Remaking Gaming - Why the Lunar Remastered Collection is a Masterful Disaster

Of all the lauded but lost JRPGs from the 32-bit generation, the Lunar series might be the most lamented. The two games, Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete and Lunar: Eternal Blue, represent the best of the genre’s classical era, combining the finer joys of art, music, and character design to provide a truly endearing—nay, enduring—experience.

But the series has a mottled legacy; after their PlayStation heyday, the titles languished as the franchise slowly died, becoming but the specter of a simpler, and some would say better, time. The first in the series, Silver Star, kept the franchise (barely) alive through various remakes on handheld devices. But essentially, the series ended with the new millennium.

The silver lining to this star, however, is that a resurrection is at hand. Coined the Lunar Remastered Collection, both titles are returning with cleaned-up visuals, a tweaked translation, and various quality-of-life improvements. It’s a cause for celebration, or should be: After decades, old-timers and newcomers alike are getting to experience these tales in their most optimum form.

So why are so many complaining?

The reason requires a brief history lesson regarding Working Designs, a developer from the 1990s that specialized in combing Japan for games of a rich and niche sensibility. In those early days, the company was a hero to those wanting more than just another Western-styled platformer or brawler. In Working Designs, these wishes were realized, with elusive games like Cosmic Fantasy 2, Popful Mail, Elemental Gearbolt, and the Lunar duology breaching the otherwise impervious American market. But, in that great irony of time, certain segments of the fandom eventually came to criticize, even hate, the once-celebrated company—self-important elites decried Working Designs as being a little too loose with its localizations, for trading authenticity for approachability.

And, in the case of Lunar, the naysayers had a point. Although well-written and humorous, WD’s localized scripts didn’t just stray from their source material, they often defied it with weird slang and quirky colloquialisms, sometimes defiled it with inexplicable pop cultural references. The stories were still heartfelt, still poignant, still rich with the spirit of the Japanese originals…but bore the distinct stink of a translator with no self-control.

This left developer GungHo, the new custodian of these games, with a tough decision: use the original off-kilter scripts or just retranslate the whole affair? Ultimately, it chose to split the difference, using the original translation while editing/fixing the most “eccentric” of WD’s embellishments. Superficially, this might seem like a wise compromise. But in reality, it’s a move that gratifies no one—neither those wanting the original script, nor those demanding a new translation. By taking the delicate, middle path, GungHo has actually confused matters further by creating a third version that maybe doesn’t need to exist. Either rewrite the Japanese one completely, or stick with the original translation; this milquetoast third alternative is indeed more skim milk than cream.

All of this highlights the industry's addiction to remaking anything "classic" for easy profit, and further, raises the question whether these redos do more to help or hinder the preservationist's cause. GungHo’s case is the perfect example: What exactly is it preserving with this specific Lunar release? Definitely not the Working Designs versions. And certainly not the Japanese originals. People who want the true WD experience—with the original voice actors, no less—still have no official way of doing so beyond buying expensive second-hand PS1 copies or scouring the Internet for their ancient ISOs.

The problem extends to plenty of other games, too. Nintendo’s recent remake of the GameCube’s Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door drastically alters the backstory of an important character, muddying which of the two games is now the “true,” definitive version. Live a Live, a Square Enix RPG remade for the Nintendo Switch, does the same, both editing and expanding on the Super Famicom original in terms of gameplay and plot. What the remake doesn’t do, however, is include the original game alongside the updated one. It's an omission that, more than depriving players of experiencing the game in its originally-intended form, greatly disrespects the original developers. Here, the remake isn't preserving history, it's burying it. Here, less than a remake, the new game is a replacement--the only release that matters. A retcon of another team's forgotten work.

And it's even worse than it sounds. Imagine if Tolkien's Lord of the Rings was rewritten by some hired hand, and that version was then sold in place of the original trilogy. Even if the rewrites were "better," would that still justify killing the original author's work? Would Tolkien approve? Of course not.

But such is the disgrace of the modern remake industry—too often, these reboots disrespect their forebears, too often do they neglect their own history. Countless souls toiled on the original games in the hope they would entertain generations to come. But that isn’t happening. At least, not really. Will anyone play the GameCube version of Paper Mario 2 when Nintendo is all but mandating the newer version? Will anyone seek Live A Live’s 16-bit incarnation when Square Enix sniffs dismissively at the original?

The Lunar Remastered Collection is no different; it capitalizes on the PS1 classics without actually honoring them, thereby snubbing those who brought them westward in the first place. Why won’t GungHo let the original PS1 copies exist side-by-side with the remastered works? Why can’t Vic Ireland, the former president of Working Designs, broker some kind of deal? Why can't both parties come to an agreement for the sake of the fans...and really, history? Money, pride, indifference…there’s probably plenty of blame on both sides. But it does perfectly encapsulate what normally happens; once the remake comes, the original gets dumped.

And this, frankly, needs to stop. It’s anti-art. Anti-artist. Anti-intellectual.

And a preservationist’s ever-growing nightmare.--D

Lunar Remastered Collection offers two games - Lunar: Silver Star Story and Lunar 2: Eternal Blue, as represented here by the games' respective female protagonists, Luna and Lucia.

Both games are lightly touched up without sacrificing the "vintage" feel.

Working Designs became known for localizing games like Cosmic Fantasy 2 (top) and Popful Mail (below).

Working Designs also became known for its sometimes colorful (off-color?) translations.

Paper Mario 2 has long been caught in localization controversy, with the GameCube American version portraying the character Vivian as a traditional female despite a more ambiguous, ironic take in Japan. The Switch Western translation switches her orientation back the other way...thus making the above smooch between Mario and the girl now one with a boy. And yes, it's somehow not quite the same.

Live a Live's Super Famicom version might as well have been erased in the wake of the Switch edition.

Would anyone condone rewriting The Hobbit at the expense of the original? If not, why should it be any different with movies or video games?