This is such a depressing game. So much squandered to middling execution and unambitious concepts. Dig deep, and there's a glimmer or two of genuine worth, but it's hard to stay positive when you're sustaining on scraps and leftovers.
Metroid is about worlds. Inhospitable, unfamiliar, alien worlds. Other M gives you the BOTTLE SHIP, a derelict space station, separated to three distinct sectors. The themes are: foliage, ice, and lava. The visual design in these places is utterly standard and banal in every possible way. The series has explored each theme in the past with rather appealing results, but here it's just Video Game Clichés 101. To add insult to injury, many of the vistas you come across aren't even real in the context of the game world, merely landscapes applied through the Bottle Ship's hologram system. I don't know what the point is, except to drive the local fauna (and the player, I suppose) insane. There's little joy in exploring a pretend-environment, segued by steel walls, girders and support structures. There's no room for the world to breathe, as each moderately intriguing locale is followed by a sterile, blending-together-in-your-head hallway or shaft.
And boy does this game love empty stretches of nothing. If the stunning lack of ambition in the appearance of the world doesn't kill the experience, then surely the layouts will. Everything is huge -- no doubt to accommodate the combat system of the game -- and consequently empty and barren. The artificiality, in turn, cheapens the obstacles you face (locked doors, mainly). Again, the generic art direction only heightens the incredible disinterest with which you regard the surroundings. I can't invest into a world that does nothing to impress me, neither structurally nor visually. To make matters worse, what you see is actually less than what you get, because the supposed exploration is brought to a screeching halt by an extremely limiting use of 3D space. I lost count of how many pointless invisible barriers I encountered, usually placed in the most aggravating spots, like prohibiting a simple leap from a platform to an adjacent one. You can't plummet into your doom with a missed or mistimed jump, because the game won't let you. Every action is robbed of potential consequence. The world is a prop in every sense of the word, and nothing disappoints me more than this.
Of course, worldbuilding is not accomplished through visuals exclusively, as music plays just as big a part in creating a convincing setting. Other M's score is handled by Kuniaki Haishima, and there is very little enjoyable about it. The game uses music exceedingly sparingly, usually reserved for boss encounters and cutscenes. This kind of direction can be very effective, such as in Demon's Souls, but Other M does not have that game's chilling atmosphere or tension to justify the decisions made here. The lack of music does not inspire dread or suspense, just boredom. I guess the intent was to create atmosphere through ambiance, but this is never done well. Return of Samus used inventively bizarre compositions and minimalism in sound design to its benefit, Other M just excludes music and decides that is all that is needed. When the music does turn up, it's always an explosion of meaningless noise (for boss battles) or a ridiculously overdone exhibit of melodrama (for those "poignant" cutscenes).
There's a story in this game, right? I couldn't tell you why, though. It adds nothing and detracts a whole lot. It's exactly the sort of thing that springs to mind when people criticize Japanese storytelling, the very worst of it. Exaggerated reactions, convolution mistaken for depth, redundant exposition, dreadful pacing... it's all present and accounted for. It's all wrapped in one of the most literal, janky, artless localizations I've heard come out of a Nintendo game, who usually know better. The shameful script is perhaps partly to blame, but the performances by the cast do not fare well at all. Samus is not "distant" or "detached" from other people, she is just bored out of her mind. This is unfortunate, because she has the most lines, the majority of which are subject to her endless, droning monologues inside her head, bringing in that extra touch of not bothering to invest any emotion in her voice. These inner monologues also have the subtlety of a tank crashing through a house, recounting in show-and-tell flashbacks events that transpired just moments before. Respect for the audience is completely absent. I am not someone who is against any and all attempts at introducing a traditional story into a Metroid game, but if it's a big focus like it is in Other M, it had better be something worthwhile and interesting. This just isn't the case here.
Special mention is required for the method by which Samus gains new abilities in the game. Every major skill is unlocked by "authorization" from Adam, at pre-designated points where the skill or ability in question is necessary for progress. I imagine the reason for this design decision was the apparently-a-big-deal issue of Samus needing to reclaim her abilities in every new game, so the explanation offered here is that she never lost any of her skills from Super Metroid, she is just forbidden from utilizing them to their fullest under the command of Adam until so required. It would be a cute feature if it didn't completely fall apart in how it's handled in the context of the game. To start, Samus is using missiles and bombs at her arrival to the Bottle Ship, when she's acting independently. Soon enough she meets Adam, who casually tells her to fuck off, after which bombs and missiles cannot be used because Adam has not authorized them yet. This is insane, because at no point did such an agreement occur between the two characters. It is only later that Adam agrees to cooperate with Samus, at which point he outlines the conditions and limitations on Samus' arsenal. Illogical turns continue, as a moderately big deal is made out of how power bombs cannot be used since they are far too destructive. Why, then, is Samus prohibited from using purely defensive or mobility-enhancing gear that is only beneficial to her mission? What good is heat-shielding armor when it's only authorized for use after a lengthy trek through perilous lava? Why does Samus need to turn back when she sees a grapple point before her, and the grapple beam could be activated at any time? Is Adam incompetent, or just a dick? All these questions pop up because in a effort to "legitimize" Samus' way of acquiring power-ups, the developers have created a myriad of new, greater logical inconsistencies. Finally, if the point was to show that Samus' abilities from her previous adventure are intact, why does she need to collect energy and missile tanks, just as she has always done? It's an utter, indefensible mess, and is strikingly evident of how blatantly forced the progression in this game is, and how bad it is about rationalizing its narrative crutches.
Head-scratching design decisions pop up in many portions of the game. Oftentimes, first-person view is forced upon you, leading to an investigation segment reminiscent of Ace Attorney, hovering the cursor over the view until you hit the critical spot. There are rather numerous, unskippable, potentially pacing-murdering and most importantly, never enjoyable. It never took me long to proceed -- at most, a minute -- but that did not help mask how superficially implemented they were into the game, how effective they were at robbing any scene of potential suspense, and how comical they became if you chose/were forced to idle in them (space pirate assault team staring at you endlessly from the ceiling, only because you did not zoom into a specific individual among their lot (it's like the Gohma encounter in Ocarina of Time made terrible)). The other gimmick in the game is forced over-the-shoulder bits, where you ever-so-slowly crawl towards your destination, unable to do anything else. This is another attempt at creating suspense, but it just drags, on and on. You can't interact with anything, nothing ever happens, and they serve no point. It's sort of astonishing to behold.
Is there anything the game is successful at? The controls feel great, for one. Samus is agile, quick on her feet, capable of blazing through any obstacle in skillful hands. Translating so many actions to a playstyle that is primarily handled with just a d-pad and two buttons is accomplished through subtle automation of certain actions and clever camera work. Abilities like the screw attack, space jump, speed booster and shinespark feel at home here, and making use of them leads to the most enjoyable portions of level design in the game. It's not complex or ingenious by any means, but it does feel natural and satisfying to pull a shinespark into a hidden item, even if it wasn't particularly deviously concealed.
Similarly, combat fares well in that it's fast-paced and intuitive in its simplicity. Sense-evasion (timed presses of the d-pad upon facing an enemy attack leading to an invincible dodge roll) forms the crux of this, along with its added benefit of instantly filling up your beam's charge meter. The best offense is thus found in the best defense, and while somewhat lenient in its execution, sense-dodging is fun to utilize in all situations. The evolution of Samus' abilities during the course of the game also leads to satisfying results, casually disposing of previously challenging opponents with a simple screw attack, or a room-clearing plasma beam charge. The very best the game has to offer is found in its major boss fights which, while not the pseudo-puzzles of the Prime games, prove intense and interesting to face. Practically every single one forces you to rely on your evasive skills, and as this game does not dispense health pick-ups, every move is suitably crucial. I came close to dying in several battles, and I didn't feel like I was performing horribly. The opposition just demands respect.
There's something worth mentioning pertaining to the "post-game". In the game proper, you'd have faced many returning creatures from the series lore, such as Ridley, Nightmare and the Queen Metroid. The game's final surprise in its secret, post-credits boss is the energy-siphoning Phantoon, returning from Super Metroid. While I recognize the obvious flavour of pandering fan service in all these reappearances, I couldn't help but be excited because of the manner in which this particular encounter was executed. It makes sense to meet Phantoon after the events of the game have passed, since it is a creature that subsides on leeching off derelict, abandoned vessels such as the Bottle Ship. The presentation is also striking, since contrary to the majority of the game's enemies, Phantoon is a legitimately oppressive, gargantuan Lovecraftian horror that appears seemingly unexplained, and that is that. Samus has no unbearable soliloquies about its nature, and it's this silence that grants the event its impact, and worth as a narrative element. Of course, my fondness for Phantoon in this game is doubled by the fact of him being the best boss in the game, showering the arena with projectiles, ghastly apparitions and generally just wrecking the scenery in a rampage. It's mighty impressive, and brings the hardware to its knees.
That's Other M, and I'm left disappointed and confused by the majority of its design choices. The most arresting bits - art, level, and sound design - are also the ones that I tend to hold most important in my enjoyment of any video game, and the ones that do work are beneficial, but not crucial. Like Corruption, I completed the game with all items found the first time through without even trying, which is one hell of a turn-off. Many pick-ups in Super Metroid eluded me for years, and I don't think that's a bad thing. Speaking of that game, I don't want another one just like it. I want another Metroid that is as good at what it does as Super Metroid was. I want a game that inspires and surprises me. Other M is utterly predictable, and that is the tragedy of it.
In conclusion:
(http://i63.photobucket.com/albums/h145/Peklo/Random%20stuff%202/otherm.jpg)