How video game remakes tap the power of nostalgia

The moment she saw footage from the remake of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, Kacey Doran picked up her phone. She had to tell her sister.

"Have you seen this?" messaged Doran, excitedly.

Nearly 30 years ago, a 10-year-old Doran had sat in front of her family's TV, reading out the dialogue on screen to her sister, a year younger, as they inched their way through the original Nintendo 64 game's sprawling, puzzle-filled dungeons. Ocarina's fantasy-like story, and beautiful music, enthralled them both.

It was also the first game Doran ever completed. Now, countless memories rushed back to her as she devoured clips of the fully redesigned version, due to arrive on the Switch 2 later this year.

Doran's sister messaged back: "I'm not tearing up… YOU'RE tearing up."

This is the power of nostalgia – and a perfect example of how video games can trigger it. Doran now teaches an esports course at Rowan University in New Jersey. She says the original Ocarina of Time, released in 1998, had a "magical" quality that she hopes to rediscover, and also share with her sister's children.

The video games industry has long leaned on remakes. From Mario Kart to the Final Fantasy series, or even Pac-Man, some games just keep coming back in updated forms, as new generations of gamers emerge and as computer hardware improves, enabling more detailed graphics and increasingly expansive game worlds.

While the emotional hook may be the most significant draw, putting out a remake can be a double-edged sword. Some gamers are very protective of their favourite titles and new versions don't always meet certain fans' astronomically high expectations.

Nostalgia is an important but mixed emotion, says Tim Wulf, at the Centre for Advanced Internet Studies in Bochum, Germany. It has positive aspects but also a kind of sadness, too. Happiness in remembering things that were important to us, and also an awareness that that time is now gone.

"It's a social emotion because memories that induce nostalgia for us are connected to other people," he explains, adding that nostalgia can boost our self-esteem while highlighting key social bonds.

Video games, says Wulf, are notoriously good at triggering nostalgia because gamers can "jump into the same environment". In other words, games are like time machines for our emotions, and returning to fondly remembered places can feel stabilising or reassuring in an ever-changing world.

Doran, for one, notes that when you return to a favourite old game, there's something satisfying about deploying previously learned skills. You know what to do here, you're winning again. Just like the old days.

Clearly, nostalgia is not the only driver of interest in the remake, and today's audiences will expect a game that plays to today's standards.

Games companies must keep innovating when linking contemporary audiences to the past, says Wulf, in order satisfy their desire for fresh experiences. And although Wulf himself was a big fan of the original, he has no personal interest in the Ocarina of Time remake. "I want a new game – I don't want to play an old game," he says. Nostalgia isn't always enough for some.

Plus, critics often highlight a tension between originals and remakes. Which is the definitive version? In 2021, Square Enix released the bizarrely titled Nier Replicant ver.1.22474487139... – a remaster of a game first published in 2010. One reviewer wrote, external, "What we're left with is two nearly identical Niers each vying to be the true Nier."

Fans may react badly should a remaster or remake fail to do justice to the source material. And, in the gaming world, angry fan reactions can be serious.

"There's always going to be that fan base or group of people that are going to nit-pick," says Stephanie Ijoma, chief executive and founder of NNESAGA, a consultancy and creative agency.

Ultimately, games developers working on remakes have to "find the right balance" between appealing to fans and allowing themselves to be creative with the material, she adds. "You can't make art in fear, you can't create in fear."

Ijoma gives the example of Final Fantasy VII. First released in 1997, it got a highly anticipated remake in 2020.

This was a game Ijoma played back in the late 1990s and she was thrilled to be able to share it with younger players today.

Remakes enable this sharing of experiences because getting old computer hardware or video games consoles to work, while a pastime loved by some, is not possible for everyone.

"I've tried multiple times to play Silent Hill 2 because I'm interested in older games but it's such a difficult game to come into nowadays," says Niklas Hallin, a solo indie game developer who runs the studio Neckbolt. "They made a remake and it's so smooth, it just works. It works on your modern hardware."

Hallin did not play many games as a child so he says nostalgia isn't much of a motivator for him. However, in his own games, he likes to include subtle stylistic references to classic games because he knows that this appeals to gamers.

Indie developers often lean on retro games aesthetics not just because people respond well to them – but also because they are easier to achieve. "You can't compete with billion dollar budgets, super high-fidelity, Triple A graphics," he says.

One question remains. The visual difference, today, between games released years apart is, arguably, negligible. So will there be any point in remaking a game from 2026 in, say, 2038? Will technology have moved on so much by then that it's actually worth it?

Harding-Rolls predicts that games companies will still seek to connect new audiences with classic titles by offering updates.

Remakes might become less about graphical improvements and more about editorial adjustments. "Reinterpretations," he says. "Or versions with additional content."

It's never really "game over", is it?