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The Legend of Zelda games may not be perfect, but they still define the genre.
1UP, we confess, has not been the kindest friend to the Legend of Zelda series of late. In fact, one might even assume that we have some sort of dark agenda against the games. That we're out to perform a cruel hit job. To poison the shape of public discourse about Nintendo's work and undermine the very foundations of the franchise by eroding the world's affection for and confidence in Zelda!
But let's not be silly. We've had some critical words for Zelda over the past few months, it's true, but those criticisms come from precisely the opposite place of whatever grim land of hatred Zelda's more ardent defenders may have concocted in their minds. We tend to put Zelda under harsh scrutiny not because we want to trash it but rather because we love it. Bob Mackey won't shut up about how Majora's Mask is probably the greatest game ever to spring from human minds, and I can bore you with hours of nonstop reminiscence about my experiences with the original NES game. We love Zelda, and we want it to be wonderful. Sometimes it falls short of our expectations; and sometimes in the process of starting up a conversation about these things, you have to play the role of devil's advocate, and then people misinterpret your opinion as being a lot more negative than it really is.
But you know, we're not heartless. We sincerely enjoy the Zelda games, and even if certain among our ranks (who will go unnamed) have a bit of grudge against Skyward Sword, the simple fact is that Zelda still rules the action-RPG genre... or whatever genre you want to call it, if you're the sort of person who gets bent out of shape when someone describes a game without overt stats as an RPG. That genre where you go on a huge, story-driven adventure equipped with a full arsenal of weapons and gear, exploring dungeons and fighting bosses and performing mundane tasks for idiot villagers in order to procure all manner of extra tools and perks. You know it? Whatever you call that style of game, Zelda is still top dog more than a quarter of a century after inventing it. Plenty of competitors give the series a run for its money -- Darksiders, Okami, etc. -- but Zelda is still the king that everyone aims to topple.
It offers players an industry-standard tool set
I've complained that Zelda's gear has become overly templated -- that Nintendo's reluctance to diverge from the weapons and equipment codified in A Link to the Past and Ocarina of Time suffocates the series with a sense of formulaic stagnation. And maybe that's true. At the same time, I get where Nintendo is coming from. The standard Zelda tool set works. It covers all your bases, offers a huge variety of abilities, and it serves a triple purpose: Combat, exploration, and puzzle-solving. Link's sword works perfectly for basic fighting, offering a fast, responsive, and incredibly versatile means of warding off foes. Its abilities can be further expanded through more advanced techniques, whether that takes the form of Wind Waker's fluid counter-based system or Skyward Sword's precision mechanics.
Beyond the sword, though, Link's standard arsenal opens up a number of possibilities. The boomerang, slingshot, and bow-and-arrows (or their analogues) provide a suite of ranged combat options, each with its own perks. The boomerang generally can do little more than stun foes; the slingshot offers quick but weak precise fire; and the arrows are more powerful while requiring more attention to aiming. The hook shot allows Link to grapple with foes, stunning or disarming them, while simultaneously providing a shortcut for navigation. An ever-changing array of magical devices -- from rods to songs -- open up any number of possibilities from direct offense to tremendous transformational effects that reshape the world around the hero.
Yes, the tools in a Zelda game can tend towards the predictable at times... but the capabilities they unlock remain integral to the series' play mechanics. On top of that, you'd be hard-pressed to find many Zelda-inspired games that don't crib directly from Link's tool set, and quite unashamedly at that. For example, Wind Waker introduced a camera; lo and behold, Beyond Good and Evil arrived a year and a half later with its photojournalist heroine. Sure, Zelda's slow to change... but when you're doing the heavy lifting for an entire genre, you probably deserve a bit of slack.
It doesn't get too hung up on story
Modern Zelda games take quite a bit of heat from gamers for their slow, chatty opening sequences. Twilight Princess somewhat infamously led players around by the hand for almost six hours before setting them into the first "real" dungeon and letting them strike out beyond the opening woods. Even Skyward Sword -- a game deliberately designed to be "streamlined" -- had a start-to-action time of nearly an hour.
But here's the thing about those sluggish openings: Once you clear that portion of the games, you rarely if ever sit through more than a couple of minutes of plot at a time. At some point you'll probably see a five-minute-long narrative flashback that unlocks the central plot, but for the most part the nature of a Zelda story is more experiential than expository. The measured pace of those openings serves a very specific purpose: They're meant to establish a setting, to draw players into the game world and give them a sense of stakes more meaningful than "save the kingdom." They define Link's humble origins and make you appreciate the simple integrity of the villagers who have shaped his life to date. Just as Superman means nothing if you don't know of his upbringing as Clark Kent, Link is simply another guy stabbing things with a sword until you see where he comes from.
Beyond that, though, the establishing hours of a Zelda game help define the land of Hyrule. They lay down the stakes, set events in motion, and let the remainder of the story proceed primarily from the player's experience rather than cut-scenes. Play before story has always been the Nintendo way, and Zelda upholds that tradition with each and every game. Once the ball is rolling, it keeps going until the end.
Its dungeons are nothing short of amazing
Even Skyward Sword's biggest detractors won't deny that Zelda's dungeons are unsurpassed. You may hate the chatty openings. There's a 95.3% chance you'll detest the nagging companions Link inevitably seems saddled with in each adventure. You may find the tool set predictable. You may rage at the lack of HD graphics. But all of that melts away as soon as you venture into a dungeon, or a temple, or a shrine.
As soon as you delve into a Zelda labyrinth, you've just set virtual foot in one of the most intricately designed and creatively appointed spaces in the entirety of video gaming. Since the very beginning, the series' subterranean spaces comprise the heart of the Zelda games. With each sequel, they grow increasingly complex and demanding; a Zelda dungeon tests players' mental acuity, spatial reasoning, and physical dexterity. Mortal combat, deadly hazards, and baffling puzzles await Link in equal measure.
The environmental puzzles in a Zelda game outstrip those of any competitor you care to name. You can complete a dungeon using only the tools on-hand within that space, but doing so requires a little sweat. Each labyrinth makes inventive use of Link's skills, and the layouts unfold like a complex puzzle box: A knot you can't unravel at the beginning of a session may demand you penetrate into the darkest depths of the maze to return an hour later having located the tool or technique you need to surmount that particular challenge.
At each dungeon's end waits a boss that must be defeated with the abilities you've mastered in the process of getting there. Sure, these have grown a bit formulaic over the years, but even if you know the road to victory in the abstract (use your new tool to expose a weak point to wail on; repeat) chances are good that you'll find yourself stressed out and hammering the attack button (or non-button) your first time through. And once you've emerged victorious, you take into the world a handy new item to further unlock Hyrule's secrets.
The combat is rock-solid, even amidst all the gimmickry
You may hate the fact that modern Zelda games don't just let you hit a button to kill enemies, and that's fine. Deviating from the standards carries with it a risk of alienating fans, and the last time we saw "standard" combat in a new Zelda game was in 2004's The Minish Cap (unless you count the weird mutant GameCube version of Twilight Princess). Since then, we've waggled, we've Motion Plussed, we've swiped, we've tapped, we've aimed.
But no matter how Nintendo strays from the old-fashioned approach of jabbing B to stab Octoroks with a wooden sword, one thing remains the same: Zelda combat is great. Maybe it's not the king of the world anymore; perhaps you prefer Assassin's Creed with its fluid, reaction-based fighting. Maybe you like God of War's combo-oriented approach. In some ways, Zelda feels staid and old-fashioned even amidst its experimental interface attempts... but again, it's a case of give-and-take. The fundaments of Zelda combat have slowly evolved over time, each new game innovating in its own way. The radical new control schemes build on a solid foundation so that no matter how wild the interface mechanics, players are ultimately performing familiar actions.
Zelda battles are like great jazz: Smooth, fluid, and layering new improvisational elements atop a steady foundation. Each game goes off to explore its own variant, but in the end the piece comes back around to where it started. Whether you're roll-dodging around a Darknut to slash its armor off from behind or performing perfectly directed slashes through the openings in a Stalfos' defense, Zelda's combat works; it engages; it engrosses. And while fighting isn't the central focus of any Zelda game, it provides the climaxes -- the punctuation that spices up the adventure.
The creators aren't afraid to mix things up and make bold stylistic choices
For all that we've complained that Zelda games are too similar, too stagnant, too predictable... that's only true to a degree. Much as with the series' combat mechanics, the consistency of the Zelda games works as a stable foundation upon which the creators may feel free to experiment.
And experiment they have. Zelda games have always dabbled in the unexpected. Zelda II switched genres entirely; Link's Awakening emphasized tools; Majora's Mask changed the game structure into a series of cyclical iterations. The DS games threw out traditional controls for an accessible, all-audiences, stylus-driven interface. And who doesn't remember the collective Internet meltdown when Nintendo revealed Wind Waker's visual style? We still wake screaming from nightmares of lynch mobs chanting "CEL-DA!"
Yes, Zelda games maintain a consistent set of underlying mechanics and objectives. The overall game structure -- roaming a huge world containing tool-granting dungeons with a boss cherry on top -- hasn't changed much since 1986. But what long-running series has more radically reinvented its appearance or interface with each new iteration than Zelda? From the addictive four-player co-op style of Four Swords Adventures to Twilight Princess' ethereal Twilight Realm, every new Zelda game contains a guarantee that you'll experience something new and different. Maybe it won't always be to your liking (see: Sailing in Wind Waker, divining in Skyward Sword), but it's not like Nintendo is just sitting on its hands, you know? Every Zelda stands apart from its predecessors. And that consistent willingness to switch things up in way you never expected helps the series maintain its standing at the top of the genre. Competitors may come and go, but Zelda still rules the action RPG. (Or whatever you call it.)
[MENTION=856]LarsVerb [MENTION=2399]GreenL420 [MENTION=458]Big Exodus [MENTION=580]mat_turbo [MENTION=1083]adoutlaw
1UP, we confess, has not been the kindest friend to the Legend of Zelda series of late. In fact, one might even assume that we have some sort of dark agenda against the games. That we're out to perform a cruel hit job. To poison the shape of public discourse about Nintendo's work and undermine the very foundations of the franchise by eroding the world's affection for and confidence in Zelda!
But let's not be silly. We've had some critical words for Zelda over the past few months, it's true, but those criticisms come from precisely the opposite place of whatever grim land of hatred Zelda's more ardent defenders may have concocted in their minds. We tend to put Zelda under harsh scrutiny not because we want to trash it but rather because we love it. Bob Mackey won't shut up about how Majora's Mask is probably the greatest game ever to spring from human minds, and I can bore you with hours of nonstop reminiscence about my experiences with the original NES game. We love Zelda, and we want it to be wonderful. Sometimes it falls short of our expectations; and sometimes in the process of starting up a conversation about these things, you have to play the role of devil's advocate, and then people misinterpret your opinion as being a lot more negative than it really is.
But you know, we're not heartless. We sincerely enjoy the Zelda games, and even if certain among our ranks (who will go unnamed) have a bit of grudge against Skyward Sword, the simple fact is that Zelda still rules the action-RPG genre... or whatever genre you want to call it, if you're the sort of person who gets bent out of shape when someone describes a game without overt stats as an RPG. That genre where you go on a huge, story-driven adventure equipped with a full arsenal of weapons and gear, exploring dungeons and fighting bosses and performing mundane tasks for idiot villagers in order to procure all manner of extra tools and perks. You know it? Whatever you call that style of game, Zelda is still top dog more than a quarter of a century after inventing it. Plenty of competitors give the series a run for its money -- Darksiders, Okami, etc. -- but Zelda is still the king that everyone aims to topple.
It offers players an industry-standard tool set
I've complained that Zelda's gear has become overly templated -- that Nintendo's reluctance to diverge from the weapons and equipment codified in A Link to the Past and Ocarina of Time suffocates the series with a sense of formulaic stagnation. And maybe that's true. At the same time, I get where Nintendo is coming from. The standard Zelda tool set works. It covers all your bases, offers a huge variety of abilities, and it serves a triple purpose: Combat, exploration, and puzzle-solving. Link's sword works perfectly for basic fighting, offering a fast, responsive, and incredibly versatile means of warding off foes. Its abilities can be further expanded through more advanced techniques, whether that takes the form of Wind Waker's fluid counter-based system or Skyward Sword's precision mechanics.
Beyond the sword, though, Link's standard arsenal opens up a number of possibilities. The boomerang, slingshot, and bow-and-arrows (or their analogues) provide a suite of ranged combat options, each with its own perks. The boomerang generally can do little more than stun foes; the slingshot offers quick but weak precise fire; and the arrows are more powerful while requiring more attention to aiming. The hook shot allows Link to grapple with foes, stunning or disarming them, while simultaneously providing a shortcut for navigation. An ever-changing array of magical devices -- from rods to songs -- open up any number of possibilities from direct offense to tremendous transformational effects that reshape the world around the hero.
Yes, the tools in a Zelda game can tend towards the predictable at times... but the capabilities they unlock remain integral to the series' play mechanics. On top of that, you'd be hard-pressed to find many Zelda-inspired games that don't crib directly from Link's tool set, and quite unashamedly at that. For example, Wind Waker introduced a camera; lo and behold, Beyond Good and Evil arrived a year and a half later with its photojournalist heroine. Sure, Zelda's slow to change... but when you're doing the heavy lifting for an entire genre, you probably deserve a bit of slack.
It doesn't get too hung up on story
Modern Zelda games take quite a bit of heat from gamers for their slow, chatty opening sequences. Twilight Princess somewhat infamously led players around by the hand for almost six hours before setting them into the first "real" dungeon and letting them strike out beyond the opening woods. Even Skyward Sword -- a game deliberately designed to be "streamlined" -- had a start-to-action time of nearly an hour.
But here's the thing about those sluggish openings: Once you clear that portion of the games, you rarely if ever sit through more than a couple of minutes of plot at a time. At some point you'll probably see a five-minute-long narrative flashback that unlocks the central plot, but for the most part the nature of a Zelda story is more experiential than expository. The measured pace of those openings serves a very specific purpose: They're meant to establish a setting, to draw players into the game world and give them a sense of stakes more meaningful than "save the kingdom." They define Link's humble origins and make you appreciate the simple integrity of the villagers who have shaped his life to date. Just as Superman means nothing if you don't know of his upbringing as Clark Kent, Link is simply another guy stabbing things with a sword until you see where he comes from.
Beyond that, though, the establishing hours of a Zelda game help define the land of Hyrule. They lay down the stakes, set events in motion, and let the remainder of the story proceed primarily from the player's experience rather than cut-scenes. Play before story has always been the Nintendo way, and Zelda upholds that tradition with each and every game. Once the ball is rolling, it keeps going until the end.
Its dungeons are nothing short of amazing
Even Skyward Sword's biggest detractors won't deny that Zelda's dungeons are unsurpassed. You may hate the chatty openings. There's a 95.3% chance you'll detest the nagging companions Link inevitably seems saddled with in each adventure. You may find the tool set predictable. You may rage at the lack of HD graphics. But all of that melts away as soon as you venture into a dungeon, or a temple, or a shrine.
As soon as you delve into a Zelda labyrinth, you've just set virtual foot in one of the most intricately designed and creatively appointed spaces in the entirety of video gaming. Since the very beginning, the series' subterranean spaces comprise the heart of the Zelda games. With each sequel, they grow increasingly complex and demanding; a Zelda dungeon tests players' mental acuity, spatial reasoning, and physical dexterity. Mortal combat, deadly hazards, and baffling puzzles await Link in equal measure.
The environmental puzzles in a Zelda game outstrip those of any competitor you care to name. You can complete a dungeon using only the tools on-hand within that space, but doing so requires a little sweat. Each labyrinth makes inventive use of Link's skills, and the layouts unfold like a complex puzzle box: A knot you can't unravel at the beginning of a session may demand you penetrate into the darkest depths of the maze to return an hour later having located the tool or technique you need to surmount that particular challenge.
At each dungeon's end waits a boss that must be defeated with the abilities you've mastered in the process of getting there. Sure, these have grown a bit formulaic over the years, but even if you know the road to victory in the abstract (use your new tool to expose a weak point to wail on; repeat) chances are good that you'll find yourself stressed out and hammering the attack button (or non-button) your first time through. And once you've emerged victorious, you take into the world a handy new item to further unlock Hyrule's secrets.
The combat is rock-solid, even amidst all the gimmickry
You may hate the fact that modern Zelda games don't just let you hit a button to kill enemies, and that's fine. Deviating from the standards carries with it a risk of alienating fans, and the last time we saw "standard" combat in a new Zelda game was in 2004's The Minish Cap (unless you count the weird mutant GameCube version of Twilight Princess). Since then, we've waggled, we've Motion Plussed, we've swiped, we've tapped, we've aimed.
But no matter how Nintendo strays from the old-fashioned approach of jabbing B to stab Octoroks with a wooden sword, one thing remains the same: Zelda combat is great. Maybe it's not the king of the world anymore; perhaps you prefer Assassin's Creed with its fluid, reaction-based fighting. Maybe you like God of War's combo-oriented approach. In some ways, Zelda feels staid and old-fashioned even amidst its experimental interface attempts... but again, it's a case of give-and-take. The fundaments of Zelda combat have slowly evolved over time, each new game innovating in its own way. The radical new control schemes build on a solid foundation so that no matter how wild the interface mechanics, players are ultimately performing familiar actions.
Zelda battles are like great jazz: Smooth, fluid, and layering new improvisational elements atop a steady foundation. Each game goes off to explore its own variant, but in the end the piece comes back around to where it started. Whether you're roll-dodging around a Darknut to slash its armor off from behind or performing perfectly directed slashes through the openings in a Stalfos' defense, Zelda's combat works; it engages; it engrosses. And while fighting isn't the central focus of any Zelda game, it provides the climaxes -- the punctuation that spices up the adventure.
The creators aren't afraid to mix things up and make bold stylistic choices
For all that we've complained that Zelda games are too similar, too stagnant, too predictable... that's only true to a degree. Much as with the series' combat mechanics, the consistency of the Zelda games works as a stable foundation upon which the creators may feel free to experiment.
And experiment they have. Zelda games have always dabbled in the unexpected. Zelda II switched genres entirely; Link's Awakening emphasized tools; Majora's Mask changed the game structure into a series of cyclical iterations. The DS games threw out traditional controls for an accessible, all-audiences, stylus-driven interface. And who doesn't remember the collective Internet meltdown when Nintendo revealed Wind Waker's visual style? We still wake screaming from nightmares of lynch mobs chanting "CEL-DA!"
Yes, Zelda games maintain a consistent set of underlying mechanics and objectives. The overall game structure -- roaming a huge world containing tool-granting dungeons with a boss cherry on top -- hasn't changed much since 1986. But what long-running series has more radically reinvented its appearance or interface with each new iteration than Zelda? From the addictive four-player co-op style of Four Swords Adventures to Twilight Princess' ethereal Twilight Realm, every new Zelda game contains a guarantee that you'll experience something new and different. Maybe it won't always be to your liking (see: Sailing in Wind Waker, divining in Skyward Sword), but it's not like Nintendo is just sitting on its hands, you know? Every Zelda stands apart from its predecessors. And that consistent willingness to switch things up in way you never expected helps the series maintain its standing at the top of the genre. Competitors may come and go, but Zelda still rules the action RPG. (Or whatever you call it.)
[MENTION=856]LarsVerb [MENTION=2399]GreenL420 [MENTION=458]Big Exodus [MENTION=580]mat_turbo [MENTION=1083]adoutlaw
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