Editor's note: Even though the story in the Metroid series is somewhat spare, Brandon makes some good points about the flaws in the logic behind its narrative -- particularly the Prime installments. Check out his humorous rundown of the problems with Phazon and Ridley's master plan. -James

The Metroid Prime Trilogy is the Citizen Kane of gaming. We all know it, and because of this, we've all played it...all of us. I neither know of, nor care to hear about, any exceptions to this incontrovertible fact.

Metroid Prime is one of the few things that binds us together as a species. It keeps us from going completely feral and killing one another. It's a shared experience that leads to a cross-cultural fellowship. If a baby cries during a movie or throws up all over the place -- which I actually saw happen once -- I forgive him because I know that he will one day play the Metroid Prime Trilogy.

That being said, I do have a few problems with Metroid's otherwise deep and involving mythos. Let's take a look.

First on the list: Phazon.

Look, I'm aware that Phazon is pretty poorly defined in the series. It's basically just an excuse to fight a bunch of weird mutants. But come on! I can only overlook so much.

See, Phazon composes the game's main atagonist, Metroid Prime, and its reborn form, Dark Samus. Absorbing the substance is what powers the monster, and because of this, Prime is constantly hunting it. So what is the big baddie's one weakness?

Phazon.

How does that make any kind of sense!?

Wha?

It doesn't. Does Samus somehow overload Prime with Phazon? Is that possible? It's not like it isn't gobbling the stuff up at every possible opportunity. Metroid Prime is positively cuckoo for Phazon. It is, at all times and under all circumstances, absolutely jonesing for the stuff.

It shouldn't make a difference if Samus is launching the substance at Prime through an arm cannon or not. Having our heroine shoot Prime with Phazon is analogous to her delivering a pizza to us earthlings. Prime shouldn't be dying. It should be tipping Samus less than she deserves while not looking her in the eye.

I asked a friend about it, and he offered, "Would you like it if someone shot blood at you?"

OK. Sure, I wouldn't like it, but it wouldn't kill me. Unless....

At this point you're likely coming to the same conclusion I did. Within the framework of the story, no other solution is readily apparent.

Samus has Space AIDS -- also known as SAIDS. It fits....or it almost does. Close enough. Samus doesn't seem particularly sick or weak. Maybe she's just a carrier who suffers no ill effects -- you know, like an intergalactic Typhoid Mary type of deal.

I don't know. Whatever.

It's not like this is the first time the series has had questionable writing. Check out the manga (which is apparently canonical and can be read here) that serves as the backdrop for the first game. It's mostly about Samus' childhood.

The story takes place on planet Zebes during its inhabitatance by the Chozo, and it shows their eventual fall at the hands of the Space Pirates. Just what you would expect. But the way it happens is so ridiculous and wonderful that it catapults Ridley into godhood.

Put yourself in this position: You need to conquer a world full of super-advanced bird creatures. As a hobby, they create power suits and scatter missile upgrades for them to every planet in the known galaxy just for the hell of it. What do you do?

Look at all dat juice!

Well, if you're Ridley, you give tiny guns to the planet's indigenous butterfly creatures....

Wait...what?

That's right, Ridley designed and built thousands of tiny butterfly-sized guns, handed them out, and hoped for the best.

You can kind of see why the Space Pirates keep rebuilding the guy; he's funny as hell to have around. When I'm playing the Prime games, I like to picture him pitching ideas to Space Pirate Command behind the scenes.

"Ha! That's great, Ridley. Great idea. But no, we kind of need to win this one. Why don't you just go ahead and stick with shooting fireballs and sweeping your tail around, OK champ? Go get her, you crazy SOB. God, I love that guy."

And you know what the real tragedy is? More people seem to like Crocomire than Ridley. All Crocomire ever did was melt in lava. Like that's even hard.

I guess that isn't Metroid's fault; it certainly doesn't have anything to do with the game's writing. But hey, I'm venting, and it feels good. I'm just going to go with it.

Of course, in the end, I tease. Metroid is responsible for one of the most comedic moments of my life. It was around Christmas, and I was at the mall with my parents, my aunt, and my cousin. We had just visited a man who I thought at the time was Santa Claus. (He gave my cousin and me little cups with his face on them which struck me as a bit egotistical at the time.)

While waiting in what I think was a Dillard's -- smells like one in my memory - my cousin and I got bored. We put our cups over our right hands, and we pretended to be the main characters from the games we each hoped to receive on Christmas Day. I had Metroid in mind, and I assumed my cousin did as well. Turns out he wanted Mega Man 2. Clearly, we were from different worlds, but running around that department store with plastic cups on our fists, we had acted as kindred spirits.

It was a lot like Romeo and Juliet, but with two dudes who are relatives and no romance. That's not a weird comparison to make at all. Anyway, it's a great memory that never seems to amuse other people when I retell it.

Oh well. Despite its flimsy story, I think the Metroid series is just aces.