Days Gone Remastered er flott – men føles meningsløst ved siden av glemselen

So, I finally got around to playing Days Gone Remastered—which, if you’ve been online in the past week, you know came out in the worst possible window: three days after Oblivion Remastered dropped like a nostalgia nuke on our collective brain. I was curious. Not just about the technical upgrades, but about what a "remaster" really means these days. After putting hours into both, the difference is staggering—and kind of existential.

Let’s start with the good: Days Gone Remastered looks great. It really does. It’s $10, and for that, you get a visually cleaner, smoother, and more immersive version of the original. Oregon’s forests are still stunning, now with better lighting that adds some real drama to its rainstorms and sunsets. The new haptics on the DualSense are surprisingly well implemented—you can feel the throttle of Deacon’s bike, and there’s a satisfying weight to everything from gunfire to opening doors. The remaster is polished, responsive, and technically tight.

But the more I played it, the more it felt like déjà vu in 4K. Not in a nostalgic way—more like painting your wall the same color it already was. Yeah, it’s shinier now. But it’s still the same wall.

"This is exactly how I remember Days Gone, which is both good and bad."

And that’s the weird part. It hasn’t been that long since the original came out. Six years. That’s not much in game time, especially for a title that didn’t exactly beg for a visual overhaul. Unlike Oblivion, which practically needed CPR to bring it into the 2020s, Days Gone already looked decent. Functional. Gritty. Fine.

Which is what makes this remaster feel a bit... hollow?

The Pretty Apocalypse

What’s aged well still works beautifully. The feeling of being hunted by a swarm of freakers (zombies, but with more feral sprinting) is still top-tier panic fuel. That moment you’re sprinting through brush, heartbeat maxed out, ducking behind a tree as 80 monsters roar past—you don’t get that from many other games.

"I'm yet to play another game that conveys the same breathless panic of running from a zombie horde."

The Oregon setting still rules. It’s rugged and quiet in a way that gives off strong DayZ vibes. The survival mechanics still feel grounded and grimy. And the motorcycle? It’s your lifeline. You feel every mod you install and every part you scavenge. That part of the game still sings.

But then there’s Deacon. And oh man, Deacon still won’t shut up.

"Protagonist Deacon St. John has a crippling inability to shut up and let players come to their own conclusions."

It’s like someone gave Kratos a podcast and told him to narrate every step. He talks through eavesdropping missions. He monologues while looting. He mutters canned grief speeches like he's applying for a sad-boy scholarship. I want to like him—really—but the vibe constantly shifts between brooding lone wolf and Reddit philosopher with a camo vest. It’s… a lot.

And Then There Was Oblivion

Now here’s where the existential dread kicks in.

Oblivion Remastered is a full transformation. It looks different. Feels different. But it also retains its 2006 weirdness, which somehow makes it more charming. It's janky, yes—but knowingly so. The improvements are meaningful, not just cosmetic. It made me appreciate not only how far we’ve come in game design, but how lovingly a game can be restored without sanding off its edges.

Compare that to Days Gone Remastered, which feels more like it got a power-wash and a new coat of clear varnish.

"Days Gone Remastered shares the same naming strategy, but in practice is more like Days Gone (Improved A Bit Edition)."

Oblivion's remaster feels like a celebration of an era. Days Gone's feels like a do-over that nobody really asked for.

And that’s not even meant to be an insult. Days Gone has a loyal fanbase. It’s been gaining appreciation over time, especially from people who stuck with it. The new Horde Assault mode adds a legitimately fun arcade survival element, and there’s still plenty of meat on the bone. But when placed next to Oblivion, it feels like one game was rebuilt with love, and the other was... patched with a budget.

The Problem With Pretty

The core issue here isn’t graphics. Its purpose.

"Whether it needed to be sold at all, or as a remaster – an umbrella term that becomes less cohesive with each passing year – is something I have more trouble pinning down."

That line nails it. We’re hitting a weird point in gaming where “remaster” is losing all meaning. Some remasters are full-on reconstructions (Resident Evil 4, Final Fantasy VII). Others, like this, are more like PS5-optimized editions with a price tag and a splash screen. That’s fine, technically, but confusing as hell for consumers.

It also raises uncomfortable questions about how fast we’re cycling through nostalgia. Are we really so hungry for retro-futurism that a 2019 game needs a second life in 2025? Can a game even be missed in that short a span?

The answer is probably no. But it’s happening anyway.

Days Gone's Identity Crisis

I don’t regret spending $10 on Days Gone Remastered. The improvements are subtle, but real. If you’ve never played it and own a PS5, it’s a fine way to experience it. But I can’t shake the feeling that it exists more for catalog completeness than anything else.

"This is a subtle round of polish catering to existing fans, with the added possibility that it will make for a better first impression on PS5 newcomers."

There’s nothing wrong with that. But it doesn’t excite me either.

Meanwhile, Oblivion Remastered reminds me why I loved games to begin with. The clunky animations, the potato-faced NPCs, the over-dramatic dialogue—it all lands perfectly because the glow-up is backed by nostalgia and depth. It earns the term “remaster.” Days Gone just barely qualifies.

Still Worth the Ten Bucks, But...

Days Gone Remastered is like re-watching a decent movie in HD with a better sound system. It’s crisper, louder, smoother—but still the same story, with the same flaws. And when it drops right after Oblivion Remastered, a game that pulls you back to a forgotten era and rebuilds it with care? You can’t help but notice the contrast.

Days Gone needed more than a facelift. It needed a reason to exist in 2025. And right now, that reason feels mostly like: "Why not?"

If you’re a fan, dive back in—it plays better than ever. If you're new, this is the definitive version to try. Just don’t expect it to wow you. Not after Oblivion just reminded us what a real remaster can look like.

Would you still play a remaster of a PS4-era game? Or should publishers chill on touching up things that aren't even old yet?