The E3 announcement of Team Ninja-developed Metroid: Other M coupled with my recent completion of Metroid Prime 3: Corruption has resulted in a lot of Samus on the brain. The more I think about Samus, the harder it is to consider her a bounty hunter — but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Under Nintendo’s direction, the Metroid franchise sported a paper-thin storyline, with hardly a scrap of background information given to flesh out the wholly original galaxy Samus traverses. Retro Studios, on the other hand, has pushed Metroid in a cinematic direction, introducing more cutscenes to the series and using the scan visor to provide a wealth of knowledge on the species and history created for their games. Metroid Prime 3 employed voice acting in the series for the first time — but more importantly, it gave life to the Galactic Federation, with soldiers, battleships, fighters, and plenty of reading material about their history and technology.

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As one of the most important aspects of any video game, level design is a fascinating concept to study.  We can chart its progression from 2D into 3D, from simple linear stages into vast, sprawling environments.  In doing so, the general trend of 3D games begins to come into focus — and in some cases, it’s not such a pretty sight.  Sometimes we have to look backwards to see how we should move forwards.

Open world games have risen in popularity steadily since the release of Grand Theft Auto III, which not only spawned several sequels, but far too many cheap knock-offs and shoddy cash-ins.  Still, the goal of these games is admirable: they are presenting you with not a level to progress through, but a world to explore.  It’s a way to accomplish a level of escapism that smaller, more constrained games can’t match, but it’s a tricky thing to pull off.  The key is being able to form an explorable world with a scope so vast that players won’t feel as though the constraints of the area are too artificial — but size must be balanced with enough memorable locations to make the world feel alive.

Ultimately, games such as Bethesda’s Oblivion and Rockstar’s Grand Theft Auto IV can’t live up to both ends of the deal.  Oblivion is, even now, nearly three years after its release, a huge, beautiful game world.  But one grassy green hill looks like the next.  And the next.  The sense of exploration gets lost in the scope without delivering enough of what’s ultimately the most important thing: design.

Which, in my long-winded and roundabout way, brings us to Super Metroid.  Compared to GTA or Oblivion, Super Metroid is laughably miniscule.  It’s 2D.  It can’t compete with the miles and miles of explorable land and cityscape in Cyrodil or Liberty City.  But it just might have the best level design of any video game ever made.

Unlike its grandiose 3D brethren, Super Metroid is an incredibly tightly-packed world.  The attention to detail is truly incredible — as a sort of forerunner to the open world games of today, Super Metroid encourages, and, in fact, requires, considerable exploration.  Every new ability acquired, every new item found, opens a new path somewhere, but it’s rarely blatant.  It’s up to you to hunt down secret tunnels and discover how to combine abilities to reach new areas.

The 2D world snakes outwards, but as you gain new powers, it brilliantly meshes together into one massive, cohesive unit.  Areas that were once challenging become easy to traverse in seconds thanks to newer weapons and armor.  And yet each explorable region of the planet Zebes is incredibly unique and memorable in one way or another.  It’s that perfect attention to detail that truly sets the game world apart.

Each area’s remarkable distinction also helps Super Metroid deliver an incredibly atmospheric experience.  With 16 bit graphics and sound that pales in comparison to the might of Dolby Digital, Super Metroid rivals any game made today in ambiance — and exceeds most.  It’s somber, chilling, and ornately detailed, leaving you slightly on edge all the time.  You’re the intruder on this alien world, and it’s not a friendly one.

Super Metroid also boasts one of the most clever, devious examples of game design in the past two decades.  Every time I scrutinized an area for any possible secret, looked in some innocuous out-of-the-way place, and was rewarded for my efforts, I found myself discovering the next item I needed to advance.  No game has ever rewarded exploration so well or so thoroughly, and the vast number of upgrades available makes checking every corner an addictive process.  Some items won’t even show up on a scan that reveals invisible shit — when you can hide something that well in your game and have people find it, you know you’ve done something right.

I delayed fully experiencing Super Metroid for far too many years, despite knowing how great a game it was.  And it exceeded my expectations.  While there will always be games I enjoy more, I don’t think a game made since 1994 has yet rivaled the level design of Super Metroid.  I guess perfection is pretty hard to top.