This review is for the Nintendo Switch version of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, which is an emulation of the Nintendo 64 version which is included with a Nintendo Switch Online subscription.
Ocarina of Time has such a deeply rooted and critical place in the collective subconscious of the generation that grew up with it that it’s almost not worth talking about any more. The fact that the game’s older than I am and that my childhood was, as a result, instead heavily impacted by the 2011 remake for the Nintendo 3DS changes nothing about this—it just means that my generation probably also doesn’t need to hear about the game either. However, younger players are unlikely to have grown up with any version of this game widely available, so I think it’s still worth talking about so that nobody’s at risk of not knowing what this game is or why it’s so important.
Ocarina is important not just for its successful translation of the popular Zelda franchise into the 3D action genre, but also for the way it implements a complex and genuinely well-written story into its overall experience. Older games often had simple stories that could be told with a few lines of text or relegated the storytelling to a physical manual that came with the game, or did both of these things, so that before this game it wasn’t super common that a story would be layered and intricate whilst simultaneously being self-contained entirely within the game. The story, which sees the hero Link moving back and forth through time between his childhood and early adulthood, is told through dialogue and cutscenes, yes, but it’s important to understand how crucial it is that the entire map and Link’s access to his tools is really shaken up between the two periods. The result is that time travelling doesn’t just feel like a progression of a linear narrative, but instead it’s a critical part of playing the game, interacting with the world, and even basic activities like navigation.
The game also manages its tone pretty flawlessly. It’s that perfect blend of goofy fun and high-stakes darkness that makes so many of the game’s iconic moments feel so impactful. The changes that have taken place in Hyrule between the two timelines are the reason why it seems to have such an easy time tugging at the heartstrings. A quaint ranch you visited as a child being repurposed as a warhorse factory by an abusive owner or the idyllic spring of the water-dwelling Zoras being frozen over and monster-infested feel so devastating because of just how delightful everything seems as a child. I could go on with example after example all day, because this is the element of Ocarina that really stuck with me as a child—it’s the contrast of childlike wonder and the heartbreak of ageing that grounds everything that’s wonderful about this game for me.
And yeah, I guess there’s gameplay, too. My adoration for the story might make it sound like this is a game you play for that story, but I want it understood that there’s a very good reason why this game’s structure has been reappropriated by so many sequels. Dungeon designs are fresh and exciting (with a single infamous exception), and the use of the new navigation tools associated with each prevents them from feeling repetitive or overly similar to one another. By providing the player with a plethora of tools with multiple different utilities each, Ocarina avoids wearing out its welcome throughout its long story and ensures that each loosely segregated section of the game is memorable and engaging.
And, I mean… that’s it, really. Revolutionary game design, aesthetic design that holds up to this day (even if the blocky models don’t), and one of the most delightful virtual worlds ever created. Does it have problems? Yeah. The controls have aged about as well as most things designed for the eldritch Nintendo 64 controller, and that doesn’t change when playing it on other platforms, and you can tell throughout that the original design document must have been trimmed substantially just by the sheer amount of stuff that’s around 90% complete, but really those are all just technical problems. I can’t think of any problems with this game as a creative work—if old stuff is an automatic turn off, this has old stuff, but this is a really good argument as to why you shouldn’t let that stop you. Missing this is probably the single worst thing a distaste for old games could do to you, and I really don’t believe it’s fair for you to treat yourself that way. It’s remembered the way it is for a reason, and even without a deep-set nostalgia it is still every bit as significant and exceptional as it was twenty years ago.
Dylan's Morsels 