My Love For Remakes Doesn’t Blind Me To Their Biggest Problem

I love remakes - but I’m not blind to what they’re doing to gaming.

Remake games
Remake games

  • Primary Subject: Remakes in Modern Gaming – Value, Tension, and Preservation
  • Key Update: Explores the strengths of modern remakes (Resident Evil 2, FFVII Remake, Dead Space, Black Flag Resynced) while arguing that they create tension between accessibility, preservation, and the industry’s reliance on remaking existing classics instead of creating new ones.
  • Status: Opinion
  • Last Verified: July 15, 2026
  • Quick Answer: The piece argues that remakes are one of gaming’s most valuable tools for preservation and accessibility, but their growing dominance risks slowing the creation of future classics, creating a cycle where the industry increasingly remakes the past instead of building what will be remade next.

I'm firmly in the pro-remake camp. Some of my favorite games of the past decade have been remakes, and I don't think that's something to apologize for.

Resident Evil 2, Dead Space, Final Fantasy VII Remake, Demon's Souls, and even Assassin's Creed Black Flag Resynced all prove that revisiting older games can produce experiences that stand alongside the originals instead of living in their shadow.

They introduce classics to new audiences, modernize outdated mechanics, and sometimes even become the easiest recommendation for someone experiencing those games for the first time.

The conversation has become a little stale - we're stuck debating their existence instead of their execution. The problem isn't that publishers keep making remakes, but that we've burdened them with expectations no single game could ever satisfy.

We're asking remakes to preserve gaming history while simultaneously replacing it. That's an impossible standard. It's also why remake discourse never seems to reach a conclusion.

One person wants a near-identical recreation, another wants a complete reimagining, while someone else simply wants the old game with modern graphics.

Trying to satisfy all of them usually means satisfying none of them completely.

Resident Evil 4 Remake, Final Fantasy VII Remake and Black Flag Resynced all approach the idea of a remake differently, yet they're often judged against the exact same standard.

I don't think that's a fair expectation, because not every remake is trying to accomplish the same thing.

What Makes A Great Remake?

I don't think a great remake should try to erase the game that inspired it.

Remake games
expand image

The strongest examples understand that they're interpretations rather than replacements. Resident Evil 4 Remake doesn't invalidate Resident Evil 4.

Final Fantasy VII Remake deliberately goes even further, becoming something that almost assumes you've already experienced the original.

Even Black Flag Resynced, despite modernizing its visuals and systems, still feels unmistakably like a game designed in 2013 (for better and for worse).

The original game still exists with its own identity, while the remake offers another way to experience it.

Of course, plenty of people would argue there isn't a problem here at all. A remake doesn't automatically replace the original, and in most cases they're right.

You can still play the original Resident Evil 4, Dead Space or Demon's Souls if you want to. The issue, at least from my perspective, is that publishers increasingly market, support and sometimes even preserve remakes as though they're the only versions worth remembering.

When publishers delist original releases, stop supporting them, or quietly position the remake as the definitive version, that's when preservation starts becoming a slippery slope.

At that point, the problem isn't the remake itself but the business decisions that slowly push the original out of view.

I also think nostalgia has become a little too convenient as an explanation for every criticism aimed at a remake. Sometimes nostalgia absolutely clouds our judgment (I know, because I've caught myself doing it).

Things we used to roll our eyes at somehow become part of the game's identity. Mechanics that frustrated players at launch somehow become essential pieces of gaming history the moment they're removed.

Black Flag's modern-day Abstergo sequences are a perfect example. I wasn't the biggest fan of them when I first played the game, and plenty of other players felt the same way.

Looking back, though, it's interesting to see how many fans now miss them because they gave the original an identity the remake doesn't quite replicate.

Memory has a funny way of sanding off rough edges. I've noticed this with almost every major remake released over the past few years. Players will praise one remake for boldly modernizing outdated mechanics while criticizing another for changing too much.

Others demand complete faithfulness until a mechanic they never liked survives the transition, at which point the remake suddenly "should have fixed it."

None of us are completely immune to that inconsistency (myself included), because we rarely remember games exactly as they were.

We remember how they made us feel. That doesn't mean nostalgia is always wrong, though. Older games weren't merely collections of outdated mechanics waiting to be modernized.

Their limitations often shaped their identity. Fixed camera angles, slower combat, unusual controls and distinct visual styles weren't always technological compromises.

Sometimes they were deliberate creative decisions that gave those games their distinctive identity.

A remake shouldn't preserve every frustration simply because it existed first, but neither should it assume every old design choice was a mistake waiting to be corrected.

Striking that balance is easier said than done. That balance is also why I think accessibility is one of the strongest arguments in favor of remakes.

Remake games
expand image

Without them, many players simply wouldn't experience older games. Not everyone owns legacy hardware.

Not every classic has been ported properly. Some games are expensive, awkward to access, or locked behind platforms that disappeared years ago. A high-quality remake removes those barriers and gives a new generation an opportunity to discover why these games became classics in the first place.

That's a genuinely good thing. In fact, I'd argue this is one area where gaming differs from almost every other medium.

Films don't suddenly become inaccessible because your Blu-ray player is outdated, but games often depend on aging hardware, discontinued storefronts or compatibility workarounds.

Sometimes a remake genuinely is the easiest and most practical way to experience a classic, and I don't think that's something we should wave away. But accessibility shouldn't come at the cost of preservation.

The ideal situation isn't choosing between the remake and the original. It's allowing both to coexist.

Let newcomers enjoy modern visuals and controls while giving curious players the chance to experience the original design as well.

Those goals don't compete with one another. If anything, they should support each other.

That's exactly what I think a great remake should do. It shouldn't replace gaming history; it should deepen our appreciation for it.

Which is why I can't bring myself to dislike remakes. They're capable of preserving incredible games, introducing them to millions of new players, and even improving aspects that haven't aged particularly well.

But my love for them doesn't stop me from recognizing their biggest problem. It's that, if we're not careful, they become the industry's favorite way to avoid creating the classics that future generations will eventually want remade themselves.

For more like this, stick with us here at Gfinityesports.com, the best website for gaming news, reviews, features, and guides.