This is the second entry in my ongoing series chronicling my mission to play every Kojima game, dubbed “Operation H.I.D.E.O.” You can read Part 1 here.
Metal Gear was what I expected from a game that’s older than I am. A fun concept mixed with workable, though clunky, controls, and an interface that’s usable, though suffering from serious quality-of-life improvements that have yet to be, you know, invented. It’s an 80s game. Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake manages to build upon its predecessor through a lot of necessary means while also ratcheting up the 80s in entirely different ways.
Let’s start with the nuts and bolts.
Metal Gear was a “stealth” game. Sneak in to a building, steal some key cards, open doors, get cool gear, rescue a prisoner or two, unravel a plot, and save the day. It’s Mission: Impossible and James Bond and every other spy movie that aped off their success. Where it stumbled, in my opinion, was keeping the gameplay smooth. No in-game compass meant I had to keep a reference map open on my other monitor, and a half-dozen key cards meant unlocking doors was endless trial-and-error.
So it was much to my pleasure when I saw that these two issues were the first two addressed. There are a sum total of 9 key cards in Metal Gear 2, and they stack down to three as you progress throughout the game. It makes inventory management easier, you spend less time fumbling at doors, and the quest is just smoother from start to finish. Thanks, Hideo!
The second improvement to the game was an in-game mini map that allowed you view enemy and object locations one “screen” in every direction. Up, down, left, right, diagonals, plus your current location meant that a nice three-by-three grid always allowed you chart a path while keeping an eye on enemy locations.
Except…if an enemy caught you, the map disappeared.
And with that one decision, the mini-map became useless at a time when it would be most necessary. Guards are now sweeping the screens looking for me? Having a map to plot an escape course seems like it would be, you know, an essential tool! Alas, the game instead gives you a timer to indicate how long it will take to outlast the search until the guards give up and your mission can resume. But how do I know which direction I can run? How do I know what location is free from enemies?
I don’t. It’s just guesswork.
This became even more frustrating when entering and exiting a building. Since your map doesn’t cross between indoor and outdoor sections, I frequently had no choice but to leave a room blind, only to, of course, walk directly into a guard's line of sight. It was a blast.
I have a few theories as to why this system works this way, but my main guess is because the game needs guards to arrive when you trigger an alarm, but if you’ve killed all the guards, no one can catch you. Therefore, the game needs to spawn guards which, in turn, would contradict a blank map. And while I personally think a player should be rewarded for eliminating the guards, thereby giving them free-reign over the base, I get that that would eliminate any challenge in the game after the first ten minutes or so.
So while I understand the inner machinations of the mini-map feature, it may have caused more headaches than it eliminated. Metal Gear had very clear parameters: if you are caught, guards will spawn in the room. Clear them out and the mission will progress. Metal Gear 2’s parameters, in contrast, were less clear: if you are caught, hide from the guards where there aren’t guards, but guards can appear at any time, in any room, so good luck. It feels more random, which reduces the tactical feeling that the series is trying to create.
Feelings make up experiences, and experiences are the primary facet of gaming. When people describe games, they so often use feelings to articulate their experience. “I felt like Spider-Man.” “You feel like a champ when you kill that great big boss.” “It feels like the end of Star Wars.”
So while these little features in the game made me feel this way or that, depending on their efficacy, one feeling stands out above all the rest: Metal Gear 2 feels like a cheesy 80s action movie.
The main thing that I knew about Kojima going into this experiment was that his love for movies permeates his games. Long cutscenes, dense stories, and corny dialogue abound in every new title this man releases. This was the thing that worried me most about starting this journey. I’m more of a minimalist when it comes to story. I much prefer the Metroid style of storytelling: the story already happened; you piece it together on your journey. Would Kojima’s overly cinematic style get on my nerves the way it did in, say, God of War?
I’m please to say no, it absolutely did not.
For one: the story here gave context to my actions as a player. In Metal Gear, I’m passing through three or four nondescript buildings, random enemies with vague loyalties attack me, and, eventually, the mission ends. Now, in Metal Gear 2, I have an understanding of what I’m doing. As Snake uncovers the truth, we understand why characters have the allegiances they do, the ramifications of our actions in the first game, and how my current mission fits together. Here, the narrative elevates the gameplay, rather than hinders it.
It also helps that the dialogue is some of the absolute kitschiest dribble I’ve read in ages. As a fan of The Room, Samurai Cop, and the collective works of Neil Breen, nothing tickles me more than seeing an outsider’s interpretation of cool, Hollywood bad boys. It’s the absolute best thing in the world.
So when Snake is on the edge of a cliff, holding in his arms the deceased body of Natasha Marcova, former Olympian-turned secret agent, while lamenting how he’ll “never get to see her figure stake” again…well, let’s just say a grin took hold of my face instantly. This type of wannabe action movie melodrama is totally my shit. The story is both humorous and earnest; it’s poking fun at conventions without being ironic. It’s charmingly cheesy without even stooping to trash. If this is Kojima, then I’m on board.
Not all stories have a happy ending, however.
Natasha Marcova’s last action before her death is to give Snake her brooch. At this moment, I saw not a decorative piece of jewelry. I saw a plot device. And, sure enough, I discovered that this brooch transforms into a key when exposed to extreme temperatures. Hell yeah!
I could feel the game winding down. I had my reference map up on Google and I saw that I had covered most of it. All that was left to do was para-sail to the final compound, faff around a bit, and take on the final boss. Before I left, however, I knew I had to transform my brooch. So through the kitchen I went, into the walk-in freezer, and my key was ready for action.
An hour or so of gameplay later, and I’m going to put the key to good use. I unlock the door and find the final item of the game, an MSX cartridge (ha!), on the floor, but covered in rats. Once I got this cartridge, I would move on and fight the final boss. I just had to get through these rats.
I couldn’t figure out how to shoo them away, though. It wasn’t until I got a call on my transceiver that I learned I needed to lure them out with some B2 Rations, which contain cheese. I cross referenced my map. The nearest stash of rations weren’t nearby, but they weren’t that far either. I backtracked, grabbed them, and resumed my quest. It was a half-hour detour that wasn’t the most fun, but whatever. I’m here now. It was then I learned the horrible truth. My key was a one-time use item. It had transformed back into a brooch. In order to use it again to unlock the auto-locking door, I’d need to cross the entire map to get to the only cold area in the game. It would tack on over an hour to my mission. It was already eleven o’clock at night. This sucks.
So I said: Fuck it.
I shut off the game, opened up Chrome, and watched the last 15 minutes of the game on YouTube. And, you know what? I don’t feel bad about it. I’ll give Kojima the benefit of the doubt on this one. Maybe it was an oversight that the door re-locks, or the key re-transforms, as opposed to artificially padding the length of the game. But this was an instance where it just wasn’t worth it.
So did I beat the game? According to purists, no, probably not. Do I regret my decision? Not in the least. This whole quest is about me understanding Hideo Kojima's style of game design, and the last 15 minutes of the game wouldn't have changed much.
In fact, my lack of completion actually speaks to an even bigger idea: how much can you ask of a player? That's a whole essay in and of itself, but it's an important question to consider. How far can you push a player before your challenge becomes tedious, your realism monotonous, or your mystery obtuse?
Metal Gear 2 rarely embodies those lesser characteristics, at least not until the endgame. At its worst, this game is a clumsy extension of its predecessor. But at it's best, it's proof that the Metal Gear formula works, that iteration and innovation can push this franchise forward, and that there's a lot more fun for me to have as I continue my mission.
And please, more 80s action schlock!
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