It was supposed to be the glorious leap into the 128-bit era. After the absolute mastery of the original PlayStation trilogy, fans were practically vibrating with excitement to see what our favorite purple dragon could do on the PlayStation 2 and GameCube. Instead, we got Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly.
Honestly, it’s one of the most fascinating train wrecks in gaming history. Not because it was inherently evil or anything, but because the gap between what it could have been and what ended up on that purple disc is just... massive.
If you grew up with a PS2, you probably remember the crushing disappointment of those loading screens. Or the frame rate that felt like watching a slideshow of a dragon trying to fly through molasses. But there’s a lot more to the story than just "it was buggy."
The Messy Reality of Developing Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly
Most people blame the developers, Check Six Studios and Equinoxe Digital Entertainment. It was their first big project, and yeah, they were arguably in over their heads. But the real villain here? Time. Or rather, the lack of it.
Universal Interactive basically forced the game out for the 2002 holiday season. Imagine trying to build a massive 3D platformer from scratch with a team that had never worked together, only to be told you have to cut 75% of your planned content just to hit a deadline.
Originally, the game was meant to have around 25 levels. We got nine.
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Nine.
That’s why the game feels so strangely empty. You wander through these giant, sprawling environments like "Dragonfly Dojo" or "Luau Island," and they feel like ghost towns. The assets are there, the music is banging—thanks to Stewart Copeland coming back for one last ride—but the "soul" is missing because it was literally ripped out in the final months of development.
Where did all the content go?
If you dig into the game's code today, you'll find ghosts of what was supposed to be. There are references to levels that never saw the light of day, like Enchanted Forest and Baked Alaska.
- Enchanted Forest: A Scottish-themed level featuring foxes. The music actually exists on a promotional WalMart CD released at the time.
- Baked Alaska: A desert/ice hybrid level that sounds incredibly cool but was cut because the producer simply didn't like the "feel" of it.
- Cutthroat Cove: A pirate-themed level that got split up and recycled into the Luau Island we eventually played.
It’s kind of tragic. You’ve got Tom Kenny back as the voice of Spyro, doing his best with a script that feels half-finished, while the game literally breaks around him.
Why the Frame Rate Was So Bad
You can't talk about Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly without talking about the lag. On the PS2, it was notorious. Sometimes the game would dip below 15 frames per second. In a platformer where you need precision to land glides, that’s basically a death sentence.
The technical reason? The game used a variable frame rate and wasn't properly optimized for the PS2's hardware. The developers were trying to push high-quality textures and large open spaces that the engine just couldn't handle without more polish.
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Interestingly, if you play the GameCube version, it's actually a bit more stable. Not perfect, but way better than the PS2 mess. And if you’re a real nerd and use the Dolphin emulator today, you can actually force the game to run at a rock-solid 60fps. It’s a totally different experience. Suddenly, you can see the game the developers wanted to make.
The Infamous "Bubble Breath"
One of the big selling points was the new breath types. Electric, Ice, and the weirdly specific Bubble Breath.
Bubbles. To catch dragonflies.
In theory, it was a way to make the dragonfly collection more interactive. In practice, it felt like a chore. You spent half the game chasing these janky, buzzing insects that would often glitch through walls or disappear entirely. It replaced the tight, rewarding gameplay of "chase the egg thief" with "aim a slow-moving bubble at a clipping hitbox."
The Soundtrack: The One Thing They Got Right
If there is a single reason to go back and play Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly in 2026, it’s the music. Stewart Copeland (the drummer for The Police) is a genius. He defined the sound of the original trilogy, and he brought that same weird, percussive, ethereal energy to this game.
Even when the game is chugging at 10fps and Spyro is clipping through a floor, the bass lines in "Thieves Den" are absolutely incredible. It’s the one part of the game that doesn't feel rushed. It’s also the last time Copeland would fully score a Spyro game until the Reignited Trilogy came out years later.
A Legacy of "What If"
After this game bombed with critics—though it actually sold reasonably well because parents bought it for their kids—the franchise was handed off to Eurocom for A Hero’s Tail. That game was much more polished, but it lost the "classic" feel.
Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly remains the last game that truly tried to follow the Insomniac formula. It had the same HUD, the same portal system, and the same vibe. It just lacked the execution.
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How to Actually Enjoy the Game Today
Look, I’m not going to lie and say this is a hidden masterpiece. It’s not. But if you’re a die-hard fan, there are ways to make it playable.
- Skip the PS2 version: Unless you’re a masochist or doing it for nostalgia, avoid the original hardware.
- Use Emulation: Running the GameCube ISO on a modern PC allows you to fix the frame rate and use "widescreen" hacks. It makes the levels look surprisingly decent.
- Check out the Modding Scene: There are actually fan-made patches now that fix some of the more egregious collision bugs and even attempt to restore some cut content.
Actionable Takeaway for Retro Collectors
If you are looking to buy a physical copy, grab the GameCube version. It’s consistently more expensive than the PS2 version for a reason: it’s the only one that feels like a finished product (barely).
If you already own the PS2 version and find it unplayable, don't feel bad. It wasn't you; it was the engine. You can still appreciate the art design and the music by watching a "longplay" on YouTube or just listening to the OST on Spotify. It’s a great way to experience the best parts of the game without the frustration of falling through the world for the tenth time.
Basically, Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly is a lesson in why development time matters. It’s a piece of gaming history that shows even the biggest icons can't survive a rushed launch.