a part of The Missing Link series of articles

Article By Hylian Dan

Will video games as a medium be forever relegated to the pop cultural ghetto? Or will they establish themselves alongside such revered media as film, literature, and music? Designer Chris Hecker tackled this question in a keynote address covered by Gamasutra. As I reviewed his points, they strengthened my conviction that the game industry could learn a lot through a closer examination of Nintendo’s Legend of Zelda series.

Chris Hecker’s Keynote

Works of film, literature, and music are often born out of events and experiences in the lives of their creators. According to Hecker, that sort of sentiment “doesn’t show up often in game development bios.” Game developers “rarely discuss what they were trying to convey or express with a particular game, outside the confines of the game’s own entertainment value” (Gamasutra).

A game like Valve’s Left 4 Dead may have terrific entertainment value, “But it’s vacuous,” says Hecker. “It’s cool, but there’s not really any ‘there’ there.” Instead of offering insight into the human condition, video games typically offer linear “theme park rides.”

“Like literature, music, film, and other forms, games offer their own intrinsic element to add to culture. For games, it’s interactivity. That uniqueness is necessary for a form to carve out its own cultural space, and it’s what will allow games to occupy such a space if the gaming community doesn’t wall it off” (Gamasutra).

According to Hecker, game designers ought to ask themselves, “What are you trying to say, and why? And are you trying to say it with interactivity? If you can answer those, you’re on the right track.”

Interactive Life Experience

What do you take away from a Zelda game? Is your experience entertaining but vacuous – a mere “theme park ride?” Or do you find something more worthwhile and fulfilling in these games?

I believe that there is indeed something deeper at work in the Zelda games. These are games that reflect upon human experience and reveal the true beauty of life – and they do this in a way unique to their medium. They express ideas and teach lessons that have been addressed before in literature and film. But Zelda games find ways to communicate such meaning through interactivity – the element through which games will be able to grow and take their place alongside film, literature, and music in our culture.

When Shigeru Miyamoto was asked what influenced him and Takashi Tezuka in creating the original Zelda, he answered, “Books, movies and our own lives. Legend of Zelda was based on my childhood” (Superplay Magazine, April 2003).

Many gamers are familiar with stories of Miyamoto’s childhood, when he would explore the forests, lakes, and caves surrounding his hometown. If, as Zelda players, we pause and reflect for a moment, we can probably imagine much of what Miyamoto felt back in those days.

I remember playing Link’s Awakening, my first Zelda game. I remember leaving my peaceful hometown of Mabe Village to explore the Mysterious Woods, where I wound up utterly lost. I ventured further and eventually made it to the other side of the forest, where I discovered a maze-like swamp filled with monstrous vegetation.

Something about that experience was pure magic – I felt such a terrific sense of wonder and awe, mixed with a nagging bit of fear that came from being far away from my home area. I know deep down that magic I was sensing came directly from Miyamoto’s childhood. He had communicated that feeling in a way that could only be done through a video game.

That is a great strength of the video game medium – the ability to communicate real-life feelings by creating interactive experiences that allow players to share in them.

We’ve all sat on a couch or in a movie theater reading or watching as Frodo enters Mount Doom and holds the One Ring over the fiery abyss. And then, he fails to let go of it. Literature and film allow us to observe Frodo’s decision without actually facing his dilemma. We read about it and watch it, maybe we understand it, but we don’t feel that same sense of obsession ourselves.

But something is very different when we reach the final stage of Link’s Awakening. The game confronts us with the possibility that the beautiful paradise of Koholint Island is nothing but a dream. At its conclusion, the game asks us to awaken from that dream world knowing that Koholint Island and all its people will vanish if we do.

Different media delivering a similar message. How does each influence the audience?

And as we climb Mt. Tamaranch, the one place where the dream can be ended, we find ourselves walking in Frodo’s footsteps. We are torn by the same emotions that overwhelmed the hobbit. Do we have the strength to let go of Koholint Island? It is an experience that reflects the very essence of the human condition with a power that only a video game can achieve.

The Basis for an Adventure

While working on Majora’s Mask, game system director Eiji Aonuma and supervisor Takashi Tezuka incorporated situations from their everyday lives into the game. “Development began in August, 1999… and the team rarely got to go home,” writes Jason Leung, who worked on the game’s localization. “As a result, many of the characters—like the Deku Scrubs, who are involved in a cross-country trading sequence—talk about not being able to spend time with their wives” (”Behind the Mask,” Nintendo Power Vol. 131, 60-63).

Separation from loved ones is one of the core themes of Majora’s Mask. This theme has a significant presence in the game’s script, beginning with the opening lines. But the game goes further, imbuing this theme in the interactive experience it offers. The friendly and supportive guardian fairy from Ocarina of Time is lost, replaced by a selfish and sarcastic companion who continuously derides the player. After Link’s cherished horse is stolen, the player is foiled by obstacles that would be easily overcome with the help of a steed.

This concept of separation is expressed in a particularly profound way as the player struggles to reunite the innkeeper Anju with her fiancé Kafei, who has gone missing as their wedding day approaches. Ultimately, players must wait with Anju in her lonely bedroom as the in-game clock counts down the final hours before the end of the world.

Though Kafei has promised to return, players are unable to determine his location at this time. They are only able to trust in his promise and wait as time passes by. As the end of the world approaches, players have the option of giving up and turning back time – and this alternative becomes increasingly tempting the longer it takes Kafei to arrive. It is a powerful, interactive experience that asks players to trust in a promise and believe in someone even when that person is not present.

A powerful gameplay sequence that asks the player to do nothing but wait.

Not long after the Japanese release of Majora’s Mask, script director Mitsuhiro Takano went on his honeymoon (Nintendo Power). In the months leading up to this, his job required him to be away from home for long amounts of time. Is the Anju and Kafei quest an expression of sympathy for his fiancée, perhaps?

“Day-to-day items and situations pop up in Majora’s Mask,” Leung writes. “Working with strangers and missing loved ones can be the basis for an adventure” (Nintendo Power).

A Series on the Right Track

The Legend of Zelda games are built from a powerful series of themes relating to the human condition. They are imbued with the day-to-day experiences of those who make the games. A soul is created and the wild theme-park ride of the game is constructed on top of this soul. Through the interactivity of the experience, players are able to glimpse the beauty of this underlying soul.

Video games as a medium have a wonderful capacity to create fantastic interactive worlds that reflect our own world in nuanced ways. Feelings, experience and insight may be passed from the creators of these worlds to the players who explore them. By cultivating this sort of communication through interactivity, video games will grow and find their true place in our culture. We have a long way to go before the medium reaches this point, but The Legend of Zelda series is here to guide it forward.

About the author:
Dan Merrill, aka Hylian Dan, is a junior at Champlain College in Burlington, Vermont, where he is majoring in electronic game design.

E-mail: hyliandan [at] zeldauniverse.net

An Article by The Missing Link

Timeline “enthusiasts” (y’all know who you are!) may be looking at the title of this article with some amount of shock, disbelief, perhaps even disgust. The very thought is probably absurd to nearly all of you, and already you are probably dividing yourselves into two different camps. On one side, some may have already decided that I, in my many months of hiding, have somehow had my head stuck in the sand and haven’t heard about the confirmation of the Split Timeline. (I assure you that you are all dead wrong on that one.) And then, in the other corner of the ring, others would believe me to be some raving lunatic that is either delusional, mad, or simply desperately trying to hold onto the way things were years ago. (Mad? Me? Mad, you say? Hahaha! Hardly! You haven’t seen me get going yet!)

However, no matter what your knee-jerk reactions are to the title of this article, believe me when I tell you all that I am quite serious when I say that, just like bellbottom jeans, plaid pants, and ‘80s TV sitcoms, single timelines are going to be fashionable again before you know it. Sure, they’ve been mocked and critiqued and laughed at recently, but I think it’s only a matter of time before all the cool kids will be doing it.

Allow me to pause while you laugh. Go ahead, get it out. You’ll feel better in the long run.

Back? Good. Let’s keep going.

“How can I say that?” I hear you ask. Be patient, my fellow tenured professors of Ancient Hyrulian History of the Castle Town University Evaluation Board. I’m sure you’ll find my theories enlightening.

A little over three years ago, when I was the webmaster of ZeldaBlog, I began to write a few whimsical articles regarding a few more… controversial ideas regarding the timeline. A lot of the articles that I wrote were inspired by the fact that, when I used to participate in timeline discussions during that era, most of my objections, ideas, and what-ifs were usually dismissed without much thought. This was, for the most part, because they were quite unconventional and challenged the status quo of their beliefs. By and large, there was a consistent and passionate rejection of every idea that ran counter to what they, in their prior debates, had already determined to be goddess-given fact. (This is notwithstanding that there was an obsessive necessity to check everything minute detail of everything against the raw text of a foreign language that they themselves didn’t even understand. But, alas, I digress…) The result of this was that, the moment that you tried to question or show weaknesses in a few fundamental assumptions that were popular enough to have been elevated to law, you were as good as dead to them. Goodbye, sayounara, auf vidersein, au revior.

That sort of dismissal never really set well with me. Granted, it could have just been because their forum culture differed (drastically!) from the Internet corner in which I had been “raised,” but the riotous passion they expressed had practically become borderline religion, and I felt like a heretic amongst them… or at least amongst a few of them. (Some of those timeliners were quite reasonable, but they’re usually not the vocal ones, sadly.) And so, as a result, being the devious Internetian that I was (and still am!), I plotted my revenge.

I began to prove my points in a very different way… this time using their very evaluation techniques against them. What followed was an investigative series on the timeline that showed the weaknesses in their quest for absolute truth in uncovering the mysterious and elusive “one true timeline.” The articles also provided a basic set of principles that would help encourage discussion, new ideas, and… civility in timeline debates. Those who frequented ZeldaBlog in its heyday will remember these articles, but I realize that it’s been quite some time, so I want to present to you all a refresher course in TML’s Laws of Timelinedynamics.

The Zeroth Law of Timelinedynamics declares that, if indeed the canon can find the true timeline, then that timeline is illogical. I analyzed the seeming grandfather paradox found within the Song of Storms from Ocarina of Time and showed that, if one attempts to find the “one true timeline” using only a strict interpretation of canon, one eventually reaches a logical impasse. The Master Sword and the Ocarina of Time, despite how intrinsically intertwined they are within the game’s story, simply cannot work the same way if one hopes to make sense of both the windmill scene and the ending of the game. Therefore, if you hope to create a sensible timeline, you must view the canon as imperfect. Conversely, if you believe in an infallible canon, you must have an illogical timeline.

The First Law is that the canon is overconstrained, or rather, that there are too many conflicting details such that, no matter how you rearrange all the pieces, some small sliver of canon—some glaring fact—cannot possibly be fulfilled. I showed that, in the Four Swords trilogy, no matter how you place The Minish Cap with respect to Four Swords and Four Swords Adventures—certain logistical nightmares will always erupt from the wreckage. The takeaway was that the canon isn’t sacred; to arrive at a perfect timeline, you must subtract facts from the canon.

The Second Law is that the canon is simultaneously underconstrained, or rather, that there aren’t enough details to fully determine the proper placement of all the pieces of the timeline. The Imprisoning War shows this quite nicely in that, given what we know, we simply do not have enough pieces of evidence to know whether or not the Seal War backstory of A Link to the Past is represented by Ocarina of Time or not, partially since a few details between from the manual’s backstory and from the game’s prologue that don’t align perfectly with Ocarina. The realization? The canon isn’t complete; to arrive at a perfect timeline, you must add assumptions to the canon.

The Third Law is that the timeline is canon-indeterminate, or rather, that the timeline cannot be determined beyond a shadow of a doubt through the use of canon details alone. Here I looked at the ending of Ocarina of Time and mused over the then-possibilities between the Single, Split, and Multiple Timeline Theories. I realized that the “problem” with the Split and Multiple Timeline Theories is that each of their respective timelines (e.g., the child and adult timelines) are effectively self-contained; games from one timeline would not be allowed to reference in any way, shape, or form games from another one, therefore making it impossible to know if there were indeed multiple timelines using the canon alone. In short, canon isn’t enough; you need more data in order to find the magical timeline of lore.

While these laws are named after a rather unclever (and remarkably geeky!) reference to the Laws of Thermodynamics (good jokes about serious business are hard to come by, what can I say?), they are actually rather aptly named given their main purpose, which is to say that the timeline is still a dynamic structure, that is, the true nature of the “one true timeline”—a timeline that is without any illogical leaps of faith or any pesky, nuanced contradictions—is forever being evolved and molded and isn’t something that we can possibly ever know absolutely. And if we’re never going to find it, we might as well take over complete ownership of what the Zelda timeline looks like. So be free! Make the timeline look like whatever it is you want it to look like! (But of course, you still need to have a few good reasons for believing whatever it is you want to believe; otherwise, it’ll end up looking like Link from the CD-i games, mai boi.)

However, despite the fact that this practically serves as the ultimate disproof of every timeline ever, there are some that see it for a lot of fancy smoke and mirrors. (In many ways, they are surprisingly correct on this issue!) You see, it’s the fundamental nature of the timeliner to want to uncover the truth. Even I feel this need deep down. There’s something in our DNA that wants to uncover, to analyze, to extract, to connect, and to build. It this regard, we’re all engineers of a sort. Consider that some people like to take apart VCRs, see how they work, and then put them back together (hopefully once again into working order!); we’re just like that… except with the Zelda canon instead of VCRs. And so it’s not surprising that timeliners don’t like the fact that the Laws put a stopper on the goal to find the timeline. It runs counter to our DNA to not reverse engineer it. And so what did they go and do? Well, the clever ones… they went and found a workaround to the Laws.

Yes, I must admit, there has always been one sole saving grace to the Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. (No, it’s not 42. You try telling people that the timeline is “42” and they’ll hang you from the rafters.) The Third Law of Timelinedynamics says that you need something outside the flawed and imperfect Zelda canon to find the timeline, and thankfully for most, there is such a thing. Which is why timeline enthusiasts have decided to fall back upon developer intent to save the timeline.

You see, on a rather semi-infrequent basis, Nintendo drags Miyamoto and Aonuma out for some interview with some game reviewing agency that actually gives a care about the whole timeline business (I still can’t figure out how “media” actually cares about such stuff, but, who am I to judge!?), and even more semi-infrequently do they actually reply with some useful tidbit about how everything is pieced together. And they make some rather vague allusions to how some game takes place “100 years” (Have you ever noticed that it’s always “100 years”? I’m getting rather suspicious about this just being a ploy to simply appease us…) after this other game, yadda yadda, stuff, and then Miyamoto and Aonuma hightail it out of there before anyone can think to hold them hostage until they finally divulge details about the next, next Zelda game that everyone is already suspecting to be in the works.

But no one seems to mind that they dodged the big question. We had the chance to have this ever so brief peek at the Golden Land! Quick everybody, to the Zelda Club tree house! (Oh wait, we’re not allowed to talk about Zelda Club!) We must scoff at those disbelievers and readjust our timelines accordingly! Oh glory be, there is science timeline to be done!

Now, I’ve had the privilege of being able to make videogames for the past three years of my life. My opinions about how games are made has changed remarkably from this experience. I’m sure you’ve all had those infuriating questions of “why did so-and-so decide to do this such-and-such stupid idea?” I now have rough ideas as to why. Those times where you ask, “Why don’t the developers communicate with us more?” I’ve felt the frustrations… except from the other side of the fence. And those press releases? Well, let’s just say I can smell PR’s involvement in something from a good 20 miles away. (I mean, anything that requires blowing into the DS’ microphone as controller input… am I right?)

And so every time I hear Miyamoto or Aonuma speak about how the games are ordered (and how Nintendo is going to make us smile), thoughts of sugarplums dance in my head. Okay, so I lie; it’s not really that, but I do begin to wonder exactly when in the grand processes that little detail was decided… and more importantly how it was all of that came about.

So while researching this article, I found a hilarious tidbit from Aonuma regarding Four Swords Adventures. In it, he mentioned, before FSA’s release, that “the GBA Four Swords Zelda is what we’re thinking as the oldest tale in the Zelda timeline…[with FSA] being a sequel to that.” However, as it turns out, that plan never really panned out, and after FSA’s release, Aonuma sheepishly admitted that, during FSA’s development, “we changed the story around quite a bit… [changing it] all the way up until the very end.”

If I had heard this three years ago, I might have been surprised; today, I’m laughing to myself because I know how true those words are. The only constant in developing a title is that it constantly changes and evolves in order to account for a significant number of factors. Is this game too similar to another game we’ve made? Too different? Is it going to stand out amongst its competitors? Is it possible to add this feature to the schedule? This isn’t working out; can we cut it? What demographic are we targeting? Is the game too simple? Too complicated? Too unbalanced? Too difficult? Is it fun from start to finish? Is the storyline compelling? Is it believable?

On and on the questions go, and here’s a shocking secret about making games: Not every issue gets resolved. There’s always a few “bugs”—whether they be program crashes, spelling mistakes, leaps of faith in storytelling, and simple violations of common sense—that either slip through the cracks or simply aren’t important enough to get taken care of in those last all-important days before the game goes gold. Games are shipped “imperfectly,” and so not only is the game never quite what you initially thought it was going to be, the game never quite ends up to be what you hoped it would become.

This is, in essence, the Developer’s Dilemma. Do you sacrifice gameplay for story? Do you sacrifice story for expanding our audience? Do you sacrifice your audience for gameplay? Sacrifices—in other words, cuts—always have to be made; where do you make them in order to make them as painless as possible? Where do you make them in order to make the game as fun as possible? And as a result of this, I’m going to remove that last pillar of the timeline hierarchy. The standard workaround for the failures of canon is about to be blown away. You ready for this? Because this one’s a doozy.

The Theory of Timeline Relativity: The developers cannot save the timeline.

Please, before you rush down to the comments section, let me tell you what this isn’t saying. I’m not saying that developers cannot possibly establish strong continuities between games. I think it’s quite clear that the Metroid series, despite being passed from developer to developer, has told a very compelling storyline over its entire series (disregarding the deus ex machina of starting over from scratch every time).

However, in the case of the Zelda timeline, we are officially up to 15 Zelda games, and the best Nintendo has been able to clarify the order of everything is to piece a measly six of them into some sort of continuity. The rest of the timeline is so scattered and so disjoint (thereby creating the need for the prior four Laws of Timelinedynamics) that Nintendo is in far too deep in order to ever fully make sense of all the small details now. If they could have saved the timeline, they would have done so already. At any point in this process, they could have already decreed by fiat precisely what the timeline actually is. (Actually, NoA tried to do this once, but that timeline was ironically met with derision and mockery.)

However, given either Nintendo’s inability or lack of desire to do so, they have all but admitted that a perfect continuity has been either cut from their grand schedule or has been put on the backburner indefinitely. (This isn’t to say that they don’t have any ideas at all about how it all works, mind, just that they probably haven’t resolved every last plot problem themselves and are just waiting for a new game that just makes those nasty bits work.)

Of course, a statement as bold as mine requires at least some validation, yes? (Otherwise, I fear that you’ll all run me out of town before I can tell you all, “Game over, suckers!”) So, let’s show some startling truths here.

So, let’s rewind the clock to 2007 to an interview with Aonuma regarding Twilight Princess’ position within the grand Zelda timeline:

Q: When does Twilight Princess take place?

A: In the world of Ocarina of Time, a hundred and something years later.

Q: And The Wind Waker?

A: The Wind Waker is parallel…. Twilight Princess takes place in the world of Ocarina of Time, a hundred and something years after the peace returned to kid Link’s time. In the last scene of Ocarina of Time, kids Link and Zelda have a little talk, and as a consequence of that talk, their relationship with Ganon takes a whole new direction….

This fits in rather nicely with what Nintendo said much earlier involving Wind Waker and thus establishes most of what we do know about the timeline to date:

Q: Where does The Wind Waker fit into the overall Zelda series timeline?

A: You can think of this game as taking place over a hundred years after Ocarina of Time…. Ocarina of Time basically has two endings of sorts; one has Link as a child and the other has him as an adult. This game, The Wind Waker, takes place a hundred years after the adult Link defeats Ganon at the end of Ocarina.

But now, let’s look forward into the future. Nintendo’s finally given us some indication about the placement of Spirit Tracks in the timeline:

Spirit Tracks takes place 100 years after the events of Phantom Hourglass. Apparently in the land that’s now called Hyrule, the inhabitants had to deal with a vicious Demon King. In the time span between the two games there was an epic battle and the spirits of the land helped take down this evil being. Though they couldn’t kill the beast, they could muster just enough strength and energy to subdue him with chains and shackles and bury him underground. The shackles, extending the land of Hyrule in four different directions, became the Spirit Tracks, and the surrounding community used these tracks as transportation railways.

Now, from these individual quotes, you can come up with the famous six-game partial timeline. It starts with Ocarina of Time and then, along the child timeline, you have Majora’s Mask and Twilight Princess. In the adult timeline, you have Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, and Spirit Tracks.

Do you see a problem yet? Have you seen just what is wrong about extending this timeline to encompass all 15 games? If you haven’t, fear not. I shall reveal to you the answer using my Book of Secrets.

One Ganondorf Dragmire. Given what we now know about Spirit Tracks, provided that they don’t resurrect him in this game (which appears to be the likely case at this point!), Ganondorf is currently at the bottom of the sea… encased in a thick layer of stone… with the Master Sword jammed into his forehead. And what about Twilight Princess, the current “ending” of our other timeline? Well… to be quite honest… I honestly don’t know what happened to him at the end of the game. He’s… just… standing there, going through his death monologue, with the Master Sword jammed through his stomach… just… standing… there….

But lo and behold, Link then dashes off to stare at Midna’s sexy, new curves, so he and Zelda can’t be too worried about Ganondorf suddenly reanimating himself and wreaking havoc over Hyrule at any moment! Furthermore there’s no hint or suggestion that we’ve merely just sealed him away for “100 years” or only “mostly killed” him. As far as I can tell, no one’s concerned that this ain’t over, and that’s as good of a “the end” as we can have!

And so now, considering the other nine games, just what do you have to work with? Legend of Zelda, A Link to the Past, and Four Swords Adventures all involve Ganondorf somehow taking over Hyrule! However, not a single one of them reveals anything about removing the Master Sword from Ganondorf’s personage. (A few might be crafty to mention that Ganon was, in fact, resurrected in the linked Oracle game, but they resurrected Ganon, not Ganondorf. This besides, Twinrova wouldn’t have been able to pull out the Master Sword from their master’s stomach since the blade can only be held by one who is good, thank you, Ocarina of Time. This is besides the point that Zelda tells you at the end of the Oracles that “wisdom and courage were able to prevent Twinrova’s planned resurrection of Ganon” [emphasis mine]. That means canon suggests that Ganon’s officially gone (again) at the end of the game. Sorry, no dice, guys.)

Is it any reason that we haven’t solved the timeline debacle yet? You hit a roadblock the moment you leave Nintendo’s carefully crafted trail! Given that Nintendo hasn’t declared any resolution to this inherent mystery, you either have to negate that pesky detail about the Master Sword (First Law of Timelinedynamics) or add in a detail about Ganondorf being freed from the blade (Second Law of Timelinedynamics) in order to proceed. (Sure, you could probably nail me on the fact that the game is simply vague on the details of Koume’s and Kotake’s plot to revive Ganon. I’d gladly counter by saying that they were intentionally vague such as not to spoil the secret ending before the proper time, and so Nintendo is in effect throwing themselves onto the mercy of the court, indirectly supporting the Second Law.)

Furthermore, I would also place a friendly wager on the statement that this stalemate will never be resolved, even with Nintendo’s best intentions otherwise. (Though please, pretty please, don’t bother contacting me to establish any sort of bets on the issue.) While Ocarina of Time was kind enough to only seal Ganondorf away for years upon years upon the game’s denouement, it would be extremely tacky of Nintendo to start pulling this trick after every single game featuring Ganondorf from here on out. Can you imagine this!? It’d become some horrible Internet meme about how Ganondorf the Rather Unlucky can’t seem to get a break by either getting himself killed off or actually managing to succeed in his quest to have a lifestyle of the rich and famous. (No wonder he’s so emo in Wind Waker!)

If you want more, we can take a quick peek at Spirit Tracks for a moment. From what we know, Spirit Tracks is at least a good 200 and more years from Ocarina of Time’s adult ending. Now, over the course of this period of time, Hyrule had to go through many a difficult time. First, they had to completely rebuild Hyrule after Ganondorf sacked it in Ocarina (remember how Castle Town was practically ruined, not to mention the Zoras encased in ice and whatnot?). And of course, they had to completely rebuild the castle (since, naturally, it appears in Wind Waker… right alongside Ganon’s Tower). Probably not long after that, Ganondorf manages to break free from his Evil Realm prison and almost conquers Hyrule, but the goddesses smack him on the hands and “flood” Hyrule. We go through Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass above the waves, just like normal… and then, many years later, we actually establish a new Hyrule… only to be plunged into another war against the Demon King there! And then finally (FINALLY! Take a deep breath…) Hyrule gets a little bit of long-lasting peace. And yet somehow in these 200 and more years, Hyrule managed to invent steam power, y’know, to power Linebeck’s ship and the new Thomas the Tank Engine.

Yet where is steam power in Twilight Princess? Telma’s still using a horse-drawn carriage to go from town to town, and there’s no signs of railroad tracks in sight. Literally, Hyrule was at peace that entire time given that Ganondorf got sent straight to the Twilight Realm (and he didn’t even get to pass Go or collect $200 first either!), and barely anything was damaged in the meanwhile! It should have been a period of renaissance for all of Hyrule, especially considering how well Castle Town seemed to be doing in Twilight Princess, yet it seems that very little advances in technology had actually been made! (Okay, they were able to create the Linkapault that somehow managed to fire him through the air into the desert and somehow not kill him. Besides that!) The only other game to ever establish train tracks are the Oracle series, but those don’t take place in Hyrule, so they don’t count for our purposes. Thus, what do we get in the end? We get an illogical timeline (Zeroth Law of Timelinedynamics).

And how about a third one, for good humor here. Let’s compare the maps of Twilight Princess and Ocarina of Time. We have it on authority that these two views of Hyrule are about 100 or more years apart from one another. Furthermore, if you use the GameCube variation of the maps, you’ll notice that Lake Hylia, Kakariko Village, the Gerudo Desert, the Lost Woods, and Death Mountain all line up fairly nicely. It’s like the two were meant to be together!

All except for… Zora’s Domain. Somehow, Zora’s Domain (which is still at the end of the river, mind) warped from being southeast of Kakariko and Castle Town to being northwest! How’d that happen? And more importantly, how’d that happen within the mere span of a few hundred years tops? That canyon needs time to carve itself… and it simply isn’t going to pick itself up and move. The But if you try to solve this from the perspective of the Developer’s Dilemma, it makes total sense. If the map of Hyrule were always the same—same orientations, same locations, same everything—it really wouldn’t feel like exploring the map anymore, would it? We’d know where everything is, and all we’d be left with is figuring out when we’re actually going to visit each place. Where’s the fun in that?

Each of these itty bitty details could have been solved, and they could have been solved fairly easily if Nintendo had been focusing on it from the get go. If only they’d cared enough to keep their timeline stuff in check, they’d have been able to create said canon—even if it was developed in an out-of-order fashion (just like the Metroid series did).

So, what can we conclude here? Well, our absolute and infallible trust in Nintendo should be completely shattered (or at least wounded!) by this point! (If it hasn’t, please make sure your heart is still beating; you might very well have died from shock along the way here!) Nintendo, despite Aonuma insisting to us that one day he’d clearly reveal the timeline to us, he’s headed up ten of the 15 Zelda games, and still we’re as utterly confused as ever. I would go so far as to say that Nintendo hasn’t even gotten better at revealing all this information to us; Aonuma talking timeline is still just as rare, cryptic, and ambiguous as when Miyamoto was talking timeline.

All we have is more of the same, and the only way that will likely change is if Aonuma passes the reins onto someone else. But even if that happens, will that someone else respect all of the timeline statements that Aonuma has established over the years? Realistically, there’s no guarantee. And let’s face it, Miyamoto isn’t going to be there forever to keep upending the tea table either.

And so, if we really can’t trust Nintendo to be the infallible source on all things timeline, realistically that means that we have explicit permission to ignore them to begin with and come up with our own theory anyway. And, if the Third Law of Timelinedynamics is any hint, that means you and I are now suddenly free to dream up our Single Timeline Theories once again. Linearism is alive and well, my friends! Or, I should at least caveat this and say it this way: Linearism is as alive and well as any other timeline out there. Though, given what you just read, if you consider the hope of one day finding the “one true timeline” to now be dead… well, “alive and well” is totally a relative term.

Now, unlike some, I’m not interested in telling timeline enthusiasts that they’re completely wasting their time by contemplating the deep natures of the timeline. I mean, I’ll be frank; I used to be one of you! And, given the fact that I’m still writing articles about this subject, I can’t say I’ve fallen all that far from the tree. (Ahem, ahem, I would hope that’s obvious by now!) However, my business is neither to find the “one true timeline,” that magical Holy Grail that will reveal all of Zeldadom to me as if Nayru herself touched my head and filled it with her blessed wisdom.

My passion in the timeline is not the pursuit of ultimate discovery but in the gradual world building of the Zelda universe. Being one that has written scores of fanfics and a writer by nature, extrapolating upon the world of Hyrule and filling in the details with my own personal touch has been what has drawn me to the concept of the timeline. My sole desire is to be able to have the creative license to play with it to my heart’s content, to do something different if it feels right enough or, better yet, just to experiment.

Instead of me dictating to you how you all should feel about Zelda games, I would ask those of you who are passionate about the timeline the question of why it is you seek the answer. Discovering what that magical timeline is surely isn’t going to tell you the direction of the next Zelda title; I think Nintendo has been quite clear that you can never ever figure out exactly what they’re going to do next. That sheer creativity has been what has drawn me to them for many years, and the creativity that they pour into each yet-to-come Zelda game will almost certainly defy the most sage timeline theorist out there. The Zelda series is so rich with details and possibilities that we will always be surprised.

Sure, I suppose being able to find “the closest timeline to what Miyamoto is envisioning right this very moment” is a worthy runner-up goal, but to what ends? If Nintendo is making it all up as they go along (which I’d also wager is quite likely), the timeline is as flexible as a rubber band, completely mutable and able to be changed at their discretion from here on out. And so long as Nintendo remains silent as to the specific contents of whatever secret timeline documents they have (which, I’d also wager a bet on, are far less detailed than some might dream about), that goal is impossible to ascertain.

Instead, I truly believe that half the fun of inventing timelines is in the building of the world of Hyrule. It’s in creating our Hyrule. It’s feeling like a scholar of ancient history and digging through the ruins of a fallen Hyrule Castle to find archæological evidence regarding the ancient civilization of the Hylians. It’s in the crazy theorization, the wild speculation, and the mad experimentation. I earnestly believe that those who care for it like I do have found this to be the case… yet some have since then abandoned this creative endeavor in order to defend their timeline as correct and declare all others as incorrect. That, I believe, to be an exercise in futility.

It isn’t about nor should it be about who is right or who is wrong. After all, only Nintendo could ever truly be right. And, if my experiences in the industry ring true, the Theory of Relativity says that Nintendo probably doesn’t have it completely right either.

a part of The Missing Link series of articles

Article By Demo

Combat has been the bread and butter of every Legend of Zelda game since their humble beginnings in 1986. The gameplay of the series has been, and always will be, centered around action-filled encounters between Link and his adversaries. Although Link’s adventures may also include puzzle-solving from time to time, from a gameplay point of view combat always takes a front seat, and has evolved with each new installment to the series. The intention behind this article is to analyze and explore these combat mechanics, and to realize how they have changed over time.

a part of The Missing Link series of articles

Guest Article By Jeff

When someone thinks of the Legend of Zelda, it’s hard to believe that they have one definitive image in their head. When you envision the franchise, do you really see an individual representation of it? More than likely, you imagine a wide range of depictions, being that the series has grown to a grand level with over a dozen titles. A second reason, and arguably the greatest one, is something that a lot of fans probably haven’t given much thought to over the course of the series; Zelda doesn’t adhere to just one style, in any regard. To say the least, the world you see in one game is going to be completely different from another game.

It becomes apparent that the franchise is features multiple tones as soon as you try to describe its genre. Sure, it’s fantasy, alright, but what kind of fantasy? Zelda has very much ventured in several realms of the fantasy category, never maintaining a single attitude over its twenty-some year history. Generally the series has been colorful, not really becoming too grim or too severe in the way it looks and feels. In some cases, it’s appeared almost childish, such as with the highly vibrant visuals of the Windwaker and Phantom Hourglass. Those games featured a lot of whimsical touches to them, more than what’s usual for the series as a whole. They’re very much the “Disney” entries of the franchise.

Yet, even with all that, Zelda has occasionally taken a dip into more serious designs. Majora’s Mask may not have been a horror story, but it definitely had elements of the genre, along with some from Mystery and Apocalyptic. On the other end, the adventure that was Link’s Awakening undoubtedly had a poetic vibe to it, giving us an experience that was (no pun intended) dream-like and far more about the imagination than what was immediately in front of us.

Then you start going into the traditional fantasy themes, like what is seen in Ocarina of Time or Twilight Princess, that ‘epic’ kind of journey. The events feel widespread and large scale as opposed to being subjected to a contained area, and it’s made clear that these are not just personal sagas for Link. Those two games in particular feature the largest casts of characters that are directly involved in main storyline, giving them a Lord of the Rings-esque flavor.

Ironically, though, is that the player still sees Link as the ultimate hero in the two games, as well as any other. No matter how many characters he has backing him up, Link is always made out as the savior, especially because the player is allowed to do so much with him. This is an element representative of Heroic Fantasy, or Sword and Sorcery as some may know it. Link is essentially a more youthful, less savage version of Conan the Barbarian or Kull of Atlantis; he can save the day all by himself with only the slightest bit of aid from his allies.

So, even when one fantasy genre is evident in a game, another one is bound to rear its head somewhere. The Legend of Zelda is such a complex universe that one category isn’t big enough to describe it. There’s also the visual part of it, which creates an even more diverse picture for the franchise.

Anyone who has ever taken a gander at the official artwork will know that in the imagery department, Zelda’s been everywhere. Like many of the industry’s long-running franchises, Zelda has not stuck with just one style when it comes to its visuals. Similar to Castlevania or Final Fantasy, it has dabbled in all kinds of techniques and fashions over the years, often times appointing a specific trait to an entire game’s artwork. As previously mentioned, the Windwaker and Phantom Hourglass both utilized a very cartoony look to them, with bright colors and somewhat goofy imagery. When first revealed, WW got all kinds of heat, but over time the style became loved by fans in both the Gamecube and DS releases.

At the same time, the fan base immensely enjoys the realism that the other 3D titles used. Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask and Twilight Princess all maintained plenty of color while still keeping some sense of seriousness in their visuals. In these games, expressions weren’t as exaggerated, color shades were bolder, shapes were narrower, and character designs weren’t as disproportioned. This isn’t to say that every character in them would make perfect sense in real life, but when you compare their casts to those of the Cel-Shaded adventures, it’s clear which ones are more ‘far-out’. After all, not too many games in general feature so many wacky bodily features; characters with heads bigger than their chests (Niko), beards down to their abs (Orca), or chins that would put Jay Leno to shame (Deku Tree).

And as any fan will know, the series doesn’t just include the opposite ends of the spectrum in this regard. Several of the games, particularly A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening and the Oracle Duolgy feature art styles that blend the two tones to create a very creative mix of the childish and mature looks from the other titles. What you see is the- generally -older and more realistic character designs that still are given plenty of goofy and humorous touches that make them quite distinct.

Identical to that is how age is handled in the Legend of Zelda; you get everything from one side of the scale to the other. In just about every entry to the series, the cast is always all over the place when it comes to their ages. We regularly see little kids who most likely should still be in preschool, we see young teens, young adults, middle-aged folk, and plenty of elders who are way past retirement.

This is probably the most unsung aspect of the characters that Zelda presents us, which is unfortunate because it creates unparalleled diversity. The player is allowed to see the populations of the various kingdoms in all kinds of different lights, from the young to the old. Not only does this make it possible to identify with more characters and easily remember them, but it also creates so many opportunities for varied storylines. Clearly, a thirteen year old kid and a thirty year old adult won’t have the same problems or viewpoints, so if the games featured an overabundance of one age group, we’d be missing out on an untold number of interactions. By properly including different generations, the series ensures that we get all kinds of unique experiences when meeting with the NPCs, and more than just one angle on the adventure at hand.

However, as one may expect, the two icons in the franchise that benefit the most from this aspect are none other than Link and Zelda themselves. Throughout its some fourteen (cannon) stories, fans have been able to witness the heroes overcome all obstacles no matter what age they are. Whether they were little kids like in Wind Waker or Majora’s Mask, teens like in the Oracles, young adults in Twilight Princess, or a combination as found in Ocarina of Time, Link and Zelda have never been exclusive to just one age group. Undeniably, it’s this fact that has helped the series appeal to such a gigantic audience, young and old alike. At times it creates a fairytale-esque image for the titles, what with pre-teens defeating some vile warlord and his evil minions. Other times, it’s like any other high-fantasy epic, with grand heroics and courageous coalitions. In the end, though, it shows one thing, and it’s the Zelda world’s greatest theme; heroism knows no boundaries.

Just the same, neither does the franchise itself.

a part of The Missing Link series of articles

Guest Article By pipking

Spirit Tracks, the sequel to 2007’s Phantom Hourglass, reportedly takes place 100 years after Link bested Bellum on the Great Sea. Phantom was an immediate successor to The Wind Waker, but for our next trip into Toon Link’s world we’re going to the far flung future. Again.

Everyone knows that The Wind Waker took place hundreds of years after Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask – long enough for the entire world to flood, the people to adapt successfully into sea-faring pirate folk, the Rito to evolve from the wrong love between a Hylian and his carrier pigeons, and the Zora to disappear. Long enough to take the world fans knew and loved and change it entirely.

Think about a hundred years from the day you read this. Will cars fly? Will our pollution have finally peeled off the ozone layer and leave the earth standing dead and baking like a sun-fried orange? Will members of your extended lineage live on Mars? Will aliens make contact and live among us? Will we all be immortal brains plugged in to machines?

A lot can happen in a hundred years. It is far enough away from today that one can reasonably conclude of a science fiction future that only barely resembles our current world. If the human race makes it, anything we take for granted today may become a curious relic of a more savage time – your quaint suburban bungalow could be unearthed and studied by the people of tomorrow with the same fascination as we look at Mayan temples today.

In the hundred years since Phantom Hourglass, it can be assumed land was finally found, peopled, agricultured, civilized and the beginnings of a technological culture have formed. In the real world, trains and horses lived side-by-side for a time before the internal combustion engine gave everyone wheels. I believe that this new Zelda takes place in a similar grace period. The beginning of an industrial revolution – but just the beginning.

While Spirit Tracks still appears to hold to the fantasy roots of the series, perhaps it marks a turning point – after all, there is only so much future left to go without getting into cars and planes and guns. How long before long all you have left are lasers and spaceships?

That assumes, of course, the progression of a fantasy universe would mimic our own in some way. There are many fictional spaces where magic and science live side-by-side in compliment, the foremost being Steampunk.

While Steampunk can refer to many specific genre things, the foremost is a technological progression where steam power drives all innovation and ingenuity. It’s often linked to the aesthetic of Victorian era England – all dark coats and sooty faces, dirigibles and Jules Vernes and Jack-the-Rippers in the shadows. But more than a specific look, the important thing about the Steampunk style is it allows fantasy and technology to coexist. In a way, I feel it is about the magic of the technological, that precious space where fancy and fact haven’t quite met; somewhere directly between worshipping the Moon as a goddess and landing on it in a rocket.

What we know of Spirit Tracks so far is that it has trains. Trains in a fantasy world do not a Steampunk make – but it certainly suggests some possibilities.

Zelda could use bit of Steampunk shine.

Let’s face it – the Lord of the Rings films completely ruined high fantasy. It is played out. While each property will treat its elements differently, the resultant salad tastes the same. This doesn’t mean there should be any shortage of traditional fantasy in the near or far future. As a fictional space, it’s like a well-loved blanket people feel comfy under. But it does open up the possibility that a series which likes to jump around in time might be well advised to drop down in Steam town.

One of the best and worst things about Twilight Princess was its commitment to the history of the series. It played like The Legend of Zelda Greatest Hits. Until Twilight Princess, the games had kept evolving – new dimensions, new mechanics, new worlds – while maintaining that “Zelda-feel” so loved by fans of the series. There was a balance between difference and similarity that virtually all Zelda games struck to greater or lesser extent – until Twilight Princess.

It was not the mechanics, which gave players the ability to be a wolf, surf on a spinning top, grapple with both arms, fight on horseback and aim the bow with exacting precision. It was not the story, which shoved Zelda in a corner and gave Midna centre stage. It was not the dungeons, where were some of the most interesting of the series.

It was the world. Here we were in Hyrule again – a Hyrule that meticulously mimicked Ocarina – doing variations on things we had done before. While most Zelda games played the same, give or take, they rarely felt the same. Aside from being a wolf, a lot of the additions weren’t integrated fully enough in the experience to make it feel new again. Twilight Princess remained a fantastic game from start to finish – but at the end of it, aside from a few exceptionally bright points, too much felt like stuff I had done before to feel completely satisfied with the experience. It left me wanting, not more of it, but more of something different.

Whatever is planned for the next Zelda Wii game, now being teased in very thin drips, I want it to feel new again. New like walking out onto the beach in Wind Waker and confronting that bright blue sea. While sailing was much maligned in the community I found it one of the most compelling and endearing aspects of the game. The world of Wind Waker felt complete, and new – not a place I had been dozens of times before. Hyrule, in its historic form, is played out. Adventure depends on surprise.

The train in Spirit Tracks was a surprise. Definitely a step in the direction I want the console games to take.

For all appearances that won’t be the case – Miyamoto has suggested the new Zelda Wii features a Link that is slightly older and more mature than his Twilight Princess counterpart. The concept art shows him virtually the same as he has been. While I can’t fault the developers for a game that still exists to us only as potential, it’s disheartening that the bravery shown by the handheld team hasn’t appeared to translate to it’s console cousins. Link is trapped in his high fantasy milieu.

Not that I want guns or lasers or nanotechnology in my Zelda – but something new, something the sparks the true sense of adventure the series has embodied since it’s inception. Steampunk is an obvious choice because it would allow the series to keep it’s magic roots but give endless room for invention.

Of course, I may be an anomaly in the fanbase. Given the hateful reaction of many fans to The Wind Waker’s cheery veneer, maybe changing the world context would be too much of a jump. Maybe Zelda will keep towing the same line it has, because that’s all it needs to be for most people to be satisfied. Maybe we don’t want change as much as we say we do.

Maybe in 100 years.

a part of The Missing Link series of articles

By Hylian Dan

Contents

1. Introduction
2. Home, Sweet Home…
3. Good-bye, Great Deku Tree
4. Transformation
5. The Playground
6. Mortal Life
7. The Child’s Wrath
8. The Guardian Tree
9. The Seeds of the Future
10. Immortal Childhood

Introduction

Restless souls wander where they don’t belong…
—Ocarina of Time

As Link roams across the mysterious Koholint Island, a ghost begins to follow behind him. It whispers, “…The house… …take me… …the house… …at the bay…” Link brings the ghost to its former home. The floors are cracked, the lights have dimmed. The spirit sadly drifts across the room. “…Nostalgia… …unchanged… …boo hoo…”

“…Enough… …cemetery… …take me… …my grave…”

There is a common theme that runs through Link’s Awakening and Ocarina of Time. It is expressed more fully in Majora’s Mask, and summarized at the end of The Wind Waker. These four stories express what it means to live bound to the flow of time. They are stories about the beauty of mortality, the journey from childhood to adulthood and from life to death. They are about growing up and leaving behind the immortal playground of childhood, letting go of the familiar to venture out into the world that lies beyond.

Home, Sweet Home…

I wonder where these coconut trees come from? Tarin says there is nothing beyond the sea, but I believe there must be something over there…

Link, someday you will leave this island…I just know it in my heart…
…Don’t ever forget me…If you do, I’ll never forgive you!
—Marin

Link’s Awakening tells the story of a boy who is shipwrecked on Koholint Island. He is told that the only way to leave the island is to awaken the Wind Fish, who lies sleeping in a giant egg atop a mountain. But as Link gets to know the island and its people, a question begins to form: Why leave? Koholint is nothing less than a paradise, an infinitely beautiful and comforting home. Link even finds a family in Marin and Tarin, who take Link in and enjoy spending time with him.

Why leave?

The answer to that question haunts the entirety of Link’s Awakening. It is conveyed in the form of the song Marin sings, the Ballad of the Wind Fish. The song expresses the feelings deep in Marin’s heart, the everlasting desire to see the world that lies beyond Koholint, if there is a world out there. But, again, the only way to leave the island is to awaken the Wind Fish. And as Link eventually learns, waking the Wind Fish means that Koholint will vanish, for the island is but a dream.

The island paradise lies somewhere beyond time. When Link asks the children playing in Mabe Village when they came to Koholint, they are confused. Their minds cannot grasp the concept of “when.” Koholint stays the same forever, but Link does not. Neither, it seems, does Marin. They need to escape the dream world, escape to a world where “when” exists.

The story of Link’s Awakening is effectively summarized by the metaphor of the Wind Fish’s egg. Life on Koholint is like that of a creature whose life begins inside an egg. The egg incubates the newborn, keeping it safe and comfortable. But the egg is not supposed to last forever. Eventually, the newborn must break the eggshell to enter the world beyond it. Once the shell is broken, the small world inside the egg vanishes forever.

Good-bye, Great Deku Tree

The flow of time is always cruel… Its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it…
—Sheik

The opening chapter of Ocarina of Time plays out much like the story of Link’s Awakening, with Kokiri Forest taking the place of Koholint Island, Saria taking the place of Marin, and the Deku Tree taking the place of the Wind Fish. Like Koholint, the forest is a world where “when” does not seem to exist. The children of the forest always remain as children. The Deku Tree warns the Kokiri that they will die if they cross the barrier separating the forest from the outside world.

While Link’s Awakening ended with Link’s decision to leave a timeless world, that decision is simply the beginning of the Hero of Time’s story. Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask are both about what it means to live in a world where “when” does exist. They explore how the flow of time shapes Link’s life, transforming both the world he lives in and the person he is at heart. The first part of the story, Ocarina of Time, focuses on the contrast between the world of the child and the world of the adult.

In the beginning, Link is simply a child. Kokiri Forest is a child’s playground contained within a protective barrier. As the player, you feel this sense of childhood wonder. Mystical lights dance in the air. Hidden treasures wait to be found. Other children are there to play with; some are friends, some are bullies.

At this point in the story, Link is young and inexperienced. When the Deku Tree dies, Navi tries to shield Link from the weight of the tragedy, quickly reminding him that they’re off to see Hyrule Castle. When Saria meets with Link to say good-bye, Link exits awkwardly.

Throughout the first part of Ocarina of Time, Link sees the world of Hyrule through the eyes of a child. It is a wonderful, comforting place. There is mystery, there is friendship, and there is danger. There is so much to explore, and there is still a home to return to.

But a transition occurs when Link passes through the Door of Time. The childhood world is torn away before Link has a chance to grow up, and he now sees the world of the adult… but still through the eyes of a child. It is a world of fear, loss, romance, and crushing responsibility.

Link is not yet too adept at handling it all. During his relationship with Ruto, Link behaves irresponsibly. He has no clue how Ruto feels, staying focused on his own goals. He vanishes from her life for seven years, and when he returns he is oblivious as to how this has affected her. Players see Ruto as some weird psycho girl, because that is how Link perceives her; he has no insight into her feelings. He is still a child.

The adult world is overwhelmed by a sense of loss and hardship. Places that once were full of life are now empty and abandoned. Link’s brief reunions with the Sages are tinged with sadness, for they each have separate paths to tread. These childhood friends are no longer a part of the world Link inhabits, though there is still the comfort offered through Saria’s Song.

The return to Kokiri Forest as an adult echoes the scene from Link’s Awakening when the ghost returned to haunt his old home. The people Link spent his childhood with don’t recognize him anymore; some fear that he has died. The stump where Saria once sat and played her ocarina with Link has been abandoned. The sense of nostalgia is painful. The world Link used to know has been taken away from him, stolen by time.

Ultimately, Link is able to come to terms with the adult world. He triumphantly overthrows Ganondorf and restores peace and justice to Hyrule. Princess Zelda, however, witnesses the pain Link feels when she meets with him as Sheik. She offers him the chance to return home, the place where he is supposed to be, the way he is supposed to be.

Transformation

By doing one good deed, a child becomes an adult.
—Cremia

In Ocarina of Time, a child is abruptly thrown into harsh adulthood. Link does not truly belong there, and eventually his childhood world is restored. When the game ends, Link is left in an awkward place. He is not yet an adult, but he has been through too much to feel that he still belongs at his home as a child. He has grown restless.

And so Majora’s Mask is about the transformation of Link’s spirit, as the Hero of Time leaves childhood behind to embrace the life of an adult. In Ocarina of Time, the exterior world changed to emphasize the contrast between the perspectives of a child and an adult. The world of Termina does not change as Hyrule did; it remains constant, frozen in a brief cycle of time. This time around, the change occurs inside Link. The world is different based only on how he perceives and approaches it.

Once again, the game opens by casting the player into the body of a child, a young Deku Scrub. Link is turned into a child because he has lost his sense of confidence, allowing Skull Kid and his mask to take advantage of Link. This time around, childhood is accompanied by a sense of helplessness, fear, and confusion because something has been lost. The lives of strangers are shrouded in mystery, and the falling moon is an obstacle too powerful to overcome. Adults gush about the Deku Scrub’s cuteness while hiding their true feelings from him. They refuse to let him leave the town, for the field outside is too dangerous for a child.

Next comes adolescence. Link’s original form is restored. The world opens up and he is able to venture beyond the walls of Clock Town. Adults demonstrate greater respect for him, and at times communicate with him on a deeper level. Link learns more about the people around him, their feelings and the lives they lead. He learns to handle these relationships more responsibly than the one he had with Ruto, and he is able to meet his obligations to these people instead of acting shocked whenever the subject of commitment arises.

As the player progresses through the game, Link continues to grow and transform beyond adolescence. In the form of Darmani, Link takes on the role of a respected hero, a symbol of hope to a community that is barely clinging to life. As Mikau, Link gets a taste of what it means to be in a committed relationship. He observes just how much Mikau means to his girlfriend Lulu, a Ruto look-alike. The transformations place Link in the adult world once more. There is still tragedy, romance, and tremendous responsibility. But the sense of horror that pervaded Ocarina’s adult world has been replaced by a sense of belonging. Unlike Ocarina’s Link, Darmani and Mikau had truly transformed into adults.

Link relives the three days again and again, each time gaining a more nuanced understanding of the world of Termina. He learns how to manage time, how to treat people, and how to change the world in ways that once seemed impossible. It gradually becomes apparent that Link is just as important to Clock Town and the surrounding places as Darmani and Mikau had been to their communities.

Kafei’s role in the story serves as a sort of counterpart to Link’s. Kafei is an adult who is important to his community. Skull Kid finds him and uses Majora’s Mask to trap Kafei in the form of a vulnerable child. When a thief steals Kafei’s wedding mask, Kafei is too afraid to return home. He becomes intimidated by his obligations, so he simply runs away. He neglects the feelings of the people close to him, and they feel pain and confusion. His adult form is not restored until after he returns home and faces Anju.

…Tee-hee! They’re lovers, but they look just like a mother and child.
—Tatl

The experience of Majora’s Mask shows that being an adult is not simply about having an older body. The game world is initially a sort of playground where children play hide and seek, but it subtly transforms into a much different place. It becomes a place where there are continuous obligations, where actions have consequences and people have feelings. As Link learns to navigate these complexities, he undergoes his own internal transformation, from a child to an adult.

The game’s final transformation mask commemorates the person Link has become. At the beginning of the game, Majora’s Mask recognizes the weakness inside Link, and the mask alters Link’s shape so that his external form reveals Link’s true self: a lost child. Link meets with Majora’s Mask again at the end of the game, but this time the mask offers him the Fierce Deity’s Mask. Link transforms into the Fierce Deity, and once again his outer form reveals his true self: a wise, powerful, and courageous adult.

The Playground

One thing that does not change with time is a memory of younger days.
—Sheik

The themes of childhood and adulthood are key elements of the Hero of Time’s story, but the true meaning behind Link’s Awakening,Ocarina of Time, and Majora’s Mask runs even deeper. This meaning involves the relationship between two worlds: one that stays the same forever, and one where “when” exists.

The Hero of Time’s story begins in a world of immortal childhood, where the children always remain as children. The hero leaves the unchanging world, even though he is warned that those who leave will one day die. From there, the story revolves around Link’s relationship to the flow of time and how it changes him.

In Ocarina, players see the world of adulthood from the perspective of a child. Majora then transforms players so that they see the world from the perspective of an adult, and realize that it is not as bad as it once seemed. And finally, towards the end of the story, players see childhood through the eyes of an adult.

This takes place during the finale of Majora, when players enter the world beyond the moon. There is a serene field where children play beneath a magnificent tree. This setting and the events that unfold here contain several layers of allegory that, once understood, reveal the central meaning of the story.

Once again, the scene when Koholint’s ghost returns to his house is important here. The field offers Link a glimpse of a beautiful world that he no longer belongs to. The image of the children playing beneath the tree recalls Link’s own childhood, when he lived with the Kokiri in the forest of the Great Deku Tree. Though the children here are strangers, the scene is hauntingly familiar.

“…Nostalgia… …unchanged…”

Like the ghost who took one last look at his earthly home before going to his eternal resting place, Link returns to the world of his childhood one last time before he leaves it behind forever to become the Fierce Deity.

The setting itself, the playground of the masked children, has clear ties to Termina. The tree standing at the heart of the playground mirrors the Clock Tower standing at the heart of Termina. The Clock Tower counts down the hours as time passes by. Termina is bound to the flow of time, but the playground beyond the moon is eternal. The Clock Tower symbolizes mortality, while the tree symbolizes immortality.

The playground is a paradise untouched by time, an infinitely beautiful and comforting home to the masked children. In this sense, it is just like Koholint Island. However, the tranquility of the scene is disrupted by the roars of distant earthquakes. Like the Ballad of the Wind Fish, these tremors represent the call of the world beyond, a voice asking the dreamers to awaken.

Each of the masked children asks to play with Link when he appears in the playground. There are five children, akin to the five members of the Bombers who play with Link. Four of the masked children ask Link to play hide and seek once again.

When he finds each of the four children, they are waiting for him in a brightly painted room. Simple, colorful patterns adorn the walls, floor, and ceiling. The room is a child’s playpen.

In these rooms, each child asks Link a question:

Your friends…What kind of…people are they?
I wonder… Do those people…think of you…as a friend?
You…What makes you…happy?
I wonder…What makes you happy… Does it make…others happy, too?
The right thing…What is it?
I wonder…If you do the right thing… Does it really make…everybody…happy?
Your true face…What kind of…face is it?
I wonder…The face under the mask… Is that…your true face?
—The Masked Children

The questions reveal that the kids are starting to grow up. They’re starting to wonder about the feelings of the people around them, the nature of right and wrong, and whether they should accept things at face value. These questions are the first steps on the path to adulthood. When Link returns to the field, these children have left.

This process represents the end of childhood, but there is also a grander level of symbolism at work. The rooms where the children wait for Link contain four blocks, each with the face of the moon painted on its sides. The blocks are arranged in a compass pattern, representing the four giants and the four worlds of Termina. Termina is represented as a playpen.

The more time the player spends in Termina, the smaller the world seems to become. At first, it towers above the young Deku Scrub. But Link’s body is a little taller, and the bodies of Darmani and Mikau are taller still. The player takes on larger forms as the game progresses, even becoming a giant briefly. The larger the player becomes, the smaller the surrounding world appears. When Link stands in the Termina-like playpens, the effect is similar to donning the Giant’s Mask in Twinmold’s arena. The world is so small because in his heart, Link has become a giant. He has outgrown Termina.

When the children vanish from the field, it does not simply represent a child entering the adult world. It also symbolizes a soul leaving Termina, letting go of the world of the living to see what lies beyond death.

Mortal Life

The rising sun will eventually set, a newborn’s life will fade.
From sun to moon, moon to sun.
Give peaceful rest to the living dead.
—Inscription on the Royal Family’s Tomb

Throughout Majora’s Mask, the moon is a symbol of death. It is the source of the ominous earthquakes, the voice telling the children that they have no time left to spend in the playground.

Termina is a mortal world, and all things mortal must eventually end. This is the condition Link accepts at the start of Ocarina when he leaves Kokiri Forest: he will one day die. (Since Link is a Hylian, not a Kokiri, this would have applied regardless. But Link did not have that knowledge when he made his choice, and neither did players. By leaving the forest, Link and players accept the prospect of death.)

The great conflict of Majora is the fact that a world is facing its death. The player is able to observe the different ways people handle the inevitability of the end. Some run away in fear, some hide in the corners of their homes crying. Some abandon all hope and go for one last drink at the bar, while others stand and face the falling moon, cursing it in a fit of madness. Some think of all that has been left unseen and undone, love that has been lost, mistakes that have been made, time that has been wasted. But there are others who find peace. They hold their loved ones close and prepare to greet the morning together.

The player has two overarching tasks: to help the people of Termina find acceptance and strength in the face of death, and to grant them more time to spend in the playground that is the living world.

There are also others who have been torn away from the playground but continue to haunt it; they are the living dead.

Kamaro died before he could teach the world his dance. Darmani died before he could save his people. Mikau dies while his lover still gazes at the sea hopelessly. The land of Ikana has been cursed so that the dead cannot escape it. They roam the earth, plagued with regret. Gibdos wander about underground, longing for worldly pleasures. Sharp and Flat are bound to their old feud. The King and his servants lurk in the darkness of their castle for eternity.

That scene from Link’s Awakening plays out again and again in Majora’s Mask: tormented souls haunt their old homes, yearning for a world where they no longer belong. To them, Link must bring peace.

The Child’s Wrath

Why must you leave?
Why do you not stay?
—The Imp

In the field with the tree, there is one child who does not leave. The child sits beneath the tree of immortality, holding on to it like Gollum clutching the Ring—the Ring that prolongs life long after all of its beauty has faded away. The four children leave the playground, but the child wearing Majora’s Mask continues to haunt it.

This child wants his days in the playground to never end. Skull Kid wanted the giants to be with him forever. Skull Kid and Majora’s Mask cannot stand life in a mortal world. They cannot accept change, they cannot accept that things end.

Thus, the true enemy of Majora’s Mask is time itself. The mask’s ultimate objective is to end the flow of time, to end the mortal world where time exists. Hence the symbolic imagery of the falling moon destroying the Clock Tower.

Majora’s Mask desires only unchanging immortality, a folly that both Ocarina of Time and Link’s Awakening warn against. Koholint Island is at risk of transforming into a nightmare if the dreamer stays too long. Kokiri Forest is shielded by a curse: mortals who enter the immortal forest turn into monsters. This sort of danger is epitomized by the monster Link battles at the end of Majora’s Mask.

When the child sitting under the tree asks to play with Link, the two enter a giant, perverted playpen. It is filled with deadly toys: masks that fire beams of light, and sharp spinning tops that explode. This arena is the opposite of the shrunken playpens of the four other children. Those children outgrew their playpens, but the walls of this playpen tower above the monstrous child who calls it home.

That is what Majora truly is: a child who refuses to grow up. Its three manifestations represent childish immaturity. The Child’s Mask hides the child’s true self behind a facade, the Child’s Incarnation lives for the joys of playtime, and the Child’s Wrath lashes out at the world in selfish anger. It holds two monstrous, tentacle-like whips perfect for grabbing hold of something and never letting go. It delights in the agony of those around it and screams in horror and pain whenever it is wounded. This monster is the antithesis of the other four children and the altruistic questions they ask.

Bratty, self-centered kids generally need stern parents. Hence, the Fierce Deity. If Link faces the bully in any other body, it is terribly powerful. But the Fierce Deity utterly overpowers Majora’s forms. The adult silences the wailing child as time’s hero brings Majora’s Mask’s playtime to an end.

The Guardian Tree

Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. However, that parting need not last forever. Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short time… that is up to you.
—The Happy Mask Salesman

The tree standing in the playground represents all that is beautiful in life, all that is beloved and invaluable. However, time causes all things to fade. Life’s greatest treasures do not last forever. Those who love the tree must learn to let go of it when time comes to take it away.

This is why the Hero of Time’s story begins with the death of the Great Deku Tree. Throughout Ocarina and Majora, trees and tree stumps are used to represent simple beauty and tragic loss.

One of the brightest aspects of Link’s childhood is his friendship with Saria. When Link returns to the Sacred Forest Meadow where she taught him Saria’s Song, he pauses for a moment beside the empty tree stump.

When Skull Kid became friends with Tatl and Tael, he carved a picture of the three of them in a tree. After their friendship becomes fragmented, Tatl sees the carving and remembers those happier days. Saria’s Song plays during this sequence.

Early in Majora, Link finds a tree that looks like it’s about to cry. The tree is the dead body of the Deku Butler’s son—Skull Kid killed it to create Link’s Deku Scrub form. At the end of the game, the Deku Butler kneels before the tree and mourns his son.

Majora’s Mask represents the temptation to sit beneath that tree forever, to never let go of it. The only way to grow is to overcome that temptation.

Majora’s story is framed by Link’s search for Navi. Though players generally have mixed feelings about this guardian fairy, she meant an awful lot to Link. As a kid, Link was bullied for being different, being the one Kokiri with no fairy companion. The carvings at the base of Link’s home show a dinosaur fighting a warrior who has a fairy at his side, showing how Link longed for this companionship. When Navi came to Link, his whole life changed. Saria was happy for him, and he could stand up to Mido. Navi was with Link when he left the forest, when he lost seven years of his life, when he returned home and no one recognized him. She believed in him, supported him, and kept him headed in the right direction.

For every meeting, there is a parting. Without Navi, Link feels lost and alone. Link’s feelings towards his beloved guardian and friend are represented by the beauty of the immortal tree in the field beyond the moon. Link has been separated from the tree. The fear and confusion inherent in Majora’s first three-day cycle represent Link’s resulting mental state. Whether the parting, the period of mourning, lasts forever or merely for a short time… that is up to him.

At the heart of Majora’s Mask is the story of Link recovering from the loss of his friend, the story of Link learning to let go of the tree. The game ends with Saria’s Song playing over the image of a tree stump where Link carves his memories of Termina: he let go of one tree and found a new one.

For the Deku Butler, for the Goron Elder’s son, and for Lulu, the story is about to begin again.

The Seeds of the Future

I can see this girl’s dreams.
Oceans… Oceans… Oceans… Oceans…
Oceans as far as the eye can see.
—Ganondorf

The Wind Waker tells this same story of mortality and immortality, of beauty and loss, of wandering spirits with lingering regrets. In this game, the ancient kingdom of Hyrule represents the immortal world, and the Great Sea is the mortal world. The part of Koholint’s ghost is played by Ganondorf and King Daphnes, who are overwhelmed with nostalgia for their lost home.

One of the great highlights of the game is the discovery of Hyrule sleeping on the ocean floor. For most of the game, the player sees only vast seas with small islands scattered across them, but here there are tall mountains and rolling hills. This contrast between ocean and land is akin to the contrast Majora created between the world of the three-day cycle and the field where time stands still.

When Link first finds Hyrule, it is frozen in time. Hyrule is the past, and the Great Sea is the present. As for the future, Ganondorf makes it clear that he sees nothing there:

So many pathetic creatures, scattered across a handful of islands, drifting on this sea like fallen leaves on a forgotten pool… What can they possibly hope to achieve?
—Ganondorf

Ganondorf and Daphnes both perceive Hyrule the way the Hero of Time perceives Navi, the way Skull Kid perceives his days with the giants, the way the Deku King perceives his daughter: a lone, beautiful tree surrounded by vast, barren fields. When the tree is lost, all that remains is seeming emptiness.

As Ganondorf prepares to touch the Triforce, his wish is for the tree to be restored to him:

Gods! Hear that which I desire!
Expose this land to the rays of the sun once more! Let them burn forth!
Give Hyrule to me!!!
—Ganondorf

But the King of Hyrule learns the same lesson that Link learned in Majora’s Mask: the only way to move forward is to let go of the tree.

Gods of the Triforce! Hear that which I desire!
Hope! I desire hope for these children! Give them a future!
Wash away this ancient land of Hyrule! Let a ray of hope shine on the future of the world!!!
—King Daphnes

As the King speaks his wish, a choir sings the Serenade of Water from Ocarina of Time.

Time passes, people move. Like a river’s flow, it never ends. A childish mind will turn to noble ambition… Young love will become deep affection… The clear water’s surface reflects growth…
Now, listen to the Serenade of Water to reflect upon yourself…
—Sheik

The King’s wish reflects his own growth. Ganondorf would have reversed the flow of time’s river so that he could relive the past, but the King lets the water wash away the ancient world. Ganondorf, like Majora’s Mask, cannot stand the idea of a world that moves forward, so he attempts to destroy the King’s hope for the future by killing Link and Tetra. When Link defeats Ganondorf, the emissary of the past turns to stone.

The King of Hyrule then speaks the message that Link’s Awakening, Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask, and The Wind Waker have all been preparing:

My children… Listen to me. I have lived regretting the past. And I have faced those regrets.
If only I could do things over again… Not a day of my life has gone by without my thoughts turning to my kingdom of old. I have lived bound to Hyrule.
In that sense, I was the same as Ganondorf.
But you…
I want you to live for the future. There may be nothing left for you… But despite that, you must look forward and walk a path of hope, trusting that it will sustain you when darkness comes.
Farewell…
This is the only world that your ancestors were able to leave you.
Please…forgive us.
—King Daphnes

Immortal Childhood

This island is going to disappear…
Our world is going to disappear…
Our world…
Our… world…
—The Nightmares

Ocarina of Time begins with Link venturing beyond the confines of his familiar playpen, even if it means his death. This act is what theLegend of Zelda series is all about. The magical feeling players sense in these games is this curiosity, this thirst for discovery, this desire for adventure. It is the call of the future.

In Majora’s Mask, this call is represented by the terrifying moon. The people of Termina live clinging to something, holding onto regrets, and thus the prospect of embracing the future frightens them. Link’s Awakening and The Wind Waker both use wind to symbolize moving forward. One game has Link awakening the Wind Fish and the other game is titled The Wind Waker. It ends with Tetra and Link setting sail, letting the wind guide them to a new land.

Dream and reality, past and present, immortality and mortality: two worlds, one beyond the reach of time, the other governed by it. The relationship between these two worlds is the theme these four games continuously explore, symbolized by Majora’s juxtaposition of the tree and the Clock Tower. There is the timeless world of childhood, where children play under the supervision of a loving guardian, free from obligations. And there is the passing world of adulthood, where lives are lived according to schedules and everything has an end.

As beautiful as childhood’s playground is, eventually children yearn for something more, like Marin longing to see what lies beyond the sea. But when they leave childhood it vanishes forever, like Koholint Island.

They enter a new territory, the mortal world of adulthood. But as time passes, even this world becomes smaller, seeming like another playground with finite boundaries. And finally they leave behind this world as well.

The living world is like the inside of an egg. Once the shell is broken, that world is gone forever.

The rising sun will eventually set, a newborn’s life will fade.
From sun to moon, moon to sun.
Give peaceful rest to the living dead.

Restless souls wander where they don’t belong.
Bring them calm with the Sun’s Song.
—Ocarina of Time

The first line of this poem uses the sun to symbolize life, and in Majora’s Mask the moon symbolizes death. Therefore, the meaning of the second line is this: From life to death, death to life.

Time marches on and carries the living with it. One day, it asks them to let go of childhood. Another day, it asks them to let go of life. Time brings all things to their end—to termina—and then it releases them. This is the order of the mortal world.

The Nightmares, Majora’s Mask, and Ganondorf all try to destroy this order because they are clinging to something precious. The Nightmares want Koholint to last forever, Majora’s Mask wants playtime to last forever, and Ganondorf wants Hyrule to last forever. They all live needing their playpens, in a perpetual state of childhood. Trapped in a mortal existence, they thirst for immortality.

For something to truly be immortal, it must be free from the reach of time. The only way to escape time is through death, through an ending. Those who try to hold onto something beautiful forever do not let that beautiful thing die, even as time drains its life. They become like Koholint’s ghost: restless souls, forever haunting that which is gone.

As Sheik says to Link in the Sacred Forest Meadow, “The flow of time is always cruel. Its speed seems different to each person, but no one can change it.

“One thing that does not change with time is a memory of younger days.”

When something is lost, that thing transforms, escaping time and becoming a memory. Memories are immortal: they stay the same forever, their beauty never fading.

Immortals yearn for mortality, and mortals yearn for immortality. To find peace, the two worlds must exist in harmony. Though they are apart, memory is the link that binds them together.

We let go of the tree to explore the world beyond it, but the tree is never lost.

I am the Wind Fish… Long has been my slumber…
In my dreams… an egg appeared and was surrounded by an island, with people, animals, an entire world!
But, verily, it be the nature of dreams to end! When I dost awaken, Koholint will be gone… Only the memory of this dream land will exist in the waking world… Someday, thou may recall this island… That memory must be the real dream world…
… … … …
Come Link… Let us awaken… together!!
—Link’s Awakening

About the author:
Dan Merrill, aka Hylian Dan, is a junior at Champlain College in Burlington, Vermont, where he is majoring in electronic game design.

To get everyone acquainted with the new writers in The Missing Link, we’ve prepared a roundtable article, in which certain site staff bounce opinions of each other in a general debate and discussion about a subject. This is more of a teaser than anything else, as I want to show you how these things work. Plus, I’m itching to get an article on Spirit Tracks out.

Today The Missing Link team will be discussing their first thoughts on the Spirit Tracks trailer. As you probably know, a new Zelda for DS has been announced, and while we know little about it, we are more than ready to discuss it. Here we go!

Crab Helmet:

We then switch to the front view of the train, and a somewhat familiar tune begins to play, adding to the tension. You can see the slightest curl of blond hair beginning to peak about from behind the front seat of the train. Finally, the camera zooms in once more to reveal…

Toon Link.

But not Link as we’ve ever seen him before. He has donned a suitable outfit for his apparent new role, that of a train conductor. I feel that it suits him immensely – the jaunty set of the red steam cap, the black overalls, the rolled up sleeves and gloves, and yet still bearing that wonderful grin we’ve come to know and love from Toon Link. He looks totally at home in his new form of transport.

The transport itself seems reminiscent of the Steamship in PH. It still has a cannon placed just behind the driver’s seat in which Link is placed, and still merrily steams away. In the next few scenes, we see on the over world map Link driving along a series of interconnected railways.

This both excites me, but also worries me. The train is a whole new method of transport, and shows that Hyrule is capable of significant technological advances. It makes me wonder what else might be in this game. It also signifies this may take place in a time frame far away from any other Zelda, and involve many new and interesting things. It appears that, unlike in PH, you cannot “draw” tracks for this train, and steer it anywhere. I really hope that Spirit Tracks isn’t completely on rails (ja, bad pun). An even more linear game would be disappointing.

As if to soothe my worries, the trailer moves to a more familiar setting (and also confirms without a doubt it use the Phantom Hourglass engine, something which pleases me. After all, Majora’s Mask was built from Ocarina of Time’s engine, and I consider Majora’s Mask to be the best Zelda). We see Toon Link in a dungeon, throwing a strange shuriken-like leaf design which seems to function much like the Gale Boomerang from TP at an Octorok, stunning it, then proceeding to defeat it. It is immediately followed by Link using the seem device to blow Bubbles back at a what seems like a miniboss, a very tribal-looking monster, all leaves and masks, and after that, a shot of him using the Deku Guster (I’m allowed to dub things. :3) to retrieve a key.

This makes me a happy man. It seems that this “Deku Guster” is a multi purpose item which can achieve many things, something which has been missing from many Zelda games of recent times. Perhaps this well help to re-introduce non-linearity, or at least vary the item puzzles. (After all, there are only so many times you can shoot an eye.)

Now that I’m halfway through the trailer, I’ll pause to handle you to my follow Missing Linker, Hombre de Mundo.

Hombre de Mundo:

As I just said, there’s little to no solid information about this game. Even the title is tentative, which means it might change at some point up until its release. We can only look at the trailer and the screen shots and try to make the most of it.

Let’s start with the obvious. This game looks identical to Phantom Hourglass, the other Zelda DS game released in 2007. Judging by the few snippets of game play it’s safe to say it pretty much plays the same, so if you liked Phantom Hourglass, chances are high you’re gonna like this one.

Of course, without new content there wouldn’t be much of a new game. Link can take control of what seems to be some sort of Shadow Knight and use it to turn on switches and fight enemies, like how you would control the Phantoms in Phantom Hourglass’ multi player mode.

There’s also the whole train driving aspect to talk about. First off, I’d like to say: Wow! Did any of you see this coming, having Link as a train driver?

From the looks of it, you drive your train much like you sail your boat in Phantom Hourglass, except this time you have to choose the best path from already set rails, you won’t be able to draw on the map and set any course you want.

As Crab Helmet said: while on the train, you use your cannon to shoot hogs and other things you’d rather see dead while waiting to arrive at your next destination. This leaves the player is unlikely to be able to go around Hyrule (or whatever land this is) as he sees fit, like in the traditional Zelda games. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing in my opinion, so long as the destinations aren’t too small in size.

Overall, I expect an adventure alike to Phantom Hourglass. It will probably feel like playing Majora’s Mask after playing Ocarina of Time – an almost identical game when it comes to the core play mechanics, but very different in terms of storyline.

While I hardly think Phantom Hourglass was as good as Ocarina of Time or The Wind Waker, I liked it and I don’t mind getting a similar game at all. I hope Nintendo throws in enough refreshing ideas and enough difficulty to make this title feel fresh and somewhat original.

But how close to Phantom Hourglass is this game in terms of storyline? Will it have the same Link? Is the Zelda we see in the trailer really Tetra? Who’s the villain of this game, what’s threatening Hyrule? Is this game even taking place in Hyrule? There are so many questions we can only speculate about, so a sane man would leave this out and wait for more information. I am not a sane man. I’m a Zelda Theorist. As such, I’m going to share with you some observations.

First of all, this game takes place on land where there is a castle and a functional rail road. Link and Zelda are still kids, so the chances of this being the same Link and Zelda (Tetra) from Phantom Hourglass seem small. But Nintendo likes to slap reality in the face at times, so who’s to say? But it does seem unlikely since this new land has villages and a castle in it, so for a kid Zelda to come in and demand to be the princess of and already existing kingdom… not likely. Nor is it likely that they built the castle, seeing as how building a castle usually takes enough time for kids to grow up.

This could just as well be a sequel to Twilight Princess or The Minish Cap, for all we know. It doesn’t even have to be a sequel or a prequel, but a stand-alone title. One interesting thing is that – if you look at the map – there seems to be a big tree in the woods. Deku Tree?

We’re all speculating at this point and until Iwata or Miyamoto decide to reveal more information, that is all we can do for now.

Crab Helmet:

Continuing with my analysis of the trailer, we see Link use a mysterious metal-clad ally, reminiscent of the Phantoms of Phantom Hourglass, passing through what would be an impassable blaze to Link, in order to reach a switch.

The applications of this are enormous. Imagine, fully integrated co-op, with the secondary player controlling this warrior. It could finally make a really good 2 player mode, without having to resort to basing the entire fundamentals of the game around it, as in Four Swords and Four Swords Adventure.

Even as it is, it seems an excellent idea. It could allow for some really complex puzzles – previously, we just had Link all on his lonesome, leading to one dimensional puzzles. Now you have twice as many aspects to incorporate! Zelda has used partly two-player dungeons before, but never for long, and usually with little depth. However, from the multiple parts in the trailer featuring this warrior, it seems this is fairly major, and I look forward to seeing how it works.

It gets better. The next few seconds show Link and this warrior tag-teaming to defeat enemies. Not only can this baby walk through fires and hit switches, he can fight! And he handily despatches an enemy before our very eyes. (A slightly less major revelation from this cut scene is that the Boomerang returns, but hey, everyone kinda expected that…) Finally, the metal-clad warrior exceeds himself by distracting a River Zora while Link runs round the back and slays it, in what appears to be a fairly in-depth manoeuvre. If they are making combat more inventive, I’m all for it.

Time for a bit of Zelda cliché, as we see Link humbly kneeling before Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda, who appears to be reading a letter Link has given her. Well, this, for me, is a bit of a downer. This is Princess Zelda in all her “seen-it-before-in-at-least-five-games” glory. I like her when they vary her up a bit, as in Ocarina of Time where she made an excellent Sheikah, or in the Wind Waker, where Tetra provided an excellent character, but I feel Zelda needs to move away from repeating itself so much, and if Zelda is as mundane as she appears to be in this shot, I may have apprehensions about the quality of the story.

The next few scenes involve Link shooting stuff. Grand Theft Loco, or what? Well, as far as shooting Bullbo and Skulltula with a cannon counts. Nothing much of interest visually, although the music is beginning to reach a crescendo, and is excellent stuff – if the game’s music is all like this, I certainly will be impressed.

And now, a climax. Link versus a boss. Tall and intimidating, a giant stag beetle lurks in the depths of the forest (which means it is obviously the first boss of the game, because a forest temple is aaaaalways first…). Unfortunately, it really isn’t that exciting. Link shoots back projectiles with the item he appears to have just found in the dungeon this stag beetle resides in, before attacking weak spot, presumably three times. Use item, stun, hit weak spot three times. I have done this so many times now my fingers move on auto. I was really hoping for something a little more varied, and PH was one of the better games in that aspect, with some varied and unusual bosses, but hey, guess this isn’t it. Shame really, as the trailer ends now.

I’ll now hand you over to my third colleague, Holly.

Holly:

I thought my friend was pranking me when I first started the trailer, but sure enough familiar looking graphics showed up and Link was poking his head out of the train. I must say, if anyone saw this coming they must have been a prophet, or worked on the game themselves. On that notion, I have noticed people have been complaining that this game will suck sorely on the fact of the train. In my opinion, it’s going to be just like Wind Waker again; seems bad at first but will end up being a good game. I just hope there will be enough exploring outside the the train besides dungeons, something that Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass lacked.

Next in the trailer we see the traditional game play appear. Even with positive thoughts, I was still happy to see this. The new weapon, the “Deku Guster,” looks like a mix between a pin-wheel and the Deku Leaf (actually if I got there first I would have called it the Deku Pin-wheel) and works the same way, just without the the ability to float. Then there is the Phantom or something close to it, appearing as an ally of sorts. (I even considered it being a person you just order around but it seemed unrealistic for someone to walk through flames >_>) This reminds me of the statues in Twilight Princess that you control, using it to solve various puzzles. Maybe something similar will happen here, where you only control the Knight for one dungeon? Too early to know though.

I agree with the other two in thinking this game will be like Phantom Hourglass game play wise, but I have no complaints in that. It will probably mean that they have already gotten all the game play problems out of way and are focusing on the story more. That means possible earlier release date for us. Hooray!

One thing I really want to know more about is the storyline. We get so little information about it from the trailer and the screen shots, (which I actually haven’t seen any of yet, must find some) but I have to agree with Hombre. This is likely not Link and Tetra from Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass. While Nintendo has followed logic (hence the train amongst other things), they would have at least grown up the kids a little more. Plus by the way Tetra acted in Phantom Hourglass, I doubt we will be seeing her in a dress any time soon.

I think this is a stand alone title, with what little we have seen so far. So far with the plot, I think that this Link was most likely a train conductor or something close to that before he met the Zelda in this game, when he delivers that message to her, and whatever is in the letter causes the game to start properly. Just a random guess, so don’t go quoting me on that. Then there’s the villain of this story, I have no idea who they might be but whoever it is, I just hope they take an active role in the villainy in this game.

Well, that’s all I can think of so far. Hopefully we will be find out more through the months to come.

Hombre de Mundo:

Personally, I’m on the fence with this. Miyamoto has said that the Zelda franchise needs some fresh ideas and concept, which is much welcomed. However, he has also stated that he doesn’t want things like difficulty levels – which I personally think is completely retarded. You cannot make every gamer enjoy the same difficulty, it’s just not possible. So yeah, I do have worries for this game. Looking at the boss fight (a giant wooden beetle it seems), you use your dungeon item to stun the boss, and then it’s just hack n’ slash. As a concept, it’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just that pretty much every Zelda boss in history is built up this way, so it won’t take long before we figure out exactly what to do. Repeat 3 times and we defeat the boss. It really doesn’t become much of a challenge.

On the other hand, Phantom Hourglass made great use of the two screens when boss fights are concerned. Remember the boss that went invisible and one of the screens showed the Boss’ point of view, rushing towards Link? I did not want that battle to end. So I hope to see more of those types of bosses that have unique style and ways of beating them, something that makes players think “wow, I didn’t see this coming!” just like we all thought when we saw Link on a train.

Overall, I think most of us will be surprised of what’s in store for our hero this time around and I have a positive feeling about this game, even though I’m still sceptical of the Zelda team and Miyamoto and I’d rather have Retro Studios develop Zelda games… but if Miyamoto can come to his senses and bring us a fresh Zelda experience, I’m game.

Crab Helmet:

The next issue, will deal with what we’d like to see in the story, what we’d expect from the story, what we predict about the story, and what we’d like to set on fire, throw away the ashes, and bar Miyamoto from going anywhere near. In other words, it’s all about the story. =P See you then!