(Originally published to Glitchwave on 11/26/2024)
[Image from glitchwave.com]
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Developer: Nintendo
Publisher: Nintendo
Genre(s): Action-Adventure, Open-World
Platforms: Wii U, Switch
Release Date: March 3, 2017
I approached The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild with the same sense of skepticism and apprehension as a father meeting his daughter’s new boyfriend for the first time. Like a paternal parental guardian who is inclined to give their little girl’s new squeeze an ocular pat down, I surveyed the then-oncoming new breed of Zelda game with concern and stubborn dismissiveness. The linear 3D Zelda with a heavier emphasis on the narrative that ushered me into the series during my formative gaming years had been swapped for a bonafide open-world experience, and anyone reading this will want to slap me silly for preemptively labeling it as “Skyrim with the Master Sword.” One might chalk up my cynicism to immaturely refusing to accept change, but I had empirical proof to be wary of the direction that Zelda was heading towards. By 2017, gaming had evolved drastically from the open-world genesis point that GTA III showcased back in the early sixth generation of gaming. Open-world games had transformed from the impressive cutting edge of interactivity to a point of prevalence where they seemed like the only sufficient standard of the modern age. Oversaturation of the genre had shifted what was tightly constructed, non-linear sandboxes into bloated empty deserts with nothing of note for miles and zero sources of stimuli to spark that sense of excited curiosity that open-world games once facilitated. Nintendo had also hastily launched the successor to the Wii U, an uninspired commercial dud whose tepid presence in the HD console wars had almost ousted the long-standing champions from the circle of competition. Starting anew with fresh artillery while the war was still raging connoted that Nintendo had recognized their blunder and backpedaled to rectify all of their losses and corner that coveted gaming market. Unfortunately, I had assumed that igniting their redemption arc with the Switch was at the expense of their integrity, appeasing the masses by catapulting Zelda into the fray of the vapid technical posturing that the open-world genre had devolved into. How narrow-sighted I was with my preconceptions, and Breath of the Wild’s astounding adulation not given to the series since Ocarina’s monumental release wasn’t even a factor in my moment of clarity. Breath of the Wild wasn’t an example of a guideless, wounded franchise jumping on a stagnant trend in the hopes of garnering some cheap attention: it was a pioneering open-world linchpin returning to its roots to reclaim its former glory and show these clueless whippersnappers how to construct an ample digital country that is nothing short of captivating.
While BotW introduces itself with a prophetic promise of good triumphing over evil like all of its Zelda predecessors, a unique alteration of its classic narrative is that the player is plunged into the halfway point of this epic saga. The reincarnated hero who always takes the form of a blonde, non-verbal elfin boy or his post-pubescent version is not introduced in a humdrum scenario where he is oblivious to his messianic potential. Link, who is now embracing his canon name for the first time instead of letting the player treat him like an avatar by sticking him with whichever goofy moniker they create, has already been established as the embodiment of hope for Hyrule. However, seeing him in his state of suspended slumber without even a shirt on, much less his distinguishing green tunic, is surely a humbling scene for this young man of immense prestige. Once Link emerges from the cave into the sunny outdoors of the second-most-recognized kingdom in gaming, a wizened man with a bushy, foot-long grey beard proposes that Link uncover the secret runes hidden in the sunken sanctums of the four shrines located around the area in exchange for his paraglider. Once Link completes this task, the mysterious elder reveals his true form as Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule, the regal king of this enchanted land. On the roof of the dilapidated Temple of Time, the king dumps a heaping load of exposition on our Hero that explains the state of the kingdom he governs and why we were introduced to our hero while he was pruning up in a bath situated in a cave. One century ago, the same Link fought valiantly alongside Zelda and the four champions against the classic cataclysmic threat that is Ganon, or “Calamity Ganon” in this specific incarnation of the pernicious pig. While their efforts were admirable, none of them anticipated that Ganon possessed the power to influence the armed machines created by the Sheikah long ago to combat the foreboding invader, and flipping the switch from protector to aggressor on these mechanical marvels resulted in an event that Hyrule historians dub “The Great Calamity.” To prevent Link from befalling the same fate as the champions in this holocaust, Zelda creates a magic seal whose enormity accomplishes saving Link and stowing him away in his cryogenic long morrow, hiding the Master Sword in the hazy shade of the Lost Woods, and trapping Ganon and localizing his malicious influence entirely to the grounds of Hyrule Castle. While the expositional splurge is overwhelming due to its sheer comprehensiveness, elaborating on the events of the past that inform the context of the present almost splits BotW’s story in half like Ocarina of Time. Sure, actual involvement with the tranquil former half elevates the devastation of the grim state of the future/present. Still, I applaud the unorthodox way the developers are telling this tale, and the tattered state of Hyrule from what has already happened matched with the destructive stakes of what could occur in the future from Ganon’s looming presence places the player on the same edge that invigorates them to save the kingdom.
The visual aspect of Zelda’s presentation became a relevant talking point when The Wind Waker riled up the fanbase with its bright and bulbous cartoon aesthetic. Since then, the 3D Zelda games have drastically swapped their color palettes per entry to reach a fan consensus on an agreeable art style. Well, Nintendo can confidently close those polls wired to their PR department, for I can’t imagine any Zelda newcomer or staunch series veterans sticking their noses up at the graphical gorgeousness that BotW displays. How can anyone resist the sensation of being gobsmacked by the sequence when Link emerges from his hundred-year stasis to the cliffside view of the kingdom’s sublime breadth in all its majestic glory? It’s the indelible image of the game that sold players on BotW, and it’s not difficult to see why the developers honed in on this spectacular shot. Forget the Grand Canyon–Hyrule from this angle is the most awe-inspiring landscape one could witness with their sense of sight, and I don’t care whether or not it’s a landscape fabricated by the advancements of digital technology. It immediately causes the player to salivate at the prospect of intimately visiting all of the places seen in this lofty perspective through the course of their untethered privileges granted by the non-linearity of the open-world genre. Breathtaking landscapes aside, the pleasantness of BotW’s graphics is due to the developers seemingly not choosing a radical, discernable aesthetic at all. Compromising between the polar visuals of The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess with Skyward Sword produced an art style that was still an acquired taste. Scrapping the idea of comparing and contrasting the previous games with a style that is at least clear and competent works wonderfully. Not every aspect of a game has to be revolutionary to be effective. However, what is a revolutionary aspect of BotW’s presentation is that the game finally features fully-fledged voice acting, so the detractors who commonly critique the series omitting this for so long (who, let’s be honest, were never fans of the franchise anyway) can silence their outcries with this appeasement. I’d comment that the voice work of the characters is overall solid for a first go-around, but this is one of the most iconic video game series supported by a lavish Nintendo budget that rivals a Hollywood film production. Perhaps each series that transitioned from 2D to 3D should’ve waited twenty years to attempt unlocking their character’s vocal cords. Alas, even with this technical feat of evolution, our boy Link still opts to grunt and yelp to express himself. Old habits die hard, eh?
When it comes to the geographical schematics of the land existing beyond the outside viewpoint of Link’s elongated bedroom, Hyrule has gone through considerable operation time under the developer's knife to enhance itself. No, I am not specifically referring to its high-definition gloss, even though I realize that its HD visual fidelity is yet another modern presentational attribute making its series debut. Given that BotW is an open-world game and the world map encompasses the entirety of the playtime, the developers needed to graft a sizable amount of meaty muscle onto an area that is usually a glorified highway designed to route the player to a more notable destination located off to the side. Thankfully, the procedure proved a success, as Hyrule is now a mesomorphic goliath with washboard abdominals, or so to speak. Every conceivable topographical landform is represented on Hyrule’s map, and each of the varied terrain, no matter the size and scope, is intermingled across Hyrule to showcase a geographically diverse world. Bodies of water include lakes upon basins upon beaches upon rivers and tributaries. Mountains are scattered across the map like a genuine range instead of being confined to one monolithic land mass like a typical video game level, and the steep elevation of each of these peaks guarantees that snow and ice will be a constant element of the foreground. Before venturing into the heart of the desert, Link will have to pass through a spacious canyon that serves as a logical precedent to its arid emptiness. Can you believe this is the same overworld that was formally nothing but a flat span of astroturf? Ocarina of Time’s primordial depiction of Hyrule served as the essential broth, but BotW’s sprawling protraction of the kingdom is a hearty stew that adds a smattering of ingredients that enrich it with protein. Incidentally, the specific Hyrule Field outside of the castle in the central district of Hyrule remains a vacuous green valley. It amuses me that some things haven’t changed even with all of this progress.
If the player is looking for somewhere that resembles the lively hustle and bustle of civilization, plenty of villages and inns are interspersed between the eclectic ecosystems. One notable village that looks rather Japanese-inspired in this incarnation is Kakariko Village, and the rustic burg isn’t situated at a stone’s throw from the gates of Death Mountain for once. In fact, all of Hyrule’s familiar stomping grounds have survived the Great Calamity/open-world translations, but they’ve been shuffled like a deck of cards. While Kakariko Village is slightly east of central Hyrule, Death Mountain still resides in the northern tip of the kingdom, with the proud and stout Gorons chewing igneous rocks and rolling around on the brimstone base of the volcano as always. The Gerudo ladies are as insular as ever, barring all men (or “voe”) from their gynocentric oasis society in the southwestern desert and unabashedly sprinkling their native language into conversation with outsiders. The Rito bird people and the scaly, aquatic Zoras coexist in this iteration of Hyrule, albeit on opposite sides of the kingdom. The significance of featuring both races on the same map is that the developers have wisely retconned their foolish grasp on how species evolve from The Wind Waker. The Korok tree imps also find footing here from when Hyrule was depicted as an everlasting ocean, but how their residence of the Lost Woods is neighboring the unfathomable heat radiating from Death Mountain without smoldering into the atmosphere is highly questionable. Perhaps it’s due to keeping the player away from uncovering the Master Sword as soon as Link awakens, but their choice of location still suggests that science is still a foreign concept to Nintendo. Little villages withstanding, some detractors of BotW’s world have the gall to state that it’s too vacant for their liking, with an inability to be stimulated by pure naturalism compared to the glitzy electricity of a city setting. As an avid hiker, the emphasis on desolation when paired with a landscape of this magnitude resonates with me greatly. Go figure that many gamers don’t go outside. Besides, there are a myriad of secrets to uncover at every corner of the map that are sure to instill a sense of constant curiosity.
The all-encompassing word I would use to describe BotW’s gameplay is organic. One could apply this term to the varied terrain of the naturalistic landscape but to compound the terminology, perhaps the most organic aspect of BotW’s open-world gameplay is how the player traverses it. After briskly descending from the plateau with the paraglider, the entirety of the map is primed for exploration of his volition. Link can scour the seashores, climb to the highest of mountain tops, and go shield surfing down the dunes of the desert immediately after the plateau tutorial. Link has never felt this physically dexterous in any previous Zelda title. When I mentioned climbing mountain tops, I was not referring to the gentle ascent with a trail. BotW’s Link has the extraordinary ability to climb any conceivable surface across Hyrule: which can include the craggy sides of mountains, towering building surfaces, and the backsides of gargantuan enemies. Link’s hands have such impressive adhesive properties that I’m almost convinced he’s an unmasked Peter Parker. He can even jump manually with a button trigger, which any Zelda veteran will note is a revolutionary stride in Zelda’s mechanics. Of course, Link’s endurance threshold with climbing, swimming, or running is contingent on a green wheel parallel to his health, and it tends to exhaust quickly. With Link’s Tarzan-like physicality, no crevice of Hyrule shall be left unturned.
…Well, to be completely honest, this is all true on a technicality. There are no invisible progression barricades blocking Link from visiting any of these locations, but he might not be able to withstand the weather conditions of a particular place. The plateau tutorial eases the player into this environmental mechanic when one of the runes is located atop the frosty peak of Mount Hylia. Unless the player is able to conjure up a solution to heat Link’s body, he’ll slowly but surely succumb to frostbite and die. On the other side of the coin, the boiling heat of either Death Mountain or the dry dearth of moisture in the Gerudo Desert will also result in the same rate of declining health. Some areas will be swamped with hoards of Moblins or Lizalfos camping out under the stars to sound the horn at Link’s presence and ambush him like a tribe of headhunters. Even though BotW’s combat is exactly the in-depth system I yearned for with the previous Zelda games, with hefty health bars, precision dodging, and parrying involved, any slight miscalculation in the fluidity of fighting will often be fatal even with a stacked row of hearts. Not to mention that the Guardian mechs will be patrolling certain areas of the kingdom in large numbers. Their impervious, mechanical shells matched with how they can obliterate Link with a single, targeted laser blast while trucking it down any terrain on their four legs like a mad tarantula will strike terror in any player. Also, it’s wise to avoid any enemy that resembles a centaur. With all of these dangerous factors in mind, BotW employs something I call “implied progress,” a subtle way of informing the player that the area is beyond their current capabilities like in a Metroid game. One way that I gauged an area’s difficulty is how much adversity came with climbing the district’s Shekiah Tower where the piece of the map for that area is uncovered. If the tower did not feature support decks on the side to alleviate my diminishing stamina wheel or was surrounded by intimidating enemies, I took it as a hint to perhaps return at a later date. Or, I could hone my skills or find another avenue to overcome the challenge, for, again, there still isn’t any tangible obstacle keeping me from achieving my goal.
The hostile conditions of Hyrule and Link’s innate inability to persevere through them arguably puts BotW in the distinction of a survival game. Link’s nomadic status through the unadulterated, uncaring wilderness always puts him in potential harm, and one of the methods used to overcome the harsh conditions is to mix all edible elements he finds on the field to craft either food or elixirs he then stuffs in his pocket like a mangy packrat. Speaking of what’s in Link’s pocket, his inventory of weapons and how they are intertwined with the survival equation is probably the largest source of contention regarding BotW. Let’s have a discussion on realism in video games, shall we? The video game industry’s initiative in progressing the medium was focused on enhancing the visuals to display something akin to reality. Now that they’ve reached a peak of progress where graphics are indiscernible to films, they’ve allocated their resources to heightening game immersion through a realism imperative. The way in which BotW utilizes gaming’s newfound interest in realistic hurdles is that every melee weapon, shield, and bow degrades to the point of shattering from overuse. The only exception to this rule is The Master Sword gained by navigating the Lost Woods and unsheathing it with enough hearts at one’s disposal, but its power will still deplete if one uses it as their primary means of offense. I…suppose the wear and tear of any item will realistically render it useless. Still, if I purchased anything and it busted beyond repair after the meager amount of time spent using it like with these weapons in BotW, I’d demand a full refund even if I misplaced the receipt. While I empathize with the echoed groans of the player base, I ultimately have no serious qualms with this mechanic. Everyone has been clamoring to use the enemy’s weapons again like they could in The Wind Waker, and I enjoy the emphasis on ensuring a diverse roulette of combat–even if it is rather strictly enforced. If one is concerned that this mechanic will leave Link vulnerable in a fight, they can expand the total inventory of each weapon type by exchanging Korok seeds with the pudgy Hestu so he can increase the timbre of his maracas with them. They’re the most abundant collectible in the game and the most common reward for meticulously searching the map. Still, what type of seed has a distinct smell like the Korok seeds apparently do? The less I know the better, but I think Link should still invest in some gloves.
However, one aspect of realism in BotW that genuinely grinds my gears is the weather. In most temperate ecosystems, there is naturally going to be a shift in weather patterns due to factors like the water cycle and general sways in the atmosphere. Besides altering from day to night, the weather will also change periodically from cloudless sunshine to precipitation that might be accompanied by thunderbolts and lightning. When rain coats the land in wetness, Link’s climbing ability is completely handicapped as he won’t be able to grasp any surface without slipping. Because traversal in BotW is highly contingent on climbing, adverse weather that prohibits this ability severely puts a damper on the freeform aspect of the game. All the player can do is wait out the weather, and that’s the antithesis of stimulating. I realize that rain is a realistic part of life that we all must endure, but what is the point of giving it a collateral condition in the game other than just to inconvenience the player? A positive trade-off should’ve at least made this gameplay obstacle less cumbrous, but perhaps that would’ve negated that desired hint of realism. What are we intended to take away from this, that rain sucks? No, playing the waiting game because of the rain sucks.
The category of items in Link’s inventory that will never depreciate is the selection of runes acquired in the first few moments of the game. None of these items are intended to be used for offense. Rather, their utility lies in manipulating the elements of Hyrule for either standard traversal or solving puzzles. The bombs return to raze the cracked walls in the dirt, but now they emanate a light blue glow and detonate by a manual trigger instead of a timed fuse. Magnesis is essentially a giant magnet with the ability to carry items with metallic properties with the grappling power of a protracted energy beam. For objects that don’t feature these magnetic properties in their atoms like boulders, paralyzing them with Stasis and exploiting their inertia with a good whack or two will send them flying. Lastly, Cryonis will freeze a circular space of water which juts out to use as a platform like the ice arrows once did. Oh, and there’s a camera to create a compendium of Hyrule’s various creatures, enemies, and vegetation. One might argue that giving Link all of these gadgets all at once in the beginning like how Q equips James Bond before every mission relinquishes the opportunity for cumulative achievements spurred by utility-gated progress points. Still, solidified progression impediments are not the name of the game here. With a little intuition and some elbow grease, this specific array of gadgets should allow the player to overcome ANY obstacles they may encounter. Only by allowing equal time to become acquainted with these runes and their functions will the player become comfortable enough to attempt the downright eccentric capabilities of these nifty tools. Succeeding via experimenting with the physics of these runes is more organic than a baby turnip plucked from its roots. Or, should I be referring to these runes as applications, considering that the Sheikah Slate that stores all of these functions shares an uncanny resemblance to a smartphone? Forgive me, but I can’t help but laugh at the fact that the most sacred piece of esoteric Sheikah technology that is only permissible to be held by the chosen warrior of prophetic destiny is essentially something that the vast majority of the world’s population owns and keeps in their pockets at all times.
On the field, the runes will aid the player in uncovering Hyrule’s various secrets kept hidden underneath all of the unassuming crevices, namely staggering amounts of Koroks playing hide and seek for their leavings. For the most part, the utility of the runes will be tested in the various shrine trials. Rising from the earth and infesting Hyrule like a series of Starbucks chains, the Sheikah shrines are essentially obstacle courses constructed by the ancient Sheikah people in order to test the warrior acumen of the predestined hero. There are 120 of these arcane curiosities strewn about the map in all imaginable corners of it, so they are treated like a collectible as much as an accumulative side quest. Actually, perhaps I shouldn’t label the shrines as such because it downplays their significance. Upon completing four of the shrine courses, Link will have enough to exchange the purple orbs granted to him at the Sheikah monk’s finish line for increasing his maximum heart counter or stamina wheel. Heart containers are not sharing the space of secret gathering with the Korok droppings on the field as they previously did, so you can imagine why proactively engaging in the shrines is of the utmost importance. Increasing one’s health or stamina costs the same quantity of spirit orbs, so it’s the player’s choice whether they wish to stumble through combat scenarios or cultivate the endurance to sprint away from them. I jest, sort of, but both are vital enough to generate an incentive for the player to complete as many shrines as possible in order to enhance Link to a point of self-preservation. Aided by a beeping radar, always encountering an undiscovered shrine on the map during exploration is its own reward due to both their ubiquity and tendency to hide in the shaded, inconspicuous regions of the map. Each shrine also serves as a beacon for fast travel in BotW to ensure that the player isn’t forced to waste time tediously trekking or relying on the limited travel capabilities of their horse companion (even though riding one still quickens travel time considerably). They’re at least a much more stimulating reward for exploration than Korok caca. However, the engagement felt through the process of accomplishing the shrine’s task always varied. 120 is quite an extravagant amount of shrines to excavate through, so the developers padded the content of the shrines in order to meet their evident quota. I grew tired of the game testing Link’s strengths through minor, modest, and major increments through fighting the same sword and or spear weilding, junior-scaled guardian robot. Offensive tools such as fire arrows also allow the player to unnaturally expedite the puzzles. It’s a testament to the organic gameplay, but it kind of defeats the intended mathematical logic of puzzle-solving. To spruce up the act of shrine solving, a number of them involve considerable tasks taking place in the overworld to unearth the shrine itself. Pondering over the riddles outside the standard underground setting is stimulating enough, but many outdoor shrine puzzles that don’t involve limerick clues are so difficult that they aren’t worth the hassle. If a distant island off the southeast coast of Hyrule piques your curiosity, I have to warn you that visiting that island will engage a challenge that leaves Link at his most naked in every context of the term. Take it from me and pay this island never no mind.
Paying compliments to the shrines in BotW feels like a sort of Stockholm syndrome is seeping in. How can I forgive Nintendo for omitting the winding, layered, and labyrinthian dungeons I adore from the series in favor of these dime-a-dozen puzzle rooms with the same sterile and formulaic interior decor? At first glance, the shrines are not an acceptable substitute for the typical dungeons that have been integral to Zelda since Link was but a blob of 8-bit pixels. However, one of the main quests in BotW introduces something more akin to the traditional broadened expeditions…somewhat. In addition to the army of guardian robots who roam menacingly throughout Hyrule, the Divine Beasts are also under the spell of Ganon’s corruption. The four gargantuan mechanical behemoths were constructed by the Sheikah as blockades against Ganon’s presence and were designated to each of the major homogenized racial societies that exist in Hyrule. Each of the Divine Beasts also resembles animals fitting for the appropriate habitat surrounding the respective races; a soaring eagle for the heights of the Rito, a salamander circling the volcano of Death Mountain, an elephant seated in the deep basin near the waterfall of Zora’s Domain, and a camel stomping around the dry Gerudo Desert. They were once piloted by Link’s four champion friends but since they were slain a hundred years prior, their idleness causes strife to their racial designations by inflicting severe weather phenomena such as flooding and lightning storms. With the aid of the modern, living successor of each champion, Link destroys each of the defense arrays of the Divine Beast and boards them to regain control.
The process of repurposing the Divine Beasts is a bit more reminiscent of the classic Zelda dungeon, only because of their longer length than a shrine and the amplitude of their interiors. Despite the varied exterior phenotypes of each Divine Beast, the objective across all of them is to find five terminals that connect to the Beast’s core. Once arriving at the core with all terminals switched on, a being spawned from Ganon’s dark antimatter duels Link for its control–using the general elemental power of the beast in combat. Boss battles that aren’t sentient rock golems and Moblin ogres aside, it didn’t take me long to realize that the Divine Beasts were glorified shrines with the augmented spectacle of adventuring through the inner machinations of a colossus. Shifting the angle of the beast with the map as a consistent strategy with all of them only dilutes the modicum of diversity that the shrines fail to provide. Substantial dungeon surrogates, I think not.
The other major quest assigned to Link is recalling the events from the first half of his hero arc that occurred a hundred years prior. Because a century of sleep likely has a rattling effect on one’s mind, Link is suffering from a serious case of CRS. To piece together his fuzzy memory, legendary supporting character Impa gives Link a photo reel of twelve different landscape shots taken by Zelda over a century ago. By finding where these photos were taken in the kingdom, Link has a flashback presented as a cutscene that details the context behind the photograph. The scenes are scattered all across Hyrule, so it will require a proficient knowledge of the world map in order to acutely discern the whereabouts of the scenery taken in the photograph. Because exploration is already facilitated in a myriad of other ways, the player should at least find an inkling of familiarity in a speck of the twelve photos. Between the two main quests that BotW offers, I found this one to be the more favorable of the two. As I said before, exploration is BotW’s bread and butter and has never been executed in a 3D environment to this extent. Any task that is exploration-intensive feels fresh and exciting because it doesn’t resemble a bastardized version of something I held dear from the previous titles. Identifying the location of the photo with the limited scope filled me with feelings of pride and accomplishment that all of the floating around the map with the paraglider had paid off with some tactile reward. I, however, was not amused when one of these photographs forced me to visit the grounds of Hyrule Castle and ascend to the heights of its higher floors amidst all the malice. It should’ve been a memory left forgotten in time.
The “Cherished Memories” quest also unlocks vital references to the game’s lore. Sure, we become aware of Hyrule's dour history as a reward for completing the tutorial, but this quest allows us to experience it through the constricted lens of cinematics. When finding where these photos were taken in the kingdom, Link has a flashback presented as a cutscene that details the context behind the photograph. The player teleports to the events of Link’s past in a fractured fashion between twelve short segments. We see Link making preparations with the four champions to defeat Ganon when the day arises and the rigorous training Link will have to do to ensure victory. More importantly, the scenes are through the perspective of Zelda, who is present in all of them on account of taking the pictures where they took place. Due to being occupied with sealing Ganon to the confines of Hyrule Castle, we only witness Zelda as she was in the past through these cutscenes. From the twelve scenes we’re granted, she’s given more characterization than since she cosplayed as a pirate in Wind Waker. Over the course of the cutscenes, she frets over her dutiful role as a royal representative of Hyrule, second-guessing her ability to protect her kingdom especially compared to Link. In between her struggles with imposter syndrome, there are more mirthful moments of marveling at flowers and horseback riding that give Zelda dimension as a human being that is more nuanced than her royal title. When shit hits the fan and Zelda runs from the chaos with Link, her cries of anguished failure are truly devastating because we know first-hand how much she dreaded this outcome. BotW Zelda may not be as winsome as her Skyward Sword depiction, but this iteration is without a doubt the most developed depiction of the princes of Hyrule.
If anything, the photo location in Hyrule Castle is an indication that BotW’s organic freedom even extends to setting foot where the game’s final battle occurs. What this means specifically is that the two quests that would typically lock entrance to the game’s climax can be disregarded entirely. Yes, once Link leaves the elevated space of the plateau, he can technically penetrate the malice encapsulating Hyrule’s capital estate and march his way to Ganon’s domain guns blazing. Of course, this expeditious plan is like barging into the operations of the Italian mob and announcing that you’ve been giving the grizzle to all of their wives. Do you think the outcome of this action will result in the favor of your livelihood? The greatest utilization of BotW’s laissez-faire progression and liberal parameters is that the player is in total control of the preparations before facing off against Ganon. In my case, maximizing the stamina wheel allowed me to totally eschew any encounters with the sturdy enemies and flying sentries circling around the castle entirely. As for the fight that awaited me in the castle’s main chamber with a particularly ghastly version of Ganon in his “calamity” form, I was taken aback that half of his health bar had been decimated by the four Divine Beasts converging their cannon beams and showering the evil swine in a barrage of energy. The other half I had to deplete legitimately was a cinch because I had practiced parrying the mini guardian’s laser blasts in the shrines too many times to count. The sequence after Calamity Ganon where he transforms into his colossal, quadrupedal pig self feels slightly more scripted with Zelda giving Link light arrows and placing triforce targets on vital places to pierce Ganon with them. Still, it’s all worth it to reduce the demonic threat into pork chops and see Hyrule in a tranquil state in the final cutscene. I’ve seen criticisms online calling Calamity Ganon an unfittingly easy finale, but that’s because these people all unwittingly made it an uncomplicated bout through preparation. It’s like acing a test after diligently studying for it for a week in advance, and there’s no better analogy despite how lame it sounds.
If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and give myself seven stinging lashes for writing The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild off as a chance to capitalize on a languishing trend. In the large swathe of time when the third dimension had transformed Zelda into a linear action-adventure series, Miyamoto’s core inspiration of getting lost in the wonderment of the wilderness that engineered the open parameters of the pixelated Zelda titles was compromised due to the limitations of early 3D gaming. Skyward Sword clumsily skidding off the rails of the track that Ocarina of Time had set for the series was a wake-up call that 3D gaming had evolved enough to the point where Miyamoto’s initial direction could be fully realized. Considering the world and the loose methods of traversing it, Miyamoto can now rest easy knowing that his vision has been achieved beautifully. Still, I prefer the elements of the previous 3D Zelda titles for their meatier, diverse dungeons and tighter progression structure that keeps the game from feeling nebulous as BotW does at times. Breath of the Wild does not eclipse games like Ocarina but finds a secure foothold amongst them with its differences. However, compared to its open-world peers, it takes them to school and bends them over their knees–paddling them like a disciplinary Catholic nun. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is a landmark in the open-world genre, and it’s been so long since a game from the franchise holds the prestige of being a generation-defining trailblazer.
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