25 years of Zelda: An in-depth look at the greatest video game franchise ever
Starting as early as A Link to the Past, but really coming to fruition with Ocarina of Time, those with a keen eye for observation and a critical mind don’t have to think twice before figuring out the basis for the Zelda games. Sure, the games are (generally) set in the mystical and amazing land of Hyrule, and more often than not they have Link (our humble protagonist) rescuing Zelda, a damsel in distress. The story is simple, it is retold over and over again, and yet, each time we hear it, it’s as if we are going through the tale for the very first time. The fresh breath-ability of the crisp and wonderful Hyrule air fills our lungs, we rekindle connections to new friends who feel somehow familiar, and we go from being an unimpressive boy to fulfilling a destiny we can only dream about in daily life; this legend is one passed down over and over, and it’s one we are all more than familiar with. So why is it that, with each passing iteration, we feel a completely new sense of rejuvenation and wonder? Part of that has to do with the underlying meanings and messages.
Take Ocarina of Time, for example. To anyone who played through the game once, twice, or even ten times, it probably feels like a grand adventure with an unparalleled sense of wonder that can’t quite be described. This is true, but that underlying feeling of magic actually can be pinpointed. To a degree, anyhow.
To be brief, in OoT, the 1998 N64 classic, we start out as a small, seemingly unimportant kid, and the world of Hyrule is full of colorful creatures and cartoonish humor that taps into our inner childish subconscious, reminding us of the sense of size and awe we held for everything we saw in the real world. Nothing was serious to us, and yet, at the same time, every little thing we did felt like a brilliant adventure.
Like us, young Link goes through these same feelings until, one day he all-too-quickly grows up (advancing by seven years in the blink of an eye, in fact) and the world doesn’t seem so friendly anymore. It is now a dark and scary place where those who strive to hurt you are far more plentiful, your quest has far more resting on its shoulders, and the greed and darkness of the world becomes clear to you. While this age-old drama of growing up was cleverly disguised using the principal of the Master Sword as a time-traveling artifact, the now-subtler message still evokes those subconscious feelings within us. We, in real life, remember the simpler times when things were not so dark. We remember growing up all-too-quickly. We remember the darker and scarier world we now live in. We may not see it right in front of our faces like we do in movies such as Toy Story 3, but those feelings are still right with us as if they were new, and- whether we know it or not- that’s part of the Nintendo magic.
These underlying messages and themes are something Nintendo has mastered, and Miyamoto himself has indulged in saying that he enjoys giving Zelda players the same sense of wonder they had discovering a forest or a secret grotto as a child. Those childish emotions are, in large part, what Nintendo draws on when making not just Zelda games, but all of their games. You could think of them as the Pixar of video games, if you will. And it’s not just Ocarina of Time, I promise. Every post-ALttP Zelda game I can think of has a similar philosophical message that can be uncovered, but I’ll leave such detective work up to you.
Another very large part of that which makes Zelda so wondrous is its gameplay, and subsequently its accessibility. Video games have a very beautiful way of allowing someone to become more immersed in the world that they’re set in because of the direct influence the player has on the situation in which they are spending their time. Even linear titles like Mario or Call of Duty change quite a bit with each play-through when compared to books or movies, and this is part of what makes games more than worthy of artistic consideration. The problem with this is that when done poorly, gameplay can actually take a player out of an experience. A frustrating section here, a broken section there, and soon enough you’ll be switching out your game in favor of something more agreeable. Thankfully, in the case of Zelda, there is an incredibly fluid transition of movement, button pressing, sound effects, and combat design that keeps the fourth wall raised no matter what may be going on in the outside world.
