Skill Issue or Game Design Issue? Ranking Sequels Where the Hero Forgot Everything They Learned
There is a specific kind of betrayal that only video games can deliver. You spend dozens of hours becoming an unstoppable force — mastering combos, unlocking abilities, wielding weapons that could level a small country — and then the sequel boots up and goes, "Hey, remember all that? Gone. Here's a basic sword and three health points. Good luck."
This is the protagonist downgrade. And it is, depending on the execution, either a totally defensible design decision or a creative crime that deserves to be prosecuted in a court of law.
We're ranking the most notorious cases. The tier system goes like this: S Tier = Narratively Justified, A Tier = Annoying But Forgivable, B Tier = Lazy But Whatever, C Tier = Disrespectful, D Tier = Unforgivable. Delete the Save File.
S Tier: Narratively Justified (We Respect The Craft)
Kratos — God of War (2018)
Here's the thing about Kratos losing his Greek god arsenal and showing up in Norse mythology with basically a hatchet and emotional baggage: it works. The man left his old life behind. He's hiding. He doesn't want to be the guy who could rip Ares in half with his bare hands. The power downgrade is the point. It's a character study disguised as a soft reboot, and the slow rebuild of both his abilities and his relationship with Atreus mirrors the thematic arc perfectly.
Does it sting a little that the God of War is getting dunked on by random Norse trolls in the first hour? Yes. Is it intentional and earned? Also yes. Kratos gets a pass. One of the few.
A Tier: Annoying But Forgivable
Link — The Legend of Zelda (basically every entry)
Link has a condition. We don't know what it is medically, but every time a new Zelda game starts, this man wakes up in a field with no memory of his previous adventures, no weapons, and no explanation for why the Hookshot isn't just in his pocket. Breath of the Wild at least gave us a lore reason — he was in a healing coma for 100 years, which is fair. But classic-era Link forgetting how to use the Boomerang between A Link to the Past and Ocarina of Time? That's just Link being Link.
It's forgivable because Zelda's non-linear timeline means these are often different Links. But if we're being honest, it still feels like every game is daring you to ask, "Dude, didn't you literally do this before?"
Samus Aran — Metroid: Other M
This one slides into A Tier only because the concept of Samus having her powers restricted is classic Metroid DNA. The execution, however, is where Other M gets complicated. Having Samus wait for Adam's verbal authorization to use abilities she clearly already possesses — including the Varia Suit while she's literally on fire — crossed from gameplay mechanic into character assassination territory for a lot of fans. The downgrade wasn't just mechanical; it felt like it contradicted years of characterization. Still, the framework of losing and regaining powers is Metroid's whole thing, so we'll be generous here.
B Tier: Lazy But Whatever
Master Chief — Halo (across the series)
Chief doesn't dramatically lose abilities between games so much as the games quietly shuffle his toolkit every time. Certain weapons disappear, certain grenades get nerfed, movement feels different. It's not egregious, but there's a cumulative sense that the Chief is being quietly managed rather than evolved. It's the game design equivalent of your IT department remotely uninstalling software you use every day without telling you.
Dante — Devil May Cry 2
Dante went from the charismatic, wall-running, one-liner-dropping demon slayer of the original to a mostly silent, oddly sluggish protagonist in the sequel — and the gameplay reflected the personality collapse. The combat was slower, the enemy design was weaker, and Dante himself felt like a rough draft of the character Capcom had already finished. They course-corrected hard with DMC3, but DMC2 Dante remains a cautionary tale about letting a sequel team inherit a character they clearly didn't understand.
C Tier: Disrespectful
Isaac Clarke — Dead Space 3
Isaac Clarke survived two of the most horrifying experiences in science fiction gaming. He is a man forged in absolute nightmare. So why, in Dead Space 3, does the game lean so hard into co-op resource grinding and action-shooter mechanics that Isaac's carefully built identity as a desperate, resourceful survivor basically dissolves? His competence didn't disappear exactly, but the feel of being Isaac — that claustrophobic, every-bullet-counts tension — got diluted into something that felt more like a Gears of War skin. The character deserved better than to become a vehicle for microtransaction ammo packs.
Raiden — Metal Gear Solid 2 (honorable mention)
Okay, technically Raiden becoming the protagonist of MGS2 isn't a sequel downgrade in the traditional sense — it's more of a bait-and-switch. But the collective experience of players expecting to control Snake and getting Raiden, a comparatively inexperienced rookie, is the spiritual ancestor of every protagonist downgrade complaint that came after. Kojima was making a point about player expectations, and it was genius. It was also genuinely maddening. Both things are true.
D Tier: Unforgivable. Delete the Save File.
Rinoa — Final Fantasy VIII (just kidding, but also)
We're saving this slot for a broader phenomenon: any JRPG sequel that strips your maxed-out party, takes all your gear, and opens with the protagonist getting knocked out in a cutscene before the title screen even loads. You know the one. There's always one. The hero who saved the world in part one wakes up in part two getting beaten by slimes. The game calls it "a fresh start." We call it a personal attack.
Final Verdict: Design Choice or Disrespect?
Here's the honest breakdown: protagonist downgrades are almost always a gameplay necessity dressed up in narrative clothing. Developers need to give players something to work toward, which means the character has to start from a lower baseline. The good ones make you feel like the regression is meaningful — like Kratos choosing a quieter life. The bad ones just hand you a stick and hope you don't notice the guy used to have a rocket launcher.
The real question isn't whether the downgrade happens. It's whether the game respects you enough to explain why. And if the answer is "just because," well — that's a D Tier move, and we'll be noting it in the official record.
Debate your rankings in the comments. Defend your favorites. And if anyone says Dante in DMC2 was actually good, we need to hear your full argument, no judgment, we're just curious.
