Open any gaming forum right now and you’ll find the same tired argument playing out for the thousandth time: Is Oblivion Remastered actually a remake? Was Until Dawn’s $60 re-release justified as a full remake or just an overpriced remaster? Should we call these things reimaginings instead? The terms ‘remake’ and ‘remaster’ used to mean something specific in gaming. Now they’re marketing buzzwords that publishers slap on whatever sells better, leaving players confused and angry about what they’re actually buying.
The confusion reached peak absurdity in April 2025 when Bethesda released The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion Remastered. Despite the name literally containing ‘remastered,’ half the gaming community insists it’s actually a remake because it uses Unreal Engine 5 and rebuilt all the assets. Bethesda published multiple statements clarifying it’s definitely a remaster, not a remake. Players still argue about it daily. This mess perfectly captures why these definitions have become meaningless.
What These Terms Actually Mean
Let’s start with the traditional definitions that everyone supposedly agrees on but nobody actually follows. A remaster takes the original game, keeps the same code and assets, then enhances them for modern hardware. Think higher resolution textures, improved lighting, maybe 60fps instead of 30fps. The game underneath is identical – same engine, same assets, same gameplay. You’re just making the existing product look prettier on newer displays and hardware.
A remake, by contrast, rebuilds the game from scratch. New engine, new assets, new code. The gameplay and story might stay faithful to the original, but you’re creating an entirely new product that replicates the old one rather than enhancing it. Resident Evil 2 Remake is the textbook example – Capcom rebuilt that game completely in their RE Engine, creating new models, environments, animations, and mechanics while keeping the core story and structure.
Simple enough, right? Remaster equals enhancement, remake equals rebuild. Except nobody uses these definitions consistently anymore, including the publishers themselves.
Where It All Went Wrong
The line started blurring around 2015 when technology advanced enough that ‘remasters’ could do more than just upscale resolution. Games like The Last of Us Remastered on PS4 looked dramatically better than the PS3 original, but Naughty Dog still called it a remaster because they used the same underlying code and assets, just heavily enhanced.
Then came projects that sat uncomfortably in the middle. Demon’s Souls on PS5 used entirely new assets and looked completely different from the original, but the gameplay code underneath allegedly still referenced the original game’s structure. Is that a remake or a very aggressive remaster? Bluepoint called it a remake. Some fans argued it should be called a reimagining. Nobody agreed.
Publishers realized calling something a ‘remake’ justified higher price tags. Until Dawn’s PS5 version launched at $60 despite being only nine years old and available for under $10 on PS4. Sony called it a remake to justify the premium pricing, even though many players felt it looked more like an enhanced remaster than a ground-up rebuild.
The Oblivion Controversy
Oblivion Remastered became the flashpoint for this debate in 2025 because it embodied every confusion about these terms. Bethesda partnered with Virtuous (the studio behind Dark Souls Remastered on Switch) and spent four years updating Oblivion. The result uses Unreal Engine 5 for graphics while supposedly keeping the original Gamebryo engine code for gameplay systems.
So is it a remake or remaster? Bethesda’s official statement couldn’t be clearer: ‘We never wanted to remake it – but remaster it – where the original game was there as you remember playing it, but seen through today’s technology.’ The name literally says Remastered. Multiple press releases call it a remaster. And yet thousands of players insist it’s actually a remake.
Their argument makes some sense. The game uses an entirely different graphics engine. Every asset was rebuilt from scratch – characters, environments, textures, everything. The animations are new. Combat has been modernized. If you’re replacing literally every visual element and changing the rendering engine, isn’t that a remake by definition?
Bethesda’s counter-argument: The core Gamebryo code that controls quests, AI, gameplay systems, and all the underlying mechanics is still the original 2006 code with enhancements. They didn’t rebuild the game – they rebuilt how it looks while keeping the ‘brain’ intact. That’s what makes it a remaster in their eyes, even if it looks dramatically different.
The Dual Engine Problem
Oblivion Remastered’s approach of using dual engines – original Gamebryo for gameplay, Unreal 5 for graphics – creates this definitional nightmare. It’s simultaneously a remaster (same core code) and a remake (entirely new visual assets). Players expecting a traditional remaster feel like they’re getting more than they paid for. Players who wanted a full remake feel shortchanged that the janky 2006 systems are still lurking underneath the pretty graphics.
The confusion led to bizarre situations where fans complained about ‘bugs in the remake’ while others corrected them saying ‘it’s a remaster, those are the original bugs you remember.’ Some reviews praised how much work went into this remaster. Others criticized Bethesda for calling it a remaster when they clearly remade all the assets. Nobody agreed on what the game actually is.
And here’s the kicker – it doesn’t really matter what Bethesda calls it. The label doesn’t change what you’re buying. But the confusion absolutely affects purchasing decisions when players can’t tell if they’re getting a minor upscale or a substantial overhaul.
When Publishers Deliberately Mislead
The cynical truth is some publishers intentionally blur these definitions for marketing advantage. Calling something a remake justifies charging $60 or $70 for a game people already bought once. Calling it a remaster sets lower expectations but risks underwhelming players who expected more substantial changes.
Until Dawn on PS5 epitomizes this marketing dance. Sony labeled it a remake and charged full price. The game features rebuilt character models, new cinematography, revised opening sequences, accessibility improvements, and visual upgrades. Is that enough to qualify as a remake? Many players said no, arguing it’s fundamentally the same 2015 game with a fresh coat of paint – the definition of a remaster.
But Sony knew calling it a remaster would tank sales. Who pays $60 for a remaster of a game that was free on PS Plus Collection? So they called it a remake, justified the premium pricing, and dealt with the inevitable backlash from players who felt misled about the scope of changes.
The result? Until Dawn remake underperformed commercially while generating more conversation about whether it was worth the money than about the actual game. Poor sales likely hurt developer Ballistic Moon’s reputation despite them delivering quality work. All because the marketing label created wrong expectations.
The Grand Theft Auto Disaster
Then there’s Rockstar calling the GTA Trilogy Definitive Edition a ‘remaster’ despite rebuilding it in a completely new engine with new assets by an external developer. By the traditional definitions, that’s a remake – new code, new engine, new assets. But Rockstar called it a remaster, set remaster-level expectations and pricing, then delivered a product that felt like neither a good remaster nor a competent remake.
Players expected the original games with enhanced visuals. Instead they got rebuilt versions that looked and played differently, complete with new bugs, changed aesthetics, and controversial character models. If Rockstar had called it a remake from the start, expectations might have been different. But they chose remaster, presumably to avoid implying they were changing the beloved originals too much.
These marketing decisions based on buzzwords rather than accurate descriptions create mistrust. Players stop believing publisher labels and instead wait for reviews and player impressions to understand what they’re actually buying. The terms lose all meaning when publishers use them strategically rather than descriptively.
Why It Actually Matters
You might argue this is just semantics – who cares what they call it if the game is good? But these labels directly impact consumer purchasing decisions. A $20 remaster is an easy impulse buy for fans. A $60 remake better justify that premium by substantially improving the experience. When the labels don’t match the product, players feel scammed.
The confusion also affects development priorities. If publishers can slap ‘remake’ on projects that are closer to remasters and charge premium prices, they’re incentivized to do the minimum work necessary to justify the label. Why invest two years completely rebuilding a game when you can spend six months enhancing assets, call it a remake anyway, and charge the same price?
Legitimate remakes that do substantial work get lost in the noise. When everything from simple ports to ground-up rebuilds gets called a remake or remaster interchangeably, consumers can’t distinguish quality products from cash grabs. Reviews help, but most purchasing decisions happen before reviews land, based purely on marketing materials using these increasingly meaningless terms.
The Preservation Angle
There’s also a game preservation concern. When publishers remake or remaster titles, they often delist the originals. Can’t buy the PS4 Until Dawn on its own anymore – Sony wants you buying the $60 PS5 version. Same with many remasters that replace the original versions on digital storefronts.
If we can’t accurately distinguish between remasters that preserve original experiences and remakes that substantially alter them, we lose the ability to advocate for keeping originals available. Some players prefer the original Until Dawn’s fixed camera angles. Too bad – the remake switched to over-the-shoulder and that’s your only option now if you want to play on modern hardware.
Clear definitions would help preservation advocates argue for keeping originals accessible when remakes take creative liberties. But when nobody agrees what qualifies as a remake versus remaster, that conversation becomes impossible.
Proposed Solutions Nobody Will Adopt
Some communities have tried establishing clearer terminology. The concept of ‘reimagining’ for games that rebuild from scratch while taking creative liberties – like Final Fantasy 7 Remake dramatically expanding and changing the story. Or ‘reboot’ for projects that restart a series with modern sensibilities rather than faithfully recreating the original.
These terms help, but they require industry-wide adoption to mean anything. When publishers ignore community-established definitions and use whatever marketing term tests best with focus groups, agreed-upon terminology becomes useless.
The PC Gamer community and various gaming subreddits have created elaborate classification systems: Type A remakes repaint existing skeletons with new assets. Type B remakes rebuild entirely from scratch. Remasters enhance without changing. Ports simply transfer between platforms. These granular distinctions are helpful for discussion but will never influence actual publisher marketing.
What Actually Helps
Honestly? Ignoring the labels entirely. Wait for reviews, watch gameplay footage, read community impressions. Judge the product on what it actually is rather than what marketing calls it. A good remake by any other name is still worth playing. A lazy remaster doesn’t improve because they called it a remake.
The Oblivion Remastered controversy is instructive here. Once players got hands-on, the debate shifted from ‘is it a remake?’ to ‘is it good?’ Turns out it’s a solid modernization of a classic RPG regardless of terminology. The label mattered less than whether you enjoyed exploring Cyrodiil with improved graphics and quality-of-life features.
Same with Until Dawn. The remake or remaster debate generated months of arguments, but players who actually played it generally agreed it’s a quality horror experience whether you call it a remake, remaster, or enhanced port. The semantic argument was less important than whether the $60 asking price matched the value delivered.
The Future Looks Messy
Don’t expect this confusion to resolve anytime soon. If anything, advancing technology will blur these lines further. As AI-assisted development tools make asset creation faster, the line between enhanced remaster and full remake will get even fuzzier. A hypothetical 2027 project might AI-generate new assets based on original artwork in weeks – is that a remake or just a very aggressive remaster?
The industry has zero incentive to standardize these terms. Publishers benefit from flexibility to position products however marketing dictates. Developer interviews show even internal teams disagree on classifications for their own projects. Bethesda spent four years insisting Oblivion Remastered is a remaster while building something many would call a remake. That’s not changing.
What will change is player awareness. As more remakes and remasters flood the market, consumers are learning to ignore marketing labels and focus on actual scope of changes. Show me gameplay comparisons, list specific new features, explain exactly what’s different. Marketing buzzwords mean nothing when I can watch a Digital Foundry breakdown showing precisely how the game changed.
Frequently Asked Questions
What’s the difference between a remake and remaster?
Traditionally, a remaster enhances the original game’s existing assets and code for modern hardware, while a remake rebuilds the game from scratch with new assets and code. However, publishers increasingly use these terms interchangeably for marketing purposes, making the distinction less meaningful.
Is Oblivion Remastered actually a remake?
Bethesda calls it a remaster because it uses the original Gamebryo engine code for gameplay systems despite rebuilding all visual assets in Unreal Engine 5. Whether you consider that a remake or remaster depends on your definition, which is precisely the problem.
Why do publishers confuse these terms?
Publishers use whichever term marketing research suggests will sell better. Calling something a remake can justify higher prices, while calling it a remaster sets lower expectations. Accuracy matters less than sales strategy.
Was Until Dawn a remake or remaster?
Sony labeled Until Dawn on PS5 a remake and charged $60. It features rebuilt assets, new scenes, and gameplay improvements, but many players felt it was closer to an enhanced remaster given how much remained unchanged from the 2015 original.
Does it matter what they call it?
Yes, because these labels affect pricing expectations and purchasing decisions. Players expect different things from a $20 remaster versus a $60 remake. Mislabeling creates disappointment and mistrust even when the underlying product is good.
Should I trust publisher labels?
No. Wait for reviews, gameplay footage, and community impressions to understand what’s actually changing in a remake or remaster. Publisher marketing labels are increasingly unreliable indicators of a project’s scope.
What’s a reimagining?
A reimagining is an unofficial term for remakes that take substantial creative liberties with the source material, like Final Fantasy 7 Remake dramatically expanding the original story. It’s not an industry-standard classification.
Will these terms ever be standardized?
Unlikely. Publishers benefit from flexibility in labeling products based on marketing strategy. Without industry-wide agreement or regulatory pressure, expect continued confusion as technology makes the distinction even murkier.
Just Enjoy the Games
At the end of the day, semantic debates about remake versus remaster are exhausting distractions from what actually matters – are these games good? Oblivion Remastered delivers a beautifully modernized version of a classic RPG. Until Dawn on PS5 offers an excellent horror experience. Whether you call them remakes, remasters, or reimaginings doesn’t change the entertainment value.
The confusion will continue. Publishers will keep using whichever term sells better. Fans will keep arguing about definitions on Reddit and gaming forums. And none of it will matter if the underlying product delivers quality entertainment.
So here’s my advice: Stop caring about the labels. Judge each release on its own merits based on actual gameplay footage, feature lists, and reviews. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, and a great remake called a remaster is still worth playing. Focus on the games, not the marketing department’s vocabulary choices.