Retro Graphics Leave more to the Imagination

I've been playing through the DS remake of Chrono Trigger lately. I hadn't played CT in at least 5 years (probably more like 10), and it's really interesting to go back and check it out now that I'm not a kid.

I think the biggest thing that stands out to me is how many visual tricks the future Squenix use to manipulate the player's imagination to fill in the blanks of what's happening on screen. For example: At a late point in the game, a character is about to take off in Chrono Trigger's version of the airship from a docking bay (inside another airship, which is kind of like an aircraft carrier in the sky). The character is sitting in the cockpit, the ship is sitting on metal planks with metal walls (you know, a docking bay) and prepares to launch. Then the docking bay opens, how do I know it opens? The game applies a simple bright grey semi-transparent layer in a square over the bottom half of the scene. In the players mind, this immediately demonstrates the doors opening and light shining in.

Even when you understand the tricks Squenix is using, it's still a great effect. I think because it encourages your imagination to recreate the scene in your mind (probably by mixing images from movies or 3d games). This effect is one of the secret appeals of retro games which nobody talks about. Modern 3d games have so much painstakingly thorough detail that you admire it and then just kind of ignore it, like your friend who always "gets sick" whenever nobody's paying attention to her.

I'm not sure what it is exactly. Perhaps we just naturally interpret images in our heads, and the more abstract/indistinct it is the more striking and imaginative it is once we've got it in our heads. Think of it like looking at clouds. Whenever I see a cloud that looks like a baby riding a crocodile (for example), it always sticks with me more than a banner for party radio attached to a plane.

To be honest, when MegaMan 9 came out I began desperately hoping that more AAA game companies (at least Japanese ones) would follow and begin pumping out retro games again. It seemed like it would make fiscal sense. Modern game programmers can probably churn out all the code for a 2d platformer in a month, the art takes maybe two months (done in parallel of course) and then you have a whole 10 months left for a standard production cycle to tune/polish the hell out of the game. Realistically this means you would probably spit out a new game every 3-4 months, and they would be goldmines.

Alas, MegaMan 10 didn't sell so well, and since then I don't think there have been any similar projects. Bummer.