Agent_Llama

Win an incredible Zelda package by sharing your memories of Nintendo's series

1 month ago

My first encounter with Zelda was the Game & Watch. A Christmas present when I was 8, I was entranced by it. I remember being in awe of the dual-screens, and its ability (which seems obvious now!) to be used as an alarm clock. I spent hours in my tiny box room bravely dodging stalfos and defeating ghosts, and feeling an immense sense of achievement if I reached the lair of the dragon on (gasp!) the second screen. It's astonishing to look back as an adult and recognise the sense of adventure such a simple game instilled in me, and it helped foster my ongoing love for fantasy and RPGs. I still have my Game and Watch - it's a little worse-for-wear, with the metal plate on the front requiring some DIY to glue it back on - but it will always hold a special place in my heart.

But as magical as that Game and Watch, it's not my fondest Zelda memory. Nor is it the fabulous, thumping Dark World music of Link's SNES adventure, which to this day I still happily hum. It would also be remiss of me to neglect the frantic joy of Hyrule Warriors, but it's still not my peak Zelda experience.

My heart was stolen (many) years ago by an utterly magical, portable adventure: Link's Awakening. Even writing about it now, I can feel a tear in my eye, as I recall my experience of playing that game, becoming utterly absorbed in its remarkable little world. When I was 12, I broke my arm at school as a result of being knocked over on the playground. It was unbelievably painful, and resulted in a scary-at-the-time overnight hospital stay to reset my arm. As a result, my mum packed me off on an adventure of my own to stay with my lovely aunt and uncle in Tottenham. I took with me a 'get well gift': Link's Awakening, and during my recovery, I devoured that game.

How did Koholint Isle steal my heart? The dramatic cut-scene when turning on the game was something I'd never experienced the like of before; the sense of intrigue in not really understanding who Link was, why he had woken up on that island, or what on earth was going on with all of its unusual residents; the delightful bopping music of Mabe Village (and the disappointment of how it changed to something more subdued once the adventure really got going). There was more... The excitement of finding the sword on the beach, resulting in the triumphant arrival of the Zelda theme tune playing as I wandered the island; the utter delight and silliness of the item side-quest, beginning with the elusive Yoshi doll; the sense of suspense as, bit by bit, the Ballad of the Wind Fish became more and more complete as dungeons were defeated; deliberately earning the moniker of THIEF! because collecting enough rupees was taking too long. And of course – the great mysteries of Koholint: what lay dormant in the egg atop the mountain? Was Link’s experience a beautiful dream? Just who, or what, is the Bucket Mouse?

But there are two moments in particular in that beautiful game that are still burned into my brain. The first is that magical interlude mid-way through the game where, down at the beach you happen upon Marin, and it cues a gorgeous little cut-scene. What she says is so poignant, heartfelt and understated, that I can't helped be moved by it every time. As an adult, I now better understand why - her desire to leave the island resonated deeply with my feeling of not fitting in in some way: Marin needed to see the world and share her gifts with others, whilst I felt trapped in a world where neither I nor anyone else understood me and my deep feelings of loneliness. We both wanted to start anew, somewhere beyond the horizon. Before I knew about the extra bit of the ending - earned as a result of not dying at any point in the adventure - I always imagined that Marin found her way off the island, flying away on her seagull wings as the credits rolled, and in that, I found comfort and hope.

The second standout moment is the ending of the game itself; when the Wind Fish is awoken, and Link finds himself adrift and awake. 12-year-old me had my mind blown – that a video game could throw up the twist at the end that let the pieces fall into place, and accompany it by probably the greatest music to ever conclude a videogame. To this day, it sends a shiver down my spine.

I don't foresee Link's Awakening ever being toppled as my greatest Zelda 'moment', and I don't think I want that to happen, either. It brought me such joy to play at the time, and still does, and it also demonstrated to me the power of games to connect with emotion. Playing Link's Awakening takes me right back to that time and the adventure I was just beginning to work out who I was, and for that, I will be eternally thankful.

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