Breath of the Wild — Review
May to July, 2017
Reason and Purpose for this Review
After having read roughly fifty reviews concerning Breath of the Wild, I can’t help but feel that nearly all of them were missing the point. Or, missing certain points, rather; games are multitudes, after all, and there is no such thing as a fully comprehensive review. But while that may be the case, any review worth its salt should do several things: introduce the game by contextualizing it for a broader audience, discuss its shortcomings and triumphs, and ultimately motivate the reader to do something with their newfound knowledge. Yet, most of the reviews I read failed to accomplish anything of the sort; either they assumed reader knowledge or failed to contextualize the game, overlooked a discussion of its shortcomings or moments of glory, or they lacked a coherent message concerning the game. And while many comments following these articles seem to think that value is only a matter of opinion, and that nothing can be said to be “good” or “bad” concerning artistic works, many centuries of human thought argue otherwise. [1] If such were the case, reviews would simply cease to be, because there would be no underlying system of values from which to judge. This is, on face value, fairly silly.
Another fact I find a bit worrisome is that most of these reviews were published mere days after the release of the game. Even with previews and advanced copies, this seems strange. After all, to finish this game to any kind of meaningful completion would likely take several hundred hours. And while the market dictates the speed at which these reviews must come out (because to wait even a day grants massive readership to those outlets which have already published reviews), this stresses the human mind, crushing artistic appreciation — which can take years to cultivate even concerning a single piece of art — into the span of a few days, all in favor of reaching more people. This, I think, should not be the purpose of a review. A review should take time to write, and time to read. It should be written at many stages throughout the artistic experience: while the game is played, while it is replayed, weeks and months after the game is finished, and then revisited years later to find out how much perceptions have shifted, and how they have shifted.
In terms of the reviews out there, there are now hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Yet, I began to see a pattern early on — a sort of slow dripping to the sound of “10/10” or “5/5” or “100/100” — which was almost endless. Indeed, many reviewers seem to think that Breath of the Wild is perfect. [2] And these initial scores, along with the concomitant hype of a new Zelda, swiftly flooded the gaming world, coloring everything with a rosey hue reminiscent of a sunset. I read I-know-not-how-many completely positive reviews, which mentioned not a single area for improvement; they gushed and rollicked and turned circles around the gameplay mechanisms, the beauty of the landscapes, and the advent of voice acting — something largely new to The Legend of Zelda. A few reviews did provide criticism, but I often found that it was somewhat lacking in terms of its vitality to the game as a whole. The negatives mentioned in these reviews were things such as: stale voice acting, minor performance dips, the length of travel and the pointlessness of horses, meaningless side-quests, and the simplicity of most shrines and dungeons. A few other reviews critiqued the relatively weak characters, repetitive cut scenes, and the cumbersome inventory screens. Some of these issues are important, and still others are matters of personal taste. Glitches are certainly not desirable, but they should not ruin an otherwise good game, and they should certainly not be the only thing mentioned in a review’s section on criticism. Still fewer were those reviews which really took a look at the things of lasting importance: story, characters, and thematic elements (in addition, of course, to gameplay, etc.). Such reviews were few in number, and far between, which left me feeling somewhat deflated.
In short, I hope this review will be an adequate companion to many of these aforementioned reviews. And this is not to say that all the reviews are irredeemable. I have included a few links below, and have cited a few writers whose reviews I think provide a more nuanced depiction of the game. That said, this review will not bother itself with glitches, malfunctions, or the like, because those things are beyond the game world, and not a function of design; furthermore, this review will not touch upon the console or its controllers, as they are likewise beyond the game world. What this review will endeavor to do is to contextualize the game, discuss those things which I find pleasing or displeasing, and ultimately, I hope, help people understand and really dig into their experiences playing Breath of the Wild.
There is one last beneficiary of this review, and that is me. Nothing helps me digest my experiences like writing about them, and so this review will likely bring out new feelings and opinions as it unfolds from my fingertips. In that way, it is a journey for the both of us. I hope we both learn a few things along the way. And, as always, please take your time; after all, why else are you reading?
Reason and Purpose for this Review
After having read roughly fifty reviews concerning Breath of the Wild, I can’t help but feel that nearly all of them were missing the point. Or, missing certain points, rather; games are multitudes, after all, and there is no such thing as a fully comprehensive review. But while that may be the case, any review worth its salt should do several things: introduce the game by contextualizing it for a broader audience, discuss its shortcomings and triumphs, and ultimately motivate the reader to do something with their newfound knowledge. Yet, most of the reviews I read failed to accomplish anything of the sort; either they assumed reader knowledge or failed to contextualize the game, overlooked a discussion of its shortcomings or moments of glory, or they lacked a coherent message concerning the game. And while many comments following these articles seem to think that value is only a matter of opinion, and that nothing can be said to be “good” or “bad” concerning artistic works, many centuries of human thought argue otherwise. [1] If such were the case, reviews would simply cease to be, because there would be no underlying system of values from which to judge. This is, on face value, fairly silly.
Another fact I find a bit worrisome is that most of these reviews were published mere days after the release of the game. Even with previews and advanced copies, this seems strange. After all, to finish this game to any kind of meaningful completion would likely take several hundred hours. And while the market dictates the speed at which these reviews must come out (because to wait even a day grants massive readership to those outlets which have already published reviews), this stresses the human mind, crushing artistic appreciation — which can take years to cultivate even concerning a single piece of art — into the span of a few days, all in favor of reaching more people. This, I think, should not be the purpose of a review. A review should take time to write, and time to read. It should be written at many stages throughout the artistic experience: while the game is played, while it is replayed, weeks and months after the game is finished, and then revisited years later to find out how much perceptions have shifted, and how they have shifted.
In terms of the reviews out there, there are now hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Yet, I began to see a pattern early on — a sort of slow dripping to the sound of “10/10” or “5/5” or “100/100” — which was almost endless. Indeed, many reviewers seem to think that Breath of the Wild is perfect. [2] And these initial scores, along with the concomitant hype of a new Zelda, swiftly flooded the gaming world, coloring everything with a rosey hue reminiscent of a sunset. I read I-know-not-how-many completely positive reviews, which mentioned not a single area for improvement; they gushed and rollicked and turned circles around the gameplay mechanisms, the beauty of the landscapes, and the advent of voice acting — something largely new to The Legend of Zelda. A few reviews did provide criticism, but I often found that it was somewhat lacking in terms of its vitality to the game as a whole. The negatives mentioned in these reviews were things such as: stale voice acting, minor performance dips, the length of travel and the pointlessness of horses, meaningless side-quests, and the simplicity of most shrines and dungeons. A few other reviews critiqued the relatively weak characters, repetitive cut scenes, and the cumbersome inventory screens. Some of these issues are important, and still others are matters of personal taste. Glitches are certainly not desirable, but they should not ruin an otherwise good game, and they should certainly not be the only thing mentioned in a review’s section on criticism. Still fewer were those reviews which really took a look at the things of lasting importance: story, characters, and thematic elements (in addition, of course, to gameplay, etc.). Such reviews were few in number, and far between, which left me feeling somewhat deflated.
In short, I hope this review will be an adequate companion to many of these aforementioned reviews. And this is not to say that all the reviews are irredeemable. I have included a few links below, and have cited a few writers whose reviews I think provide a more nuanced depiction of the game. That said, this review will not bother itself with glitches, malfunctions, or the like, because those things are beyond the game world, and not a function of design; furthermore, this review will not touch upon the console or its controllers, as they are likewise beyond the game world. What this review will endeavor to do is to contextualize the game, discuss those things which I find pleasing or displeasing, and ultimately, I hope, help people understand and really dig into their experiences playing Breath of the Wild.
There is one last beneficiary of this review, and that is me. Nothing helps me digest my experiences like writing about them, and so this review will likely bring out new feelings and opinions as it unfolds from my fingertips. In that way, it is a journey for the both of us. I hope we both learn a few things along the way. And, as always, please take your time; after all, why else are you reading?
A Bit of Context
Breath of the Wild is the nineteenth installment in The Legend of Zelda series, a franchise which has spanned over thirty years. Almost needless to say, this thirty-year period has been full of differing design philosophies, game mechanics, and developmental processes. While the first Zelda title was a largely more liberated, open-world game, giving players the freedom to confront locations and enemies as they saw fit, the series eventually began to crystallize around a certain formula [3], sometime in the 1990s. This overarching scheme consisted of several key components: fenced-in gameplay, distinct overworld v. dungeon separation, and a greater focus on storytelling and plot movement, both through characters and events. This trend continued with strength and fidelity through Majora’s Mask (2000), The Wind Waker (2002), and Twilight Princess (2006), eventually reaching its apogee in Skyward Sword in 2011. And this is not an endorsement of such tight “ship-building”. It is simply history.
Enter Breath of the Wild. This most recent installment in the Zelda franchise is, from what I can see, an attempt to bridge the divide of the two major design traditions within the series where they concern exploration: a joiner between the early days of explorative-but-plot-diminishing games like The Legend of Zelda, and later games like Skyward Sword which focused on theme and plot over freedom and experimentation. This massive shift is both admirable and likely feather-ruffling for many people, and the apparent modus operandi of Producer Eiji Aonuma. [4] (Though this is not to say that he personally dictated what would change and what would not; the choices were determined at least partially by the larger staff, who worked under the catchphrase “break the conventions of the Zelda series.” [5]) Individual dispositions will shape each person’s chosen design philosophy in terms of the balance between exploration and story, with some preferring the joy of gaming over the witnessing of story and development, and some people will inevitably fall the other way. So, it was a dangerous line to be towing for Nintendo, even from the outset, if this was indeed their plan.
In many ways, the game falls firmly into the camp of the Old Guard. It features an immense world, and almost limitless freedom. The player can glide to Hyrule Castle to do battle with Ganon almost immediately, or tackle the game’s shrines and dungeons in any order they so choose; the world is an oyster cracked wide-open for the player to ingest as they will. With the realistic physics engine underlying the vast environment of Hyrule, players are able to approach problems from many angles, fighting enemies with variety, traveling using innovative, unusual methods, and climbing, scaling, and skirting around anything they lay eyes upon. Yet, it doesn’t feel too disconnected from its immediate predecessors. There is still a defined story, though it is told largely through flashbacks and memories. There are still memorable characters and an encouraged series of plot points, which all instill some amount of past familiarity. So, the game is neither one nor the other, and so it inhabits a strange liminal space, balanced yet somewhat strained in its allegiances.
Breath of the Wild is the nineteenth installment in The Legend of Zelda series, a franchise which has spanned over thirty years. Almost needless to say, this thirty-year period has been full of differing design philosophies, game mechanics, and developmental processes. While the first Zelda title was a largely more liberated, open-world game, giving players the freedom to confront locations and enemies as they saw fit, the series eventually began to crystallize around a certain formula [3], sometime in the 1990s. This overarching scheme consisted of several key components: fenced-in gameplay, distinct overworld v. dungeon separation, and a greater focus on storytelling and plot movement, both through characters and events. This trend continued with strength and fidelity through Majora’s Mask (2000), The Wind Waker (2002), and Twilight Princess (2006), eventually reaching its apogee in Skyward Sword in 2011. And this is not an endorsement of such tight “ship-building”. It is simply history.
Enter Breath of the Wild. This most recent installment in the Zelda franchise is, from what I can see, an attempt to bridge the divide of the two major design traditions within the series where they concern exploration: a joiner between the early days of explorative-but-plot-diminishing games like The Legend of Zelda, and later games like Skyward Sword which focused on theme and plot over freedom and experimentation. This massive shift is both admirable and likely feather-ruffling for many people, and the apparent modus operandi of Producer Eiji Aonuma. [4] (Though this is not to say that he personally dictated what would change and what would not; the choices were determined at least partially by the larger staff, who worked under the catchphrase “break the conventions of the Zelda series.” [5]) Individual dispositions will shape each person’s chosen design philosophy in terms of the balance between exploration and story, with some preferring the joy of gaming over the witnessing of story and development, and some people will inevitably fall the other way. So, it was a dangerous line to be towing for Nintendo, even from the outset, if this was indeed their plan.
In many ways, the game falls firmly into the camp of the Old Guard. It features an immense world, and almost limitless freedom. The player can glide to Hyrule Castle to do battle with Ganon almost immediately, or tackle the game’s shrines and dungeons in any order they so choose; the world is an oyster cracked wide-open for the player to ingest as they will. With the realistic physics engine underlying the vast environment of Hyrule, players are able to approach problems from many angles, fighting enemies with variety, traveling using innovative, unusual methods, and climbing, scaling, and skirting around anything they lay eyes upon. Yet, it doesn’t feel too disconnected from its immediate predecessors. There is still a defined story, though it is told largely through flashbacks and memories. There are still memorable characters and an encouraged series of plot points, which all instill some amount of past familiarity. So, the game is neither one nor the other, and so it inhabits a strange liminal space, balanced yet somewhat strained in its allegiances.
Moments of Awe and Glory
In its totality, and at the end of all things, I feel as though the positive elements contained within Breath of the Wild vastly outnumber the negative ones. And while that statement hints at quantity over quality in terms of the method of critique, we will get to the second part shortly, I assure you. For now, let’s discuss what Breath of the Wild did right.
To not belabor an already-belabored point, the world contained within this game is magnificent: truly, awe-inspiringly stunning. There is a sheer joy — complemented and augmented by the commensurate freedom — that embeds itself deep into the player as the game unfolds. There is always something to explore, to find, or to see, and, to me, this is the perfect, abiding function of the Zelda series. Zelda, to me, is exploration. And with its shocking vistas, dynamic environs, and enthralling realism, Breath of the Wild delivers. If a game can give a player pause, causing them to note the beauty of a landscape, there is something at work that is utterly correct. In The Fellowship of the Ring, there is a song that goes, “Still round the corner there may wait a new road or a secret gate . . .” which speaks to that inwardly-experienced pull that happens when certain discerning individuals are left to wander the outdoors — the mysterious beauty that accompanies lovely, yet unknown, lands. This game evoked that emotion in me, and that alone sets it above the rest.
Inextricably tied to the environment is the realism which it imparts. And this goes beyond weather, temperature, and other natural phenomena. Traveling by foot in the real world is far more difficult than many realize, and this game makes us feel it. It doesn’t soften experiences to make things more efficient or convenient. “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is the biggest, most open Zelda game ever made, but it also brings with it a massive change in design philosophy, and the way it treats players. Breath of the Wild is the first main Zelda title since 1991 (2013’s Link to the Past sequel A Link Between Worlds notwithstanding) to feel like it respects its players implicitly.” [6] I agree strongly with this statement, and I am extremely happy that I do. Breath of the Wild can be terrifically challenging in certain ways, and the fact that I was made to actually think was a highly-pleasant surprise. Many games in this series seem more interactive movies than games, with an almost-laughably low difficulty rating; however, as the author of the above piece notes, this game respects the players as competent, thinking, rational creatures. Puzzles can be challenging, enemies difficult, and situational tactics matter. There is no Grand Tutorial, but an assumed brain handling the controllers. We are given equipment and set loose, and it is exhilarating. It now comes to mind that I was promptly dispatched by a group of Bokoblins five minutes after leaving the Great Plateau, and it made me genuinely, inexplicably pleased.
On the same topic, the combat can be joyous, in the most Norse of ways. Strategy and tactics are influenced by in-game experience, which shapes our confrontational skills, and instead of a “hack-and-slash” journey through Hyrule, there is a far greater reliance on planning and creativity. The environment is capable of manipulation, and the freedom derived from this grants extraordinary liberty to the player, in terms of movement, combat, and approach. Because of this, I rarely felt dissatisfied with combat, and even late in the game, I found myself going out-of-the-way in order to rid a tree fort of its Moblin inhabitants. (Concerning my apparently-bloodthirsty nature, I must say a couple things. Breath of the Wild also inserted into its combat system the concept of moral calculus: would the gains I got from those happy, dancing Bokoblins overcome my shame in killing them in their moment of joy? For once, we see the enemies of this game as having (at least at the most shallow level) lives exterior to their combat with us; they dance, sleep, cook meals together, and generally show a depth of personality far beyond what is included in most other games. And yet, they are enemies, protecting items that we need in order to save the world. So, yes, there is an element of guilt to all of the cave-clearing, which adds that much more thoughtfulness to this game. As the developers have said, though, the ultimate purpose is to explore combat possibilities, even if they are underhanded. [7])
In its totality, and at the end of all things, I feel as though the positive elements contained within Breath of the Wild vastly outnumber the negative ones. And while that statement hints at quantity over quality in terms of the method of critique, we will get to the second part shortly, I assure you. For now, let’s discuss what Breath of the Wild did right.
To not belabor an already-belabored point, the world contained within this game is magnificent: truly, awe-inspiringly stunning. There is a sheer joy — complemented and augmented by the commensurate freedom — that embeds itself deep into the player as the game unfolds. There is always something to explore, to find, or to see, and, to me, this is the perfect, abiding function of the Zelda series. Zelda, to me, is exploration. And with its shocking vistas, dynamic environs, and enthralling realism, Breath of the Wild delivers. If a game can give a player pause, causing them to note the beauty of a landscape, there is something at work that is utterly correct. In The Fellowship of the Ring, there is a song that goes, “Still round the corner there may wait a new road or a secret gate . . .” which speaks to that inwardly-experienced pull that happens when certain discerning individuals are left to wander the outdoors — the mysterious beauty that accompanies lovely, yet unknown, lands. This game evoked that emotion in me, and that alone sets it above the rest.
Inextricably tied to the environment is the realism which it imparts. And this goes beyond weather, temperature, and other natural phenomena. Traveling by foot in the real world is far more difficult than many realize, and this game makes us feel it. It doesn’t soften experiences to make things more efficient or convenient. “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is the biggest, most open Zelda game ever made, but it also brings with it a massive change in design philosophy, and the way it treats players. Breath of the Wild is the first main Zelda title since 1991 (2013’s Link to the Past sequel A Link Between Worlds notwithstanding) to feel like it respects its players implicitly.” [6] I agree strongly with this statement, and I am extremely happy that I do. Breath of the Wild can be terrifically challenging in certain ways, and the fact that I was made to actually think was a highly-pleasant surprise. Many games in this series seem more interactive movies than games, with an almost-laughably low difficulty rating; however, as the author of the above piece notes, this game respects the players as competent, thinking, rational creatures. Puzzles can be challenging, enemies difficult, and situational tactics matter. There is no Grand Tutorial, but an assumed brain handling the controllers. We are given equipment and set loose, and it is exhilarating. It now comes to mind that I was promptly dispatched by a group of Bokoblins five minutes after leaving the Great Plateau, and it made me genuinely, inexplicably pleased.
On the same topic, the combat can be joyous, in the most Norse of ways. Strategy and tactics are influenced by in-game experience, which shapes our confrontational skills, and instead of a “hack-and-slash” journey through Hyrule, there is a far greater reliance on planning and creativity. The environment is capable of manipulation, and the freedom derived from this grants extraordinary liberty to the player, in terms of movement, combat, and approach. Because of this, I rarely felt dissatisfied with combat, and even late in the game, I found myself going out-of-the-way in order to rid a tree fort of its Moblin inhabitants. (Concerning my apparently-bloodthirsty nature, I must say a couple things. Breath of the Wild also inserted into its combat system the concept of moral calculus: would the gains I got from those happy, dancing Bokoblins overcome my shame in killing them in their moment of joy? For once, we see the enemies of this game as having (at least at the most shallow level) lives exterior to their combat with us; they dance, sleep, cook meals together, and generally show a depth of personality far beyond what is included in most other games. And yet, they are enemies, protecting items that we need in order to save the world. So, yes, there is an element of guilt to all of the cave-clearing, which adds that much more thoughtfulness to this game. As the developers have said, though, the ultimate purpose is to explore combat possibilities, even if they are underhanded. [7])
As has been said, many positive aspects of this game fall under the umbrella of freedom. And in that same vein, there are a few more freedoms granted by the game which should be mentioned. The near-absolute openness of the game gives players (who are individuals with desires and resonances of their own) the liberty to focus on those things of interest to them. There are several “hobbies” encouraged by the game, and whether one is a fashionista bent on culling every outfit and elevating it to the peak of style or a photographer desirous of completing the in-game Compendium at all costs, there is likely something for everyone. For me, buying and upgrading my house was of the utmost importance. Why bother with Ganon when I don’t have fresh flowers on the bedside table? Really, where are your priorities?
The last related thing is the non-linearity of the game. For me, this is really a point of neutrality, but since so many people seem to love the nebulous structure of this game, we’ll talk about it here. Because the player can go almost anywhere at any time, the game itself could not have an immutable structure; because of this, you have the ability to completely skip dungeons, regions, and quests of all sorts. There is one chief quest, and that is to defeat Ganon. How you choose to do so remains in your hands. The game could really care less. Feel like avoiding the Gerudo Desert? Fine. Not really attracted to the rustic lifestyle of the Gorons? Pretend they don’t exist. Of course, each shrine you complete, each heart container you obtain, and each Divine Beast you free will help you with your ultimate quest, but the pioneering gamer can play as sparsely as he or she sees fit. In this way, it really does feel like life; you must face up to your choices in their full existential gravity, and then live with them.
Cooking! Waking up as an amnesiac, cooking suddenly becomes fascinating. Can we cook chicken in Chu Jelly with a Moblin Horn? Of course, you and I know better. But, Link? Not so much. Scavenging for food, storing it, and then cooking it was one of the most enjoyable facets of this game. There are myriad dishes, plentiful ingredients, and a fantastic culinary scene. Each region has specialty dishes, and many dishes are capable of augmenting one’s vital statistics. And while a cookbook or food log would have been immensely helpful, it ultimately doesn’t overshadow the pleasant nature of cooking over an open fire. Cooking opens up a door into a cultural part of Hyrule we don’t often see in too much depth; granted, Lon Lon Milk and Magic Beans make appearances readily, but Breath of the Wild really explodes our enclosed notions of what food means in Hyrule. The culinary quest in this game adds a simple richness, giving an additional layer to both survival and culture.
The last big thing which stood out to me relates, once again, to the respect shown by the game to the gamers. There is a certain level of minimum general intelligence required by this game: an intelligence which is transferable between spatial reasoning, logic, poetry and riddles, and mathematics. While some of the shrines are far too easy, there are just as many that take some reasonable effort. There are some excellent conceptual puzzles in a few shrines, and even the easiest of the Divine Beasts requires precise timing, spatial rearrangement, and logical progression; that these benefits carry themselves outside of the game into the real world should be appreciated. Along this line of thought, there are many quests whose answers are embedded in riddles, most of them locational in nature. Kass, the wandering Rito bard, whose accordion always heralds new adventure, gives Link many side-quests along the way, all of them poetic and put into song. It then is up to the player to decipher the clues, some of which are linguistic, spatial, or time-dependent. Again, this game respects the player: it assumes a baseline of intellectual capacity and familiarity with problem-solving. I love it for this.
Alongside these fundamental aspects, there are bits of potpourri that should also be given praise. For my part, I like that the heart containers are tied to the completion of shrines. It never quite made sense to me why pieces of heart were randomly dotting the landscape of Hyrule, and the system present in Breath of the Wild makes a great deal more sense. Each of the Sheikah Monks, upon the completion of their trial, or as a gift, imparts to Link a Spirit Orb, which can be seen as the metaphorical essence of their former life, energy, or being. In short, there is a reason for the existence of a Spirit Orb, and the liberation of each orb allows the Goddess Hylia to give a gift unto her Chosen Champion. On a few unrelated notes, the nomenclature present throughout the game is a sure nod to sentimentality; the map is replete with ancient place-names and characters, giving new life to past beings. Breath of the Wild also shows us each main Zelda race (or many of the most important ones) in fairly good depth. As someone who writes about architecture, these cultural rebirths are excellent comparison projects to older games, and they can ultimately enrich our experience greatly.
The last related thing is the non-linearity of the game. For me, this is really a point of neutrality, but since so many people seem to love the nebulous structure of this game, we’ll talk about it here. Because the player can go almost anywhere at any time, the game itself could not have an immutable structure; because of this, you have the ability to completely skip dungeons, regions, and quests of all sorts. There is one chief quest, and that is to defeat Ganon. How you choose to do so remains in your hands. The game could really care less. Feel like avoiding the Gerudo Desert? Fine. Not really attracted to the rustic lifestyle of the Gorons? Pretend they don’t exist. Of course, each shrine you complete, each heart container you obtain, and each Divine Beast you free will help you with your ultimate quest, but the pioneering gamer can play as sparsely as he or she sees fit. In this way, it really does feel like life; you must face up to your choices in their full existential gravity, and then live with them.
Cooking! Waking up as an amnesiac, cooking suddenly becomes fascinating. Can we cook chicken in Chu Jelly with a Moblin Horn? Of course, you and I know better. But, Link? Not so much. Scavenging for food, storing it, and then cooking it was one of the most enjoyable facets of this game. There are myriad dishes, plentiful ingredients, and a fantastic culinary scene. Each region has specialty dishes, and many dishes are capable of augmenting one’s vital statistics. And while a cookbook or food log would have been immensely helpful, it ultimately doesn’t overshadow the pleasant nature of cooking over an open fire. Cooking opens up a door into a cultural part of Hyrule we don’t often see in too much depth; granted, Lon Lon Milk and Magic Beans make appearances readily, but Breath of the Wild really explodes our enclosed notions of what food means in Hyrule. The culinary quest in this game adds a simple richness, giving an additional layer to both survival and culture.
The last big thing which stood out to me relates, once again, to the respect shown by the game to the gamers. There is a certain level of minimum general intelligence required by this game: an intelligence which is transferable between spatial reasoning, logic, poetry and riddles, and mathematics. While some of the shrines are far too easy, there are just as many that take some reasonable effort. There are some excellent conceptual puzzles in a few shrines, and even the easiest of the Divine Beasts requires precise timing, spatial rearrangement, and logical progression; that these benefits carry themselves outside of the game into the real world should be appreciated. Along this line of thought, there are many quests whose answers are embedded in riddles, most of them locational in nature. Kass, the wandering Rito bard, whose accordion always heralds new adventure, gives Link many side-quests along the way, all of them poetic and put into song. It then is up to the player to decipher the clues, some of which are linguistic, spatial, or time-dependent. Again, this game respects the player: it assumes a baseline of intellectual capacity and familiarity with problem-solving. I love it for this.
Alongside these fundamental aspects, there are bits of potpourri that should also be given praise. For my part, I like that the heart containers are tied to the completion of shrines. It never quite made sense to me why pieces of heart were randomly dotting the landscape of Hyrule, and the system present in Breath of the Wild makes a great deal more sense. Each of the Sheikah Monks, upon the completion of their trial, or as a gift, imparts to Link a Spirit Orb, which can be seen as the metaphorical essence of their former life, energy, or being. In short, there is a reason for the existence of a Spirit Orb, and the liberation of each orb allows the Goddess Hylia to give a gift unto her Chosen Champion. On a few unrelated notes, the nomenclature present throughout the game is a sure nod to sentimentality; the map is replete with ancient place-names and characters, giving new life to past beings. Breath of the Wild also shows us each main Zelda race (or many of the most important ones) in fairly good depth. As someone who writes about architecture, these cultural rebirths are excellent comparison projects to older games, and they can ultimately enrich our experience greatly.
On a Neutral Element
There is one thing of monumental ambivalence concerning this game, and that is the state of its music. Hajime Wakai, the Sound Director for the game, is on record stating that the music was meant to augment the ambient sounds of the environment, and not to “create excitement" — which was a more natural and authentic fit for this game. [8] On one hand, it is as magisterial as the soundtracks of Twilight Princess or Skyward Sword, and, on the other, it is too ethereal. What I mean by that word is this: it isn’t tied to anything. One moment it is there, and the next, it is gone. And while that may be an inspired, implicit message of impermanence, it also doesn’t make for a memorable soundscape. In previous Zelda titles, music is tied so heavily to place that the two seem to become one; Kakariko Village without its familiar “doo-dooooo, doo-dooooo, doo-doooooooo” barely seems to register as possible. So too with Faron Woods, Ocarina of Time’s Forest Temple, or Clock Town. We almost cannot separate these places from their musical accompaniments.
You may be saying to yourself at this point: “Hold up. Hateno Village and Kakariko Village each have excellent musical scoring in this game.” And I agree. But I cannot readily hum them, or even remotely recall a melody or rhythm. And this begs the question: how can this be? If we have such strong locations and great musical themes, what differentiates our experiences and memory? Well, I think there is an answer to that, and I think it has to do with forced familiarity. In Breath of the Wild, after the initial foray to Zora’s Domain, what reason do you have to go back? Perhaps there is a side-quest there, but nothing compels you to return. The same thing with Lurelin Village. In fact, you don’t need to go there at all! I remember that it had pleasant music, though I can’t remember what it is for the life of me. And this differs from past, more linear Zelda titles. In Twilight Princess, we had to return to Ordon Village many, many times during the course of the game; and this is true for Faron Woods, the Twilight Realm, and Hyrule Field. From Skyward Sword, Skyloft is present in my mind on nearly every golden summer’s day, and the melancholic theme of Lanayru Desert is likewise difficult to forget. Ocarina of Time had Lon Lon Ranch, Kokiri Forest, and Hyrule Castle Town. Each of these games had locations that were so present, so important, that you couldn’t play the game fully without repeated visits to each one. And this is something that Breath of the Wild, with its non-linear, flexible structure, can never obtain to the same degree. Of course, it’s entirely possible to wander around Zora’s Domain until you have its melody in your head, but that won’t be every gamer’s experience; some will visit there one-hundred times, and others only once. Repetition helps construct and maintain memory, and one of the trade-offs inherent in an open-world design such as this is that the game couldn’t capitalize on some of its biggest achievements. Some things invariably get left behind when different paths are chosen, which leads us to our final section.
There is one thing of monumental ambivalence concerning this game, and that is the state of its music. Hajime Wakai, the Sound Director for the game, is on record stating that the music was meant to augment the ambient sounds of the environment, and not to “create excitement" — which was a more natural and authentic fit for this game. [8] On one hand, it is as magisterial as the soundtracks of Twilight Princess or Skyward Sword, and, on the other, it is too ethereal. What I mean by that word is this: it isn’t tied to anything. One moment it is there, and the next, it is gone. And while that may be an inspired, implicit message of impermanence, it also doesn’t make for a memorable soundscape. In previous Zelda titles, music is tied so heavily to place that the two seem to become one; Kakariko Village without its familiar “doo-dooooo, doo-dooooo, doo-doooooooo” barely seems to register as possible. So too with Faron Woods, Ocarina of Time’s Forest Temple, or Clock Town. We almost cannot separate these places from their musical accompaniments.
You may be saying to yourself at this point: “Hold up. Hateno Village and Kakariko Village each have excellent musical scoring in this game.” And I agree. But I cannot readily hum them, or even remotely recall a melody or rhythm. And this begs the question: how can this be? If we have such strong locations and great musical themes, what differentiates our experiences and memory? Well, I think there is an answer to that, and I think it has to do with forced familiarity. In Breath of the Wild, after the initial foray to Zora’s Domain, what reason do you have to go back? Perhaps there is a side-quest there, but nothing compels you to return. The same thing with Lurelin Village. In fact, you don’t need to go there at all! I remember that it had pleasant music, though I can’t remember what it is for the life of me. And this differs from past, more linear Zelda titles. In Twilight Princess, we had to return to Ordon Village many, many times during the course of the game; and this is true for Faron Woods, the Twilight Realm, and Hyrule Field. From Skyward Sword, Skyloft is present in my mind on nearly every golden summer’s day, and the melancholic theme of Lanayru Desert is likewise difficult to forget. Ocarina of Time had Lon Lon Ranch, Kokiri Forest, and Hyrule Castle Town. Each of these games had locations that were so present, so important, that you couldn’t play the game fully without repeated visits to each one. And this is something that Breath of the Wild, with its non-linear, flexible structure, can never obtain to the same degree. Of course, it’s entirely possible to wander around Zora’s Domain until you have its melody in your head, but that won’t be every gamer’s experience; some will visit there one-hundred times, and others only once. Repetition helps construct and maintain memory, and one of the trade-offs inherent in an open-world design such as this is that the game couldn’t capitalize on some of its biggest achievements. Some things invariably get left behind when different paths are chosen, which leads us to our final section.
Some Things Found Lacking
In terms of negative aspects, most of the reviews were entirely focused on what I consider the “small things”. We’ll start with those things first, and then proceed to far more grievous mistakes.
Here’s a brief enumeration of many of the oft-quoted negative game features present in Breath of the Wild: weapons, even late in the game, are far weaker than they should be, and there is no repair system for them; the game lacks a good perspective/view feature, as the one they give you is too small and cluttered; the voice acting is generally pretty poor in the English version, with a few exceptions; with as large a world as is present in the game, there aren’t many new monsters — with the increased geographical diversity, one would expect more biodiversity as well; concerning the inventory, there should not only be a recipe book, but a way to form outfits for quick changes based on situation; the rollout of gadgets was quickly over and unexciting — in order to give the player more to look forward to, there should have been a slower rollout of runes; horses are largely worthless, because they lose their sole purpose the instant that Link is able to transport via Shrine or Sheikah Tower. There are several more negative features mentioned by numerous authors, but those mentioned above are the most present in my mind. Again, nothing mentioned above caused me too much mental distress, and therefore they are relegated to the “small things” category.
There are two major critiques I have for Breath of the Wild, and they deal with the world and its story. Of course, as I glorified above, the world is ravishing in scope and detail. But it is relatively empty, and this gives me mixed feelings. Of course, the land of Hyrule was, fairly recently, decimated by Ganon’s takeover of Hyrule’s mechanical army, so it makes complete sense that large portions of the kingdom would be scarcely populated. This explains why there are so few villages and towns scattered throughout Hyrule. There are many stables, but few settlements. And while the number of Koroks, Shrines, and stables may all give the impression of a full world, they never made it feel complete. And this may have been a conscious choice on the part of the design team — an ineffable feeling of the incomplete or missing. And yet, I can’t help but feel as though there could have been a bit more: more ruins, more caves, more cabins in the woods. Even as am I writing this, I feel myself torn. At the same time I deeply appreciate the quiet loneliness of the world, I wish there would have been just a bit more cultural debris. The Forgotten Temple, the labyrinths, and the odd statues around Lake Floria were wonderful discoveries, but they felt so far-removed from any in-game culture so as to feel fungible, as if they could easily be replaced by something completely different at no loss to the game. What I really wanted were some cultural clues into the civilizations present, and while I got a few “ins”, it didn’t feel like quite enough. I just can’t help but think that it could have been more full, more embodied, more complete, and more mysterious.
As far as the story went, it was tepid at its best and utterly forgettable at its worst. Apart from the side quests, which were largely shallow, completely lacking depth, meaning, and investment, the main story was riddled with problems, mostly caused by the inherent challenges of a non-linear game. [9] It should be evident that story and freedom are hard to marry together well; usually, when one takes the foreground, the other recedes behind the stage. The last few Zelda titles have been very story-intensive, with rather restrictive worlds, set choices, and a standard narrative. Breath of the Wild obviously breaks with this trend. Its focus is on freedom and exploration, which has a corresponding effect on the story, making it gamer-dependent; if one wanted to take a break between Divine Beasts by collecting Hyrulean flowers for three days, then it is within one’s power to do so. But what is lost when this happens? Obviously, defeating Ganon is the transcendent goal of this game: it is precisely Link’s destiny to accomplish that goal. So, as enjoyable as full liberty is, it simultaneously detracts from the overall plot. In fact, most of the game is not focused on the Main Quest at all. There are stretches of time in which no thought is given to Ganon, or to Zelda, or even to Link’s memories: they simply disappear into the periphery. What is afforded us through the open world ultimately amounts to a pile of beautiful, fun distractions. And while I am not trying to demean such pursuits, I do mean to ask a serious question: what is ultimately more important, collecting seeds or dedicating your life to the liberation of others?
Alfred Hitchcock once quipped: “What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out?” What that means is that any form of drama — television, film, games — is a fluid movement between only the truly important elements of whatever is depicted. And I fear that Breath of the Wild, as a story, failed to strike the necessary balance. It broke so drastically with previous titles so as to barely have a functioning story, let alone a cast of memorable, complex characters. And while the exploration is wondrous — please do not misunderstand me here — it is largely untied to the story; there is no marriage of plot and movement. There is a very tenuous balance in all video games, because they are between art forms: they have the visual elements of a picture, with the literary capabilities of a novel, but they must also be interactive; otherwise, they are simply a film. What I worry about is that this game, instead of being gameplay nobly serving a meaningful exploration of human themes — memory, loss, and failure, to name but a few — it became a thinly-veiled muscle-flex for Nintendo in the guise of a Zelda game: one in which plot, characters, and theme simply served as a platform to experiment with physics engines, novelty, and updated graphics. Perhaps my artistic standards are too high for video games, and I should simply go read Pale Fire. But, I simply cannot be ultimately satisfied by a game that puts one element (in this case gameplay) so lopsidedly over the other.
The final aspect I’ll tackle is that of character development. It is hard to accomplish meaningful character development solely through memory. While the people present in the memories may feel real to Link, as he once lived with them, they cannot feel as real to us, because we do not interact with them. The Four Champions may give us directions, and tell us how they died, but we can no longer be with them, and it feels like we hardly knew them at all. And they are present for so short a time! There are only thirteen memories present in Breath of the Wild, discounting the story-generated memories that crop up from time to time, and they are so disjointed and short that they feel like extras instead of fundamentals. It might be four days before another memory is found, and that memory may not even touch upon the last memory recovered. And this all leads us to Zelda herself. While most of the other characters have but five minutes in the limelight, Princess Zelda garners far more attention. She is the subject of nearly everything, having been so close to Link during the tragedy that unfolded a century prior to this game’s events. And her story is good. We see a side of Zelda that we rarely, if ever, get to see. Princess Zelda at her most actualized is normally the pure, omniscient embodiment of Wisdom, making decisions with complete surety and control, able to harness her power perfectly.
But in Breath of the Wild, we see a Zelda that is forced into a leadership role she does not want, and which she cannot effectively wield. The Goddesses seem to fail to hear her, which utterly destroys her sense of worth, causing her to lash out at those she loves, though she saves her utmost contempt for herself. She sees herself as a failure — not completely sure why, out of all previous incarnations, she would be the one to fail so completely. Her story is wholly affecting, and yet it only becomes beautiful with concentrated effort. Just playing the game you wouldn’t realize it. “The sad thing is, there is an amazing story here with a well-written Princess Zelda if you look for it. If the memories were connected to places you needed to go, or made it so you would get the memories when walking into large areas instead of points that are a pain . . . to find, you would have an amazing character arc and story paced with the exploration of the game. Instead we get the story presented as optional when it should be mandatory.” [10] And that last sentence really sums up my biggest problem with this game: the story has largely become a vehicle for open-world gameplay, when my sensibilities tell me it should swing the opposite way, though, of course, with delicate balance. As one of my readers put it, all things considered: “Story and themes win, but there has to be something that justifies having a controller attached — whether it is enjoyable gameplay, or at least some kind of interaction that allows you to feel involved in the story.” [11] I think that sums it up nicely.
In terms of negative aspects, most of the reviews were entirely focused on what I consider the “small things”. We’ll start with those things first, and then proceed to far more grievous mistakes.
Here’s a brief enumeration of many of the oft-quoted negative game features present in Breath of the Wild: weapons, even late in the game, are far weaker than they should be, and there is no repair system for them; the game lacks a good perspective/view feature, as the one they give you is too small and cluttered; the voice acting is generally pretty poor in the English version, with a few exceptions; with as large a world as is present in the game, there aren’t many new monsters — with the increased geographical diversity, one would expect more biodiversity as well; concerning the inventory, there should not only be a recipe book, but a way to form outfits for quick changes based on situation; the rollout of gadgets was quickly over and unexciting — in order to give the player more to look forward to, there should have been a slower rollout of runes; horses are largely worthless, because they lose their sole purpose the instant that Link is able to transport via Shrine or Sheikah Tower. There are several more negative features mentioned by numerous authors, but those mentioned above are the most present in my mind. Again, nothing mentioned above caused me too much mental distress, and therefore they are relegated to the “small things” category.
There are two major critiques I have for Breath of the Wild, and they deal with the world and its story. Of course, as I glorified above, the world is ravishing in scope and detail. But it is relatively empty, and this gives me mixed feelings. Of course, the land of Hyrule was, fairly recently, decimated by Ganon’s takeover of Hyrule’s mechanical army, so it makes complete sense that large portions of the kingdom would be scarcely populated. This explains why there are so few villages and towns scattered throughout Hyrule. There are many stables, but few settlements. And while the number of Koroks, Shrines, and stables may all give the impression of a full world, they never made it feel complete. And this may have been a conscious choice on the part of the design team — an ineffable feeling of the incomplete or missing. And yet, I can’t help but feel as though there could have been a bit more: more ruins, more caves, more cabins in the woods. Even as am I writing this, I feel myself torn. At the same time I deeply appreciate the quiet loneliness of the world, I wish there would have been just a bit more cultural debris. The Forgotten Temple, the labyrinths, and the odd statues around Lake Floria were wonderful discoveries, but they felt so far-removed from any in-game culture so as to feel fungible, as if they could easily be replaced by something completely different at no loss to the game. What I really wanted were some cultural clues into the civilizations present, and while I got a few “ins”, it didn’t feel like quite enough. I just can’t help but think that it could have been more full, more embodied, more complete, and more mysterious.
As far as the story went, it was tepid at its best and utterly forgettable at its worst. Apart from the side quests, which were largely shallow, completely lacking depth, meaning, and investment, the main story was riddled with problems, mostly caused by the inherent challenges of a non-linear game. [9] It should be evident that story and freedom are hard to marry together well; usually, when one takes the foreground, the other recedes behind the stage. The last few Zelda titles have been very story-intensive, with rather restrictive worlds, set choices, and a standard narrative. Breath of the Wild obviously breaks with this trend. Its focus is on freedom and exploration, which has a corresponding effect on the story, making it gamer-dependent; if one wanted to take a break between Divine Beasts by collecting Hyrulean flowers for three days, then it is within one’s power to do so. But what is lost when this happens? Obviously, defeating Ganon is the transcendent goal of this game: it is precisely Link’s destiny to accomplish that goal. So, as enjoyable as full liberty is, it simultaneously detracts from the overall plot. In fact, most of the game is not focused on the Main Quest at all. There are stretches of time in which no thought is given to Ganon, or to Zelda, or even to Link’s memories: they simply disappear into the periphery. What is afforded us through the open world ultimately amounts to a pile of beautiful, fun distractions. And while I am not trying to demean such pursuits, I do mean to ask a serious question: what is ultimately more important, collecting seeds or dedicating your life to the liberation of others?
Alfred Hitchcock once quipped: “What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out?” What that means is that any form of drama — television, film, games — is a fluid movement between only the truly important elements of whatever is depicted. And I fear that Breath of the Wild, as a story, failed to strike the necessary balance. It broke so drastically with previous titles so as to barely have a functioning story, let alone a cast of memorable, complex characters. And while the exploration is wondrous — please do not misunderstand me here — it is largely untied to the story; there is no marriage of plot and movement. There is a very tenuous balance in all video games, because they are between art forms: they have the visual elements of a picture, with the literary capabilities of a novel, but they must also be interactive; otherwise, they are simply a film. What I worry about is that this game, instead of being gameplay nobly serving a meaningful exploration of human themes — memory, loss, and failure, to name but a few — it became a thinly-veiled muscle-flex for Nintendo in the guise of a Zelda game: one in which plot, characters, and theme simply served as a platform to experiment with physics engines, novelty, and updated graphics. Perhaps my artistic standards are too high for video games, and I should simply go read Pale Fire. But, I simply cannot be ultimately satisfied by a game that puts one element (in this case gameplay) so lopsidedly over the other.
The final aspect I’ll tackle is that of character development. It is hard to accomplish meaningful character development solely through memory. While the people present in the memories may feel real to Link, as he once lived with them, they cannot feel as real to us, because we do not interact with them. The Four Champions may give us directions, and tell us how they died, but we can no longer be with them, and it feels like we hardly knew them at all. And they are present for so short a time! There are only thirteen memories present in Breath of the Wild, discounting the story-generated memories that crop up from time to time, and they are so disjointed and short that they feel like extras instead of fundamentals. It might be four days before another memory is found, and that memory may not even touch upon the last memory recovered. And this all leads us to Zelda herself. While most of the other characters have but five minutes in the limelight, Princess Zelda garners far more attention. She is the subject of nearly everything, having been so close to Link during the tragedy that unfolded a century prior to this game’s events. And her story is good. We see a side of Zelda that we rarely, if ever, get to see. Princess Zelda at her most actualized is normally the pure, omniscient embodiment of Wisdom, making decisions with complete surety and control, able to harness her power perfectly.
But in Breath of the Wild, we see a Zelda that is forced into a leadership role she does not want, and which she cannot effectively wield. The Goddesses seem to fail to hear her, which utterly destroys her sense of worth, causing her to lash out at those she loves, though she saves her utmost contempt for herself. She sees herself as a failure — not completely sure why, out of all previous incarnations, she would be the one to fail so completely. Her story is wholly affecting, and yet it only becomes beautiful with concentrated effort. Just playing the game you wouldn’t realize it. “The sad thing is, there is an amazing story here with a well-written Princess Zelda if you look for it. If the memories were connected to places you needed to go, or made it so you would get the memories when walking into large areas instead of points that are a pain . . . to find, you would have an amazing character arc and story paced with the exploration of the game. Instead we get the story presented as optional when it should be mandatory.” [10] And that last sentence really sums up my biggest problem with this game: the story has largely become a vehicle for open-world gameplay, when my sensibilities tell me it should swing the opposite way, though, of course, with delicate balance. As one of my readers put it, all things considered: “Story and themes win, but there has to be something that justifies having a controller attached — whether it is enjoyable gameplay, or at least some kind of interaction that allows you to feel involved in the story.” [11] I think that sums it up nicely.
In Summation
In the end, the last major criterion which is beyond my powers to ascertain is the test of time’s passage. Ocarina of Time, A Link to the Past, and The Wind Waker all live on in collective consciousness, having some power beyond the cartridge. We will see if Breath of the Wild meets that test. I hope that this review helped shed some light upon the most salient features of this game, and that any knowledge you have gained by reading it is useful to you in some way. A few years from now, perhaps we’ll revisit this game to find a world changed, with new fondnesses and memories attached to things we missed the first time. Perhaps the problems of today will be softened by the amber glow of memory, and we’ll find ourselves enjoying the game for what it is. I can only ask that you play it thoughtfully, reflect on it deeply, and perhaps come to appreciate it at whatever level you deem appropriate. Happy gaming.
In the end, the last major criterion which is beyond my powers to ascertain is the test of time’s passage. Ocarina of Time, A Link to the Past, and The Wind Waker all live on in collective consciousness, having some power beyond the cartridge. We will see if Breath of the Wild meets that test. I hope that this review helped shed some light upon the most salient features of this game, and that any knowledge you have gained by reading it is useful to you in some way. A few years from now, perhaps we’ll revisit this game to find a world changed, with new fondnesses and memories attached to things we missed the first time. Perhaps the problems of today will be softened by the amber glow of memory, and we’ll find ourselves enjoying the game for what it is. I can only ask that you play it thoughtfully, reflect on it deeply, and perhaps come to appreciate it at whatever level you deem appropriate. Happy gaming.
Reviews Worth Reading:
A good read on how critics often immediately praise and then shortly after decry new Zelda titles before coming to a more nuanced understanding after some time has passed:
http://www.denofgeek.com/us/games/the-legend-of-zelda/262674/the-legend-of-zelda-why-its-time-to-forgive-skyward-sword
Good Breath of the Wild reviews:
http://www.gamingunion.net/reviews/2017/the-legend-of-zelda-breath-of-the-wild
https://www.polygon.com/2017/3/2/14753500/the-legend-of-zelda-breath-of-the-wild-review-nintendo-switch-wii-u
http://nichegamer.com/reviews/the-legend-of-zelda-breath-of-the-wild-review/
Works Cited:
[1] Slater, Barry Hartley. "Aesthetics." The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. ISSN 2161-0002, http://www.iep.utm.edu/aestheti/. Web. 07 June 2017.
[2] "The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild." Metacritic. N.p., 03 Mar. 2017. Web. 07 June 2017.
[3] Martens, Todd. "‘The Legend of Zelda’: Nintendo’s Eiji Aonuma Plots Series’ Future." Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 19 June 2013. Web. 07 June 2017.
[4] Narcisse, Evan. "The Man In Charge of Zelda Says He Wants to Keep Changing It." Kotaku. Kotaku.com, 14 Oct. 2013. Web. 07 June 2017.
[5] "The Making of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Video – The Beginning." Interview. YouTube.com. Nintendo, 14 Mar. 2017. Web. 30 June 2017.
Within this interview, Hidemaro Fujibayashi describes this process: “We were thinking about breaking the conventions of The Legend of Zelda series from the very start of development. Specifically, our process was to think of all kinds of different mechanics, and to try to distinguish between the unchanging, universal traits of the Zelda franchise and things that had simply become conventions of the series.”
[6] Gies, Arthur. "The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Review." Polygon. N.p., 02 Mar. 2017. Web. 10 June 2017.
[7] "The Making of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Video – Open-Air Concept." Interview. YouTube.com. Nintendo, 14 Mar. 2017. Web. 30 June 2017.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Eiji Aonuma stated that the developers began with the gameplay mechanisms (such as the memories for showing plot) and then created a story around them. Very tellingly, he states that: “When you’re too focused on doing a game’s story in a certain way, that ruins the gameplay.” This is the essence of Nintendo’s design philosophy, showing the hierarchy in game design: story is attendant to gameplay.
[10] Jordan, Michael. "The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Review - Wildly Overrated." Niche Gamer. N.p., 21 Mar. 2017. Web. 10 June 2017.
[11] Comment came from the owner of this blog: http://jcurmudgeon.tumblr.com/
A good read on how critics often immediately praise and then shortly after decry new Zelda titles before coming to a more nuanced understanding after some time has passed:
http://www.denofgeek.com/us/games/the-legend-of-zelda/262674/the-legend-of-zelda-why-its-time-to-forgive-skyward-sword
Good Breath of the Wild reviews:
http://www.gamingunion.net/reviews/2017/the-legend-of-zelda-breath-of-the-wild
https://www.polygon.com/2017/3/2/14753500/the-legend-of-zelda-breath-of-the-wild-review-nintendo-switch-wii-u
http://nichegamer.com/reviews/the-legend-of-zelda-breath-of-the-wild-review/
Works Cited:
[1] Slater, Barry Hartley. "Aesthetics." The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. ISSN 2161-0002, http://www.iep.utm.edu/aestheti/. Web. 07 June 2017.
[2] "The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild." Metacritic. N.p., 03 Mar. 2017. Web. 07 June 2017.
[3] Martens, Todd. "‘The Legend of Zelda’: Nintendo’s Eiji Aonuma Plots Series’ Future." Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 19 June 2013. Web. 07 June 2017.
[4] Narcisse, Evan. "The Man In Charge of Zelda Says He Wants to Keep Changing It." Kotaku. Kotaku.com, 14 Oct. 2013. Web. 07 June 2017.
[5] "The Making of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Video – The Beginning." Interview. YouTube.com. Nintendo, 14 Mar. 2017. Web. 30 June 2017.
Within this interview, Hidemaro Fujibayashi describes this process: “We were thinking about breaking the conventions of The Legend of Zelda series from the very start of development. Specifically, our process was to think of all kinds of different mechanics, and to try to distinguish between the unchanging, universal traits of the Zelda franchise and things that had simply become conventions of the series.”
[6] Gies, Arthur. "The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Review." Polygon. N.p., 02 Mar. 2017. Web. 10 June 2017.
[7] "The Making of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Video – Open-Air Concept." Interview. YouTube.com. Nintendo, 14 Mar. 2017. Web. 30 June 2017.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Eiji Aonuma stated that the developers began with the gameplay mechanisms (such as the memories for showing plot) and then created a story around them. Very tellingly, he states that: “When you’re too focused on doing a game’s story in a certain way, that ruins the gameplay.” This is the essence of Nintendo’s design philosophy, showing the hierarchy in game design: story is attendant to gameplay.
[10] Jordan, Michael. "The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Review - Wildly Overrated." Niche Gamer. N.p., 21 Mar. 2017. Web. 10 June 2017.
[11] Comment came from the owner of this blog: http://jcurmudgeon.tumblr.com/