Games

Metroid Prime 4: Beyond explains its hub approach, and it makes more sense than “just go open world”

2 January 2026
Nintendo Switch 2Nintendo Switch
12 min.
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Metroid Prime 4: Beyond explains its hub approach, and it makes more sense than “just go open world”

Summary:

Metroid Prime 4: Beyond didn’t dodge the open world conversation by accident. It ran straight at it, looked it in the eyes, and basically said: “That’s not how Metroid works.” When people ask for an open world Metroid, the wish is easy to understand. We want that feeling of stepping onto a strange planet and deciding where the day takes us, like we’re mapping our own adventure instead of following a trail of breadcrumbs. The catch is that Metroid’s identity is built on the opposite kind of promise. We don’t start as the fully loaded version of ourselves. We start limited, curious, and slightly underqualified for the places we can already see in the distance. Then we earn access through powers, tools, and knowledge, and the world slowly unfolds like a locked house where every new key changes the route we take.

The team has explained that this “unlock more, explore more” core doesn’t line up well with the open world idea of being able to go anywhere right away. So rather than forcing two philosophies to share the same room, the design leans into a “limited area” that we can explore freely, treating it as a hub that connects to other areas. That hub isn’t just a travel map, either. It’s meant to be a place where movement feels good, where traversal can relieve pressure, and where the pace of the adventure stays under control. This also matters because the project took longer than expected, the team noticed how players’ feelings toward open world games shifted over time, and the game had already gone through a major reset. Instead of ripping everything up again, the team committed to its original rhythm and even chose not to chase the faster speed trends that took over shooters and action games. The result is a game that’s intentionally steady, built around tempo, and comfortable being a little out of step with the latest fashion.

The open world wish and the Metroid reality check

We get why “open world Metroid” became a popular phrase. It sounds like chocolate and peanut butter: two great tastes that should work together. Metroid is about lonely exploration, strange ecosystems, and the thrill of spotting something unreachable and thinking, “Not yet, but soon.” Open worlds are about freedom, discovery, and the excitement of wandering off the intended path just because a weird mountain looks climbable. The problem is that these two ideas chase different kinds of freedom. Open world freedom is front-loaded. It says, “Here’s the whole playground, go wild.” Metroid freedom is earned. It says, “Here’s a locked building. Prove you belong in every room.” That difference is not a small design detail. It’s the entire emotional engine. If we remove the locks too early, we don’t just change the map, we change the feeling of progress, the sense of mystery, and the payoff when a new ability suddenly turns an old dead end into a new route.

Why power upgrades clash with “go anywhere” freedom

Metroid’s core loop is built around powers that act like permission slips. We find an upgrade, and suddenly the world rereads itself. Doors that were decorative become functional. Hazards that felt like walls become speed bumps. Routes that looked linear become layered. Now imagine an open world where we can go anywhere from the start. If we truly mean anywhere, the locks have to loosen, because hard gates would feel like the game constantly saying “no” inside a world that’s supposed to say “yes.” But if the locks loosen too much, the upgrade system loses its bite. The team has said this style of progression isn’t very compatible with open worlds, and it’s easy to see why. Metroid wants us to remember places and return with new tools. Open world design often expects us to chart our own order and skip around without the same kind of structured backtracking. That’s not a moral judgment, it’s just two different rhythms. Trying to force them into one shape can turn both into something blander, like watering down a strong drink until it tastes like regret.

The “limited area” hub idea and why it’s not a compromise

Instead of going all-in on open world structure, the team described designing a limited area that can be freely explored, treating it as a hub that connects to other areas. That word “hub” matters. It suggests we’re not talking about one giant map where everything lives, but a central space that supports the rest of the journey. Think of it like a well-designed train station rather than a sprawling highway system. A station can still be big, still be busy, and still be interesting, but its job is to link destinations while keeping travel readable. A hub also gives designers more control over pacing, which is especially important for an adventure game that wants tension to rise and fall in deliberate waves. If every direction is equally valid at every moment, tension can flatten out. The game becomes a long, steady hum. A hub, paired with gated areas beyond it, lets us have bursts of focused intensity, followed by movement and breathing space, followed by another spike. That up-and-down pattern is a big part of what makes Metroid feel like Metroid.

A hub that connects, not a sandbox that replaces everything

One reason hubs work well for Metroid is that they preserve the idea of “place.” In a fully open structure, it’s easy for areas to blur together because we’re constantly roaming across the same continuous space. A hub approach can keep zones distinct, with clearer identity and stronger memory hooks. We go out, we learn something, we earn a power, and we return with new context. That return isn’t busywork when it’s tuned correctly. It’s the moment where we feel smarter than we were an hour ago. The team’s explanation frames the hub as a connector, which suggests the surrounding areas still matter as separate experiences, not just as landmarks sprinkled across one giant field. That also makes the upgrade loop cleaner. We can still unlock powers that expand what’s reachable, but we don’t have to pretend the entire world is equally accessible from the beginning. It’s a middle path that keeps the promise of free exploration inside a controlled space while letting the broader structure stay true to the series’ progression DNA.

Why a bike can actually make exploration feel better

The bike detail is the kind of thing that sounds weird until you think about what it’s trying to solve. Exploration in Metroid can be tense. We’re scanning, listening, watching corners, managing resources, and dealing with the constant feeling that the planet would happily eat us if we trip once. If the hub area is meant to be freely explored, then we’ll spend time there repeatedly. Repetition can either become comforting, like a familiar route home, or it can become exhausting, like commuting through traffic every day. The team’s logic is that satisfying movement in that space can mitigate the tension from exploration and help pace the whole game. In other words, traversal is not just “getting from A to B.” It’s a mood tool. A bike can turn travel into a small reward, a moment where we feel fast, capable, and in control, which can be the perfect counterweight to slower, more careful stretches. It’s like letting the music drop into a lighter chorus after a heavy verse. The contrast makes both parts hit harder.

Pacing the adventure without turning it into a sprint

One of the most interesting parts of the team’s comments is that they tie design choices to tempo, not just mechanics. They talk about pacing, tension, and the rhythm of an adventure game, and that’s a very Metroid way to think. Metroid is not trying to be the fastest thing in the room. It’s trying to be the most deliberate thing in the room, the game that makes us slow down to notice details and then lets us speed up only when it serves the experience. A hub with satisfying movement can be a built-in pacing valve. We do a tense stretch of exploration, then we travel, then we re-enter a more focused area. That can keep the journey from feeling like one long anxious crawl, but it can also keep it from becoming nonstop action noise. The goal is not to avoid excitement, it’s to place excitement so it lands with purpose. When pace is treated like a design pillar, we stop judging movement systems as mere convenience and start seeing them as part of the storytelling, even when no one says a single word.

Tension, release, and why traversal is part of the mood

We’ve all had that moment where a game’s exploration is so intense that we catch ourselves holding our breath. It’s fun, but it’s also tiring if it never lets up. The team’s comments suggest they wanted a segment that eases pressure and keeps the broader loop moving. That’s a smart way to respect players, because it acknowledges something obvious: our brains need contrast. If we’re always cautious, caution stops feeling special. If we’re always sprinting, speed stops feeling exciting. Traversal that feels good gives us a controlled release, like stepping out of a cramped room into fresh air. It also helps with the “return trip” problem that Metroid games naturally have. Backtracking can feel great when it’s framed as mastery, but it can feel annoying when it’s framed as chores. Satisfying movement is one of the simplest ways to keep returns feeling intentional. We’re not just retracing steps. We’re flowing through a space we understand better now, and that feeling can be oddly comforting, like walking through a neighborhood we’ve finally learned.

The long development timeline and why the team didn’t pivot again

Metroid Prime 4: Beyond has had a famously long road, and the team openly notes that the game took much longer than expected to finish. During that time, they also noticed that players’ impressions toward open world games changed. That’s an honest admission, and it’s also a reminder of a brutal reality: long development cycles don’t happen in a vacuum. The world moves while we build. Trends rise, peak, and sometimes crash into the ocean while we’re still polishing a single area. The team also points out a major constraint: development had already been reset once before, with the project starting again from scratch with Retro Studios. When a project has already paid that kind of cost, another big pivot can become impossible, not because anyone lacks imagination, but because time, resources, and morale are real limits. At some point, the best move is to commit and finish the thing you set out to make, even if the conversation around games has shifted since the first draft.

The reboot factor and committing to the original plan

A reset is not a small edit. It’s not “let’s tweak the map.” It’s “let’s rebuild the foundation.” If a project has already been restarted, going back again can be like trying to renovate a house by setting it on fire and hoping the next version magically builds itself faster. The team’s explanation is clear: backtracking development again was out of the question, so they resolved to move forward with the original vision. There’s a confidence in that statement, but there’s also practicality. A vision is only useful if it can be shipped, and sometimes the most respectful thing we can do for players is deliver a coherent experience rather than a frantic attempt to chase every new trend. That doesn’t mean ignoring feedback forever. It means choosing the right moment to listen and the right moment to commit. In this case, the commitment seems tied to preserving Metroid’s identity, especially the progression loop that makes the series feel like a puzzle box we slowly learn to open.

One line from the team really sticks: during development, shooting games and action games evolved, with an increase in game speed in particular, but taking in those changes would have made it difficult to construct the tempo of an adventure game. So they actively chose not to take them into account. That is a bold stance in a world where games often feel pressured to chase whatever is “modern.” Faster is often marketed as better. More fluid, more aggressive, more constant input. But Metroid’s first-person format has never been about turning every second into a reflex test. It’s about atmosphere, readability, and the feeling that we’re exploring something hostile and unknown. If we crank speed too high, we risk breaking the spell. Suddenly we’re not investigating a planet, we’re just clearing rooms. The choice to ignore speed trends is basically a declaration that Metroid Prime 4: Beyond wants to be an adventure first, not a genre chameleon that tries to fit into whatever the current shooter conversation demands.

Faster shooters, faster action, and why Metroid stays steady

There’s also something refreshing about a game that doesn’t pretend time hasn’t passed, but still refuses to panic about it. The team even says the result is “pretty much divorced from the changing of times.” That phrasing sounds dramatic, but the idea is simple: they didn’t build the game to mirror whatever was hot at the end of development. They built it to serve a specific tempo. That can be a relief if you’re tired of games that constantly demand maximum intensity. Not every evening needs to feel like a caffeine-fueled tournament. Sometimes we want a paced adventure where the calm parts are allowed to be calm, where the build-up matters, and where exploration is treated like the main event instead of something we tolerate between combat arenas. A steady tempo also makes the upgrade loop feel better, because it gives us room to notice how our abilities change the way we move and interact. When everything is too fast, progression can blur. When things are paced, progression becomes tangible.

What this means when you’re the one holding the controller

All of this design talk is interesting, but the real question is: what does it feel like in your hands? A hub-based structure, paired with Metroid’s classic power gating, usually means the game wants us to build mental maps. We learn the hub, we learn the exits, and we learn which tools turn “no” into “yes.” If you’re the kind of player who loves that “I remember a door back there” moment, this approach is basically feeding you your favorite snack. If you’re the kind of player who wants pure open-ended wandering, the hub may initially feel like a constraint, but it can also become a comfort. Why? Because the game is making a promise: you won’t get lost in a sea of sameness. You’ll have a clear sense of where you are and why returning matters. The bike idea, in particular, suggests the hub isn’t meant to be a slow slog. It’s meant to be a place where movement itself provides a break, a little breathing space between tighter stretches of exploration.

The mindset that makes hubs and locks feel satisfying

If we want this structure to sing, we need to approach it the right way. Instead of treating locks as the game blocking us, treat them as the game teasing us. A locked door is a bookmark, not a rejection. A hazard we can’t cross yet is a reminder that we’re still growing. When we revisit areas later, the joy is not just in reaching a new room, it’s in feeling how our toolset has changed our relationship with the space. And when the hub becomes familiar, it can start to feel like a home base, not because it’s safe, but because it’s understood. That’s a powerful feeling in a series built around isolation. The pacing choices also mean we don’t have to play like we’re being chased at all times. We can slow down, scan, look for clues, then switch gears and travel quickly when it’s time to reset the mood. If we meet the game on its own terms, the hub stops being “less open world” and starts being “more Metroid,” which is honestly the whole point.

Conclusion

Metroid Prime 4: Beyond’s stance on open world design isn’t a refusal to evolve, it’s a decision about identity. The team has described how Metroid’s power-based progression doesn’t mesh neatly with “go anywhere from the beginning,” and that’s the heart of the argument. Rather than chasing the loudest trend, the design leans into a limited area hub that can be freely explored, connecting to other areas while keeping the upgrade loop meaningful. The bike concept fits into that philosophy as a pacing tool, a way to make movement satisfying and relieve pressure between more tense stretches. The long development cycle, including a prior reboot, made further backtracking unrealistic, so the team committed to the original vision even as player sentiment around open world games shifted. They also chose not to absorb the speed evolution of shooters and action games, prioritizing the tempo of an adventure game instead. The result is a deliberate, paced experience that’s comfortable being a little out of step with the moment, because it’s trying to be timeless in the ways that matter for Metroid.

FAQs
  • Why didn’t Metroid Prime 4: Beyond become fully open world?
    • The team explained that Metroid’s core loop is unlocking powers to expand what we can explore, and that doesn’t fit well with open world design that aims to let players go anywhere from the beginning.
  • What does “limited area” mean in practice?
    • It refers to a freely explorable hub-like space that connects to other areas, letting us explore openly within that zone while keeping the broader structure compatible with ability-based progression.
  • Why include a bike at all?
    • The idea was that satisfying movement inside the hub can relieve tension from exploration and help control pacing, giving us a faster, more fluid segment between tighter exploration stretches.
  • Why didn’t the team change direction when open world opinions shifted?
    • They noted the project took longer than expected and had already been restarted once, so pivoting and backtracking again wasn’t realistic. They chose to finish the original plan instead.
  • What did they mean by ignoring faster shooter trends?
    • They said shooters and action games became faster during development, but adopting those changes would make it harder to build the tempo they wanted for an adventure game, so they deliberately did not chase that speed.
Sources
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