Edward's Videogame Obsession #4: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time

Yup, the best game of '98 was The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, much-heralded as the greatest game of all time. Looking back, Half-Life actually gives it a run for its money as the best game of '98, but since I did not play that until several years later, Ocarina took the cake.

Wow, what a game. This was the must-have title of the year for every boy, girl, or simpleton who still played videogames. I'm not sure how we heard about videogame hype back then, since as far as I know, we didn't go to Web sites like IGN or Gamespot or whatever (these might not have even existed, since the Internet for personal use was still in its infancy), but the streets were buzzing. There is the now-legendary tale of how I was supposed to keep the game a secret from Daniel, since he was getting it for Christmas and I got it several weeks/months earlier, but I will admit now that I had a large part in this. I'm not sure what exactly his parents said, but I know that I wanted to keep it a secret too, since I wanted to get as far ahead as possible before he got it, because I was a motherfucking bastard and still am. Perhaps this was because Daniel might have beaten Banjo-Kazooie first (we beat it around the same time from my memory). It's interesting how we (only me in reality) were more competitive with single-player story modes, but that we didn't really play competitive multiplayer that often, because let's face it: one-on-one gets either depressing (if you lose too much) or awkward real fast (just ask Daniel and Josh Nesbit).

Everyone in middle school at various points in time relatively close to each other all had the same experience. We opened up the box, took out the golden cartridge, and started up our soon to be all-engrossing alternate reality as young, pointy-earred Link. We all questioned what the big deal was as we climbed down the ladder out of our quaint home in the forest, learned how to wield a sword and a slingshot, and got through the first dungeon inside of a large, benevolent, and perhaps somewhat intoxicated tree. This all changed when you took your first steps into the fields of Hyrule, glimpsing the smoky peak of a volcano far in the distance, and to the left of it, the glittering spires of Hyrule Castle. While the generation before us had the collective experience of the original Super Mario Bros., we had Ocarina of Time. There are many games that define my childhood, and I'll talk about a lot of them in this series, but none meant more to me and so many others than this perfectly packaged and presented beauty of a game.

The music was great (listening to this recently on YouTube, I realized that this easily has one of the greatest videogame soundtracks of all time--check out any of the adult Link temples for some amazing music), the graphics were stunning, the gameplay was fun. But what really stuck out for me was the sheer scope of the game for that time. It just seemed so big and immersive, and for that reason, so many of us lived an alternate life inside of its bounds. The levels were quite long and difficult for that age, so it was easy to get lost inside its complexities (which probably seem minimal compared to games now). And iconic. God were those levels ever iconic.

None moreso than the infamous Water Temple, where Daniel places me as being by the time he got the game. I'm sure I was there for another few months. Even with the help of a strategy guide, that temple was a nightmare. It's funny that a temple could prove so hard that even strategy guides couldn't figure it out. It was beautiful, just like all the other temples, so all of us begrudged it with gentle good humor, but we never held it against the game. This was the last game that I ever used a strategy guide in. I always felt somewhat guilty about beating such a great game using one, but at the time, we weren't ashamed. As I hit puberty and "became a man," I learned some of the dogmatic ethics of gaming, which for me included no outside help (up to and including help from other people, which is one reason I like playing games by myself now, so they won't give me tips and make me feel guilt, followed by shame, followed by self-loating, followed by possible self-harm/destruction). This led to such fiascoes as Metal Gear Solid 2, which I had to give up playing since I was stuck on a pointless part that wasn't actually hard, but there was something subtle I had to look up, and I couldn't get over that guilt and continue playing the game. Like I said, I make it hard on myself sometimes.

I would like to play this game again sometime soon. I really think I only went through it once, that first time, which was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I think every male of our age had the same experience. I love the Castle Town. I loved the environments by temples but not actually in them, like the big volcano or Gerudo Valley. I loved the mini-bosses and the mini-dungeons (the well or inside of the big fish). I loved this game so much and I still do.

--Edward