The Remake Problem

What follows will occasionally ride off the rails. It’s why I’ve started writing it about eight times over the last three years, and why I’ve not written it before now.

Anyone who has ready my blog or social media feeds knows that I speak out against remakes of video games. Movies too, but we’re going to stick to games here, because the problems I’m going to be talking about are unique to video games. This seems like the right time to tackle this subject, with the follow up to That Game I Didn’t Like coming out this month, and renewed begging from a certain corner of the Final Fantasy fandom asking for a remake of Final Fantasy VIII. Rather than blocking another dozen Twitter users for their opinions, it’s time to just…put it all on the page so I can point to this wall of text in the future so people can continue to ignore me.

But the fact remains that this is a sensitive topic to me for a number of reasons. I do see video games as an art form. I think that it’s an interesting medium for narrative, both in terms of literal storytelling and ludonarrative alike. This means that original texts are going to be far more compelling to me than a revised text. The meaning can get lost in constant translation – something that anyone who has played Working Designs release can attest to.

This isn’t to suggest that remakes are universally bad. Some remakes are genuinely inspired works, such as Resident Evil. The Gamecube reimagining of the original 1996 game has been ported to modern consoles continuously for a reason.

But what about the original?

Replacement and Erasure

Resident Evil released in the US in March of 1996 on the PlayStation and Sega Saturn. The original long box release is a gem amongst collectors for a variety of reasons, the most obvious being the ridiculous art work on the tall CD box. But as I learned from a fantastic video by Stop Skeletons From Fighting, there’s more to the original version of the game than the box, or even the original soundtrack.

In the process of localization, Capcom introduced numerous changes to the original release of Resident Evil, all of which made the game harder. This measure was taken to pull players away from renting the game and finishing it in a weekend, a fact that’s hilarious given the sheer volume of people who have finished the game only using the knife. Ink ribbons came in smaller allotments. Auto aim was removed. Following the jewel case printings of the original game, the game would go through its first modification in the form of Resident Evil: Director’s Cut. Most of the changes would be considered to be for the better, since the game now had multiple difficulty levels and aim assist. Unfortunately, it would not be the last time that the game would get modified. The Greatest Hits release of Resident Evil: Director’s Cut would see the original score abandoned and replaced with one that is…let’s be charitable and call it experimental.

By 1998, there were three versions of Resident Evil. Sure, this is somewhat typical of Capcom given how their fighting games get numerous revisions. I would argue that this is different though. For one, I can play pretty much any version of Street Fighter II on my Switch right now using one of two different cartridges. I can not do the same with Resident Evil.

The 2002 remake only compounds this problem. A further revision on the Nintendo DS is yet another wrench in the works.

If you can hear terrible MIDI trumpets right now, I am sorry.

In 2024, you have two legal options to play Resident Evil on modern hardware. You can play a remastered version of the 2002 remake, or you can play Resident Evil: Director’s Cut Dual Shock Version through a PlayStation Plus subscription. There is no legal avenue to play with the original soundtrack, or to tackle the unique difficulty of the original release. Admittedly, this isn’t a worst case situation. But it does reflect how a remake or revision can push an original version out of the view of players.

Far worse is Silent Hill 2.

The original Silent Hill 2 was released on the PlayStation 2 in 2001, less than a year after the console launched. As recently discussed on this blog, it remains a revered classic. Months later, an expanded version would release on the original Xbox, akin to the Substance version of Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty. These versions eventually made their way back to the PlayStation 2. A poorly developed remaster of Silent Hill 2 released on the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 in 2012. There are also PC ports of the original, but…

There are no legal avenues to place the original version of Silent Hill 2 on modern hardware. Instead a remake is in the works from Bloober Team. If you’ll allow me to editorialize a bit: it looks completely terrible.

With the release of the remake, newcomers to the series will only have the newest version of the game to take into account. This is the case for games like Resident Evil 2, any number of classic Final Fantasy games, and dozens upon dozens of others. The only avenue to play original texts is often emulation or the purchase of expensive original pressings.

Preservation in a Time of Erasure

According to the Video Game History Foundation, 87% of video games are no longer available. I’d have to do a bit more digging to find out, but I do wonder if examples such as the ones I’ve listed above are included in this.

As more and more games are delisted from digital platforms, and the concept of ownership is further and further pushed into the trash, access to legacy titles is slipping through our fingers. Certainly, if you have the money, you could indulge in the hobby of retro game collecting, but that bubble never seems to burst. This leaves piracy, but not everyone is comfortable with the concept, or wants to learn the ropes associated with emulators and such. But this isn’t a problem for a number of younger players, who were raised on live service attractions first and foremost. That’s the market of the future, and the one that major publishers want to attract.

I’ve acquired so many sets like this on Switch for a reason…

The death of preservation, the erasure of classic games, is nothing but good for those who hold the money at the top of the industry. An industry that generated 347 billion dollars in 2023 has little interest in the past – it isn’t worth as much money as a digital t-shirt in Fortnite. It is a net negative for the potential of video games as an artform, however, to attribute success of the medium to the amount of money it has generated in revenue when most of that money comes from predatory microtransactions, not to mention the quality of life for the people who created everything that generated that money.

The art isn’t making the money.

Art, however, is a continuum, ever moving, ever evolving. Access to the history of the medium can drive and influence new works. Knowing what worked and what didn’t can teach a lot more than a class on how to generate the most income with an indie game.

The ongoing push for remakes from an incredibly vocal public suggests that while the interest in classic games is there, there isn’t enough interest in playing the original texts. Certainly, you could go play Final Fantasy VIII Remastered on any modern platform, but this hasn’t stopped a number of people from taking to social media to demand a remake in the vein of Final Fantasy VII Remake.

Remakes Are Ultimately Uninteresting

For the sake of consistency, I will reuse one of my previous examples.

I know what Silent Hill 2 was about. I know what happened, I know how it played, I know what I saw and experienced. I know what the Red Pyramid Thing is and what it represents. Silent Hill 2, as a text, is a brilliant work of art that utilizes the medium beautifully.

This game is going to be bad!

The remake can not repeat the successes of the original text by the simple merit of the original text already existing. I have played the original, and there are no surprises to be had from playing a remake. The changes depicted in the existing trailers point to a game that seems to be alien to the experience I had while having no ideas of its own. The promise of a Red Pyramid Thing origin story isn’t appealing. As Patton Oswalt so perfectly put it, I don’t give a shit where the stuff I love comes from.

I’ve been following video games for 24 years at this point, and have played hundreds of titles. This includes a number of remakes, revisions, etc. It’s almost impossible to avoid, largely due to the way that video games were developed and ported and released over the first twenty years after the NES revived the industry. Good remakes, such as Ys Memories of Celceta, only cause me to have interest in the original texts. This entry in the Ys series is not a remake, but the canonical telling of Ys IV, as the original games Dawn of Ys and Mask of the Sun were outsourced to HudsonSoft and Tonkin House respectively rather than developed in house by Falcom. Celceta references both of these games. And, given that I quite liked Memories of Celta, I want to know more. I want to play these games.

Also, that 90’s anime box art. Yes.

Which means that I have to play original versions, emulated, patched for translation. And…I will. I have a Polymega now. I will be buying these games off of eBay and playing them using fan translations to experience the original texts.

But that’s not ideal at all. It’s not something that everyone will do, not something that many will be willing to do. It’s the kind of thing that obsessive enthusiasts and historians do, and I’m definitely of the former category. While I’m okay that Falcom has created their canonized Ys IV, I lament the fact that the originals are doomed to obscurity, much like the okay-at-best Ys III: Wanderers From Ys.

To press it further, I feel like there isn’t enough consideration for the practical costs of a full remake of an a idea. The cost of video game development is extraordinary at this point, and games like Final Fantasy VII Rebirth aren’t cheap to produce or promote. Asking for more of those means that the money goes to remakes, not new ideas. I may have thought that Final Fantasy XVI was mediocre, but I’ll gladly accept that over the ongoing rehash of VII. The original text should be maintained and rereleased on modern platforms, but I don’t expect a studio to pour tens of millions of dollars into “updating” a game when that original game is perfectly fine as it is. Even bad games deserve to be maintained in such a way. We have plenty that we can learn from bad games.

Revisionist History

Before I wrap this up, I want to address one of the common talking points I see in online discourse regarding remakes. This is the idea that a remake allows a game to “live up to the original vision” or something along those lines.

It’s still an incredibly captivating experience because the writing is superb.

I could spin an entire thread about how this ultimately gets us things like the Star Wars Special Edition trilogy, but I’ll keep this simple: A finished text needs to stand up to scrutiny. I’ll gladly point players to Xenogears as an example of one of the most fascinating JRPGs, an ambitious and incredible game that still isn’t celebrated as much as it should be because of a flawed second half. And as much as I’d like to step into the parallel universe where Xenogears was finished to its original spec, I can’t. I have to play the version we have. Thankfully, it’s very good, and worthy of study and dissection. See the incredible video from KBash that released in 2023 for one such discussion.

It may be true that Kazushige Nojima wanted Final Fantasy VII to be an endless battle between Sephiroth and Cloud in the original game, but that isn’t what the original text boils down to. The original text is about spirituality, grief, environmentalism. It isn’t about Sephiroth. If it was, in fact, about the spiky haired amnesiac fighting the silver haired guy with the long sword, there would have been more of that in the game. Instead, Sephiroth is just a villain to frame the adventure around, a means to bring the player to each beat in the story. He doesn’t do much of anything in the original game because it would interfere with the themes being explored through each character’s story. This idea that the original text would have been better with 80% more Sephiroth is grotesque to me.

I can’t imagine that Stephen King imagined the final chapters of The Dark Tower unfolding as they did before his traumatic accident in 1999. The accident informs the work, changed the way he envisioned it. Whether or not you think the final books in King’s epic are good are beside the point because they are what the author wrote, and it is there for us to experience as it is.

Final Fantasy VII Remake spoiler ahead.

This is a bit unfair. I really just think Zack is an awful, boring character.

Zack Fair walking through a portal at the end of Final Fantasy VII Remake was a Greedo Shot First moment for me. It completely undermines the meaning of the original text and reveals the remake to be exactly what it is: fan service, or even more accurately, fan fiction. You might like fan fiction, may enjoy writing it, but you have to admit that, on some level, you don’t get fan fiction without the original text existing.

That anyone thinks that Nojima meant for Zack Fair to be alive in the original game is appalling to me. It’s revisionist history. It’s deeply boring and cynical. It’s exploitative. It appeals to fans and no one else.

The Golden Age of Remasters

As I write this, Limited Run Games has collected remasters of Rocket Knight Adventures and Felix the Cat on sale, marking the first time these games have been legally available since their original releases. Similarly, the boutique publisher and developer has sold a remastered rerelease of the obscene and awful Plumbers Don’t Wear Ties, which launches digitally in March 2024. Konami has released numerous collections of classic games, Atari and Digital Eclipse released a monstrous documentary-esque collection with Atari 50. For all of the doom and gloom about the 87% of lost games, there is an effort being made in some corners of the industry to preserve and revive games that were left in the past. It isn’t difficult to play a game as bland and lifeless as Cybermorph or as challenging as Gimmick in 2024. The work is being done to keep these games alive.

Don’t skip this game! It’s great!

When the topic of games being remade comes up online, I immediately say “remaster or port only” I do not want a reimagining. I do not want remakes. I do not need games to have up to date graphics and retooled gameplay. Turn based games do not need to be made into action games. Action games, likewise, don’t need to be turn based. The original games were the way they were for a reason, top to bottom, and should retain those decisions as they are rereleased for modern players. I will give a pass to things like save states and rewind features. They are staples of emulation platforms, and can ultimately be ignored.

If you’ve reached the end of this piece, thank you for reading. Please understand that I’m not out to take the fun away from you, nor am I suggesting that the old video games are somehow better than new ones. They are different. The past isn’t wholly good or bad for any medium. But video games, like any art form, have a rich enough history that there will always be lessons waiting for the next generation to tap into. When we demand a remake, we are, in some form, asking to erase the original texts. To make them hard to access. The remake will be on new code, more likely to be retained and reused to sell the game again in the future. A remaster, port, or emulated rerelease may have problems, but they will give a player a far more interesting look into a work than a remake ever can. Because the art is in the original text. The remake is just tracing the outlines.

Arzette and the Importance of Game Preservation

In the great artistic continuum, every new work of art has its origins in the work that precedes it. Inspiration is found in myriad places, regardless of overall quality. Just as much as a writer can find gold in pulpy sci-fi and go on to craft insightful works of fiction of their own, video games have and will continue to do the same.

While this famously results in games such as Final Fantasy being birthed from a love of Ultima and Wizardry, more esoteric titles come from unusual origins. Unmetal launched in 2021, revisiting the design concepts at the foundation of Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake for the MSX rather than any 3D stealth game. While the stealth genre exploded around the lessons learned from Metal Gear Solid, Hideo Kojima’s early experiments in sneaky action gameplay proved foundational enough for Francisco Téllez de Meneses to create a loving parody and a well-received game.

With Unmetal and Metal Gear 2, players are largely fortunate. Unmetal is currently available on every modern platform, and Metal Gear 2 is soon to see a rerelease as part of a collection later this year after skipping a generation without availability. It has been part of every modern rerelease of Metal Gear Solid 3 since the Subsistence port.

We aren’t so fortunate with most titles.

The Game Availability Study was recently published, a collaborative effort between the Video Game History Foundation and the Software Preservation Network, revealing that 87% of all games published before 2010 are no longer legally accessible. I’m certain that with the prevalence of digital distribution following that date, numerous other titles have likewise become difficult to access or even risk becoming completely lost media over time. I will refer to the link above, as well as a video post from The Completionist from this point. This post isn’t specifically about the contents of that study.

I think it’s important to note the importance of games preservation from a different outlook. The historians and archivists are hard at work at notating the importance of documenting and protecting the history of this young medium.

Instead, I would like to talk about Arzette: The Jewel of Faramore.

From the Discs of History

Arzette is the upcoming game from Seth Fulkerson and Seedy Eye Software, and is a throwback to the infamous Zelda CD-i games from the mid 90s. The developer previously remade The Wand of Gamelon and The Faces of Evil. These two games, notorious for their cheesy animated clips, dodgy gameplay, and sharp deviation from their other titles in the franchise, are not beloved by anyone in the same way that, for example, Link to the Past is. At best, it’s camp. They are a source of memes.

And without them, there would be no Arzette. If there was no specific appreciation or even love for the old Phillips-made disasters, there would be no desire to create such a game.

I approach this topic with a sense of romanticism because of my own creative ideals. My work is drawn from a love of so many things, and I try to bring that admiration into the things I create. When I play a game, listen to an album, read a book – anything – I try to sense that love in the work. Such passions are not present in all things. It’s hard to see it in the major corporate products, so you likely don’t see me writing about such things in the same way.

Arzette lacks such market appeal, and is leaning into the campy presentation of its direct inspirations. It is a game with its heart on it’s sleeve.

I am here for every second of it. It looks fantastic. It appears to have learned what worked and what didn’t from the Zelda games that precede it. Seth and Seedy Eye Software are making something special that I’m looking forward to.

The Right to play Bad Games

So, what about the CDi Zelda games?

Nintendo will never bring these games back to the public again. Such a proposition is considered as a threat to the brand at this point. I can’t think of any CDi exclusive games that are likely to be ported or reprinted, and I’ve yet to do any extensive research to say otherwise. Most players aren’t going to be interested in revisiting the console.

However, it’s still a console worthy of study, of experiencing. As Yahtzee Croshaw said in a recent Extra Punctuation video, you can learn a lot more from failure than you can from a success, that we can not rely on remasters and remakes because it will likely only be for games that are fondly remembered. Zelda CDi has now spawned a modern game that learned from its choices, good and ill. What else could be learned from the bad games? At a time when homogeneity fills the shelves at local game shops and online platforms, it is refreshing -inspiring even -that a game like Arzette has a chance not only to exist, but to get a physical release through Limited Run Games.

If only the people who play and enjoy Arzette could easily play the games that inspired it. Changes need to be made where the creators of tomorrow have access to games like The Wand of Gamelon or Thayer’s Quest or any of the thousands of other games that make up the strange and wonderful history of the medium. In an age where media is destroyed for a tax write off, I do not believe in the long term viability of digital distribution as it currently exists, so I would like to take a moment to thank any outlet actively working to keep games like this around, such as Limited Run, who are publishing modern releases of classic titles through their Carbon Engine or through physical rereleases of games like StarHawk on Gameboy. This work matters. All of it. The creators of the future rely on the work of the past, and they deserve access to anything that can help them fulfill their own dreams.