Why Game? 1 - TextFiles.com

indulgent it is in this vice, perhaps more than
any of the other games to date.
Despite all this, it’s difficult for me to dislike
it. In fact, I’m still rather fond of this one; and
find it more playable and accessible than all but
the very first in the series. What’s more, though
I am bothered by the arbitrary fetch-questing,
it doesn’t really interfere with my enjoyment of
the game.
I suppose the question that needs to be
asked here is: is all of this really a vice in this
case? Let’s suppose, for a moment, that the
answer is “no”, which I think it is.
What is the difference? Why, when Ocarina
of Time tells me for the 100th time that a small
key can be used to open a locked door, (but
only in this dungeon!), do I feel like wringing
Miyamoto’s neck and screaming “I KNOW
ALREADY!”, but when Link's Awakening does it,
it just seems like one of the game’s quirks?
Looking at things on a psychological
level, things maybe start to make a little more
sense. After all, what’s really at stake in Link's
Awakening? The premise, if you don't know,
is that Link has been stranded on a desert
island. Princess Zelda is presumed to be safe
and comfortable. Hyrule is not even given
mention, and is presumably experiencing peace.
The island too, though subject to the usual
“monsters are increasing” phenomenon of most
RPG’s, is a relatively happy place. Presumably
Link has some kind of motivation to leave and
return home, but on the other hand, can the
player really share this motivation? Given that
it’s implied that Koholint Island is all there is to
100 The Gamer’s Quarter Issue #3
the game, where else would the player want to
go?
So what then, is the player’s motivation?
Eric-Jon Waugh, weekly columnist for Next
Generation Online, once said, “the worst thing a
videogame can do is assume that I have nothing
better to do than play a videogame.” In many
ways I think that sums up where the Zelda
franchise has gone lately: they have become
games for people who like playing videogames.
Link's Awakening succeeds as it does, I think,
because it kind of reverses this position.
Bear with me here.
I can’t speak for anyone but myself. But
what really rubs me the wrong way with regards
to modern Zelda games is not so much the
way they take the player for granted but the
pretense with which they do so. These are
games that, using often beautiful, breathtaking
visuals and storytelling, do their best to
convince you that you have embarked on a
quest of great, dramatic import; and then, as a
means of completing that quest, they give you
the most inane, insulting tasks possible. They
take the player for granted. Even something like
fighting a boss can often be broken down into a
mechanical, easily reproducable set of actions
once the boss’s weak spot has been discovered.
(PROTIP: it usually involves using the treasure
you found in that dungeon.) Wash, rinse,
repeat.
That’s kind of insulting, isn’t it?
Link’s Awakening, on the other hand, is in
a unique position. Coming on the heels of the
resounding-yet-shocking-to-nobody success
of A Link To The Past, it does its darndest to
reverse-engineer as many elements of that
game into its framework while at the same
time, being released on a platform which, at the
time, wasn’t the core of Nintendo’s business.
The Gameboy was more a side project. Nothing
was riding on this game, and this allowed the
developers to take some unorthodox liberties
with the license. For example, Will Wright, as he
appeared in the Sim City SNES games (as Dr.
Write), is a character in Link’s Awakening. His