Metroid Prime 4: Beyond - Review

 

Oh, joy. Metroid Prime 4: Beyond. After what, eight years of radio silence, reboots, developer swaps, and enough teaser trailers to make your eyes bleed, Nintendo finally deems us worthy of Samus Aran's latest joyride through existential dread. Released on December 4, 2025—because why not drop it on a Thursday so the diehards can call in sick Friday?—this is the game that was supposed to "save" the series. Or redefine it. Or whatever buzzword Retro Studios slapped on their pitch deck while Retro Studios themselves were busy remastering the good ones. Spoiler: it's fine. Mostly. In that soul-crushing way where "fine" means it delivers 80% of what you loved about the originals and pads the rest with half-baked ideas that scream "we ran out of time/money/inspiration." Metacritic's sitting at a tepid 80, the lowest in the Prime trilogy, because apparently even critics can't pretend this is the second coming anymore. Buckle up, space cowboy—I'm about to dissect this bloated bounty hunter simulator with the enthusiasm of a Space Pirate eyeing a Metroid egg.

Let's start with the story, because nothing says "lonely isolation shooter" like turning Samus into a galactic Uber driver for chatty NPCs. You crash-land on Viewros, a planet that's basically Tallon IV's edgier cousin—ancient ruins, glowing goo, the works. But oh no, you're not alone! Enter the Galactic Federation's finest: a ragtag crew of troopers who got yeeted here too, complete with voice lines that make Other M's melodrama look Shakespearean. And the star of this circus? Myles MacKenzie, your pint-sized drone sidekick who's less R.O.B. and more that annoying kid brother who won't shut up. "Samus, scan that!" "Hey, use your psychic glove!" "Watch out behind you!" Every five seconds, this floating garbage can pipes up with hints so obvious they make the original Prime's logbook read like Finnegans Wake. It's like Nintendo heard "players get lost in Metroidvanias" and responded by supergluing a GPS to your visor. The plot? Samus teams up with these losers to fight some ancient evil called the Lamorn (extinct civilization, big whoop), chase Sylux (the edgelord rival who's been teased since Prime 2), and uncover prophecies that paint her as the chosen one. Groundbreaking. It's got more cutscenes than Prime 3, which means less silent creeping through vents and more exposition dumps that shatter the atmosphere faster than a Phazon bomb. Newcomers might dig the "character-driven" narrative—haha, as if Metroid needed characters beyond "kill bug, get upgrade"—but veterans will gag on the handholding. By the end, you're less "lone wolf bounty hunter" and more "babysitter for Federation rejects." Yawn.

Gameplay? Ah, the meat. Core loop is Prime as God intended: first-person exploration, scanning everything that doesn't move (and some that does), Morph Ball bombing, missile spam. Combat's punchier with dash sidesteps—finally, Samus fights like she gives a damn—and bosses are highlights, like the Carvex plant horror in Fury Green, where you chain its tails with the new Control Beam for multi-target charged shots. Feels clever, tense, satisfying. Power Beam's rapid/charged toggle is buttery, missiles pack punch, and scanning's deeper than ever: lore dumps, enemy weak points, environmental BS that rewards curiosity. Psychic Glove? New ability to yeet energy orbs, manipulate machinery, guide tracer bullets around corners. Sounds cool on paper—puzzle-solving via telekinesis!—but in practice, it's clunky as a rusted Varia Suit. Aiming the glove feels like wrestling a drunk octopus, and half the puzzles boil down to "hold button until glowy thing glows right." Vi-O-La, the summonable motorcycle? For traversing Sol Valley, the massive desert overworld hub. Because nothing screams "immersive Metroid" like hopping on a space Harley to grind sand dunes, smashing crystals for health pickups while dodging sandworms. It's fast, handles okay, counters enemy attacks mid-ride... but who asked for this? Open-world fatigue in a Prime game? The hub's barren, repetitive, and visually dead—low-res textures, pop-in galore, empty vistas that make Breath of the Wild's Hyrule look like downtown Tokyo. Backtracking's a slog too; upgrades unlock paths, sure, but with Myles yapping and the bike's engine droning, exploration feels like busywork. 10-20 hours total: 10 for story rush, 20 if you 100% scan every blade of grass (logbook's front-loaded early, sparse later). Puzzles are solid—Volt Forge's thunder factory zaps with electric mazes, Ice Belt's frozen labs demand precision platforming—but psychic gimmicks drag. And collectibles? Tanks and expansions hidden in plain sight, because apparently Nintendo thinks we're still on GameCube controllers.

Graphics and sound: On Switch 2, docked 4K/60fps is a flex—lighting dances off visors, particles swirl like Phazon dreams, HDR pops colors in closed dungeons. Fury Green's jungle drips menace, Flare Pool's lava bubbles hypnotically. Art direction's peak Prime: biomechanical horrors, desolate beauty. But zoom out to Sol Valley? PS3-era mud. Sparse models, blurry horizons, aliasing that screams "we optimized for caves, not canyons." Handheld's crisp at 1080p/60 but loses the sheen. Switch 1 version? A blurry afterthought—fuzzy, sub-720p docked, like playing through Vaseline. Soundtrack slaps: ambient dread swells to choral boss anthems, beam pew-pews satisfying. SFX nail the tactile thwacks. Voice acting? Serviceable, except Myles—his whiny timbre grates like nails on a Chozo statue. Subtitles can't save you.

Controls shine: Gyro aiming's pinpoint (mouse-like on Switch 2 Joy-Cons), remappable everything, 120fps mode for buttery motion (though it dings resolution). No motion puzzles, thank the maker—psychic stuff's button-based. Performance? Rock-solid, no dips, load times snappy. Amiibo bonuses? Cute Samus/Sylux figures unlock suits/cosmetics. Multiplayer? Nope, single-player purity (praise be).

So, is Beyond worth the decade-long tease? Cynically, no—it's a safe sequel masquerading as evolution, bloated with overworld filler and companion cancer that dilutes Prime's genius isolation. Sarcasm aside, core fans will eat up the highs: bosses bang, scanning addicts rejoice, Switch 2 showpiece. But those lows—clunky powers, empty hub, incessant chatter—drag it from masterpiece to "good enough." Retro delivered, Nintendo marketed it like the Messiah, but after 18 years since Corruption, this feels like reheated leftovers with a side of regret. Play it if you're starved for Samus. Otherwise, replay Prime Remastered and save your credits. Beyond? More like "just okay." 7/10—because even sarcasm can't deny the vibes... sometimes.