Metal Gear Games Series: Why Kojima’s Weird Stealth Epic Still Breaks the Internet

Metal Gear Games Series: Why Kojima’s Weird Stealth Epic Still Breaks the Internet

You know that feeling when you're hiding in a cardboard box while a nuclear-equipped walking tank stomps past you? That’s the metal gear games series in a nutshell. It’s weird. It’s brilliant. It’s often completely nonsensical.

If you grew up with a PlayStation, Hideo Kojima’s name probably feels like it's burned into your retinas because he put it on every single credit sequence he could find. But looking back from 2026, the series feels less like a collection of stealth games and more like a fever dream that predicted the future. Seriously, Metal Gear Solid 2 was talking about AI-controlled information flow and meme theory back when most of us were still using dial-up internet. It’s spooky. Honestly, the way these games handle political philosophy is miles ahead of most modern triple-A titles that play it safe.

The Messy History of Tactical Espionage Action

It didn’t start with Solid Snake in 3D. Most people forget the MSX2 days. Back in 1987, the hardware couldn't handle more than a few bullets on screen, so Kojima decided: "Hey, what if you just don't shoot anyone?" That’s how the stealth genre was basically born. You’re Snake, you’re sneaking into Outer Heaven, and you’re trying not to get caught by guards who have the peripheral vision of a horse with blinkers.

Then 1998 happened. Metal Gear Solid on the PS1 changed everything. It wasn't just a game; it was a "cinematic experience." You had voice acting that didn't suck, a plot about genetic engineering, and a boss named Psycho Mantis who literally read your memory card. If you had Castlevania save data, he knew. It blew my mind as a kid. It felt like the game was looking back at me. This meta-commentary became the hallmark of the metal gear games series, often blurring the line between the player and the character.

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Snake himself is a walking contradiction. He’s a legendary hero who hates war. He’s a clone of "the greatest soldier who ever lived," yet he spends most of his time crawling through air ducts and eating calorie mates. The lore is dense. It’s a literal soap opera with clones, cyborg ninjas, and people who can control bees.

Why Everyone Still Argues About Metal Gear Solid 2

When Sons of Liberty dropped in 2001, people were furious. You play as Snake for maybe twenty minutes, and then the game forces you to play as Raiden, a blond guy who looked nothing like the grizzled veteran we wanted. It felt like a bait-and-switch. Kojima did it on purpose, though. He wanted us to see Snake from an outside perspective, to see the legend rather than be the man.

The ending of that game is a twenty-minute codec call about the digital age. It talks about how the internet would lead to "echo chambers" before that term was even common. It's actually terrifying how right it was. The game argues that in a world of infinite information, no one will ever agree on the truth. Look at social media today. Kojima wasn't just making a game about robots; he was writing a manifesto about the 21st century.

The Big Boss Era and the Shift to Open World

Then the series took a hard turn into the past. Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater is widely considered the peak. You’re in the 60s. You have to hunt for food, heal your own broken bones with a survival menu, and engage in the most emotional sniper duel in history against The End. It swapped the cold steel of bunkers for the lush greenery of the Soviet jungle.

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The story shifted focus from Solid Snake to his "father," Big Boss. We watched a hero slowly turn into the villain we fought in the original 8-bit games. It’s a tragic arc. By the time we got to The Phantom Pain, the metal gear games series had evolved into a massive open-world sandbox.

Honestly, MGSV is a bit of a heartbreaker. The gameplay is the best in the series—fluid, responsive, and genuinely creative. You can attach balloons to sheep and send them to your base. You can slide down hills on your box. But the story? It’s unfinished. You can feel the tension between Kojima and Konami in every empty corridor of the final act. It’s a masterpiece with a missing ending.

Sorting Through the Timeline (It’s a Nightmare)

If you're trying to play these in order, good luck. The release order is one thing, but the chronological order is a zigzag across a century.

  1. Snake Eater (1964)
  2. Portable Ops (1970 - though its "canon" status is debated by purists)
  3. Peace Walker (1974)
  4. Ground Zeroes (1975)
  5. The Phantom Pain (1984)
  6. Metal Gear (1995)
  7. Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake (1999)
  8. Metal Gear Solid (2005)
  9. Sons of Liberty (2007/2009)
  10. Guns of the Patriots (2014)

Metal Gear Solid 4 was the "final" chapter for Solid Snake. It tried to tie up every single loose end, no matter how ridiculous. Nanomachines. That was the answer to everything. Why is that guy immortal? Nanomachines. Why can that woman jump ten feet in the air? Nanomachines. It’s a bit of a meme at this point, but seeing an aged, dying Snake crawl through a microwave hallway just to save a world that didn't want him? It hits hard. Every time.

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The Weirdness is the Point

You can't talk about these games without mentioning the "Kojima-isms." There’s a guy named Johnny who has chronic diarrhea in almost every game. There’s a poster of a swimsuit model inside a locker that helps you distract guards. There’s a ghost in a photo you can take if you stand in the right spot.

This tonal whiplash is why the metal gear games series is so unique. One second you're crying over the death of a sniper who just wanted to see the sun, and the next second you're wearing a chicken hat because you died too many times. It shouldn't work. On paper, it's a mess. But in practice, it creates a world that feels lived-in and deeply human. It doesn't take itself too seriously, which somehow makes the serious moments land even harder.

What’s Next for Snake?

Konami and Kojima had a very public, very messy divorce. Kojima went on to make Death Stranding, which is basically "Postman Simulator: The Movie," and Konami tried to make Metal Gear Survive, a zombie survival game that everyone pretty much ignored.

But there’s hope. Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater—the remake of the third game—is the big test. It looks stunning. They're keeping the original voice acting, which is a smart move because David Hayter is Snake. If it succeeds, we might see the rest of the series brought into the modern era.

How to Actually Play These Today

If you want to dive into the metal gear games series right now, don't overthink it. Grab the Master Collection Vol. 1. It has the first three Solid games and the original MSX titles.

  • Start with MGS1. Don't skip it because the graphics are old. The atmosphere is still unmatched.
  • Pay attention to the Codec. It's where the best writing is. Don't just rush to the next objective; call your team and see what they say about the flora and fauna.
  • Experiment. The game usually has three or four ways to solve every problem. Use the C4. Use the smoke grenades. Or just hide in a locker and wait.
  • Accept the weirdness. Don't try to make sense of the plot on your first go. Just enjoy the ride.

The reality is that we might never get another "true" Kojima Metal Gear. That era is over. But the games we have are a literal time capsule of turn-of-the-century anxiety and brilliant game design. They changed the industry. They changed how we think about protagonists. And they definitely changed how we look at cardboard boxes.

To truly appreciate the legacy here, go back and play Metal Gear Solid 3 on the hardest difficulty. Try to get through the entire game without killing a single person. You'll see a completely different side of the mechanics—one that rewards patience and observation over twitch reflexes. That’s the real heart of the series. It’s about the burden of being a soldier and the choice to be something more. Snake isn't just a hero; he's a man trying to find his place in a world that only wants him for his trigger finger.

The next step is simple: pick up a controller, find a box, and start sneaking. Just remember to save often—Otacon isn't going to do it for you.