Here we are. Twenty years of The Legend of Zelda. Two decades. Heck, the franchise is older than I am. From killer chickens to upside-down dungeons, it's been home to some of the most unique experiences in gaming history. But rather than simply taking a nostalgic trip down memory lane, I started thinking about Zelda's current state. Twenty years of dungeons and swordplay are great and all, but where has that led this series now? What do its latest entries show us? Is Zelda in good shape?
Looking back and playing through this generation's original efforts once again, I'm not so sure how positive the answers to those questions are.
After Wind Waker was released back in early 2003, I read a backstory-style article which mentioned how Shigeru Miyamoto discovered a cave as a child and needed courage to enter it. In a nutshell, it claimed that the stark contrast between the innocent child and the unknown is perfectly exemplified through Wind Waker's cel-shaded atmosphere. Thus, the game is the best reflection of Miyamoto's original vision for the franchise.
Sitting here at home, controller in hand, waiting for Jabun to commit one of the most heinous crimes in Zelda history by simply handing me the third mystical pearl, that article is all I can think about. I grab the pearl from the giant whale and quietly leave the cave, and I can't help but think that somehow this entire scenario missed the point. Sure, the cel-shading is wonderful, but there's got to be more to this than graphics.
By now many of us know the stories about Miyamoto's younger days and his inspiration for this series. He explored forests, graveyards, and "discovered" a lake. Sometimes it's hard to read about the franchise without those events being mentioned (and apparently this time won't be any exception). But it just goes to show what's at the core of the experience: adventure, exploration, and discovery.
What's strange is that this point was clearly mentioned, yet simply glossed over. When Miyamoto came across the cave he didn't just stand in awe and say to himself, "Whoa, look at me standing here in awe!" He didn't just find a few Yen near the entrance and call it a day. He went home, got a lantern, and plunged right into it.
Reflecting on this, one thought is inescapable to me. There's been a lot of standing around in awe lately with the last couple of Zelda's and not nearly enough diving into the unknown.
Looking back on Wind Waker, I think of some of my favorite moments. The wonderful, mythical introduction. Fighting on top of Dragon Roost as Valoo throws flames into the sky. Entering the submerged Hyrule Castle from Ocarina of Time. Seeing a statue of the Hero of Time. Jabbing the Master Sword into Ganon's face during a final battle atop this very castle.
What do most of these situations have in common? A lot of times their power comes from an acknowledgement of past games in the franchise. This isn't an inherently bad thing; in fact, it can be great, but when this idea of remembrance seeps into almost all of the aspects of a Zelda game, we have to wonder if we're really getting a true sense of discovery and adventure.
And if the answer to that is "no," then are we really getting Zelda games anymore?
