Best Ever
Action Rpg?

“What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets!” Dracula hurls a wine glass, the battle begins, and within five minutes Symphony of the Night has established something unusual for 1997: it thinks it’s smarter than you, and it might be right. This is a game that hides half of itself behind a fake ending, that rewards exploration with permanent power gains, that trusts players to wander without waypoints. It’s also a game where you play as Dracula’s son fighting through a gothic castle full of monsters. High and low, always.

The structure borrows from Super Metroid but adds RPG systems that change everything. Alucard levels up. He finds equipment — swords, shields, capes, rings — that alter his stats and abilities. He collects familiars that fight alongside him. The progression isn’t just about reaching new areas; it’s about becoming powerful enough to trivialize old ones. Backtracking in Symphony of the Night is a victory lap, not a chore.

The castle is the star. Every room has been composed — not just designed, but composed — with attention to background detail, enemy placement, and visual rhythm. The Long Library’s towering shelves. The Marble Gallery’s classical architecture. The nightmare imagery of the Catacombs. Ayami Kojima’s character designs and the sprite artists’ interpretations create a coherent aesthetic: gothic romance filtered through anime sensibility, somehow timeless despite its ’90s origins.

The inverted castle is the game’s masterstroke. Reach what appears to be the final boss, beat him, and you’ve seen maybe forty percent of the map. The real game opens when you acquire the ability to access the castle’s mirror image — the same geography, flipped upside down, repopulated with harder enemies and better loot. It’s a twist that doubles the content while recontextualizing what you’ve already played. Every room you memorized is now unfamiliar. Every shortcut leads somewhere new.

The combat system rewards investment. Basic attacks work, but Alucard can also execute fighting-game-style inputs for special moves. Shield-rod combinations. Back-dash canceling. The systems are deep enough for speedrunners to optimize for decades while remaining accessible enough for casual players to button-mash through. The game meets you where you are and offers more if you want it.

Michiru Yamane’s soundtrack is essential to the atmosphere. “Dracula’s Castle” sets the tone with its harpsichord arpeggios and rock guitar. “Wood Carving Partita” turns a save room into a moment of baroque beauty. “Lost Painting” — the inverted castle’s library theme — is so melancholy it feels like its own character. The music does as much worldbuilding as the visuals.

The voice acting is legendarily bad, and the legend is deserved. “Die, monster! You don’t belong in this world!” The translation is stilted, the delivery wooden, and somehow it all adds to the charm. This is a PlayStation 1 game; jank is part of the experience. The bad voice acting has become iconic in a way that good voice acting never would have.

The term “Metroidvania” exists because of this game. Super Metroid provided the exploration template; Symphony of the Night added the RPG layer that became definitional. Every indie game with an interconnected map and stat progression owes something to this castle.

The night is still young.

Konami: The Best Ever is secrets as structure. Is Castlevania: Symphony of the Night the Best Ever Metroidvania Game? You tell us.

Decide for Yourself:

• The Castlevania Requiem collection on PS4 includes Symphony and Rondo of Blood.
• The original PlayStation disc remains collectible and playable on PS1/PS2/PS3.
• The PSP Dracula X Chronicles includes a remade Symphony with new voice acting.