E3 2021 closed earlier this week, and the star of the show -- for me, anyway -- was the surprise announcement of Metroid Dread, the fifth installment in the Metroid series (not including the Prime trilogy), which has been 15 years in the making and, for me, no, I really hadn't felt for a long time. It evoked a joy that I had not felt for a very long time. [Despite my love of "Dark Souls," "Bloodborne," and many other games in the last decade, I've become jaded. Sure, I'm interested in things like "The Elden Ring," but my general cynicism has ruined much of my potential excitement for new games. In fact, I can barely remember the release schedule for new games. Perhaps it's my age, but I think it boils down to a sense of boredom with the industry.

It's been a few days since Nintendo's E3 presentation and I'm still in shock over Metroid Dread. I am trying to buy the special edition of this game, but it is sold out everywhere. This means that I am not alone in this joy, and I think the enthusiasm on social media proves it. Lots of people are excited about this game.

Personally, "Metroid Dread" means more to me than simply getting another 2D Metroid. Dread was the codename for the sequel to Metroid Fusion, which was released on the Game Boy Advance in the early 2000s. It was supposed to take the series into sci-fi/horror territory by pitting Samus against an unnamed horror.

However, Nintendo apparently cancelled the project and Metroid Dread appeared to be dead. Since then we have had Metroid Prime 3, Metroid: Then, Metroid Prime 3, Metroid: Other M, and Samus Returns (a remake of Metroid II, which was released on the Game Boy.) Even after the announcement of Metroid Prime 4 in 2017, we were still wondering what Samus would do next after her battle with X Parasite. The experience changed her, but then Nintendo left us hanging.

The metroid dread meant that something from our childhood had returned. We are always chasing nostalgia as adults, struggling to feel the same things we did as children. I remember the ominous feeling I had when I played Metroid Fusion. I had nightmares about the Nightmare boss. I still remember that molten look on the boss's face as I watched him while he was draining my strength, and there are few games anymore that can give me that sense of dread.

Nintendo knew that a lot was riding on Metroid Dread; I had heard rumors of a 2D Metroid announcement, but honestly, I was expecting a remake of Super Metroid or something related to Fusion or Zero Mission. I don't think anyone expected Metroid Dread to return a decade and a half later. Neither did I.

Nintendo is like Disney; they are masters at exploiting our nostalgia. I was tricked into buying a 3DS for the remake of "The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time" and fought tooth and nail to find "Samus Returns". Nostalgia is one of the reasons why Nintendo still sells so many Mario and Zelda games. Those of us who grew up with these franchises are always looking for that same feeling we had when we played these games as kids. And now we want to share that feeling with others, maybe even our own children.

That's why when I saw the new Metroid games at E3 2021, I could barely contain my excitement. I was so overwhelmed, I didn't know what to do. I screamed with joy, told my friends about it on Discord, and the frenzy spilled over to Tom's Guide's Slack channel. Even my wife, who came home from work a few hours later, could not escape my nonsense.

Metroid Dread's announcement made me realize how much I missed that feeling. As a boy, I was an avid watcher and reader of anything related to video games; E3 was my favorite time of the year. As an adult, I never thought I would lose that passion. I still loved and still love video games. But something has been missing for years.

Watching the reveal trailer for "Metroid Dread" suddenly made me a kid again. It brought back memories of years gone by, and something inside me stirred that I hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps it was what I needed. Metroid Dread" means more to me than just a sequel to a beloved franchise.