Metroid Prime 4: Beyond Review – Scanning A New Era For Samus

Nearly two decades after Samus Aran last slid into the visor for a brand new Metroid Prime adventure, Metroid Prime 4: Beyond finally lands on Nintendo hardware, and it still feels a little unreal to type those words. The last mainline Prime released back when motion controls were a novelty and HD consoles were just taking over living rooms; since then this series has mostly lived on in remasters, speedruns, and wistful forum posts. Announced in 2017 during the hopeful early life of the original Switch, restarted with Retro Studios back at the helm, and delayed so often that fans joked the game would ship alongside the next Nintendo system, Beyond arrives with almost impossible expectations. Now that the credits have rolled and Viewros has been thoroughly scanned, one question sits at the centre of everything: did all those years in the void give Metroid Prime the space to evolve, or has the galaxy quietly moved on without it.

Game info
Title: Metroid Prime 4: Beyond
Release date: December 4, 2025
Platforms: Nintendo Switch, Nintendo Switch 2
Developer: Retro Studios
Publisher: Nintendo

Metroid Prime 4 refuses to creep in slowly. Within minutes you are dropped into a Galactic Federation installation that is going to hell in real time, alarms screaming while bulkheads buckle and emergency shutters slam shut. The mysterious bounty hunter Sylux has launched a precision assault, arrived with his own contingent of Space Pirates, and weaponised captive Metroids in ways that feel reckless even by pirate standards.

Security turrets malfunction, containment tanks crack, and corridors collapse as you fight to stabilise systems that are already spiralling out of control. This whole sequence doubles as a tutorial without feeling like one; every new prompt is framed as desperate improvisation under fire. Then, true to Metroid tradition, a strange artifact that was better left alone gets disturbed, flashes of alien geometry bloom across the screen, and Samus is torn out of familiar space, hurled into an uncharted corner of the galaxy with little more than a scrambled log entry hinting that none of this was random.

That corner of the galaxy is Viewros, a startlingly beautiful planet that wears its history on the surface. Once ruled by a technologically advanced civilisation called the Lamorn, it is now a tapestry of ruins and scars. Sun blasted spires protrude from dunes like broken antennae, underground transit lines groan under the weight of centuries, and colossal machines lie half buried in ash and ice. Metroid has always loved environmental storytelling, using fossils, broken architecture, and discarded data to imply more than it explicitly states, but Beyond leans into that instinct harder than ever. The planet itself becomes the primary storyteller, and much of the opening act is spent reading its body language: deciphering patterns carved into canyon walls, following the ghost of old power grids, and gradually realising that the Lamorn were not simply tinkering with energy, but with consciousness and perception itself.

Samus does not remain the only survivor of the opening disaster for long. Scattered across Viewros are the remnants of a Galactic Federation squad that happened to be on the wrong base at the wrong time. As you pick your way through crash sites and signal beacons you slowly reassemble this small cast: a pragmatic commander trying to hold together a mission that no longer has a clear objective, a medic who reads battlefield trauma faster than any scanner, a wary scout who never quite trusts the quiet moments, and Myles MacKenzie, the self deprecating engineer who has already become a lightning rod for fan arguments. Together they form the closest thing Metroid Prime has ever had to a ground level support team, regrouping at a makeshift base that functions as a loose hub between excursions into the wild.

Pre launch coverage put Myles front and centre, and early footage triggered a wave of anxiety among long time Metroid fans. The fear was easy to understand: a series built on isolation and quiet dread suddenly seemed to be making room for wisecracks, pop culture riffs, and the sort of self aware snark that has seeped into so many modern blockbusters. The first extended mission involving the squad does little to calm those nerves. Myles talks a lot, spits out nervous technobabble, and jokes to mask his terror as the team scrambles to survive. It is loud, busy, and clumsy in places, and it is easy to see why some players bounced off that early slice of the game. The important thing, though, is that once this sequence wraps, the tone settles down dramatically. Myles transforms into what he should have been from the start: the guy you visit when you want new armour modules and offhand commentary, not a comedy co star glued permanently to Samus shoulder.

The broader crew are even more restrained, and for large stretches of Metroid Prime 4 you will forget they exist at all. They pop up to deliver mission briefings, to warn about unusual energy spikes, or to react when something in the world changes in a dramatic way, but they rarely intrude on the basic rhythm of exploring, scanning, and problem solving. Samus herself remains almost entirely silent, communicating in short nods, subtle shifts of posture, and the occasional wordless reaction. Nintendo has clearly decided to stick with that traditional interpretation of the character, and while it preserves a certain mystique, it also limits the emotional range of the story. When the script later asks you to care deeply about the fates of these soldiers, the moments land more as interesting developments than as real gut punches, because we have never really seen Samus connect with them in anything more than body language.

It is a shame, because the raw ingredients for a stronger narrative are absolutely present. The more you dig into Lamorn data logs, the more it becomes apparent that their obsession with the mind, with tampering in psychic space, has left scars that extend beyond Viewros itself. Sylux is woven into that tapestry in a way that reframes his earlier cameo appearances in the series, and there are intriguing hints that Samus is not on this planet purely by coincidence. Yet these threads are content to brush up against each other rather than really knot together. Metroid Prime 4 gestures toward a richer mythology, toward connecting more explicitly to the larger saga, then backs away, as if worried that pushing too hard into character driven drama would somehow betray the series roots.

In fairness, thin plotting has always been part of the Prime package. These games are not built like heavily scripted cinematic shooters; they are designed as intricate clockwork worlds where story primarily emerges from exploration. Beyond embraces that identity without apology. If you go in expecting complex character arcs or long dialogue heavy cutscenes, you may find the experience emotionally cool. If, however, you are here for the thrill of deciphering alien technology, for the satisfaction of watching your map blossom as you find hidden routes, for that very specific Metroid moment when a new ability suddenly makes a once intimidating space feel like your personal playground, Metroid Prime 4 understands the assignment extremely well.

Moment to moment, controlling Samus has never felt more confident. Movement is fluid but weighty, with just enough inertia to make every dash, sidestep, and morph into a ball feel grounded. Retro provides an impressive range of control schemes. Gyro aiming lets you gently nudge your reticle with wrist flicks, perfect for tiny corrections while locked on. The new Joy Con 2 edge grip transforms the right controller into something that behaves remarkably like a compact mouse, with high sensitivity and tight response. Traditionalists can stick almost entirely to a modernised version of the classic GameCube style lock on aiming. Every option can be remapped and tweaked, making it easy to land on a setup that suits your hands rather than forcing you into the developers favourite configuration.

Combat still pivots around that signature lock on rhythm. You snap the visor to an enemy, circle strafe to dodge incoming fire, hop onto higher platforms to break line of sight, and weave in charged beam shots, missiles, and beam combos according to what you have unlocked. Gyro and free aiming help when you want to land a precise shot on a tiny weak spot or curve a beam through moving geometry, but Metroid Prime 4 never turns into a twitchy arena shooter obsessed with headshots per second. Boss battles are particular highlights. Each encounter begins as a scanning exercise: you read patterns, study animation tells, and gradually understand which phases demand aggression and which reward patience. The best fights twist arenas mid battle, collapse floors, or reconfigure cover, turning the environment itself into a shifting puzzle that must be mastered alongside the enemy in front of you.

As strong as the combat can be, it is exploration that defines Viewros. The planet is anchored by Sol Valley, a sweeping desert basin that acts as a central hub. Early rumours painted this as a sprawling open world designed to chase the success of Hyrule in recent Zelda games, and some Metroid purists feared a bland sea of sand dotted with icons. Reality is much more measured. Sol Valley is big enough to sell the fantasy of crossing a hostile wasteland, yet compact enough that you can drive from one side to the other in a few minutes once you have the right tools. It is studded with shrines, wind carved caves, buried Lamorn structures, downed Federation hardware, and optional encounters, but it is not meant to replace the tight dungeon design that defines Prime. Instead, it functions as connective tissue between more dense regions, a space where you slowly learn to read shifting dunes and landmarks as naturally as you once learned to parse map rooms on Tallon IV.

Part of what makes moving across Sol Valley so enjoyable is Samus new vehicle, a sleek hovering bike christened Vi O La by the crew. Many games treat vehicles as awkward minigame dispensers; Beyond mercifully avoids that trap. Vi O La accelerates with a satisfying surge, kicks up plumes of sand as you lean into curves, and has enough subtlety in its handling that you can skim close to rock formations or thread between ruins without feeling like you are wrestling the camera. The bike hums with a low electronic growl that rises as you boost, and in a smart touch, the soundtrack sometimes drops away entirely when you are cruising at full speed, leaving only the rush of wind and the whine of the engine. Retro resists the temptation to build entire challenge modes around Vi O La. Instead, it is folded into traversal, puzzle design, and a handful of carefully staged combat encounters, becoming another expression of Samus freedom rather than a gimmick.

The beating heart of Metroid Prime 4 lies in its dungeons, and it is here that Retro makes the strongest case for this being the series high point in terms of level design. Each major area is built around a clear element, but also a distinct secondary theme that gives it a specific mood. The crackling energy complex is also an automated factory where Vi O La units roll off assembly lines, only to be melted down in bizarre experiments. The ice sector is a research facility gone horribly wrong, its corridors lit by harsh surgical lamps that flicker over half erased notes and frozen specimens that seem one thaw away from waking up. Another region marries crumbling cathedrals with geothermal vents, forcing you to navigate graceful arches while molten rock seethes below. These places never feel like simple fire or water temples. They feel like real locations with histories, purposes, and disasters that you slowly reconstruct as you explore.

Structurally, most dungeons follow a there and back again pattern that does a lot of heavy lifting. You first dig deep into unfamiliar territory, wrestling with enemies and environmental hazards that are tuned to your current limitations. Somewhere near the midpoint a key event occurs: a boss falls, a generator spins up, a seal breaks, or a Lamorn device snaps back to life. The level then reconfigures itself in response. Flooded areas drain, transforming underwater mazes into vertical climbing challenges. Long, linear corridors collapse, opening holes that can only be crossed with a newly acquired movement ability. What was once a claustrophobic slog becomes a dizzying shortcut, or vice versa. Later, when you return armed with still more gadgets, additional layers of secrets peel back. It is backtracking as an unfolding conversation with the world rather than as a tedious checklist.

The game trusts you to navigate these spaces without constant hand holding. Myles occasionally chimes in over the radio to nudge you in a general direction, but the map is more a tool than a crutch. Doors and markers are clear enough that you will not get truly lost unless you ignore obvious leads, yet there is plenty of room for self directed detours. Crucially, many upgrades, hidden rooms, and shortcuts are discoverable long before the story formally points at them. If you are paying attention, you can often carve a more efficient route through the game simply by remembering a suspicious alcove or a strange panel you noticed three hours earlier. That sense of being a clever intruder rather than a tourist on a guided tour remains one of the most satisfying aspects of Prime design, and Beyond embraces it wholeheartedly.

Layered on top of the familiar toolkit of beams, missiles, bombs, and movement upgrades is Metroid Prime 4 most distinctive mechanical addition: psychic abilities derived from Lamorn technology. Instead of turning the series into a superhero power fantasy, these new tricks augment existing systems. One early upgrade lets Samus nudge Morph Ball bombs telekinetically after placing them, transforming simple bomb jumping into a kind of mid air billiards where you redirect explosions to trigger distant switches or create improvised propulsion chains. Another ability allows you to bend beam shots along curved trajectories, steering energy around corners or through narrow slits to hit panels you cannot see directly. Later skills let you briefly inhabit the perspective of alien constructs, seeing the world through their senses, or yank scattered debris into new configurations to form makeshift bridges and shields. None of this overwhelms the core Metroid feel, but it adds fresh layers of spatial reasoning to both puzzles and combat.

Scanning, always a pillar of the Prime identity, benefits enormously from these additions. New psychic nodes let Samus tune into echoes of Lamorn scientists arguing over catastrophic experiments, or glimpse how a control room looked before everything fell apart. Traditional data logs still exist, full of dates and technical jargon for lore hunters to obsess over, but they are now complemented by momentary visions that play out as ghostly overlays on the environment. In one memorable sequence, aligning a series of psychic relays lets you replay the last few minutes before a facility lockdown from multiple angles, each perspective revealing a different piece of the puzzle. Even if the overarching plot never quite blossoms into a fully satisfying epic, these smaller stories embedded in the world are consistently fascinating, and they scratch the exact itch that brought many players to Metroid Prime in the first place.

Visually, Metroid Prime 4 is one of the most ambitious and cohesive projects Nintendo has ever shipped, and it is clear that Retro has studied not only its own history but the broader language of modern science fiction. Earlier entries in the series owed an obvious debt to the cramped, industrial horror of the early Alien films. Beyond, by contrast, embraces wide angle vistas and monumental silhouettes. Sol Valley stretches out in rolling dunes, its surface scarred by old Lamorn excavations and pockmarked with half buried structures that glow faintly at night. Towering constructs loom against bruised skies, their edges softened by atmospheric haze. Dungeons make generous use of vast skyboxes and layered parallax, constantly reminding you that you are moving through a tiny fraction of a much larger, broken machine. At the same time, the game is not afraid of intimacy. Some of its most memorable moments happen in small rooms lit only by flickering monitors and Samus own visor glow, where the world seems to shrink until it is just you and the unknown humming behind a locked door.

On a technical level, the game is a minor miracle of optimisation, especially on Nintendo hardware. On Switch 2, a performance focused mode targets 1080p at 120 frames per second, and a higher fidelity option aims for a crisp 4K at 60. In practice, both modes feel remarkably solid, with frame rate dips so rare that they stand out when they happen. The original Switch version inevitably runs at lower resolutions and more modest frame rates, but the dynamic scaling is handled with enough care that the game remains readable and attractive, especially in handheld form where the smaller display hides many rough edges. Loading times are snappy, often masked behind elevator rides or short traversal tunnels, and even in scenes where multiple large enemies, particle effects, and physics objects share the screen, the experience rarely buckles.

Audio design keeps pace with those visual and technical feats. The soundtrack shifts gracefully between chilly ambience, throbbing percussive loops, and sudden bursts of triumphant melody when you crack a puzzle or claim a major upgrade. Classic Metroid motifs drift in and out without feeling like nostalgia bait; they are used sparingly, as punctuation rather than as constant fan service. Environmental effects are layered with obvious care. In Sol Valley you can hear distant thunder rolling across the desert long before the storm arrives, and the direction of that rumble matters when you are deciding whether to risk crossing an exposed ridge. In abandoned labs every hiss of steam or clank of old machinery sets your nerves on edge. Enemies each have distinct audio signatures that become part of your survival toolkit. Put on a decent pair of headphones and the world of Viewros surrounds you in a way that few Nintendo titles have managed before.

Beyond the screen, Metroid Prime 4 lands in a different Nintendo ecosystem than the one that nurtured the original trilogy. Big first party releases now almost always arrive with collector editions, statues, and Amiibo figures, and Samus latest outing is no different. The new Metroid Amiibo line is gorgeous, full of sharp sculpt detail and translucent plastic that catches the light, but modern pricing means they debut at thirty to forty dollars in many regions. Between tariffs, shipping, and retailer margins, that is a far cry from the days when Amiibo were cheap impulse buys that vanished from shelves in minutes. It is not hard to imagine these Metroid figures sitting in glass cabinets, quietly gathering dust until the first serious sale, a strange inversion of the era when fans could not even find a Samus Amiibo without resorting to import sites. In a way, that captures the game too: lavish, premium, clearly crafted with love, and yet not guaranteed the sort of instant mainstream stampede that some of Nintendo brighter, more family friendly brands enjoy.

No matter how beautiful or finely tuned a world is, pacing can still make or break the journey, and Metroid Prime 4 stumbles here more than once. The opening hours are more guided than some veterans may expect, almost functioning as an extended boot camp for players whose only experience of Metroid comes from side scrolling entries on Switch. You are funnelled through a series of linear scenarios that carefully introduce mechanics, enemies, and environmental hazards. It is effective and never outright dull, but it does feel slightly at odds with the series reputation for tossing players into the deep end. Once the training wheels come off, however, the mid game hits an impressive stride. A run of dungeons and interlocking objectives creates that classic Metroid sensation of gradually unknotting a world that initially seemed overwhelming, and during this stretch it is easy to believe you are playing the best Nintendo release of the year.

Then, just as the plot drums begin to pound and the stakes on Viewros appear highest, the game pulls out a structure that will be instantly familiar to long time Prime fans: the late game scavenger hunt. This time the focus is firmly on Sol Valley. You are tasked with recovering a set of key artifacts scattered across its dunes, shrines, and satellite structures. Some players will have already collected a portion of these in their natural exploration, and for them the detour will be shorter and less intrusive. Many others, though, will reach this point with only a handful in their possession, at which point the story screeches to a halt while you sweep the map. The intention is clear and even noble: to encourage a final victory lap around Viewros before the finale. In practice, it can feel like busywork, especially in 2025, when players have grown used to quest structures that integrate endgame keys more organically into core progression.

The finale itself is satisfying in mechanical terms. The last major dungeon is a compact gauntlet that forces you to apply everything you have learned about psychic manipulation, platforming, and combat pattern recognition in rapid succession. Sylux finally steps into full focus, his arsenal and movement echoing Samus own toolkit in unsettling ways, as if he has been studying her career as closely as the fans have. The climactic battle unfolds across shifting arenas, with aggressive phase transitions that reward calm execution over panicked improvisation. It is exciting, demanding, and visually spectacular. What it lacks is that extra jolt of emotional weight. When the dust settles and the credits roll, the story wraps up neatly, leaving a couple of hooks dangling for future games but not quite delivering the sense of momentous conclusion that some of Nintendo other 2025 blockbusters have managed. Compared to the deliriously over the top final act of Donkey Kong Bananza, for example, Beyond feels just a touch too measured.

Part of that muted feeling comes back to Samus silence. There are moments when the choice pays off beautifully: a quiet shot of her visor reflecting a burning skyline, a tiny flinch when an old trauma is hinted at in a Lamorn recording, a wordless nod to a shaken soldier who plainly owes her their life. In those scenes, the absence of dialogue lets players project their own reading onto the character. But when the narrative pushes toward more personal stakes, when the squad is in danger or when the ultimate consequences of Lamorn experiments are finally laid bare, the lack of direct responses from Samus leaves conversations feeling lopsided. Supporting characters spill their hearts or lay out grand ideologies, and she simply stares back. Fans who have waited eighteen years for new Prime lore may find that emotional gap more frustrating than newcomers, who are just happy to be piloting a legendary bounty hunter through some of the best spaces Retro has ever built.

In terms of sheer content, Metroid Prime 4 offers a generous feast. A relatively brisk run that focuses primarily on main objectives will land around the fifteen hour mark for experienced players, with more cautious explorers likely taking closer to twenty. Completionists, on the other hand, could easily spend thirty hours or more picking Viewros clean. Energy tank expansions are tucked deep into optional chambers, obscure weapon mods hide behind layers of movement tests, and scan entries lurk in corners that require a truly obsessive eye to notice. Difficulty options let you tweak how punishing enemies are, how much damage Samus can absorb, and how loudly the game offers hints. There is no fully dynamic narrative that reshapes itself around your choices, but there is a strong sense that the world respects your time and curiosity, rewarding both meticu­lous planning and impulsive detours.

Unsurprisingly, fan reactions are already fracturing along familiar lines. Some long time Metroid loyalists, who have loved the series since grey cartridges in the Super Nintendo era, look at the bike, the psychic tricks, and the expanded cast and see a slow drift away from the cold isolation they cherish. For them, giving Samus a chatty engineer ally and a sleek hoverbike is a muppet way to sabotage the franchise, proof that everything must be louder and flashier to survive. Others grumble that the late game artifact hunt feels like a relic from the GameCube age that should have been rethought entirely. At the same time, a different slice of the audience is energised. They thrill at the sense of scale in Sol Valley, at the rush of threading Vi O La through a collapsing canyon while thunder cracks overhead, at the way psychic puzzles make them look at familiar rooms in new ways. Metroid Prime 4 is robust enough to withstand these debates; it knows what it is and refuses to contort itself into something safer.

Step back from the noise and a clearer picture emerges. Metroid Prime 4: Beyond is not a radical reboot that tears the series down to its foundations, nor is it a timid remaster stretched to modern resolutions. It is a bold, sometimes messy, often brilliant evolution that pushes the series into wider, stranger spaces while fiercely guarding the core that made Metroid Prime matter in the first place. The story never quite locks into a truly great sci fi arc, the home stretch sags under the weight of an old fashioned scavenger hunt, and the new cast of allies stops short of becoming the emotional anchor they were clearly intended to be. Yet hour after hour, room after room, scan after scan, the game keeps finding fresh ways to surprise and satisfy, whether that means a perfectly staged ambush in a pitch dark corridor or a breathtaking reveal as a Lamorn megastructure finally whirs back to life.

If you have been waiting since 2007 to step back into Samus visor, you can relax: this is not the game that breaks Metroid Prime. It is, instead, a towering new chapter that occasionally misses the bullseye but still hits the target with impressive force. Newcomers will find a demanding but fair adventure that makes a compelling case for why this odd hybrid of first person shooting, platforming, and exploratory puzzle solving has inspired so many imitators. Veterans will sift through logs for lore hints, argue endlessly over where Beyond sits in the series ranking, and debate whether the first Prime still holds the crown. For my money, Metroid Prime 4 does not quite eclipse the dizzying impact of that original GameCube revelation, but it comes close enough that the conversation finally feels alive again, and that in itself is a major victory.

Most importantly, Metroid Prime 4 leaves the series in a healthier place than it has occupied in years. Viewros feels like a world that could absolutely sustain a return visit or a spin off. Sylux finally has enough presence to justify future rivalries. Retro Studios, after a long time away from Samus, has proved that it still knows how to build labyrinths that beg to be sketched on scrap paper and studied for alternate routes. If Beyond truly marks the start of a new era rather than a one off victory lap, then its subtitle is well chosen. Samus and her scanners are once again staring beyond the horizon, into a galaxy that suddenly looks full of potential rather than nostalgia alone.