I remember the first time I encountered Poseidon in classical literature during my university studies—the way his trident could shake both earth and sea left a lasting impression on me. This memory resurfaced recently when I was thinking about the Suikoden I&II HD Remaster announcement from 2022, which finally arrived after two and a half years of delays. There's something fascinating about how both Poseidon's myths and this gaming remaster deal with the weight of expectations versus reality. Just as Poseidon commanded the oceans with his divine power, game developers hold the power to resurrect classic titles, though the results can be as unpredictable as the sea god's temperament.
When we examine Poseidon's domain over earthquakes and storms alongside the gaming industry's remaster trends, we find striking parallels in how power manifests and sometimes disappoints. The original Suikoden II copies now command prices in the hundreds—I've seen them go for $300 to $500 in collector markets—which reminds me of how Poseidon's favor was once sought by ancient cities through valuable sacrifices. Both represent forms of value that transcend their original contexts, becoming legendary through scarcity and reputation. Yet the English version of Suikoden II contained several well-known, game-breaking bugs that somehow never diminished its legendary status, much like how Poseidon's destructive tendencies in myths never lessened his worship.
What fascinates me most is how both mythological figures and beloved game franchises undergo modern reinterpretations. Konami's promise of beautiful HD graphics and bonus features for the Suikoden remaster parallels how each generation reimagines Poseidon's imagery—from ancient pottery to Renaissance paintings to modern films. Having studied classical mythology for over fifteen years, I've noticed that the most enduring figures share this adaptability. Poseidon appears in everything from Homer's epics to the Percy Jackson series, each iteration adding layers to his character while preserving his core identity as the earth-shaker. The gaming industry does something similar with remasters, though I've often wondered if some developers truly understand what made the originals special.
The two-and-a-half-year delay for the Suikoden remaster makes me think about the gaps in our understanding of Poseidon's worship practices. We know he had major temples at Sounion and Corinth, but much of the daily ritual remains mysterious—archaeologists are still piecing together evidence from maybe 40-50 significant sites across the Mediterranean. Similarly, game developers working on remasters must reconstruct design decisions from incomplete documentation, sometimes introducing new issues while fixing old ones. I'm particularly curious about whether the Suikoden remaster addressed those original bugs or if they've been preserved as "charming quirks"—a debate we also see in mythological studies about whether to "clean up" problematic aspects of ancient gods for modern audiences.
Poseidon's relationships with other gods—his conflicts with Athena over Athens, his support for the Greeks during the Trojan War—demonstrate how power operates within systems and constraints. This reminds me of Konami operating within market expectations and technical limitations. The company's decision to bundle both games at a low price reflects strategic thinking worthy of Poseidon's political maneuvering on Olympus. From my perspective as both a mythology enthusiast and gaming consumer, this approach makes sense commercially, but I worry it might compromise the individual identity of each game, much like how Poseidon's various local cults sometimes lost their distinctiveness as Panhellenic worship standardized.
What strikes me as particularly interesting is how both mythological narratives and game remasters deal with the passage of time. Poseidon's myths evolved over centuries, with his character becoming more complex as Greek civilization expanded across the Mediterranean. The Suikoden games have undergone their own evolution—from expensive physical artifacts to accessible digital products. Having paid nearly $400 for a original Suikoden II copy back in 2015, I have mixed feelings about the HD version's accessibility. While I want these classics to reach new audiences, part of me wonders if removing the scarcity diminishes the specialness, similar to how widespread literacy changed our relationship with myths that were once exclusive to ritual contexts.
As I reflect on Poseidon's enduring legacy—his symbols still recognizable thousands of years later—I'm reminded that successful preservation requires balancing authenticity with accessibility. The delayed Suikoden remaster makes me appreciate how difficult this balance is to achieve. Having played through numerous classical mythology adaptations and game remasters over the years, I've come to believe the most successful ones retain the soul of the original while making meaningful improvements. Poseidon would likely appreciate this approach—the god who both maintained the oceans' fundamental nature while constantly reshaping coastlines and islands. The true test for any reinterpretation, whether of myths or games, isn't perfection but whether it captures the essential power that made the original compelling in the first place.