Super Metroid is one of those games that just sticks with you. You start off in Samus' ship, landing on Zebes—this eerie, alien planet where everything feels alive in the worst (or best?) way. The music creeps in, all atmospheric synths and distant echoes, and you immediately know you're in for something special.

At first, you’ve got just your basic arm cannon and a jump button, but before long, you're rolling into tiny tunnels as a morph ball, freezing enemies to use as platforms, and hunting for hidden missile expansions. The level design is insane—every new ability opens up paths you swore were just dead ends before. And the bosses? Ridley still gives me nightmares.

What really gets me is how the game doesn’t hold your hand. No waypoints, no quest markers—just you, the map screen, and that gut feeling that you missed something in that one room three hours ago. It’s frustrating in the best possible way. If you’ve never played it, you owe it to yourself to experience this masterpiece.