Where do you draw the line when remaking a classic? Do you try to reinvent it for a new generation, or do you hold on tight to what made it legendary in the first place? For Konami, the answer was clear: stay faithful. With Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater, the company didn’t try to reshape history—they honored it. Kojima’s 2004 masterpiece still sits at the heart of everything here. What’s changed is the look: a complete transformation through Unreal Engine 5. What hasn’t changed is the spirit, the tension of sneaking through the jungle, and the story that still hits as hard today as it did two decades ago.
If you’ve played Snake Eater before, stepping into Delta feels like slipping back into a memory. The same wild mix of Cold War intrigue, melodramatic cutscenes, and unforgettable characters is right where you left it. David Hayter’s gravelly voice as Snake brings back that familiar warmth—only he could make repeating Codec lines sound so good. Even the quirks remain intact: guards dropping items when you hold them up, item boxes waiting in the exact same places, and the segmented areas separated by those brief loading breaks. It’s a game frozen in time, simply repainted for the present.
At first, I wasn’t sure how the new coat of photorealistic paint would sit. On one hand, it breathes new life into the environments—you feel the dampness of the jungle, the grit of the battlefield. On the other, it makes the campy side of Snake Eater hit a little differently. Ocelot’s dramatic howls and The Cobra Unit’s bizarre powers feel stranger, less whimsical, when rendered in such high detail. And yet, removing them would strip away the soul of what made Snake Eater special.
That’s the strange beauty of Delta. It doesn’t replace Snake Eater, it coexists with it. One is a memory, the other a mirror. And as the credits rolled on my 12-hour non-lethal run, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d fallen in love with Metal Gear Solid all over again.
The jungle stretched endlessly, its canopy thick enough to blot out most of the sunlight. Mountains loomed in the distance, shrouded in mist, and every sound—from the buzzing insects to the rustling leaves—felt like a reminder that survival here would not be easy. For Snake, this was more than a mission. It was a test of endurance, of loyalty, and of belief.
Armed with nothing but the tools he could scavenge and the knowledge drilled into him, Snake pressed forward. His camouflage blended him into the terrain, every shift of uniform or face paint determining whether he vanished into the shadows or stood out as prey. Each encounter with enemy patrols was less about brute force and more about patience—studying their paths, waiting for the right moment, and striking with precision. Every mistake left scars. Wounds had to be stitched, burns treated, bones reset. Hunger gnawed at him too, forcing him to hunt the creatures of the jungle or scavenge whatever rations he could find. The environment itself became as much an adversary as the soldiers hunting him.
Yet the jungle was also a puzzle. Snake turned every obstacle into an advantage. A discarded magazine could draw a guard’s attention; a simple cardboard box could become a tool of deception. Each success felt like outsmarting the very system meant to trap him. But the real challenge wasn’t the patrols or the terrain—it was the looming figures who awaited him deeper in the wilderness.
The Cobra Unit. Each member was a nightmare in their own right: The Pain with his relentless swarm of hornets, The Fear with his twisted agility, The End with his patient, deadly hunt, and The Sorrow with his ghostly reminder of every life taken. These weren’t just battles; they were trials designed to push Snake’s body, mind, and spirit to their limits.
Through it all, the specter of The Boss haunted him. She was mentor, rival, and something more—an unshakable presence at the heart of his mission. Their bond was carved from years of shared experience, yet now it was fractured by betrayal. The closer Snake came to completing his task, the more unbearable the truth became. His mission demanded loyalty to country, but his heart demanded loyalty to her.
The final confrontation between them was not just another mission objective. It was the culmination of everything Snake had endured in the jungle—the hunger, the pain, the fear, the sorrow. And in that decisive moment, the man who entered as a soldier emerged as something else entirely.
