Remakes and Remasters: Why So Many Old New Releases in the World of Games?

Remakes and remasters are one of the most controversial and debated topics among gamers. On one hand, there are those who defend old games, believing that games should be appreciated in their original state, as they were made and developed, because that would be the original vision of their creators.

Others want to see new things. They wish to see their favorite games modernized and remastered so that that incredible adventure isn’t forgotten and can be enjoyed by new generations with modern graphics and more precise controls, even with a lower difficulty, so that players can enjoy the game on modern consoles.

Companies, for their own reasons, make their remakes and remasters based on their own numbers and purposes. Often, the objectives of the companies and the expectations of the players don’t align. The quality of the games doesn’t always meet expectations, and many problems can occur, but the question is: Why so many remakes and remasters? Let's talk about how companies have focused on bringing back old games with new looks and how players have received this. If you have any questions, leave a comment.

The debate about remakes and remasters never cools down in the gaming world, precisely because this type of project touches on three sensitive areas: money, sentimental value, and preservation. On the one hand, these re-releases boost the industry and give new life to franchises that have already proven their worth. On the other hand, they generate constant criticism when they seem to exist only to fill the calendar or exploit fans.

Understanding this scenario requires looking at the motivations behind the companies, their successes, their mistakes, and the cases where the public simply doesn't see the need for rework. At the same time, it's worth analyzing why so many series requested years ago remain shelved, even with clear demand.

The most obvious reason for the existence of remakes and remasters is economic. Producing something based on an already known game always involves less risk than betting on a new franchise. The industry itself openly acknowledges this: remasters and remakes are investments with predictable returns because they start from an already established brand and an audience that usually has some prior connection with the title.

Market data shows that remakes, in fact, tend to generate an average player spend more than double compared to remasters, precisely because they require more rework and are sold as "complete experiences." This logic of risk reduction also appears in developers' comments.

Several studios see remastering a game as a pragmatic decision: it involves less effort than creating something entirely new and guarantees a stable source of revenue while other larger projects advance behind the scenes. Furthermore, re-releases serve as part of a strategic plan, filling gaps in the release schedule.

When a studio knows that its big sequel is still far from finished, putting a remake in the middle of it keeps the franchise alive, occupies the attention of the public and media, and prevents the series' name from disappearing for too long.

Another factor is the opportunity to train teams. Updating an existing game is usually a more controlled process than developing something from scratch. Smaller studios or newly formed groups can learn the production pipeline without the full pressure of a brand-new title. This keeps talent working, prevents long periods of inactivity, and also helps publishers organize their internal structure.

But the motivations aren't just financial. There's also a creative side linked to the idea of ​​rejuvenating franchises. Many remakes manage to update controls, cameras, interface design, lighting, and even narrative structure without erasing what made the original work. The result is a game that respects the past but delivers a current technical standard, accessible to those who’ve never had contact with the original work. This balance, when well done, usually attracts both old and new players, expanding the brand's reach without straying from its essence.

The renewed interest from the media and players is also relevant. A well-made remake reignites discussions, analyses, videos, and comparisons, bringing back themes, characters, and stories that have been off the radar for years. Nostalgia fuels this movement, but it can’t sustain everything on its own: the work needs to have enough strength to exist in the present as well.

When a remake is well-executed, the result often becomes a benchmark within the industry itself. One of the most cited examples is the remake of Resident Evil 2, released in 2019. Capcom managed to modernize a 1998 classic without erasing the tense atmosphere that defined the original game.

The visuals received a complete reconstruction, the controls abandoned their old rigidity, and the narrative was reorganized to fit a contemporary pacing pattern. Even so, the game preserved the survival horror, and Leon and Claire's campaigns continued to function as two complementary points of view, maintaining suspense and impact. Critical and public reception showed that there’s value in rethinking a classic when there’s real care in the process.

Another example is Final Fantasy VII Remake, from 2020, which took one of the most celebrated titles of the 90s and delivered something that wasn’t just a modernization, but a reinterpretation. The game retained essential elements—memorable characters, high-quality visuals, strong music, and emotional appeal—while adopting a hybrid battle system, mixing real-time action with tactical pauses.

The expansion of several story segments gave extra depth to the protagonists and reinforced their personalities. This type of approach divided opinions among purists, but garnered consistent praise and millions of units sold, proving that a remake can also function as a platform to reinvent an experience, as long as it doesn't distort what made the original beloved.

There are also cases of extreme fidelity, such as the 2018 remake of Shadow of the Colossus. There, the goal wasn't to reinvent anything, but rather to rebuild everything with current technology, maintaining every detail, atmosphere, and intention of the original PS2 game. Several aspects were modernized, such as movement, cameras, accessibility, and performance, but the contemplative essence—that feeling of solitude and grandeur during the confrontations with each colossus—remained untouched. The technical and artistic care made this remake a perfect gateway for both those who played it back then and those experiencing it for the first time.

While there are celebrated remakes, there are also examples of complete disasters. One of the most infamous cases is Warcraft III: Reforged, released in 2020. Despite promising to be the "definitive version" of the strategy classic, the game ended up delivering less than the original, with the loss of basic functions. Several features disappeared when updating to Reforged: ranked lobbies, offline mode, clans, automatic tournaments, and even custom campaigns created by the community.

To make matters worse, there were serious technical flaws, from strange textures to animations inferior to those of the 2002 game. The controversial EULA that gave Blizzard rights over any mod created by players worsened the situation. The result was massive rejection and a historically low user score.

Another negative example is GTA: The Trilogy – Definitive Edition, from 2021, which was supposed to relaunch GTA III, Vice City, and San Andreas in a modern collection. What the public received, however, was an edition riddled with grotesque bugs, graphical problems, absurdly heavy artificial rain, deformed objects, and glitches so significant that the PC version was unavailable for days.

Furthermore, important songs were removed due to licensing issues, including iconic tracks that helped define the mood of the originals. The combination of technical errors, inconsistent aesthetics, and questionable decisions turned the release into a widely discussed fiasco.

These examples show that the public doesn't inherently reject remakes. The problem arises when the company promises more than it delivers, removes content, or releases something clearly below the expected technical standard. The frustration grows even more when the original remains available and, paradoxically, works better than the re-release.

Not all remakes fail due to technical problems. Sometimes, the audience simply doesn't see a reason for their existence. This often happens when the original work remains fully playable, visually acceptable, and available on modern platforms. In this scenario, the remake ends up being perceived as redundant.

A recent case that raised this discussion was the remake of Until Dawn, released in 2024. The original game is from 2015, that is, from a previous generation, but still technically current and accessible on PS4 and PS5. There’s no real barrier preventing someone from playing it today. Therefore, many players questioned the reason for remaking something so recent, especially when the new version doesn't add profound changes beyond moderate visual improvements.

Some critics classified this type of rework as unnecessary, reinforcing the idea that remakes should prioritize forgotten works, those stuck on outdated hardware, or those difficult to access legally.

The remakes for the PS5 generation ended up becoming a central point of debate about the real need for these projects, mainly because of cases like The Last of Us Part I and The Last of Us Part II Remastered. Both arrived at times when the original games were still perfectly accessible, beautiful, and technically solid on current hardware, which left many people with the feeling that they were paying again for something they already owned, and the PS5 gained a reputation for being a "console to play PS4 games".

In the case of the first game, the visual leap existed, but it didn't significantly change the experience, reinforcing the idea that it was more about capitalizing on a strong brand than reviving a forgotten title. The second game, however, received a remaster with modest improvements, reopening the discussion about premature re-releases.

This contrast became even more evident when compared to Demon's Souls, a remake that was well-received by the public precisely because it rescued a game stuck on the PS3, improving everything without altering its core. This debate is frequently repeated. Consumers and analysts point out that paying a high price for a game practically identical to the original, with only superficial tweaks, doesn't make sense. At these times, the impression is that nostalgia is being exploited more than the work itself is being valued.

On the other side of the conversation, there's the frustration with games that the public has been asking for for years, but which never receive a remake or remaster, as in the case of Chrono Trigger, the acclaimed RPG for the Super Nintendo. When this happens, the reasons are usually less romantic and more practical.

The first barrier is technical. Some older games have lost or fragmented source code, engines highly dependent on specific hardware, cameras that are too rigid to adapt, and structures that simply don't fit well with modern technologies. In many cases, rebuilding everything from scratch costs more than creating a new game. The company needs to assess whether it's worth taking on this expense.

The second barrier involves copyright. Games that depend on external licenses—music, trademarks, real people, cars, movies—face heavy bureaucracy. Sometimes, the company doesn't even know who owns the rights to certain elements. It also happens that music labels charge such high fees that they make a new version unfeasible. It was precisely this type of complication that prevented the inclusion of several songs in the GTA collection, for example.

The third barrier is commercial value. Not every cult classic has a large enough audience to justify a heavy investment. Fan passion doesn't automatically mean the project will be profitable.

There are games with dedicated communities, but they are too small to fund a multimillion-dollar remake. Many works end up forgotten for this reason, even with historical importance. A large part of the studies on game preservation highlights this point: many titles are left out of the market not because they lack appeal, but because they would generate insufficient financial return.

Adding it all up — enormous cost, legal risks, and limited audience — the result is a scenario in which several beloved franchises remain stagnant, even with the players' desire to see them renewed.