specific sequence causing it to stick in my memory as such a well-crafted experience, even though I’m not huge on the overall franchise. I enjoy some of Samus Aran’s adventures, but her encounter on the SNES has always stood out, largely due to its haunting beginnings.

Gamers Nightmare will now look back at when Super Metroid created the perfect horror setup in a game not meant to be a horror game.

A Galaxy at Peace

The setup for Metroid has never sounded like horror: an intergalactic bounty hunter fighting space pirates and a supercomputer named Mother Brain is closer to Flash Gordon than it is to Event Horizon. Metroid takes some inspiration from the Alien franchise, but that’s a small part of a bigger tapestry. Some people have trouble with the sci-fi genre being scary anyway, it’s too alien, too far in the future, and difficult to connect with or relate to, but from the opening title screen, Super Metroid makes sure we know that any ‘peace’ the galaxy is experiencing is fleeting and there are reasons to be worried.  

The tone is eerie. What we see is full of darkness, with only a light blue tint of shadows cast over the lab equipment and sickly green from the monitors. The faint illumination reveals the deceased forms of scientists and their captive experiment while the only sounds are a heartbeat-like series of blips leading up to those ominous chimes. The creature shrieks, perhaps attempting to communicate, to warn someone. These few moments create a suspenseful shiver, but before it has time to fully sink in we are given a brief history to catch us up, showing Samus’ involvement with this vampiric lifeform and why she rushes back to the research station at Ceres, only to find it as we’ve just seen.

The most deafening sound on the ghostly station is the bounty hunter’s footfalls as she hurriedly navigates the dark corridors. She’s the remaining colorful bit of life, searching through the darkened rooms, realizing how bad the situation has become. Entering the final chamber, she sees the Metroid still in its small pod, but something else ripples underneath the shadows. First is the orange and red eye, like a fiery challenge, before Ridley’s full dragon-like form becomes clear. His appearance is jarring, looming over us and clutching his prize with a cruel avarice. Samus shoots, but at this point, the leader of the Space Pirates appears too strong for us, and it’s a fight we can’t win, because this place is about to self-destruct.  

Planet Zebes

Although that’s a masterclass in storytelling, a shining example of how to hook players into seeing a mission through, it’s all a preamble to the part that nails it for me. Samus has been taken aback. She thought her mission was over, but Ridley’s kidnapping and murder of the scientists forced her into immediate action, feeling outmatched and unprepared as her ship descends for a landing. Zebes greets our hero with darkened skies and a crack of thunder. She rises from the comfort of her craft, only to be assaulted by hard rain, blowing down at an angle from a storm that seems to rage against her arrival. This place is familiar and unwelcoming. She runs for shelter through quiet caves and stale corridors, much like discovering a tomb of one’s own creation.

For Samus, this is walking back into a nightmare, reliving the events of the first game and her epic battle with Mother Brain. The wounds are still somewhat fresh. It’s undoubtedly a flood of emotions and concern, perhaps even a small bit of PTSD pushing her to stop, not to proceed, even though there is no immediate threat. She is in the ruins of her past, an alien in an even more alien world, deep underground in a maze of broken stones, haunting statues, and abandoned technologies that hum intrusively every time they are used. We are not like them, the people who once lived here, or the invaders who took it. The first sign of life we see (other than worms) is electronic, faded yellow light from a device that lets us know we are still being detected, or worse, someone is actively watching. It took me years to notice that as Samus heads back up the elevator the two faces even turn and watch her do so. These eerie landscapes expose us to the dead side of this environment, and this trek through them builds tension.  

People who play video games are used to seeing enemies almost immediately, helping to set a pace, showing us how to play, and giving us an idea of what we will be up against, but not seeing anyone is its own type of fear. There are no enemies in this part, giving the planet itself an ominous feeling. The device watching Samus lets us know that someone is there, however, building an anticipation of when they’ll finally emerge. We hope for that, to let the tension break, and allow us a target, that first Space Pirate we can unleash on for the obvious malicious nature everything here has toward our hero.

The music in Super Metroid is essential to helping capture this atmosphere. It shows how to use silence, even when there is ambient sound happening, knowing the importance of being present but displaying restraint. Many of the early tunes are echoey and harsh, giving an aura of abandonment and a stark contrast to the action that is coming. Composers Kenji Yamamoto and Minako Hamano crafted a set of sounds that were distinctive and off-putting, helping to immerse players in the cruel and ancient world that does not want to be explored or conquered, so every new area is accompanied by a track to make it seem strange and foreboding. The lack of background music in this early section is unnerving, but the repetitive tones do their part in acting as another layer to ward us away, one that pervades through many parts of the game.  

Give Me a Reason to be Scared

Other moments in Super Metroid startle players, like the dust-up with Crocomire, or areas that make the hair on the back of our necks stand up, such as the Wrecked Ship. But that initial drop onto the planet and my quiet exploration, not knowing what lies ahead, that was the moment that established the tone so well, and it stays. Samus is the hero and she can do this, but suddenly, death and the terror of what we’re up against feels so much more real, making the premise chilling.

The game has its intentional moments, it has a couple of ‘jump scares,’ but Super Metroid doesn’t have to try too hard because it already laid the groundwork. We know Metroid was heavily inspired by the Alien films, it shows, but I’ve always thought these opening moments on Zebes were where it turned inspiration something something of its own, a feeling that would potentially influence future games. That became a feeling, a connection with the protagonist. and it put that slight bit of fear into me, sticking with me years later. Because of that scene, I always have a fearful respect for Zebes and Super Metroid. 

Did you ever play Super Metroid and what are your thoughts on it? Let us know in the comment section. 

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