Honestly, playing Metroid II: Return of Samus on an original Game Boy today feels like a fever dream. It’s cramped. It’s monochromatic. The screen blur is enough to give you a headache. But if you ignore it because of the 3DS remake, you’re missing the point of why this specific title changed Nintendo forever.
It was 1991. The NES original had been a hit, but it was basically a neon-colored maze. Then Hiroji Kiyotake and the R&D1 team decided to take Samus Aran to the Metroid home world, SR388. They didn't just make a sequel; they made a horror game disguised as an action platformer.
The premise is dark. Basically, the Galactic Federation decides that Metroids are too dangerous to exist. They don't want to study them. They want them dead. Every single one. You aren't exploring for the sake of curiosity here. You are a biological exterminator. It’s a genocide mission, and the game never lets you forget how lonely that feels.
Why the Gameplay of Metroid II: Return of Samus Feels So Different
Most Metroid games are about "sequence breaking" and finding new paths. Metroid II: Return of Samus is different. It’s linear, but not in a hand-holding way. It uses a literal body count to gate your progress. You see a counter at the bottom of the screen: 39 Metroids remaining. You can't move to the next deep cavern until you’ve hunted down the specific number of monsters in your current zone. When you kill the last one in an area, the screen shakes. An earthquake happens. The "acid" or lava levels drop.
It’s a brutal loop.
Because the Game Boy screen was so tiny, the developers had to make Samus huge. She takes up a massive chunk of the real estate. This creates a terrifying sense of claustrophobia. You can’t see what’s three feet in front of you. You’re constantly jumping into the dark, hoping a Gamma Metroid isn't waiting to dive-bomb your face.
The Evolution of the Beast
This game introduced the Metroid life cycle. In the first game, they were just floating jellyfish. Here, they mutate. You start with the tiny Larvae, then move to Alpha Metroids which sprout shells. Then come the Gammas with their lightning attacks, the frog-like Zetas, and finally the towering, terrifying Omegas.
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Seeing a Zeta Metroid for the first time on a 2-inch screen is genuine nightmare fuel. They move faster than the hardware can seemingly handle. The sound design—composed by Ryohji Yoshitomi—is barely music. It’s mostly industrial chirps, rhythmic mechanical thumping, and eerie silence. It doesn't want you to feel heroic. It wants you to feel like you’re stuck in a ventilation shaft with a predator.
The Equipment That Changed the Franchise
We take things like the Space Jump and the Plasma Beam for granted now. Those didn't start on the NES. They started here. This was the first time Samus felt like a tank.
- The Spider Ball: This is the most iconic "missing" power-up in later games (until it returned much later). You could literally roll up any wall and across any ceiling. It made the world feel 360-degrees.
- The Varia Suit Aesthetic: In the first game, the Varia Suit just changed Samus’s color to pink. On the black-and-white Game Boy, color wasn't an option. To show the player they had the upgrade, the designers added the huge, bulky round shoulder pads. That silhouette became the permanent look for Samus Aran.
- Save Stations: Imagine playing a Metroid game without save stations. The first game used long, annoying passwords. Metroid II: Return of Samus gave us the little pedestals we know and love. It was a massive quality-of-life jump.
The Ending Everyone Misinterprets
After you kill the Queen Metroid—a fight that is surprisingly gory for a 1991 handheld game—something weird happens. The counter hits zero. But then, an egg hatches. A single Metroid larva pops out.
It doesn't attack. It thinks Samus is its mother.
The music changes from discordant noise to a hopeful, melodic tune. You lead the baby Metroid back to your ship. It helps you by eating away some crystals blocking your path. It’s the only moment of warmth in the entire game. People often think this was just a cute way to end the story, but it’s the most important narrative beat in the series. It leads directly into the opening of Super Metroid and the entire plot of Metroid Fusion and Metroid Dread.
Without that specific moment of mercy from a cold-blooded bounty hunter, the galaxy would have ended. Samus's choice to not pull the trigger changed the fate of the universe.
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The 3DS Remake vs. The Original
In 2017, MercurySteam released Metroid: Samus Returns. It’s a great game. It’s flashy. It has parry mechanics. But it feels fundamentally different from the 1991 original.
The 3DS version turns Samus into a superhero. The original Metroid II: Return of Samus makes her feel like a survivor. In the original, there are rooms with absolutely nothing in them. Just empty space and the sound of your own footsteps. Modern game design hates "wasted space," but in the context of SR388, those empty rooms built tension. You were always waiting for the jump scare.
Also, the remake added a boss fight at the very end—Proteus Ridley. It was a cool fan-service moment, but it totally ruined the somber atmosphere of the original climb back to the ship. In the 1991 version, that final walk is silent. You just reflect on what you did. Adding a giant dragon boss fight right there is like adding an explosion to the end of a sad movie. It’s cool, but it changes the "soul" of the experience.
Technical Marvels of 1991
It’s easy to forget how impressive this was for a handheld. The Game Boy was essentially a portable NES, but weaker. Yet, R&D1 managed to cram a massive, interconnected world into a tiny cartridge. They used sprite layering to give the backgrounds depth. They used different "shades" of green/grey to imply distance.
They also fixed the "door" problem. In the original NES game, every time you went through a door, the game had to load. In the sequel, most of the world is seamless. You transition between huge caverns without the stuttering that plagued the console version. It was a masterclass in optimization.
How to Play It Today (The Right Way)
If you want to experience the true Metroid II: Return of Samus, don't just find a crusty old cartridge. Unless you have a Super Game Boy or a Game Boy Player, the screen is just too small for modern eyes.
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- Nintendo Switch Online: This is the easiest way. You get the Game Boy color palettes, which help a lot with visibility.
- Analogue Pocket: If you’re a purist, playing it on an FPGA system with a high-res screen filter is peak.
- AM2R (Another Metroid 2 Remake): This is a fan project. It’s legendary. It’s basically "Metroid 2 in the style of Zero Mission." Nintendo shut it down, but it’s still out there on the internet. It’s arguably the best way to experience the story if you can't stand the 1991 jank.
The Lasting Legacy
We wouldn't have the modern Metroidvania genre without the risks taken here. This game proved that handhelds could tell serious, dark stories. It proved that Samus was more than just a suit of armor; she was a character capable of empathy.
When you look at Metroid Dread, you can see the DNA of the SR388 mission. The feeling of being hunted. The realization that the protagonist is becoming the very thing she was sent to destroy. It all started with 39 Metroids and a tiny, monochromatic screen.
Next Steps for Players
If you are planning to dive back into SR388, keep a map handy. The game doesn't have an in-game map feature, and it is incredibly easy to get turned around in the lower tunnels. Focus on finding the Plasma Beam early in the late-game areas, as the Omega Metroids are absolute sponges for damage. Most importantly, pay attention to the music—or the lack thereof. The silence is telling you exactly how deep underground you really are.
Don't rush the final ascent. Let the "Baby Metroid" theme sink in. It’s one of the few times a 1990s video game actually tried to make you feel something other than "press A to win." And it worked.