On the short list of rock-star game designers, Hideo Kojima ranks near the top. To many a geek he is a gaming god, his work unimpeachable. It's a lovefest dating back as far as 1998, when Kojima's magnum opus, Metal Gear Solid, first took its bows on the PlayStation One. With its epic—if routinely boggling—storyline, burly graphics, and inspired stealth action (translation: sneak around to complete your mission), MGS set the high-water mark for Sony's first console, making nearly every game before it immediately obsolete.

A sequel, of course, was in the offing, and three years later Kojima debuted Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty on the PlayStation 2. As departures go, MGS2 can be filed under "radical," kicking the series's beloved (and belovedly mulleted) hero Solid Snake to the curb early on, and replacing him with a blond (and blondly mulleted) pretty boy named Raiden. Gamers freaked the fuck out, registering their tsks on forums and generally bashing Raiden at every available chance. And yet, despite the controversy, MGS2 still sold well; the characters and storyline may have been found lacking (at least compared to the previous game), but that didn't stop the callous-palmed legions from forking over cash. Kojima, it seemed, wasn't just innovative, he could do no wrong.

Then came Ubisoft's Splinter Cell, which not only carried the big stick of having Tom Clancy's name above its title, but also completely redefined the stealth genre. Suddenly the Metal Gear Solid games seemed quaint in comparison, with their top-down cameras, comparatively cheesy storylines, and overreliance on enemy patterns. Splinter Cell offered something entirely new to the genre Kojima helped turn into a monster—a feeling of freedom; and Solid Snake, with his hokey dialogue and cartoonish villains, was quickly a dinosaur.

Until 2004, that is, when Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater made its way to the PlayStation 2. Completely redefining the MGS series, Snake Eater brought Solid Snake into the wild, removing the now-standard MGS stealth gimmicks—walls, large crates to hide behind, etc.—and instead giving him meager camouflage with which to complete his mission. The results were not entirely groundbreaking (the camera remained top-down, and the dialogue remained far too prevalent and cheesy), but the game on the whole was pure genius. Solid Snake was back.

After a brief break, Kojima has now returned with the clumsily titled Metal Gear Solid 3: Subsistence, a buff and polish job that helps to complete MGS's return to relevancy. Online play is available, along with many more bells and whistles, but the biggest improvement this go around is a free camera, which finally allows players the feeling of independence the Splinter Cell games spoiled them with. Gone are the shackles—Metal Gear Solid has at last joined the current generation, and at a mere $25, the improvement is hard to resist, even if you've already played the original. Kojima the gaming god is once again worthy of your obedience.