Tears of the Kingdom — Review
March 31, 2024
“The world is too much with us . . .”
— William Wordsworth
Author’s Note: I recommend reading my review of Breath of the Wild before you venture onward with this one, even if you read it several years ago. It provides some good context for this piece.
Caveat Lector: This is a long one, so buckle up.
Written with editing and advice from Matt Louscher and Sophia Al-Khanfar
— William Wordsworth
Author’s Note: I recommend reading my review of Breath of the Wild before you venture onward with this one, even if you read it several years ago. It provides some good context for this piece.
Caveat Lector: This is a long one, so buckle up.
Written with editing and advice from Matt Louscher and Sophia Al-Khanfar
Rationale for Review and Introductory Remarks
I must admit to being off-put when I hear: “It’s the greatest _____ ever.” Unless the work is something ancient and monumental (like Beowulf or the Mogao Caves), my skepticism surfaces powerfully. This type of hyperbole is generally one that stems from callowness. Such overstatements normally attend the excitement of engaging with art beyond the scope and vision of our experience: works that break any frame of reference we might have developed from our previous encounters. These descriptions are especially common — and even desirable — coming from children. Art often shatters our expectations when we are young, and this is why certain works seem impossibly powerful. So, as we grow up, how can we learn to make sense of our artistic experiences and form opinions? A couple different things can happen with these early, untempered opinions: they can remain forever untempered as powerful, unexamined remembrances; they can lose some of their implicit appeal as artistic imperfections come to light; and, occasionally, they can be forged into something enduring — brought from the realm of mere opinion to that of something like reasoned judgment. This occurs when our original sentiments are galvanized by experience, context, evaluation, and reflection. We grow, we read, we play, we think, and all experience brings itself to bear on works of art that mean something to us. This is a very subjective process, but it is guided by things external to ourselves, to some degree. And it is perhaps the one surefire way of knowing whether our enjoyment of something is well-founded. We begin to question: “How does this work stand up to others? Does it pass the twin tests of time and experience?” Your judgment is required for that second test. The first is beyond you. As I wrote in my review of Breath of the Wild, time is the ultimate test; it is the final arbiter, and its grounds are demanding: Not only must a work of art capture people’s minds during a particular historical moment, it must captivate the minds of different cultures over different spans of time. What has this to do with you? Only this: that I hope your feelings toward this game, whatever they may be, deepen and expand over time — and that they align with the fall of time’s gavel.
Although the gavel hasn’t fallen with regard to Breath of the Wild, we saw the same fanfare that accompanied the release of Tears of the Kingdom: a clarion call that the game is, past all doubt, the best Zelda ever, a masterpiece, and, perhaps, the greatest game ever. [1] To me, this just seems hasty. As I said over six years ago, I don’t know how to review anything without steeping in it for a long time. Perhaps I’m just very slow. In my meditation on Breath, I wrote: “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.” I still find this to be true. I’m still playing Tears, though I completed the main quest months ago. I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent playing, but I’ve only just completed filling in the entire map; I’ve done all the additional quests, upgraded a fair amount of armor, and even collected seeds from those things-which-I-won’t-mention. I have really tried to engage with the game at every level, from its mechanics to its narrative. And I’ve read (and watched, though I always prefer reading) over 100 published reviews at this point; as with the reviews for Breath, I find most of them hurried and superficial. Most reviewers spend half their intellectual bandwidth delineating the new rune-type abilities available to Link, and one writer goes so far as to say that, “Experimenting with each of these powers, and discovering how they interact, is the game.” [2, italics original] In many reviews, the only negative element mentioned is the occasional frame-rate drop during combat. Is this really the pinnacle of artistic criticism? To be sure, there are good reviews out there, and I’ll include links to a few in the references below. However, most reviews lack depth and care. So, I intend to take my sweet time with this article (maybe to your chagrin), such that it presents a more profound discussion of just what Tears is, can be, and should have been. Above all, as always, I hope this review helps you broaden and deepen your experience with Tears of the Kingdom.
To that end, we must first confront two fundamental questions: 1) Just what is a Zelda game at heart?; and 2) How should we view Tears of the Kingdom relative to Breath of the Wild? Let’s look at these in order.
I must admit to being off-put when I hear: “It’s the greatest _____ ever.” Unless the work is something ancient and monumental (like Beowulf or the Mogao Caves), my skepticism surfaces powerfully. This type of hyperbole is generally one that stems from callowness. Such overstatements normally attend the excitement of engaging with art beyond the scope and vision of our experience: works that break any frame of reference we might have developed from our previous encounters. These descriptions are especially common — and even desirable — coming from children. Art often shatters our expectations when we are young, and this is why certain works seem impossibly powerful. So, as we grow up, how can we learn to make sense of our artistic experiences and form opinions? A couple different things can happen with these early, untempered opinions: they can remain forever untempered as powerful, unexamined remembrances; they can lose some of their implicit appeal as artistic imperfections come to light; and, occasionally, they can be forged into something enduring — brought from the realm of mere opinion to that of something like reasoned judgment. This occurs when our original sentiments are galvanized by experience, context, evaluation, and reflection. We grow, we read, we play, we think, and all experience brings itself to bear on works of art that mean something to us. This is a very subjective process, but it is guided by things external to ourselves, to some degree. And it is perhaps the one surefire way of knowing whether our enjoyment of something is well-founded. We begin to question: “How does this work stand up to others? Does it pass the twin tests of time and experience?” Your judgment is required for that second test. The first is beyond you. As I wrote in my review of Breath of the Wild, time is the ultimate test; it is the final arbiter, and its grounds are demanding: Not only must a work of art capture people’s minds during a particular historical moment, it must captivate the minds of different cultures over different spans of time. What has this to do with you? Only this: that I hope your feelings toward this game, whatever they may be, deepen and expand over time — and that they align with the fall of time’s gavel.
Although the gavel hasn’t fallen with regard to Breath of the Wild, we saw the same fanfare that accompanied the release of Tears of the Kingdom: a clarion call that the game is, past all doubt, the best Zelda ever, a masterpiece, and, perhaps, the greatest game ever. [1] To me, this just seems hasty. As I said over six years ago, I don’t know how to review anything without steeping in it for a long time. Perhaps I’m just very slow. In my meditation on Breath, I wrote: “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.” I still find this to be true. I’m still playing Tears, though I completed the main quest months ago. I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent playing, but I’ve only just completed filling in the entire map; I’ve done all the additional quests, upgraded a fair amount of armor, and even collected seeds from those things-which-I-won’t-mention. I have really tried to engage with the game at every level, from its mechanics to its narrative. And I’ve read (and watched, though I always prefer reading) over 100 published reviews at this point; as with the reviews for Breath, I find most of them hurried and superficial. Most reviewers spend half their intellectual bandwidth delineating the new rune-type abilities available to Link, and one writer goes so far as to say that, “Experimenting with each of these powers, and discovering how they interact, is the game.” [2, italics original] In many reviews, the only negative element mentioned is the occasional frame-rate drop during combat. Is this really the pinnacle of artistic criticism? To be sure, there are good reviews out there, and I’ll include links to a few in the references below. However, most reviews lack depth and care. So, I intend to take my sweet time with this article (maybe to your chagrin), such that it presents a more profound discussion of just what Tears is, can be, and should have been. Above all, as always, I hope this review helps you broaden and deepen your experience with Tears of the Kingdom.
To that end, we must first confront two fundamental questions: 1) Just what is a Zelda game at heart?; and 2) How should we view Tears of the Kingdom relative to Breath of the Wild? Let’s look at these in order.
Answering Question One: Just What is a Zelda Game?
“For that reason I’ve often been accused of not caring about the story, but when I consider the medium of video games, above intra-series continuity it’s far more important to me that the player is left with a satisfying ‘aftertaste’ once the experience is over.”
— Shigeru Miyamoto, Legend of Zelda creator, 1999 [3]
"Throughout the Zelda series I've always tried to make players feel like they are in a kind of miniature garden. So, this time also, my challenge was how to make people feel comfortable and sometimes very scared at the same time. That is the big challenge."
— Shigeru Miyamoto, 1998 [4]
If you look on the internet broadly, you’ll find that, among players, Zelda is renowned for specific things, among which are a basis in action, puzzles, adventure, lore, and exploration. Alongside these elements, others first recall a particular character, feeling, or atmosphere. Still others state the primacy of player-led exploration or triumphing over a good dungeon. Although we cannot possibly expect total alignment on Zelda’s essence, these traits seem beyond controversy. As past-President of Nintendo, Satoru Iwata, himself said: “As far as my own opinion is concerned, I have a strong feeling that there are as many definitions of Zelda as there are people. But these definitions are not completely different from each other. Rather, they all overlap to some extent with one another.” [5] Given this statement, our goal then becomes to find this overlap. In a series of interviews Iwata cultivated with Nintendo staff, he asked explicitly about this Zelda essence. Unsurprisingly, there were no firm responses. Although Zelda attempts to blend individual creators’ visions into a whole, there is, “no clear definition that is shared by everyone. It isn’t like there are any rules written down on a piece of paper somewhere. What we do have are the unbroken traditions from the very first Legend of Zelda . . . .” [6] But what are these unbroken traditions? Some staff say that they are defined by thought-stirring incremental challenges, player freedom, or the satisfaction of hearing the classic Zelda chime. [7] Still others believe they stem from experiences that are, “by turns fun then painful, but ultimately enjoyable,” or from, “taking part in the action, that the things in the game are really happening to you.” One more astute developer said that it all depends on the world; if the world is built and tended properly, “anything that fits into it will by definition be ‘Zelda-esque’ . . . it is this awareness of the game-world as a whole [that] makes the game ‘Zelda-esque.’” [8] To return to Miyamoto for a moment, this essence is primarily about the lingering feelings engendered by a game’s ending. This “aftertaste,” as he called it, is formed by, “puzzles and mysteries to unravel . . . powerful enemies to face, and . . . the immediacy of the experience . . . .” [9] As we can see, there are always subtle differences in the ways players experience a Zelda game, at least according to those who curate player experiences. So, having looked at some of these "unbroken traditions" of the series, we hopefully have a bit of insight into the Zelda essence.
As Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom represent an intentional departure from established formulae, we might begin by looking at their adherence to the “unbroken traditions” of the franchise. Does a game like Breath, which operated under the phrase “break the conventions of the Zelda series,” still maintain this respect for the past? [10] While the producer and director of these games seem to recognize the importance of tradition [11], it is an open question as to whether or not it is mere lip-service. That will depend on a closer look at Tears.
Tears of the Kingdom released in May of 2023 after building up pressure for six years. As the sequel to Breath of the Wild (2017), it is, in many ways, also its natural successor. Rare for Zelda, Tears takes place in the same Hyrule, picking up where Breath ended several years later. [12] From early on in production, the staff knew that this continuation of setting was non-negotiable. The goal then became one of, “having new discoveries in the same setting.” [13] Using Breath as a framework, the developers began to decide what to keep, jettison, add, and tweak. For some, this was harder than creating a new game from the ground up; and making sure that everything made sense for neophytes as well as seasoned Breath veterans proved a challenge. [14] Building so closely off the previous game — trying to make the old seem new, while trying to keep a sense of continuity between the two games — the developers were plagued by a sense of déjà vu; and though not everyone agreed with what should be changed and what should remain pure, it eventually became clear which things were important enough to keep. [15] One assumes that these elements would reflect part of the Zelda essence discussed above. So which element took the lead in the creation of this newest entry in the series? Was it the sense of action or exploration? New lore, story, or setting?
The catalyst driving its creation was the desire to play with game elements that the developers hadn’t been able to put in Breath. Indeed, many seeds come to fruition in Tears that were planted in Breath (largely due to the lack of fit with the game as a whole). When production on Breath had finished, the developers used what would come to be Tears as a sandbox to experiment with unused design items: “With Tears of the Kingdom, there were ideas that weren't able to make it into Breath of the Wild, or maybe setting-wise, we had thought about potentially using it in Breath of the Wild but didn't, and now, it became possible to drop all of that into Tears of the Kingdom.” [16] It should be mentioned that the creators were not just waiting to make manifest features that didn’t fit into Breath. Some of these unactualized dreams had been percolating since Skyward Sword in 2011; the concept of a seamless dive from sky to land was attempted in Skyward Sword, but the full idea was impossible due to the hardware limitations of the time. [17] So, in Tears we see a game that had its origins primarily in sandbox experimentation and unused ideas.
That Tears is built on experimentation is obvious to anyone who plays. Indeed, this is the most frequently lauded element of the game. While only some reviews speak to story, music, or dungeons, all speak to the freedom granted by the freestyle building features of the game. [18] It is clearly the chief element of the game in most people’s minds — and everything in Tears seems to have cropped up as a response to this desire to give the players this “ultimate freedom.” This remarkable liberty is something we will discuss later on. For many players, the trial-and-error fun of sticking parts together seems to place the game among the stars. Suffice it to say that Tears, for many fans, lived up to the hype, even overshadowing its parent game, and there’s little doubt, from an objective standpoint, that it’s a technical marvel of modern game design — it pushes the Switch’s hardware to its utmost limits. But is it Zelda? Are enough of the key elements maintained? Certainly most of them are: Adventure, exploration, and puzzle-solving are all present; there are enemies to face and mysteries to be uncovered; there are quirky, memorable characters and haunting locations; and there is the critical role of the game-world in all this. I think it is impossible to say that the world feels like something other than Hyrule. So, with these traditional aspects in mind, we can conclude that Tears of the Kingdom is undoubtedly a Zelda game. The next question almost begs itself: Is it a good Zelda game? This is infinitely harder to answer. Each player will likely have their preferred combination of game attributes; some will prefer a greater focus on puzzle-solving, while others would rather face more treacherous enemies. Still others, like myself, prefer narrative unity, lore, and enchanting dungeons. So, while I cannot find fault with Tears for failing to match up with notions of traditional Zelda, I can find fault in how certain of those elements were actualized in this game. How deep was the lore? How was exploration encouraged? Were the puzzles challenging? Were dungeons atmospheric and satisfying? Was the player truly immersed? We will attend to these things later. For now, onto the second question.
“For that reason I’ve often been accused of not caring about the story, but when I consider the medium of video games, above intra-series continuity it’s far more important to me that the player is left with a satisfying ‘aftertaste’ once the experience is over.”
— Shigeru Miyamoto, Legend of Zelda creator, 1999 [3]
"Throughout the Zelda series I've always tried to make players feel like they are in a kind of miniature garden. So, this time also, my challenge was how to make people feel comfortable and sometimes very scared at the same time. That is the big challenge."
— Shigeru Miyamoto, 1998 [4]
If you look on the internet broadly, you’ll find that, among players, Zelda is renowned for specific things, among which are a basis in action, puzzles, adventure, lore, and exploration. Alongside these elements, others first recall a particular character, feeling, or atmosphere. Still others state the primacy of player-led exploration or triumphing over a good dungeon. Although we cannot possibly expect total alignment on Zelda’s essence, these traits seem beyond controversy. As past-President of Nintendo, Satoru Iwata, himself said: “As far as my own opinion is concerned, I have a strong feeling that there are as many definitions of Zelda as there are people. But these definitions are not completely different from each other. Rather, they all overlap to some extent with one another.” [5] Given this statement, our goal then becomes to find this overlap. In a series of interviews Iwata cultivated with Nintendo staff, he asked explicitly about this Zelda essence. Unsurprisingly, there were no firm responses. Although Zelda attempts to blend individual creators’ visions into a whole, there is, “no clear definition that is shared by everyone. It isn’t like there are any rules written down on a piece of paper somewhere. What we do have are the unbroken traditions from the very first Legend of Zelda . . . .” [6] But what are these unbroken traditions? Some staff say that they are defined by thought-stirring incremental challenges, player freedom, or the satisfaction of hearing the classic Zelda chime. [7] Still others believe they stem from experiences that are, “by turns fun then painful, but ultimately enjoyable,” or from, “taking part in the action, that the things in the game are really happening to you.” One more astute developer said that it all depends on the world; if the world is built and tended properly, “anything that fits into it will by definition be ‘Zelda-esque’ . . . it is this awareness of the game-world as a whole [that] makes the game ‘Zelda-esque.’” [8] To return to Miyamoto for a moment, this essence is primarily about the lingering feelings engendered by a game’s ending. This “aftertaste,” as he called it, is formed by, “puzzles and mysteries to unravel . . . powerful enemies to face, and . . . the immediacy of the experience . . . .” [9] As we can see, there are always subtle differences in the ways players experience a Zelda game, at least according to those who curate player experiences. So, having looked at some of these "unbroken traditions" of the series, we hopefully have a bit of insight into the Zelda essence.
As Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom represent an intentional departure from established formulae, we might begin by looking at their adherence to the “unbroken traditions” of the franchise. Does a game like Breath, which operated under the phrase “break the conventions of the Zelda series,” still maintain this respect for the past? [10] While the producer and director of these games seem to recognize the importance of tradition [11], it is an open question as to whether or not it is mere lip-service. That will depend on a closer look at Tears.
Tears of the Kingdom released in May of 2023 after building up pressure for six years. As the sequel to Breath of the Wild (2017), it is, in many ways, also its natural successor. Rare for Zelda, Tears takes place in the same Hyrule, picking up where Breath ended several years later. [12] From early on in production, the staff knew that this continuation of setting was non-negotiable. The goal then became one of, “having new discoveries in the same setting.” [13] Using Breath as a framework, the developers began to decide what to keep, jettison, add, and tweak. For some, this was harder than creating a new game from the ground up; and making sure that everything made sense for neophytes as well as seasoned Breath veterans proved a challenge. [14] Building so closely off the previous game — trying to make the old seem new, while trying to keep a sense of continuity between the two games — the developers were plagued by a sense of déjà vu; and though not everyone agreed with what should be changed and what should remain pure, it eventually became clear which things were important enough to keep. [15] One assumes that these elements would reflect part of the Zelda essence discussed above. So which element took the lead in the creation of this newest entry in the series? Was it the sense of action or exploration? New lore, story, or setting?
The catalyst driving its creation was the desire to play with game elements that the developers hadn’t been able to put in Breath. Indeed, many seeds come to fruition in Tears that were planted in Breath (largely due to the lack of fit with the game as a whole). When production on Breath had finished, the developers used what would come to be Tears as a sandbox to experiment with unused design items: “With Tears of the Kingdom, there were ideas that weren't able to make it into Breath of the Wild, or maybe setting-wise, we had thought about potentially using it in Breath of the Wild but didn't, and now, it became possible to drop all of that into Tears of the Kingdom.” [16] It should be mentioned that the creators were not just waiting to make manifest features that didn’t fit into Breath. Some of these unactualized dreams had been percolating since Skyward Sword in 2011; the concept of a seamless dive from sky to land was attempted in Skyward Sword, but the full idea was impossible due to the hardware limitations of the time. [17] So, in Tears we see a game that had its origins primarily in sandbox experimentation and unused ideas.
That Tears is built on experimentation is obvious to anyone who plays. Indeed, this is the most frequently lauded element of the game. While only some reviews speak to story, music, or dungeons, all speak to the freedom granted by the freestyle building features of the game. [18] It is clearly the chief element of the game in most people’s minds — and everything in Tears seems to have cropped up as a response to this desire to give the players this “ultimate freedom.” This remarkable liberty is something we will discuss later on. For many players, the trial-and-error fun of sticking parts together seems to place the game among the stars. Suffice it to say that Tears, for many fans, lived up to the hype, even overshadowing its parent game, and there’s little doubt, from an objective standpoint, that it’s a technical marvel of modern game design — it pushes the Switch’s hardware to its utmost limits. But is it Zelda? Are enough of the key elements maintained? Certainly most of them are: Adventure, exploration, and puzzle-solving are all present; there are enemies to face and mysteries to be uncovered; there are quirky, memorable characters and haunting locations; and there is the critical role of the game-world in all this. I think it is impossible to say that the world feels like something other than Hyrule. So, with these traditional aspects in mind, we can conclude that Tears of the Kingdom is undoubtedly a Zelda game. The next question almost begs itself: Is it a good Zelda game? This is infinitely harder to answer. Each player will likely have their preferred combination of game attributes; some will prefer a greater focus on puzzle-solving, while others would rather face more treacherous enemies. Still others, like myself, prefer narrative unity, lore, and enchanting dungeons. So, while I cannot find fault with Tears for failing to match up with notions of traditional Zelda, I can find fault in how certain of those elements were actualized in this game. How deep was the lore? How was exploration encouraged? Were the puzzles challenging? Were dungeons atmospheric and satisfying? Was the player truly immersed? We will attend to these things later. For now, onto the second question.
Answering Question Two: Does Tears Make Breath Obsolete?
Should Tears be seen as its own game, or should it be mentioned in the same sentence as Breath as an improvement, DLC, or a variation on a theme? Why is this an important question? In short, it determines much of our criticism of the game. If Tears is seen without context, we judge it only against our thoughts and feelings while playing it. This is good inasmuch as it gives primacy to immediate experience. “Am I having fun? Am I talking about the game to anyone who will listen? Do I think about it in all my spare moments?” These are good and fair questions, but they, like all things that lack context, lack depth. I think it is fairly obvious that Tears, a direct sequel to Breath of the Wild, has to be seen not only relative to its predecessor but in relation to all previous Zelda titles.
And yet there are some who believe that Tears made its predecessor obsolete. [19] Is this true? Is Tears just a better version of what Breath was trying to be? There are some that feel that Tears, because it contains all that Breath was and is, makes a non-entity out of Breath. And why is this? Several answers are given. First, Tears manifests the freedom that Breath attempted, but failed, to grant players. Second, the gameplay is better, due to Zonai devices and new powers like Fuse and Ultrahand. Third, one gets a better feel for Hyrule in this game, as there are new places to explore. Plus, Hyrule is bigger and, therefore, grander. There are severe shortcomings to these reasons, however. To the first two statements, I would merely ask: “Is the only thing that makes a Zelda entry worthwhile player freedom and gameplay?” Clearly, the answer is no. If people just wanted freedom and good gameplay, there are hundreds of games out there that fit the bill. Zelda offers something unique — that ineffable essence considered above. Breath of the Wild contains some of that essence, and to skip playing it entirely is to miss out on something unique. To the third statement, it is always reasonable to ask: “Is bigger necessarily better?” Again, clearly, the answer is no. What we as players want is quality over quantity, though this is something that seems to escape the developers from time to time. One of the main criticisms of Breath (and, now, of Tears) is that the landscape was barren, repetitive, and unrewarding. In these two games, there isn’t much to reward player exploration but for seeds, shrines, and weapons. It is hard for me to imagine that anyone truly felt spurred on by the thought of their six-hundredth Korok Seed or fiftieth Magic Rod. So while Hyrule (and the Depths and Sky Islands) aren’t necessarily empty, they are certainly unfulfilling. [20] In Breath, this makes some narrative sense, as the land was just obliterated by Calamity; however, in Tears, this unrewarding void is harder to defend. You mean it’s just more Koroks, weapons, and shrines? After six years of development?
I was thinking earlier today about the most wonderful thing in Ocarina of Time: a hole in the ground in Hyrule Field with a cow in it. Why is it there? How does it survive? The whole thing is absurd and marvelous. The secret grottoes of that game were wonderful — they were subtly-hidden, required various mechanics to open, and contained memorable things, from fish to Golden Skulltulas to Deku Scrubs to, yes, even cows. Importantly, there were not many of these grottoes. And while they all share specific characteristics, their rarity and oddity make them unforgettable. Sadly, in games like Breath and Tears, rareness is almost impossible to achieve. To populate such a massive land, you need either prodigious resources, time, and creativity, or the ability to copy/paste. It is clear which approach was taken with these games. So even while new Korok tasks (like uniting traveling Koroks with their partners) and propping up Addison’s signs in ever-more-tricky locations are welcome additions to the land, they aren’t, and can never be, enough. They are far too commonplace and alike to be memorable. And, after the nth time, they get old. This is simply a fact of human psychology, even if every player’s n will differ. To connect this back to our main consideration, this sense of a larger Hyrule does not make playing Breath unnecessary. By this logic, we wouldn’t play most previous Zelda titles. We cannot simply base our playing one game on the expansion and enrichment of Hyrule as a land — it is also about the people, locations, and narrative sewn into it.
In the grand scheme of things, there are two primary reasons Tears cannot make Breath obsolete. First, Breath is a game worth playing on its own, not just for its story, but for its characters, quests, and particular mechanics. Second, because a significant part of appreciating Tears is born of understanding how Hyrule and its people have changed — and to understand that change, you need a frame of reference from the past: Breath of the Wild itself. Breath was marked by a sense of loneliness (such as can be found in a series like Metroid); there were moments of tenderness from the past, but Link was largely alone throughout the game. His friends had passed on, Zelda was missing, and no one remembered his face. Tears is far less hermetic: Link has friends, many recognize his name [21], Hyrule is finding its feet, and there is a sense that people are helping Link save the kingdom. These different moods were sought after explicitly by the game-makers, one game being marked by solitude while the other is infused with cooperative struggle. [22] Both atmospheres, and therefore both games, are worth experiencing. And then there is the compounded effect of how one experiences Hyrule. If one has played Breath, one remembers the sheer thrill of exploring that game’s iteration of Hyrule; for those that only play Tears, that thrill will still happen, though something else very important will be missed: the nostalgic sense of homecoming. Because Tears follows somewhat closely on Breath’s heels, we are able to see just how people have changed, how settlements have expanded, and how children have grown up. [23] There is a sense of excitement built into this experience as we anticipate both seeing familiar faces and how things have stirred since last we were there. Because we have visited these places before, we feel, keenly, any change, good or bad. We remember when Kakariko was just a sleepy backwater, when Hyrule Field was uninhabited; we remember the peace of Rito Village before the storms came, and we feel something stir when we see the Memorial to Mipha high above Zora’s Domain. All these experiences are lost without having first played Breath. And while it might not be recommended to play these games back-to-back, it is highly recommended to play each in turn. Tears of the Kingdom is, and must be considered as, a sequel to Breath of the Wild. Engaging with one prior to the other gives us the necessary context and frame of mind to more deeply appreciate both.
Should Tears be seen as its own game, or should it be mentioned in the same sentence as Breath as an improvement, DLC, or a variation on a theme? Why is this an important question? In short, it determines much of our criticism of the game. If Tears is seen without context, we judge it only against our thoughts and feelings while playing it. This is good inasmuch as it gives primacy to immediate experience. “Am I having fun? Am I talking about the game to anyone who will listen? Do I think about it in all my spare moments?” These are good and fair questions, but they, like all things that lack context, lack depth. I think it is fairly obvious that Tears, a direct sequel to Breath of the Wild, has to be seen not only relative to its predecessor but in relation to all previous Zelda titles.
And yet there are some who believe that Tears made its predecessor obsolete. [19] Is this true? Is Tears just a better version of what Breath was trying to be? There are some that feel that Tears, because it contains all that Breath was and is, makes a non-entity out of Breath. And why is this? Several answers are given. First, Tears manifests the freedom that Breath attempted, but failed, to grant players. Second, the gameplay is better, due to Zonai devices and new powers like Fuse and Ultrahand. Third, one gets a better feel for Hyrule in this game, as there are new places to explore. Plus, Hyrule is bigger and, therefore, grander. There are severe shortcomings to these reasons, however. To the first two statements, I would merely ask: “Is the only thing that makes a Zelda entry worthwhile player freedom and gameplay?” Clearly, the answer is no. If people just wanted freedom and good gameplay, there are hundreds of games out there that fit the bill. Zelda offers something unique — that ineffable essence considered above. Breath of the Wild contains some of that essence, and to skip playing it entirely is to miss out on something unique. To the third statement, it is always reasonable to ask: “Is bigger necessarily better?” Again, clearly, the answer is no. What we as players want is quality over quantity, though this is something that seems to escape the developers from time to time. One of the main criticisms of Breath (and, now, of Tears) is that the landscape was barren, repetitive, and unrewarding. In these two games, there isn’t much to reward player exploration but for seeds, shrines, and weapons. It is hard for me to imagine that anyone truly felt spurred on by the thought of their six-hundredth Korok Seed or fiftieth Magic Rod. So while Hyrule (and the Depths and Sky Islands) aren’t necessarily empty, they are certainly unfulfilling. [20] In Breath, this makes some narrative sense, as the land was just obliterated by Calamity; however, in Tears, this unrewarding void is harder to defend. You mean it’s just more Koroks, weapons, and shrines? After six years of development?
I was thinking earlier today about the most wonderful thing in Ocarina of Time: a hole in the ground in Hyrule Field with a cow in it. Why is it there? How does it survive? The whole thing is absurd and marvelous. The secret grottoes of that game were wonderful — they were subtly-hidden, required various mechanics to open, and contained memorable things, from fish to Golden Skulltulas to Deku Scrubs to, yes, even cows. Importantly, there were not many of these grottoes. And while they all share specific characteristics, their rarity and oddity make them unforgettable. Sadly, in games like Breath and Tears, rareness is almost impossible to achieve. To populate such a massive land, you need either prodigious resources, time, and creativity, or the ability to copy/paste. It is clear which approach was taken with these games. So even while new Korok tasks (like uniting traveling Koroks with their partners) and propping up Addison’s signs in ever-more-tricky locations are welcome additions to the land, they aren’t, and can never be, enough. They are far too commonplace and alike to be memorable. And, after the nth time, they get old. This is simply a fact of human psychology, even if every player’s n will differ. To connect this back to our main consideration, this sense of a larger Hyrule does not make playing Breath unnecessary. By this logic, we wouldn’t play most previous Zelda titles. We cannot simply base our playing one game on the expansion and enrichment of Hyrule as a land — it is also about the people, locations, and narrative sewn into it.
In the grand scheme of things, there are two primary reasons Tears cannot make Breath obsolete. First, Breath is a game worth playing on its own, not just for its story, but for its characters, quests, and particular mechanics. Second, because a significant part of appreciating Tears is born of understanding how Hyrule and its people have changed — and to understand that change, you need a frame of reference from the past: Breath of the Wild itself. Breath was marked by a sense of loneliness (such as can be found in a series like Metroid); there were moments of tenderness from the past, but Link was largely alone throughout the game. His friends had passed on, Zelda was missing, and no one remembered his face. Tears is far less hermetic: Link has friends, many recognize his name [21], Hyrule is finding its feet, and there is a sense that people are helping Link save the kingdom. These different moods were sought after explicitly by the game-makers, one game being marked by solitude while the other is infused with cooperative struggle. [22] Both atmospheres, and therefore both games, are worth experiencing. And then there is the compounded effect of how one experiences Hyrule. If one has played Breath, one remembers the sheer thrill of exploring that game’s iteration of Hyrule; for those that only play Tears, that thrill will still happen, though something else very important will be missed: the nostalgic sense of homecoming. Because Tears follows somewhat closely on Breath’s heels, we are able to see just how people have changed, how settlements have expanded, and how children have grown up. [23] There is a sense of excitement built into this experience as we anticipate both seeing familiar faces and how things have stirred since last we were there. Because we have visited these places before, we feel, keenly, any change, good or bad. We remember when Kakariko was just a sleepy backwater, when Hyrule Field was uninhabited; we remember the peace of Rito Village before the storms came, and we feel something stir when we see the Memorial to Mipha high above Zora’s Domain. All these experiences are lost without having first played Breath. And while it might not be recommended to play these games back-to-back, it is highly recommended to play each in turn. Tears of the Kingdom is, and must be considered as, a sequel to Breath of the Wild. Engaging with one prior to the other gives us the necessary context and frame of mind to more deeply appreciate both.
Praise Where Praise is Due
We can now turn to looking at Tears of the Kingdom properly. We have answered two necessary questions, and hopefully you are in agreement with me that Tears is indeed a Zelda game that must be seen in relation to its peers. So, what did the game do well? How did it build upon the “longstanding traditions” of the series, and, equally importantly, aspects of Breath of the Wild? To start, let’s examine the world — that all-important boundary mentioned by one of the developers above. Anywhere you look, there are many small delights to be had in Tears of the Kingdom. They range from character actions to environmental details, and they represent the sheer amount of love and attention to detail baked into this game. Indeed, the world is entrancing, as this reviewer writes: “I climb up onto a giant lilypad floating in the middle of a lake and it sinks under my weight, leaving me submerged up to my shins. Piloting a raft upriver, I accidentally get too close to a little cluster of ducks, spooking them and making them take flight.” [24] The craft put into making the world feel alive is noteworthy and is one of the chief strengths of this iteration of Hyrule. The way characters react when Link arrives wearing an outfit they don’t appreciate, or how disguised Yiga agents remind themselves not to eat bananas when on duty — these things bring a smile to one’s face. We have at least some small sense that characters exist with desires and aversions of their own that depend not one iota on Link and his mission. This builds the game-world and increases its believability. There are still times where, as I play, I am struck by small environmental changes, character expressions, or charming details. Making the world of Hyrule was a labor of love.
The sound-effects were crafted with equal care. I remember being initially impressed walking into my first shrine — as Link stepped forward, his footfalls echoed either gravel or paved stone beneath his feet. There were even changes made to the soundscape to better reflect distance and perspective. [25] Anyone who has listened intently while playing Tears can appreciate this. When in a well underneath a stable, one still hears the comforting variation on Epona’s Song, though it comes muted, as if sifting slowly through stone. And while the music still suffers from a lack of forced familiarity, it is well-crafted and suited beautifully to each area. I especially love how the music in dungeons unfolds as you complete successive tasks; each objective reached causes the music to build upon itself, slowly growing in complexity as you near the boss. You need look no further than the (intended) first dungeon to see this. The Legendary Stormwind Ark has my favorite temple theme in Tears. It fades in slowly with a haunting, distant flute above piano and accordion; then the flute grows shrill, growling, while the piano echoes the attack on Vah Medoh from Breath of the Wild; then, just the slightest entrance of Tulin’s Theme over uneasy strings; the music continues to build in grandeur, adding in choir and the synthetic elements of Blight alongside Revali’s motif; next, the Vah Medoh dungeon theme proper, always growing in suspense as strings and piano trot out ascending eighth notes; as the final objective is reached, the music has reached its apex, and the theme is consistently interrupted by synthetic voices and falling woodwinds. Finally, as Colgera emerges, we hear traces of the Molgera fight from The Wind Waker, and, at last, the nostalgic and uplifting motif of Rito Village, reminding us of the stakes of our battle. The other temples follow this sound formula, and each is good in its own right. This aspect of the game’s music is excellent — a clear upgrade from that of Breath’s Divine Beasts.
In terms of gameplay, Tears built upon (or outright fixed) lacking elements in Breath. The game-makers improved the menu system substantially (e.g., by adding an item-value view when selling and allowing different sorting systems), integrated maps onto the loading screen to give a topographical sense of where one was and where one is headed, gave us additional icons to attach to the map, reconfigured obtaining weapons to allow the player to discard a weapon and avoid having to open chests multiple times, and added recipe cards for cooking. These minor changes do much to decrease player inconvenience and are therefore much appreciated. Other small things present themselves as clear improvements. For instance, the quest for the Great Fairies in this game (while it makes little narrative sense) is more charming than that of Breath; scared into their buds by the Upheaval, they await signs of life and peace before once again opening. To this end, Link reunites the Stable Trotters, a cheerful band of itinerant musicians. This echoes what the game is meant to be about — namely, the unification of Hyrule and its peoples.
It is this pervasive sense of unification and cooperative struggle that is the game’s chief strength. As mentioned above, the developers wanted to imbue this idea into every aspect of Tears, and, to give a visual embodiment to this sense of connection, they chose the symbol of the hand, weaving it into the game’s mechanics, character interactions, and even the music as actual handclaps. [26] The concept of unity is ubiquitous throughout Hyrule and indeed features in many quests, from coaxing out the Great Fairies, to contributing to the foundation of a Hyrulean newspaper, to finding pictures for each of Hyrule’s stables. The stables, in particular, play a significant role in conveying the idea of unity, just as they did in Breath of the Wild; they are central hubs for gossip, trade, and, now, newspaper stories. [27] Wherever one goes in Hyrule, one gets the impression that everyone knows what’s happening to everyone else. And there is a greater feeling of intercooperation, fraternity, and common purpose, the clearest evidence of which is Lookout Landing, a base of operations where the combined peoples of Hyrule gather their strength. That it is built on the ruins of Castle Town’s Sacred Ground is a somber homage to the victims of the previous Calamity. It is here that all Hyruleans, independent of race, origin, or hardship, put forth effort to protect their slow gains across the land. Some train for battle, others run shops or stables, many keep watch, and researchers labor in various fields from weapon decay to Zonai script. Sorties issue forth from Lookout Landing to keep monsters at bay across the kingdom (though one wonders why, given the continued and inexplicable presence of Blood Moons). Even the characters themselves realize this unity, as this entry from Paya’s Diary suggests: “Of their own volition, some of our villagers volunteered to aid research, and others for patrol duty. It is humbling to behold . . . .” All across the land, it’s apparent that the peoples of Hyrule are finally raising their eyes to the horizon. Even Kilton has become more cosmopolitan, as his moral circle has expanded to include monsters, which he hopes to humanize to the denizens of Tarrey Town. [28] Beedle himself has just such a personal quest, but concerning bugs. [29] In all this, we feel that Hyrule has regained its vision — or many smaller visions that contribute to something greater: a world not just about survival, but about flourishing.
We can now turn to looking at Tears of the Kingdom properly. We have answered two necessary questions, and hopefully you are in agreement with me that Tears is indeed a Zelda game that must be seen in relation to its peers. So, what did the game do well? How did it build upon the “longstanding traditions” of the series, and, equally importantly, aspects of Breath of the Wild? To start, let’s examine the world — that all-important boundary mentioned by one of the developers above. Anywhere you look, there are many small delights to be had in Tears of the Kingdom. They range from character actions to environmental details, and they represent the sheer amount of love and attention to detail baked into this game. Indeed, the world is entrancing, as this reviewer writes: “I climb up onto a giant lilypad floating in the middle of a lake and it sinks under my weight, leaving me submerged up to my shins. Piloting a raft upriver, I accidentally get too close to a little cluster of ducks, spooking them and making them take flight.” [24] The craft put into making the world feel alive is noteworthy and is one of the chief strengths of this iteration of Hyrule. The way characters react when Link arrives wearing an outfit they don’t appreciate, or how disguised Yiga agents remind themselves not to eat bananas when on duty — these things bring a smile to one’s face. We have at least some small sense that characters exist with desires and aversions of their own that depend not one iota on Link and his mission. This builds the game-world and increases its believability. There are still times where, as I play, I am struck by small environmental changes, character expressions, or charming details. Making the world of Hyrule was a labor of love.
The sound-effects were crafted with equal care. I remember being initially impressed walking into my first shrine — as Link stepped forward, his footfalls echoed either gravel or paved stone beneath his feet. There were even changes made to the soundscape to better reflect distance and perspective. [25] Anyone who has listened intently while playing Tears can appreciate this. When in a well underneath a stable, one still hears the comforting variation on Epona’s Song, though it comes muted, as if sifting slowly through stone. And while the music still suffers from a lack of forced familiarity, it is well-crafted and suited beautifully to each area. I especially love how the music in dungeons unfolds as you complete successive tasks; each objective reached causes the music to build upon itself, slowly growing in complexity as you near the boss. You need look no further than the (intended) first dungeon to see this. The Legendary Stormwind Ark has my favorite temple theme in Tears. It fades in slowly with a haunting, distant flute above piano and accordion; then the flute grows shrill, growling, while the piano echoes the attack on Vah Medoh from Breath of the Wild; then, just the slightest entrance of Tulin’s Theme over uneasy strings; the music continues to build in grandeur, adding in choir and the synthetic elements of Blight alongside Revali’s motif; next, the Vah Medoh dungeon theme proper, always growing in suspense as strings and piano trot out ascending eighth notes; as the final objective is reached, the music has reached its apex, and the theme is consistently interrupted by synthetic voices and falling woodwinds. Finally, as Colgera emerges, we hear traces of the Molgera fight from The Wind Waker, and, at last, the nostalgic and uplifting motif of Rito Village, reminding us of the stakes of our battle. The other temples follow this sound formula, and each is good in its own right. This aspect of the game’s music is excellent — a clear upgrade from that of Breath’s Divine Beasts.
In terms of gameplay, Tears built upon (or outright fixed) lacking elements in Breath. The game-makers improved the menu system substantially (e.g., by adding an item-value view when selling and allowing different sorting systems), integrated maps onto the loading screen to give a topographical sense of where one was and where one is headed, gave us additional icons to attach to the map, reconfigured obtaining weapons to allow the player to discard a weapon and avoid having to open chests multiple times, and added recipe cards for cooking. These minor changes do much to decrease player inconvenience and are therefore much appreciated. Other small things present themselves as clear improvements. For instance, the quest for the Great Fairies in this game (while it makes little narrative sense) is more charming than that of Breath; scared into their buds by the Upheaval, they await signs of life and peace before once again opening. To this end, Link reunites the Stable Trotters, a cheerful band of itinerant musicians. This echoes what the game is meant to be about — namely, the unification of Hyrule and its peoples.
It is this pervasive sense of unification and cooperative struggle that is the game’s chief strength. As mentioned above, the developers wanted to imbue this idea into every aspect of Tears, and, to give a visual embodiment to this sense of connection, they chose the symbol of the hand, weaving it into the game’s mechanics, character interactions, and even the music as actual handclaps. [26] The concept of unity is ubiquitous throughout Hyrule and indeed features in many quests, from coaxing out the Great Fairies, to contributing to the foundation of a Hyrulean newspaper, to finding pictures for each of Hyrule’s stables. The stables, in particular, play a significant role in conveying the idea of unity, just as they did in Breath of the Wild; they are central hubs for gossip, trade, and, now, newspaper stories. [27] Wherever one goes in Hyrule, one gets the impression that everyone knows what’s happening to everyone else. And there is a greater feeling of intercooperation, fraternity, and common purpose, the clearest evidence of which is Lookout Landing, a base of operations where the combined peoples of Hyrule gather their strength. That it is built on the ruins of Castle Town’s Sacred Ground is a somber homage to the victims of the previous Calamity. It is here that all Hyruleans, independent of race, origin, or hardship, put forth effort to protect their slow gains across the land. Some train for battle, others run shops or stables, many keep watch, and researchers labor in various fields from weapon decay to Zonai script. Sorties issue forth from Lookout Landing to keep monsters at bay across the kingdom (though one wonders why, given the continued and inexplicable presence of Blood Moons). Even the characters themselves realize this unity, as this entry from Paya’s Diary suggests: “Of their own volition, some of our villagers volunteered to aid research, and others for patrol duty. It is humbling to behold . . . .” All across the land, it’s apparent that the peoples of Hyrule are finally raising their eyes to the horizon. Even Kilton has become more cosmopolitan, as his moral circle has expanded to include monsters, which he hopes to humanize to the denizens of Tarrey Town. [28] Beedle himself has just such a personal quest, but concerning bugs. [29] In all this, we feel that Hyrule has regained its vision — or many smaller visions that contribute to something greater: a world not just about survival, but about flourishing.
Meaning Well and Falling Short: Three Mixed Bags
For me, there are three aspects of the game wherein the game-makers tried to reconnect with longstanding tradition but ultimately failed. As we discussed above, one of the hallmarks of Zelda is action and vanquishing unique foes. We can see the developers’ attempt in their addition of new enemies and how these enemies require greater thought and tactics than those first introduced in Breath (e.g., Blins, Lizalfos, etc.). Boss Bokoblins are zany, frightening, and, in their own way, kind of cute; Like Likes are a disgusting and welcome reappearance, refashioned to dwell in Hyrule’s caves; Taluses now occasionally double as mobile siege platforms for smaller enemies; the tree-mimicking Evermeans are deliciously named and designed; and Aerocuda add a necessary element of aerial combat. Flux Constructs are among my favorite enemies, as they (somewhat) break the repetitive “hack and slash” nature of combat in these games. While not challenging once you have the hang of them, they still require thought and judicious use of Link’s Powers. For my money, the highlight of the show is the Gibdos. Given new life as emaciated, desert-dwelling abominations, they shamble around creepily until they randomly bolt in your direction. While evoking the undeath of previous incarnations, this version of the Gibdo is part of a family of moths, some of which are venom-spitting winged creatures. And all of them are led by Queen Gibdo, a monstrosity who haunts the Lightning Temple. These additions are to the good. However, enemies in Tears still aren’t differentiated enough, and the same monsters (with the exception of certain cosmetic/elemental changes) are found in all corners of Hyrule. While the addition of Horriblins in caves, Aerocuda in the sky, Frox in the depths, and Gleeoks on mountaintops was more than welcome, I do wonder if that was enough after six years, given that monsters from Breath of the Wild didn’t change in any substantive way. Aside from a few enemies which genuinely require observation, thought, and skill, the rest are defeated simply by slashing them to death. Usually, you can just repeatedly knock them prone and beat on them until they expire. This grows immensely repetitive very quickly. And when monsters get a hit on Link, it’s shocking how much damage even a lowly Bokoblin can do with a stick (more than the Demon King himself, as it turns out). Common monsters are often far harder than any temple boss, and enemy scaling only consists in adding more hitpoints, such that silver enemies are less a challenge than a time-sink. But perhaps the most egregious sin of the developers is the use of obviously-glowing eyes to mark enemy weaknesses. This has been a trope of the series for decades, but it should be given a rest, for a while at least; in this game, not only are Hinox and Frox weak about the eyes, but also bosses like Marbled Gohma. Most flagrant of all are the eye-covered clumps of Gloom on the draconified Ganondorf. Couldn’t designers engineer anything more interesting and thematic than that? Why couldn’t a Frox or Horriblin battle depend upon cleverly-targeted Lightbuds, for instance? The lack of ingenuity almost beggars belief.
And what to say of dungeons? Speaking as someone with a bit of authority on the subject, I can say that, while they are certainly better than the Divine Beasts, they are a far cry from those of Twilight Princess or Skyward Sword. The power of those locations was primarily bound up in theme, atmosphere, and an overall indelible synthesis of setting, puzzle-design, enemies, and lore. While the locations referred to as dungeons in Tears of the Kingdom are indeed closer to the archetypes laid down by previous games, they fall somewhat short of the (admittedly-high) mark. In fact and essence, they were the opposite of everything promised to us by the developers; whereas the creators reported that dungeons in Tears would be “huge,” “challenging,” and similar to those in traditional Zelda games, the ones we got were short, simple, repetitive, and only loosely like those of olden days. [30] Basically, Link enters, locates a few mechanisms, and does away with a simple boss. The boring formula of finding five locks, five turbines, or four faucets seemed less like a holistically-designed dungeon and more like five Zonai shrines duct-taped together in some loose order. The biggest contribution to the overall dungeon scheme was the narrative approach to each one. Even though these preludes often presented no challenge and were over in a blink, I found the Ancient Zora Waterworks atmospheric, intensely mysterious, and beautiful; and the gaining of the Lightning Temple — with its puzzle-solving in subterranean chambers, citadel defense, and sandstorm banishing — was, by turns, both thrilling and moving. But what a sad culmination in the dungeons at the end of such roads! I finished the Water Temple in fewer than twenty minutes and the Stormwind Ark in under thirty. The prelude adventure should be the amuse bouche with the dungeon as the entrée, not the reverse. [31]
Part of the trade-off of allowing greater creative freedom for completing a dungeon means that the puzzles are less tightly-constructed and less thoughtful. This means that some players, if experienced and astute enough, will understand and solve the dungeon-puzzle equation in a fraction of an hour. There are many ways to get through a dungeon, and not all of them are memorable. One can sometimes ignore puzzle design completely and simply cheese their way into a location through a clever use of climbing, Zonai rockets, or the Ascend ability. In no way does this kind of puzzle-solving feel meaningful or interesting. In previous games, the player was given a small set of tools (like one item found in a dungeon), which forced them to look at unique uses for the item and allowed for specific, thoughtful puzzles to be built. And these puzzles were often more indelible to memory. It turns out that changing a minecart track in Gorondia is far less spectacular — and far less remarkable — than turning the Stone Temple Tower on its head in Majora’s Mask or channeling sunlight onto the face of a giant Redead in The Wind Waker’s Earth Temple. And who can forget making the giant Dodongo’s eyes red in Ocarina of Time? Of course, not all Zelda games have a 100% track record with their dungeons; however, Tears doesn’t even have one that stands out from a design perspective. This is ultimately very sad, because these are locations that had great potential; all that the developers needed to add was, as always, greater thought. There are elements in all the dungeons which could have been used to greater purpose. For instance, why could the Stormwind Ark not have featured manipulating the exterior trampoline-ships or oars? Why are the enemies just Zonai constructs and not something related to storms, snow, or Colgera? Where is the grand synthesis? In the end, the dungeons were just given short shrift. I am intensely glad that regional characteristics were brought back to Hyrule in this iteration, and even the ability to interact with dungeons from the outside was interesting. Yet, they just seem like a massive promise unfulfilled.
For me, there are three aspects of the game wherein the game-makers tried to reconnect with longstanding tradition but ultimately failed. As we discussed above, one of the hallmarks of Zelda is action and vanquishing unique foes. We can see the developers’ attempt in their addition of new enemies and how these enemies require greater thought and tactics than those first introduced in Breath (e.g., Blins, Lizalfos, etc.). Boss Bokoblins are zany, frightening, and, in their own way, kind of cute; Like Likes are a disgusting and welcome reappearance, refashioned to dwell in Hyrule’s caves; Taluses now occasionally double as mobile siege platforms for smaller enemies; the tree-mimicking Evermeans are deliciously named and designed; and Aerocuda add a necessary element of aerial combat. Flux Constructs are among my favorite enemies, as they (somewhat) break the repetitive “hack and slash” nature of combat in these games. While not challenging once you have the hang of them, they still require thought and judicious use of Link’s Powers. For my money, the highlight of the show is the Gibdos. Given new life as emaciated, desert-dwelling abominations, they shamble around creepily until they randomly bolt in your direction. While evoking the undeath of previous incarnations, this version of the Gibdo is part of a family of moths, some of which are venom-spitting winged creatures. And all of them are led by Queen Gibdo, a monstrosity who haunts the Lightning Temple. These additions are to the good. However, enemies in Tears still aren’t differentiated enough, and the same monsters (with the exception of certain cosmetic/elemental changes) are found in all corners of Hyrule. While the addition of Horriblins in caves, Aerocuda in the sky, Frox in the depths, and Gleeoks on mountaintops was more than welcome, I do wonder if that was enough after six years, given that monsters from Breath of the Wild didn’t change in any substantive way. Aside from a few enemies which genuinely require observation, thought, and skill, the rest are defeated simply by slashing them to death. Usually, you can just repeatedly knock them prone and beat on them until they expire. This grows immensely repetitive very quickly. And when monsters get a hit on Link, it’s shocking how much damage even a lowly Bokoblin can do with a stick (more than the Demon King himself, as it turns out). Common monsters are often far harder than any temple boss, and enemy scaling only consists in adding more hitpoints, such that silver enemies are less a challenge than a time-sink. But perhaps the most egregious sin of the developers is the use of obviously-glowing eyes to mark enemy weaknesses. This has been a trope of the series for decades, but it should be given a rest, for a while at least; in this game, not only are Hinox and Frox weak about the eyes, but also bosses like Marbled Gohma. Most flagrant of all are the eye-covered clumps of Gloom on the draconified Ganondorf. Couldn’t designers engineer anything more interesting and thematic than that? Why couldn’t a Frox or Horriblin battle depend upon cleverly-targeted Lightbuds, for instance? The lack of ingenuity almost beggars belief.
And what to say of dungeons? Speaking as someone with a bit of authority on the subject, I can say that, while they are certainly better than the Divine Beasts, they are a far cry from those of Twilight Princess or Skyward Sword. The power of those locations was primarily bound up in theme, atmosphere, and an overall indelible synthesis of setting, puzzle-design, enemies, and lore. While the locations referred to as dungeons in Tears of the Kingdom are indeed closer to the archetypes laid down by previous games, they fall somewhat short of the (admittedly-high) mark. In fact and essence, they were the opposite of everything promised to us by the developers; whereas the creators reported that dungeons in Tears would be “huge,” “challenging,” and similar to those in traditional Zelda games, the ones we got were short, simple, repetitive, and only loosely like those of olden days. [30] Basically, Link enters, locates a few mechanisms, and does away with a simple boss. The boring formula of finding five locks, five turbines, or four faucets seemed less like a holistically-designed dungeon and more like five Zonai shrines duct-taped together in some loose order. The biggest contribution to the overall dungeon scheme was the narrative approach to each one. Even though these preludes often presented no challenge and were over in a blink, I found the Ancient Zora Waterworks atmospheric, intensely mysterious, and beautiful; and the gaining of the Lightning Temple — with its puzzle-solving in subterranean chambers, citadel defense, and sandstorm banishing — was, by turns, both thrilling and moving. But what a sad culmination in the dungeons at the end of such roads! I finished the Water Temple in fewer than twenty minutes and the Stormwind Ark in under thirty. The prelude adventure should be the amuse bouche with the dungeon as the entrée, not the reverse. [31]
Part of the trade-off of allowing greater creative freedom for completing a dungeon means that the puzzles are less tightly-constructed and less thoughtful. This means that some players, if experienced and astute enough, will understand and solve the dungeon-puzzle equation in a fraction of an hour. There are many ways to get through a dungeon, and not all of them are memorable. One can sometimes ignore puzzle design completely and simply cheese their way into a location through a clever use of climbing, Zonai rockets, or the Ascend ability. In no way does this kind of puzzle-solving feel meaningful or interesting. In previous games, the player was given a small set of tools (like one item found in a dungeon), which forced them to look at unique uses for the item and allowed for specific, thoughtful puzzles to be built. And these puzzles were often more indelible to memory. It turns out that changing a minecart track in Gorondia is far less spectacular — and far less remarkable — than turning the Stone Temple Tower on its head in Majora’s Mask or channeling sunlight onto the face of a giant Redead in The Wind Waker’s Earth Temple. And who can forget making the giant Dodongo’s eyes red in Ocarina of Time? Of course, not all Zelda games have a 100% track record with their dungeons; however, Tears doesn’t even have one that stands out from a design perspective. This is ultimately very sad, because these are locations that had great potential; all that the developers needed to add was, as always, greater thought. There are elements in all the dungeons which could have been used to greater purpose. For instance, why could the Stormwind Ark not have featured manipulating the exterior trampoline-ships or oars? Why are the enemies just Zonai constructs and not something related to storms, snow, or Colgera? Where is the grand synthesis? In the end, the dungeons were just given short shrift. I am intensely glad that regional characteristics were brought back to Hyrule in this iteration, and even the ability to interact with dungeons from the outside was interesting. Yet, they just seem like a massive promise unfulfilled.
Finally, we can talk about the immense addition of the Skies and Depths to the world, as well as caves and wells. The first time I stumbled upon a well was at the Snowfield Stable, and I was ecstatic. The wells are some of the best features in Tears, so far as I’m concerned. They hearken back to the Secret Grottoes of Ocarina of Time and the joys of exploration. Caves, likewise, help to fill this niche of the underground hiding place. These caverns vary greatly in size, though not much in aspect; some seem to stretch for miles, while others are simple chambers. Yet all express that same call to adventure that one feels when entering the initial cave in the first Zelda. And while I was hoping to be awed, like Gimli by the Glittering Caves of Aglarond in The Lord of the Rings, the caves of Tears are more dark and dangerous than glittering (though the Mushroom Cave in Hebra gets closest). [32] Yet their allure is still deeply felt. Scores of Hyruleans seem caught by the spelunking bug, and several quests deal with finding things in caves or wells. The most special items to be found in caves are the treasures of the bandit, Misko; you can always tell a treasure is near by the presence of certain lances driven into the walls, hung with tattered cloth. These help to make the exploration of these caves rich, even if most caves and wells do not hold much to write home about. But caves and wells pale in comparison to the other planes open to us as players.
To me, the Skies hold the most interesting new lands to explore, containing two different dungeons, the Great Sky Islands, and the ruin-covered Dragonhead Island. These are the first areas we really get to know in playing Tears, and while we aren’t too incentivized to spend much time up there (as most of the islands are copy-pasted fragments holding little of importance), there are some genuinely intriguing spherical islands, three massive diving challenges, a gargantuan forge, and, my personal favorite, elevated labyrinths which connect all the way to the Depths. Above all, I find the Sky Islands serene. They are a world apart: quiet, still, and ancient. They are dotted with the ruins of a lost people whose stewardship has been handed off to nature. Grass has sprouted from under the tiled paths; lichen and moss have cozied up on step and wall. Pools shaped long ago still hold clear water, and wind and clouds flow ever overhead. And everything is held in an autumnal gold, always signaling change but never quite bringing it about. It is a world held in amber. The brilliance of this cannot be overstated. We haven’t seen such a powerful assertion of melancholy since Twilight Princess. I encourage you to really listen to the music of the Sky Islands at some point. It fittingly relies entirely on woodwinds, drawing reference to the elemental nature of this plane. Over and over, we hear a plaintive call reaching out from the past, sometimes faint, sometimes strained, but always deeply sad. It seems to be the very voice of the ruins and the people that once built them. It is a call to be remembered.
To me, the Skies hold the most interesting new lands to explore, containing two different dungeons, the Great Sky Islands, and the ruin-covered Dragonhead Island. These are the first areas we really get to know in playing Tears, and while we aren’t too incentivized to spend much time up there (as most of the islands are copy-pasted fragments holding little of importance), there are some genuinely intriguing spherical islands, three massive diving challenges, a gargantuan forge, and, my personal favorite, elevated labyrinths which connect all the way to the Depths. Above all, I find the Sky Islands serene. They are a world apart: quiet, still, and ancient. They are dotted with the ruins of a lost people whose stewardship has been handed off to nature. Grass has sprouted from under the tiled paths; lichen and moss have cozied up on step and wall. Pools shaped long ago still hold clear water, and wind and clouds flow ever overhead. And everything is held in an autumnal gold, always signaling change but never quite bringing it about. It is a world held in amber. The brilliance of this cannot be overstated. We haven’t seen such a powerful assertion of melancholy since Twilight Princess. I encourage you to really listen to the music of the Sky Islands at some point. It fittingly relies entirely on woodwinds, drawing reference to the elemental nature of this plane. Over and over, we hear a plaintive call reaching out from the past, sometimes faint, sometimes strained, but always deeply sad. It seems to be the very voice of the ruins and the people that once built them. It is a call to be remembered.
Diametrically opposite to the Sky are the vast, barren depths — a land of spores, fungus, and shadow stretching to the utmost reaches of Hyrule. We know few things about this subterranean expanse, except that it mirrors Hyrule’s landscape, is ancient, and raises more questions than answers. An ancient Goron city is to be found under Death Mountain, and the Zonai raised extensive mining operations there to harvest Zonaite. Monsters have run rampant throughout the Depths, though many of them do not seem to be endemic, unlike the Frox. Ancient carved figures lead to various mining facilities, and massive statues intercede on behalf of forgotten Poes. Unexplained soldier-spirits stand upon cairns offering up undecayed, glistening weapons. Historic armor rests in deep chasms. Mysterious roots connect to Shrines on the surface, which act as seals against defeated monsters. [33] Similar Gloom-filled roots course with malign energy emanating from a reviving Ganondorf beneath Hyrule Castle. In all, it is a mysterious and hostile environment. It is also less developed than it might have been. While there are many areas of interest throughout the Depths, and mysteries beyond count, much of the space is, as is perhaps intended, barren of interest. There are two things that necessitate travel into the Depths: the erasure of the Yiga and the awakening of the Sage of Spirit. Both center around Zonai technology, and both are over quickly, leaving immense stretches of the Depths untied to the plot. This might not be such a bad thing if there was any amount of environmental variability; however, it is the same fungal shapes, gloom, and sedimentary rock from Gerudo Desert all the way to Akkala. Sadly, there isn’t much dotting this landscape, which is not to say that there aren’t the fascinating elements listed above. It is simply that these features are few and far between, most of them simple variations on a simple theme. Why couldn’t the game-makers have tied the Depths more integrally to the story? Why aren’t there more Depth-dwelling enemies? It seems incredibly lazy to populate this expansive landscape with the same worn-out Blins, Keese, and Lynels of the surface— not to mention dungeon bosses! Why would replica bosses populate the Depths? (The worst is the reuse of Marbled Gohma whose programming, laughably, hasn’t changed, even when there is no ceiling to latch onto for the fight’s second phase.) Again, we see this copy/paste laziness that plagues so much of Tears. The Yiga are the most interesting element in the Depths, where their counteroperations are in full swing; recognizing the inherent power of Zonai technology, they seek to harness its flexibility and weaponize it. All their energies seem bent upon investigating ancient technologies, and they’ve erected numerous outposts and encampments to further this goal and dissuade intruders and prying eyes. As impressive as these forts are, even they fall victim to the doctrine of limitless freedom; no manner of steep wall, spiked barricade, or vigilant patrol is a match for a simple flying machine and a few arrows. And, of course, the Yiga themselves are still somewhat a joke (which has distinct trade-offs, if we’re honest), but their existence in the Depths adds necessary intrigue to an otherwise empty land.
Some Things Found Wanting
Narrative Dissonance
Aside from the story of Tears itself, to which we will come shortly, one of the most glaring holes in the game concerns its narrative unity with Breath of the Wild. Most obviously, almost every aspect of Ancient Sheikah technology has disappeared, from the Sheikah Towers to the Divine Beasts. Almost no one in Hyrule seems to have noticed, or, if they have noticed, they seem to not care. Among those who don’t seem to care are the game’s developers themselves. While Hidemaro Fujibayashi, the game’s director, has stated that Sheikah constructs, “. . . disappeared after the Calamity was defeated . . .” and that everyone in Hyrule bore witness, “. . . there is no one who knows the mechanism to reason why they disappeared, and it is considered a mystery. It is believed that since the Calamity disappeared, they also disappeared as their role had been fulfilled.” He goes on: “It is, anyway, commonplace for mysterious events and strange phenomena to occur in Hyrule . . . . Thus, people have simply assumed the reason behind the disappearance to likely be related to ancient Sheikah technology and it seems there is no one who has tried to explore the matter further.” [34] This first part may make some sense — such technology was designed with purpose and could have been programmed to obsolesce after completing its objective. But this doesn’t explain why no one in Hyrule mentions it or seems to care. There are some in Hyrule, like those at the Ancient Tech Labs, who have devoted their entire lives to the study of ancient Sheikah technology; and we are supposed to believe they’ve simply given up their life’s work? Such a thing is hard to swallow. And when we pair this with the collective amnesia of certain people who have forgotten their relationship with Link, and certain quests, like that of proving the existence of the Calamity to schoolchildren, there is a sense of narrative dissonance. I will not belabor this point, as many have found this element disappointing. [35]
There are certain other features of Tears that make little sense. For one, Zonai constructs can’t tell Link apart from enemies, while other constructs can; given Zelda’s passage back in time and relationship with Mineru and Rauru, wouldn’t Zonai soldier constructs know something about the future Legendary Swordsman? Also confusing about the Zonai are their shrines. While the function of the shrines — sealing away demonic forces — makes sense, there seems to be no reason to have Link navigate trials to obtain the Blessings of Light. If Sonia and Rauru listened to Zelda’s descriptions of Link being a capable swordsman, why would they further want to challenge him — especially when time is of the essence and the Light they bestow can heal him of past wounds? There is little that makes sense here. And in terms of their location, things can begin to feel repetitive, given that there are more shrines in Tears than in the previous game; because certain of these, like those in Korok Forest, are in the same place as before, we get an unpleasant sense of treading the same ground. (Plus, a shrine marring the pristine cityscape of Gerudo Town is just galling to me.) Finally, Zonai lore seems to be rather inconsistent. Mineru tells Zelda that, in swallowing a Secret Stone, the person forever loses themself. Indeed, this seems to be true, as the ancient dragons fly the same patterns every day without once changing path or expressing interest or desire. Yet, when Ganondorf swallows his stone, he still seems bent upon the destruction of the world, while dragon-Zelda flies immediately to Link’s rescue. One can argue that these are instinctual behaviors, but these behaviors are part of the self. To truly “lose oneself,” one would also lose these primitive, animalistic urges to destroy or save.
A Betrayal of Hyrule
You might have been wondering why I opened this piece with the first line of Wordsworth’s “The World Is Too Much With Us.” The reason is fairly straightforward. In my judgment, Tears of the Kingdom broke with Breath of the Wild’s greatest accomplishment — it turned the natural world from something to be explored and communed with into something to be broken into parts and dominated. Its focus on construction, resource harvesting, and mechanization subtly shifts the world from something wild and sublime into something useful and manageable. And where Breath, to some degree, incentivized exploration and the immanent beauty of the world, Tears incentivizes efficiency, convenience, and an abstraction as “the world as a puzzle to be solved.” Drawing a parallel to Ian McGilchrist’s magisterial work The Master and His Emissary, this is an uncontrolled perversion of the right hemisphere’s preferred way of viewing the world: We end up with a mind that sees the world as decontextualized fragments to be identified and used to get something done. I really do think that this difference — in how Hyrule is to be viewed — cannot be overstated.
Although Zelda has occasionally dabbled in incentivizing resource harvesting, never before has it been taken to such extremes. Think for a moment: What is the most obvious built aspect of the Depths? Mining facilities. The vast underground Hyrule is largely dominated by industry; there are quarries, processing facilities, Zonai vehicle depots, factories, and forges. Everyone — from the Yiga to the Zonai to the monster forces themselves — is hellbent on getting their hands on as much Zonaite as possible. The Depths, when not dark and mysterious, are full of the signs of industrialization. The Sky is likewise replete with minecart tracks, constructs of various designs, a forge, and myriad garish device dispensers modeled after the ubiquitous Japanese gashapon. And neither has the Surface been spared. What was once pristine wilds is now filled with debris from the sky — not just giant rings and small bits of land, but also device dispensers, vehicle depots, and even a crystal refinery. The effects of industry are felt everywhere in Hyrule, and no one seems to have felt the loss.
“The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away . . .”
Narrative Dissonance
Aside from the story of Tears itself, to which we will come shortly, one of the most glaring holes in the game concerns its narrative unity with Breath of the Wild. Most obviously, almost every aspect of Ancient Sheikah technology has disappeared, from the Sheikah Towers to the Divine Beasts. Almost no one in Hyrule seems to have noticed, or, if they have noticed, they seem to not care. Among those who don’t seem to care are the game’s developers themselves. While Hidemaro Fujibayashi, the game’s director, has stated that Sheikah constructs, “. . . disappeared after the Calamity was defeated . . .” and that everyone in Hyrule bore witness, “. . . there is no one who knows the mechanism to reason why they disappeared, and it is considered a mystery. It is believed that since the Calamity disappeared, they also disappeared as their role had been fulfilled.” He goes on: “It is, anyway, commonplace for mysterious events and strange phenomena to occur in Hyrule . . . . Thus, people have simply assumed the reason behind the disappearance to likely be related to ancient Sheikah technology and it seems there is no one who has tried to explore the matter further.” [34] This first part may make some sense — such technology was designed with purpose and could have been programmed to obsolesce after completing its objective. But this doesn’t explain why no one in Hyrule mentions it or seems to care. There are some in Hyrule, like those at the Ancient Tech Labs, who have devoted their entire lives to the study of ancient Sheikah technology; and we are supposed to believe they’ve simply given up their life’s work? Such a thing is hard to swallow. And when we pair this with the collective amnesia of certain people who have forgotten their relationship with Link, and certain quests, like that of proving the existence of the Calamity to schoolchildren, there is a sense of narrative dissonance. I will not belabor this point, as many have found this element disappointing. [35]
There are certain other features of Tears that make little sense. For one, Zonai constructs can’t tell Link apart from enemies, while other constructs can; given Zelda’s passage back in time and relationship with Mineru and Rauru, wouldn’t Zonai soldier constructs know something about the future Legendary Swordsman? Also confusing about the Zonai are their shrines. While the function of the shrines — sealing away demonic forces — makes sense, there seems to be no reason to have Link navigate trials to obtain the Blessings of Light. If Sonia and Rauru listened to Zelda’s descriptions of Link being a capable swordsman, why would they further want to challenge him — especially when time is of the essence and the Light they bestow can heal him of past wounds? There is little that makes sense here. And in terms of their location, things can begin to feel repetitive, given that there are more shrines in Tears than in the previous game; because certain of these, like those in Korok Forest, are in the same place as before, we get an unpleasant sense of treading the same ground. (Plus, a shrine marring the pristine cityscape of Gerudo Town is just galling to me.) Finally, Zonai lore seems to be rather inconsistent. Mineru tells Zelda that, in swallowing a Secret Stone, the person forever loses themself. Indeed, this seems to be true, as the ancient dragons fly the same patterns every day without once changing path or expressing interest or desire. Yet, when Ganondorf swallows his stone, he still seems bent upon the destruction of the world, while dragon-Zelda flies immediately to Link’s rescue. One can argue that these are instinctual behaviors, but these behaviors are part of the self. To truly “lose oneself,” one would also lose these primitive, animalistic urges to destroy or save.
A Betrayal of Hyrule
You might have been wondering why I opened this piece with the first line of Wordsworth’s “The World Is Too Much With Us.” The reason is fairly straightforward. In my judgment, Tears of the Kingdom broke with Breath of the Wild’s greatest accomplishment — it turned the natural world from something to be explored and communed with into something to be broken into parts and dominated. Its focus on construction, resource harvesting, and mechanization subtly shifts the world from something wild and sublime into something useful and manageable. And where Breath, to some degree, incentivized exploration and the immanent beauty of the world, Tears incentivizes efficiency, convenience, and an abstraction as “the world as a puzzle to be solved.” Drawing a parallel to Ian McGilchrist’s magisterial work The Master and His Emissary, this is an uncontrolled perversion of the right hemisphere’s preferred way of viewing the world: We end up with a mind that sees the world as decontextualized fragments to be identified and used to get something done. I really do think that this difference — in how Hyrule is to be viewed — cannot be overstated.
Although Zelda has occasionally dabbled in incentivizing resource harvesting, never before has it been taken to such extremes. Think for a moment: What is the most obvious built aspect of the Depths? Mining facilities. The vast underground Hyrule is largely dominated by industry; there are quarries, processing facilities, Zonai vehicle depots, factories, and forges. Everyone — from the Yiga to the Zonai to the monster forces themselves — is hellbent on getting their hands on as much Zonaite as possible. The Depths, when not dark and mysterious, are full of the signs of industrialization. The Sky is likewise replete with minecart tracks, constructs of various designs, a forge, and myriad garish device dispensers modeled after the ubiquitous Japanese gashapon. And neither has the Surface been spared. What was once pristine wilds is now filled with debris from the sky — not just giant rings and small bits of land, but also device dispensers, vehicle depots, and even a crystal refinery. The effects of industry are felt everywhere in Hyrule, and no one seems to have felt the loss.
“The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away . . .”
On Freedom and Enforced Hokeyness
To be honest, what I pointed out above is the thing that hurt me the most in playing Tears. It was a slight betrayal that most people likely didn’t even notice and one that probably few care about. Instead of the world appearing as a sacred whole, it is now parts and pieces to be put together and disassembled. But we should look at how this philosophical shift is manifested in the game’s mechanics. This betrayal is most obvious in the Fuse ability. It is sad to say that the height of Zonai technology seems to be mere parts that can be glued together. It is as if the apex of human technology reached no higher than Legos. And this relates back precisely to the interviews talked about before. Just what was the raison d'être of this entire game? It was to house and give life to gameplay elements that didn’t fit nicely into Breath of the Wild. In short, let us call a spade a spade: Tears of the Kingdom is a highly elaborate dustbin for unused toys. Instead of starting with the world, the story, a character, or a theme, the developers chose, what is to me, the laziest and most superficial cornerstone of a game: a gimmicky mechanic. [36] And Tears isn’t alone in this: the Zelda franchise is full of failed gimmicks. But the mechanic of fusing and constructing is such an intrusive presence in this game that it is impossible to overlook. Though it espouses freedom, it is a fake freedom that does not organically earn our attention; we are, essentially, made to constantly build things to traverse distances, defeat monsters, or solve puzzles. This desire to give freedom and options to players (to which the developers seem enslaved) takes away a distinct freedom I wanted: the freedom to not have to build things. This is something that many have commented on — that the developers effectively force their mechanics on us instead of either making them one viable possibility among others or, at the very least, giving us a rewarding reason to engage with them. This forcing of the hand is not just present in the Fuse and Ultrahand abilities but in other gameplay elements. As this reviewer writes in consternation, first about Link’s relative weakness toward simple monsters: “‘Oh but it’s good actually, because it forces you to engage with the cooking system and make food that raises your defense,’ I hear you declare, just as you do when you say breakable weapons force you to experiment and change gear. Frankly, I’m fed up with Nintendo’s pathological need to force things on players rather than incentivize them . . . .” [37] Again, for those who love the freedom inherent in Fuse, where is the freedom to forego these elements altogether? Why must I play Minecraft to play Zelda? Why the Enforced Hokeyness?
Let us turn to weapons for a moment. Due to Decay and general weapon degradation, players are made to fuse items together to kill even the simplest Blins (even to the Master Sword — the Blade of Evil’s Bane, which, honestly, disgusts me more than a little). Why should I be forced to denigrate weaponry in order to fight? And, besides, what sword in real life would shatter after taking down a single opponent? Would we countenance a blacksmith who made such feeble and craft-less weapons? Would we ever seek out a bowyer who would provide us a bow that would last to shoot only twenty arrows? We would not. And the narrative justification of Gloom Decay, which the developers deploy to take our attention away from such an asinine system, frankly makes no sense. Ganondorf can somehow target only human-made melee weapons on the surface? Is that the extent of his power? How does decay differentiate between creature-altered iron and iron ore? Why are bows not affected? Couldn’t he weaken every arrowhead in the land? But the developers get away with an inane weapon system in Breath and Tears that, again, shifts our focus to harvesting and fusing. Once more, the world is something in our way.
Let us look a little closer at Nintendo’s creative route through Tears of the Kingdom. The developers have said that building upon the same world was, “actually harder than creating something from scratch.” [38] So, given that it was more difficult to add on to an already existing world, why go that path? As we discussed above, the developers were trying to use up old gameplay mechanics. As one developer stated, “For The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, we began by compiling and implementing ideas we couldn't include in the previous title.” [39, italics mine] The question almost begs itself: Is this justification enough for the creation of a new game? Zelda is, technically speaking (though this is not always actualized), a plot-driven game. It has a host of characters, and these characters interact in ways that draw the player in, such that the player feels a part of world-forging myth. It seems that this element should take center stage — not some shoehorned gimmick. Why are we allowing one of the low-level aspects of a game to drive the entire process? And this is not to say that such things can’t be done well. Tolkien famously built his world of Middle-earth to house the languages he created; as he mentioned many times, the languages were primary. Everything was created in order for them to make sense. [40] What matters for our conversation is that Tolkien did it well. His languages are inextricable from his world, and his world necessitates the languages that he created. Are Zonai devices inextricable from Tears of the Kingdom? Hardly. Breath of the Wild presents the same world, and it is utterly without them. This feature, while useful and interesting and very ingenious, is ultimately a bauble or curiosity. Such a thing should not form the heart of a game.
And yet, people love the freedom that this system gives. Along with the Ascend ability, reviewers and players seem to love the absolute liberty granted them. Of course, this was largely true of Breath of the Wild, but now you can design your own house and build cars. I have many of the same worries and qualms I did the first time around, the largest one being how such freedom affects our collective memories of the game. What the developers don’t seem to take into account is that games present a shared space in human culture, and there is something of an art to forging connections between players through similar experiences. This, however, doesn’t seem to be something of importance to the developers; indeed, it seems they want much the opposite. [41] The trade-off in giving the player near-limitless freedom is that the makers must then trust the players implicitly to know how best to play the game — to experience their art. And while most people know what they enjoy, they don’t seem to know about what will be memorable or meaningful. So, a game that allows players to interact only superficially with the main story, and often with hours upon hours of gameplay between major plot points, might register in players’ minds as fun but not ultimately meaningful. In sacrificing everything at the altar of freedom, what is given up?
To be honest, what I pointed out above is the thing that hurt me the most in playing Tears. It was a slight betrayal that most people likely didn’t even notice and one that probably few care about. Instead of the world appearing as a sacred whole, it is now parts and pieces to be put together and disassembled. But we should look at how this philosophical shift is manifested in the game’s mechanics. This betrayal is most obvious in the Fuse ability. It is sad to say that the height of Zonai technology seems to be mere parts that can be glued together. It is as if the apex of human technology reached no higher than Legos. And this relates back precisely to the interviews talked about before. Just what was the raison d'être of this entire game? It was to house and give life to gameplay elements that didn’t fit nicely into Breath of the Wild. In short, let us call a spade a spade: Tears of the Kingdom is a highly elaborate dustbin for unused toys. Instead of starting with the world, the story, a character, or a theme, the developers chose, what is to me, the laziest and most superficial cornerstone of a game: a gimmicky mechanic. [36] And Tears isn’t alone in this: the Zelda franchise is full of failed gimmicks. But the mechanic of fusing and constructing is such an intrusive presence in this game that it is impossible to overlook. Though it espouses freedom, it is a fake freedom that does not organically earn our attention; we are, essentially, made to constantly build things to traverse distances, defeat monsters, or solve puzzles. This desire to give freedom and options to players (to which the developers seem enslaved) takes away a distinct freedom I wanted: the freedom to not have to build things. This is something that many have commented on — that the developers effectively force their mechanics on us instead of either making them one viable possibility among others or, at the very least, giving us a rewarding reason to engage with them. This forcing of the hand is not just present in the Fuse and Ultrahand abilities but in other gameplay elements. As this reviewer writes in consternation, first about Link’s relative weakness toward simple monsters: “‘Oh but it’s good actually, because it forces you to engage with the cooking system and make food that raises your defense,’ I hear you declare, just as you do when you say breakable weapons force you to experiment and change gear. Frankly, I’m fed up with Nintendo’s pathological need to force things on players rather than incentivize them . . . .” [37] Again, for those who love the freedom inherent in Fuse, where is the freedom to forego these elements altogether? Why must I play Minecraft to play Zelda? Why the Enforced Hokeyness?
Let us turn to weapons for a moment. Due to Decay and general weapon degradation, players are made to fuse items together to kill even the simplest Blins (even to the Master Sword — the Blade of Evil’s Bane, which, honestly, disgusts me more than a little). Why should I be forced to denigrate weaponry in order to fight? And, besides, what sword in real life would shatter after taking down a single opponent? Would we countenance a blacksmith who made such feeble and craft-less weapons? Would we ever seek out a bowyer who would provide us a bow that would last to shoot only twenty arrows? We would not. And the narrative justification of Gloom Decay, which the developers deploy to take our attention away from such an asinine system, frankly makes no sense. Ganondorf can somehow target only human-made melee weapons on the surface? Is that the extent of his power? How does decay differentiate between creature-altered iron and iron ore? Why are bows not affected? Couldn’t he weaken every arrowhead in the land? But the developers get away with an inane weapon system in Breath and Tears that, again, shifts our focus to harvesting and fusing. Once more, the world is something in our way.
Let us look a little closer at Nintendo’s creative route through Tears of the Kingdom. The developers have said that building upon the same world was, “actually harder than creating something from scratch.” [38] So, given that it was more difficult to add on to an already existing world, why go that path? As we discussed above, the developers were trying to use up old gameplay mechanics. As one developer stated, “For The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, we began by compiling and implementing ideas we couldn't include in the previous title.” [39, italics mine] The question almost begs itself: Is this justification enough for the creation of a new game? Zelda is, technically speaking (though this is not always actualized), a plot-driven game. It has a host of characters, and these characters interact in ways that draw the player in, such that the player feels a part of world-forging myth. It seems that this element should take center stage — not some shoehorned gimmick. Why are we allowing one of the low-level aspects of a game to drive the entire process? And this is not to say that such things can’t be done well. Tolkien famously built his world of Middle-earth to house the languages he created; as he mentioned many times, the languages were primary. Everything was created in order for them to make sense. [40] What matters for our conversation is that Tolkien did it well. His languages are inextricable from his world, and his world necessitates the languages that he created. Are Zonai devices inextricable from Tears of the Kingdom? Hardly. Breath of the Wild presents the same world, and it is utterly without them. This feature, while useful and interesting and very ingenious, is ultimately a bauble or curiosity. Such a thing should not form the heart of a game.
And yet, people love the freedom that this system gives. Along with the Ascend ability, reviewers and players seem to love the absolute liberty granted them. Of course, this was largely true of Breath of the Wild, but now you can design your own house and build cars. I have many of the same worries and qualms I did the first time around, the largest one being how such freedom affects our collective memories of the game. What the developers don’t seem to take into account is that games present a shared space in human culture, and there is something of an art to forging connections between players through similar experiences. This, however, doesn’t seem to be something of importance to the developers; indeed, it seems they want much the opposite. [41] The trade-off in giving the player near-limitless freedom is that the makers must then trust the players implicitly to know how best to play the game — to experience their art. And while most people know what they enjoy, they don’t seem to know about what will be memorable or meaningful. So, a game that allows players to interact only superficially with the main story, and often with hours upon hours of gameplay between major plot points, might register in players’ minds as fun but not ultimately meaningful. In sacrificing everything at the altar of freedom, what is given up?
On the Story and Characters
The story of Tears is convoluted and weak. If we are being honest with ourselves, Tears of the Kingdom recycled most of its material from Breath of the Wild. Let us compare briefly the openings of these two games. Aside from the brilliant and exciting introduction, we wake up, once again, in a mysterious room, deeply weakened. We then get our hands on the Purah Pad, left to us by Zelda. We emerge from a strange building onto a vast, circular terrain and encounter a mysterious figure who we come to find is the spirit of some long-deceased monarch. He asks us to visit a number of shrines to receive runic powers to aid us on our journey. Does any of this sound familiar? We descend to the world below, just as we did from the Great Plateau, totally unmoored from our surroundings and past. We are given some orientation at Lookout Landing, but the narrative is, once again, something Link barely participates in; just as in Breath of the Wild, we struggle to find memories left for us by Zelda. And while the geoglyphs are fascinating, they still leave us with the same broken story mechanism as used in Breath. We are left chasing memories that, depending on how we play, come to us out of order and seemingly at random. We get no sense that a story is unfolding. Because the narrative is picked up in fragments, one has the feeling that things are, to some extent, already settled. One looks upon mythology instead of forging it oneself. This feels far less meaningful than participating actively in the story. As this player recollects about Miyamoto’s “immediacy of the experience”: “One of the best things about [rushing Midna to Zelda in Twilight Princess] is that it isn't a cutscene — it's not something that happened in the distant past — it's something that's happening right now and searing itself into your long-term memory. The problem with Breath of the Wild [and Tears of the Kingdom] is that it has no equivalent. There's [sic] no sad or somber moments. Link never has to leave his grandma or his childhood friend. There's no part where he fails, or where he's tricked. There's no decisive moment where the narrative shifts and he needs to realign his goals. If any of those things are present at all, it's through the memory cutscenes. All the emotional highs and lows have already happened in the distant past." [42] Indeed, it feels like the real story has already happened — like the real game has already been played.
The unfolding of narrative relates intimately to character development. For simplicity’s sake, we will focus only on the main characters of the game: the Sages, Zelda, and Ganondorf. The Sages are vividly present during their individual quests, which gives us that sense of “cooperative struggle” spoken about by the game-makers. We fight alongside Tulin, Yunobo, Riju, Sidon, and Mineru, and, to various degrees, share in their hardships and triumphs. We give Mineru corporeal form, assist Yunobo in saving his people from brainwashing, aid Riju in defending her people and her city, help Sidon purify the environment of Zora’s Domain, and mentor a young, overly-cavalier Tulin. These quests make us feel a part of Hyrule and its growing strength, but such tribulations are soon over and we are left alone. That is, but for the lead-eyed spirits of the Sages who have promised to stand by our side. This feature, when intricately weaved into a dungeon, like the Elegy of Emptiness in Stone Temple Tower, is haunting; but when it is sloppily applied to the entirety of a game’s main quest, it quickly grows bothersome. The stand-in Sages, instead of being noble, elegant, and inspiring, trip over themselves and get constantly in the way, forcing Link to dispel them or attempt to herd them like so many unruly cats. This design element does a deep disservice to the heroic legacy of the series.
As to the most important character, Zelda is, once again, largely isolated from the game, appearing and reappearing almost exclusively in memory. While her actions are noble, self-sacrificing, and praiseworthy [43, 44], she feels more like a piece of history — as do the Champions of the previous game — than a character in herself. Her role in the opening scene was charming, humanizing, and raised my hopes. She was finally following her passion for research, engaged with Link on a quest to solve Hyrule’s present ills. But then — poof! — she takes a tumble and is gone until the last minutes of the game. The rest of the time, we see her solely in the dragon’s tears spread across the land. While this happens, Link pursues “Zelda” across Hyrule — a series of happenings, which, in its absurd ridiculousness, might have come from the pages of Don Quixote. From first sight we know that this doppelganger cannot be Zelda herself. Zelda is gone from this timeline. If the goal is to trick the player into thinking this is Zelda herself, the game fails miserably. But it doesn’t make sense from an in-game perspective, either. Link, knowing well the answer after a short period of time (Zelda was never so morally confused), chooses not to disclose this, even while he tells characters about everything else going on in Hyrule. Meanwhile, the Sages and everyone else in Hyrule overlook “Zelda’s” strange, contradictory, and sometimes nefarious behavior, feigning confusion about why the princess would do such questionable things. This leads me to ask: “Is everyone in Hyrule a moral idiot?” Clear to anyone who once knew her, this is not Zelda. So who is this pretense for? Does it add to the richness of Zelda’s story? Does she, like Ged in A Wizard of Earthsea, have to confront her shadow-self in order to actualize her potential? Sadly, nothing so interesting transpires.
Finally, Ganondorf. What a sad figure he presents, from his terrible voice acting (which was excellent as a wraith in the beginning, but which quickly became comically “evil”) to his cardboard villainy. As we learn from the precious few cutscenes he’s in, he seems hellbent on spreading his power from Gerudo Desert to Hyrule proper. Why? Because he’s evil. Yet, given how evil he is, he quickly realizes that his power is no match for that of Rauru, and so he contrives to steal a Secret Stone (which the King and Queen don’t really bother keeping a secret), feigning loyalty to Hyrule. This could be the enemy narrative for any middle-school fantasy story, as Ganondorf has no depth — no feature to complicate him as a character. We get no introspective “desert wind” speech à la The Wind Waker or equivalent. We find him in the opening scenes as a desiccated wraith, horrifying and powerful, but he quickly does away with both Link and Zelda, only to retreat beneath ground to regain his strength. While he rests beneath Hyrule Castle, one would suspect him to be pursuing his own agenda — discovering the Yiga and directing the monsters in the Depths. Yet this doesn’t seem to be the case. As Link harvests his ninth generation of Fortified Pumpkins or adds a garden to his house, Ganondorf sits, lotus-style, in anticipation of having his slumber interrupted. Finally, when we do confront him, the battle is prosaically simple. His attacks land more softly than a Moblin’s. And the fight with his draconic form is more an interactive cutscene than an actual battle. What an absolute let-down. The game-makers also fail to draw an explicit connection between Ganondorf and Calamity Ganon. This seems as though it would have been a necessity, given their interconnected nature. Further, no attention is paid to the relationship between Malice and Gloom (though they changed the color!), nor the continual appearance of the Blood Moon. As we can guess, the developers needed to keep bringing enemies back, so instead of taking their time to develop a sensible mechanism, they just went the path of least resistance and kept the old one, even though there is no narrative justification. So, in essence, Ganondorf remains an underdeveloped character both in the narrative and in almost every feature tied to his existence.
The story of Tears is convoluted and weak. If we are being honest with ourselves, Tears of the Kingdom recycled most of its material from Breath of the Wild. Let us compare briefly the openings of these two games. Aside from the brilliant and exciting introduction, we wake up, once again, in a mysterious room, deeply weakened. We then get our hands on the Purah Pad, left to us by Zelda. We emerge from a strange building onto a vast, circular terrain and encounter a mysterious figure who we come to find is the spirit of some long-deceased monarch. He asks us to visit a number of shrines to receive runic powers to aid us on our journey. Does any of this sound familiar? We descend to the world below, just as we did from the Great Plateau, totally unmoored from our surroundings and past. We are given some orientation at Lookout Landing, but the narrative is, once again, something Link barely participates in; just as in Breath of the Wild, we struggle to find memories left for us by Zelda. And while the geoglyphs are fascinating, they still leave us with the same broken story mechanism as used in Breath. We are left chasing memories that, depending on how we play, come to us out of order and seemingly at random. We get no sense that a story is unfolding. Because the narrative is picked up in fragments, one has the feeling that things are, to some extent, already settled. One looks upon mythology instead of forging it oneself. This feels far less meaningful than participating actively in the story. As this player recollects about Miyamoto’s “immediacy of the experience”: “One of the best things about [rushing Midna to Zelda in Twilight Princess] is that it isn't a cutscene — it's not something that happened in the distant past — it's something that's happening right now and searing itself into your long-term memory. The problem with Breath of the Wild [and Tears of the Kingdom] is that it has no equivalent. There's [sic] no sad or somber moments. Link never has to leave his grandma or his childhood friend. There's no part where he fails, or where he's tricked. There's no decisive moment where the narrative shifts and he needs to realign his goals. If any of those things are present at all, it's through the memory cutscenes. All the emotional highs and lows have already happened in the distant past." [42] Indeed, it feels like the real story has already happened — like the real game has already been played.
The unfolding of narrative relates intimately to character development. For simplicity’s sake, we will focus only on the main characters of the game: the Sages, Zelda, and Ganondorf. The Sages are vividly present during their individual quests, which gives us that sense of “cooperative struggle” spoken about by the game-makers. We fight alongside Tulin, Yunobo, Riju, Sidon, and Mineru, and, to various degrees, share in their hardships and triumphs. We give Mineru corporeal form, assist Yunobo in saving his people from brainwashing, aid Riju in defending her people and her city, help Sidon purify the environment of Zora’s Domain, and mentor a young, overly-cavalier Tulin. These quests make us feel a part of Hyrule and its growing strength, but such tribulations are soon over and we are left alone. That is, but for the lead-eyed spirits of the Sages who have promised to stand by our side. This feature, when intricately weaved into a dungeon, like the Elegy of Emptiness in Stone Temple Tower, is haunting; but when it is sloppily applied to the entirety of a game’s main quest, it quickly grows bothersome. The stand-in Sages, instead of being noble, elegant, and inspiring, trip over themselves and get constantly in the way, forcing Link to dispel them or attempt to herd them like so many unruly cats. This design element does a deep disservice to the heroic legacy of the series.
As to the most important character, Zelda is, once again, largely isolated from the game, appearing and reappearing almost exclusively in memory. While her actions are noble, self-sacrificing, and praiseworthy [43, 44], she feels more like a piece of history — as do the Champions of the previous game — than a character in herself. Her role in the opening scene was charming, humanizing, and raised my hopes. She was finally following her passion for research, engaged with Link on a quest to solve Hyrule’s present ills. But then — poof! — she takes a tumble and is gone until the last minutes of the game. The rest of the time, we see her solely in the dragon’s tears spread across the land. While this happens, Link pursues “Zelda” across Hyrule — a series of happenings, which, in its absurd ridiculousness, might have come from the pages of Don Quixote. From first sight we know that this doppelganger cannot be Zelda herself. Zelda is gone from this timeline. If the goal is to trick the player into thinking this is Zelda herself, the game fails miserably. But it doesn’t make sense from an in-game perspective, either. Link, knowing well the answer after a short period of time (Zelda was never so morally confused), chooses not to disclose this, even while he tells characters about everything else going on in Hyrule. Meanwhile, the Sages and everyone else in Hyrule overlook “Zelda’s” strange, contradictory, and sometimes nefarious behavior, feigning confusion about why the princess would do such questionable things. This leads me to ask: “Is everyone in Hyrule a moral idiot?” Clear to anyone who once knew her, this is not Zelda. So who is this pretense for? Does it add to the richness of Zelda’s story? Does she, like Ged in A Wizard of Earthsea, have to confront her shadow-self in order to actualize her potential? Sadly, nothing so interesting transpires.
Finally, Ganondorf. What a sad figure he presents, from his terrible voice acting (which was excellent as a wraith in the beginning, but which quickly became comically “evil”) to his cardboard villainy. As we learn from the precious few cutscenes he’s in, he seems hellbent on spreading his power from Gerudo Desert to Hyrule proper. Why? Because he’s evil. Yet, given how evil he is, he quickly realizes that his power is no match for that of Rauru, and so he contrives to steal a Secret Stone (which the King and Queen don’t really bother keeping a secret), feigning loyalty to Hyrule. This could be the enemy narrative for any middle-school fantasy story, as Ganondorf has no depth — no feature to complicate him as a character. We get no introspective “desert wind” speech à la The Wind Waker or equivalent. We find him in the opening scenes as a desiccated wraith, horrifying and powerful, but he quickly does away with both Link and Zelda, only to retreat beneath ground to regain his strength. While he rests beneath Hyrule Castle, one would suspect him to be pursuing his own agenda — discovering the Yiga and directing the monsters in the Depths. Yet this doesn’t seem to be the case. As Link harvests his ninth generation of Fortified Pumpkins or adds a garden to his house, Ganondorf sits, lotus-style, in anticipation of having his slumber interrupted. Finally, when we do confront him, the battle is prosaically simple. His attacks land more softly than a Moblin’s. And the fight with his draconic form is more an interactive cutscene than an actual battle. What an absolute let-down. The game-makers also fail to draw an explicit connection between Ganondorf and Calamity Ganon. This seems as though it would have been a necessity, given their interconnected nature. Further, no attention is paid to the relationship between Malice and Gloom (though they changed the color!), nor the continual appearance of the Blood Moon. As we can guess, the developers needed to keep bringing enemies back, so instead of taking their time to develop a sensible mechanism, they just went the path of least resistance and kept the old one, even though there is no narrative justification. So, in essence, Ganondorf remains an underdeveloped character both in the narrative and in almost every feature tied to his existence.
Conclusions: Aftertaste
As is perhaps obvious at this point, my main contention is that Tears of the Kingdom put its love, care, and attention into small things that, while beautiful, don’t really matter that much. Loving details can make a good game even more magnificent, but they cannot make a bad, or even mediocre, game good. In the end, a game cannot be carried on the strength of its details — it must have a depth of substance in addition to its surface beauty. As has been mentioned several times, the developers conceived of Tears first as a place to “drop” unused ideas. [45] This is not a hopeful place to begin a game. Given the lackluster story, all-too-often thoughtless lore, and underdeveloped characters, I cannot say that the six years spent to make this game were worth it. When I reflect on what The Legend of Zelda is about, I see many of the necessary elements present in Tears of the Kingdom. And while the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts, the whole depends intimately on the quality of those parts. So, as I think about exploration, dungeons, action, puzzle-solving, and lore, I cannot help but feel a great disenchantment. It is as if a revered author went away for half a decade and then emerged only to publish a compilation of their notes on characters, a rough timeline of events, and reams of exquisite landscape writing. In such a case, we would be understandably disappointed. Where is the heart of the thing? Where is the synthesis? We might question this in literature, but, with video games, it seems as though our expectations are lower. We do not hold video game creators to high narrative standards. As long as there is a gimmick or interesting gameplay mechanic, we overlook (or, more likely, pretend to overlook) everything else. This seems a deep shame to me, when we realize that these things aren’t mutually exclusive: A great game has both a thoughtful story and thoughtful gameplay. We needn’t settle for one while overlooking the other. Indeed, the two should reflect one another. It is this fact that leads to my deep dissatisfaction with Tears of the Kingdom.
Finally, there is a quote from series producer Eiji Aonuma that continually ruffles my feathers. When asked about the more linear, traditional Zelda design style, his answer seemed deeply unreflective: “Well, I do think we as people have a tendency to want the thing that we don't currently have, and there's a bit of a grass is greener mentality . . . . also, it's interesting when I hear people say those things because I am wondering, ‘Why do you want to go back to a type of game where you're more limited or more restricted in the types of things or ways you can play?’ But I do understand that desire that we have for nostalgia, and so I can also understand it from that aspect.” [46] What Aonuma fails to grasp is that, for those that prefer a more linear story, this is not due to nostalgia but to the narrative virtues of how stories are best told. Collecting fragments of history may work in tandem with a participatory story, but it cannot sustain the entirety of a game’s narrative. Because of this, Breath and Tears fail to evoke “emotional immediacy, the sense that you are really there.” [47] And it is this lack of immediacy — a sense of truly participating in myth — that left me with little of the “aftertaste” mentioned by Miyamoto. I know this primarily from the first adjectives that come to mind when thinking about Tears of the Kingdom: “neat,” “huge,” and “superficially lovely.”
Is there any more damning praise than that?
As is perhaps obvious at this point, my main contention is that Tears of the Kingdom put its love, care, and attention into small things that, while beautiful, don’t really matter that much. Loving details can make a good game even more magnificent, but they cannot make a bad, or even mediocre, game good. In the end, a game cannot be carried on the strength of its details — it must have a depth of substance in addition to its surface beauty. As has been mentioned several times, the developers conceived of Tears first as a place to “drop” unused ideas. [45] This is not a hopeful place to begin a game. Given the lackluster story, all-too-often thoughtless lore, and underdeveloped characters, I cannot say that the six years spent to make this game were worth it. When I reflect on what The Legend of Zelda is about, I see many of the necessary elements present in Tears of the Kingdom. And while the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts, the whole depends intimately on the quality of those parts. So, as I think about exploration, dungeons, action, puzzle-solving, and lore, I cannot help but feel a great disenchantment. It is as if a revered author went away for half a decade and then emerged only to publish a compilation of their notes on characters, a rough timeline of events, and reams of exquisite landscape writing. In such a case, we would be understandably disappointed. Where is the heart of the thing? Where is the synthesis? We might question this in literature, but, with video games, it seems as though our expectations are lower. We do not hold video game creators to high narrative standards. As long as there is a gimmick or interesting gameplay mechanic, we overlook (or, more likely, pretend to overlook) everything else. This seems a deep shame to me, when we realize that these things aren’t mutually exclusive: A great game has both a thoughtful story and thoughtful gameplay. We needn’t settle for one while overlooking the other. Indeed, the two should reflect one another. It is this fact that leads to my deep dissatisfaction with Tears of the Kingdom.
Finally, there is a quote from series producer Eiji Aonuma that continually ruffles my feathers. When asked about the more linear, traditional Zelda design style, his answer seemed deeply unreflective: “Well, I do think we as people have a tendency to want the thing that we don't currently have, and there's a bit of a grass is greener mentality . . . . also, it's interesting when I hear people say those things because I am wondering, ‘Why do you want to go back to a type of game where you're more limited or more restricted in the types of things or ways you can play?’ But I do understand that desire that we have for nostalgia, and so I can also understand it from that aspect.” [46] What Aonuma fails to grasp is that, for those that prefer a more linear story, this is not due to nostalgia but to the narrative virtues of how stories are best told. Collecting fragments of history may work in tandem with a participatory story, but it cannot sustain the entirety of a game’s narrative. Because of this, Breath and Tears fail to evoke “emotional immediacy, the sense that you are really there.” [47] And it is this lack of immediacy — a sense of truly participating in myth — that left me with little of the “aftertaste” mentioned by Miyamoto. I know this primarily from the first adjectives that come to mind when thinking about Tears of the Kingdom: “neat,” “huge,” and “superficially lovely.”
Is there any more damning praise than that?
Notes and Works Cited
As promised, some better (i.e., somewhat nuanced) reviews: Here, here, here, and here.
[1] Byrd, Matthew. “Tears of the Kingdom Earns Rare Review Accomplishment.” Den of Geek. 17 May, 2023.
https://www.denofgeek.com/games/tears-of-the-kingdom-review-accomplishment/
[2] Mahardy, Mike. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom changes the conversation.” Polygon. 11 May, 2023. https://www.polygon.com/reviews/23718684/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-review-switch-totk
[3] JKVoice. “Ocarina of Time — 1999 Developer Interview.” Republished on Shmuplations. 1 April, 1999. https://shmuplations.com/ocarinaoftime/
[4] Baxter, Steve. “Zelda: a tale of two video game legends.” CNN. 4 December, 1998. http://edition.cnn.com/TECH/computing/9812/04/nintendo.zelda/
[5] Satoru, Iwata. “The Indefinable Essence of Zelda.” Nintendo. https://www.nintendo.co.uk/Iwata-Asks/Iwata-Asks-Wii/Iwata-Asks-The-Legend-of-Zelda-Twilight-Princess/1-The-Indefinable-Essence-of-Zelda/1-The-Indefinable-Essence-of-Zelda-227135.html
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Satoru, Iwata. “Always Striving to Stay True to the Spirit of Zelda.” Nintendo. https://www.nintendo.co.uk/Iwata-Asks/Iwata-Asks-Wii/Iwata-Asks-The-Legend-of-Zelda-Twilight-Princess/4-Always-Striving-to-Stay-True-to-the-Spirit-of-Zelda/4-Always-Striving-to-Stay-True-to-the-Spirit-of-Zelda-227377.html
[9] JKVoice. “Ocarina of Time — 1999 Developer Interview.” Republished on Shmuplations. 1 April, 1999. https://shmuplations.com/ocarinaoftime/
[10] Nintendo. “The Making of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Video – The Beginning.” 14 Mar. 2017.
[11] “Making sure that Zelda-ness or that Zelda feel is really in the game. I think that's a really important point. Even if a game like Breath of the Wild has really big changes in it, as long as the fans and the players are able to feel that this is a Zelda game at its core when they play the game, that is something that is really important for us when meeting fans' expectations.”
“And really, when we're talking about this, I guess, essence of Zelda, as long as we preserve that, then I think it provides us with the freedom to really build Zelda, and it can become many different things. For example, it could be a puzzle game, an adventure game, or an action game. All of these moments that can be dropped into a game help it become a Zelda-like game as long as that essence is preserved. I think even with Breath of the Wild, there are big changes in the core gameplay mechanics, but that essence was still preserved. Likewise, with Tears of the Kingdom, we're really providing players with the freedom to use their creativity to come up with solutions, so that nervousness or doubt about whether this is okay isn't something that we're really worried about. What we really are focused on is that, through experimentation, making sure that the gameplay experience is something that is enjoyable and fun, and then taking that and making sure that the essence of Zelda is still alongside that. That is what I think makes it important, and that's a field that the Zelda team really has a lot of confidence in.”
Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears of the Kingdom and the State of Zelda with Aonuma and Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[12] Kennedy, Victoria. “Fans think they've worked out the time gap between Zelda: Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom.” Eurogamer. 5 June, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.eurogamer.net/fans-think-theyve-worked-out-the-time-gap-between-zelda-breath-of-the-wild-and-tears-of-the-kingdom
[13] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 1.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-1/
[14] Ibid.
[15] The developers called these elements worth keeping “The Great Mundanity,” though how they are mundane escapes me.
Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 2.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023.
https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-2/
[16] Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears Of The Kingdom And The State Of Zelda With Aonuma And Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[17] Ibid.
[18] The first four that pop up after a standard Google search are from IGN, The Guardian, Kotaku, and Gamespot. All four speak to various things important to the authors, but they are all in agreement about three things: the massive map, the delights of construction, and the game’s overall freedom.
[19] Here’s one article, and another, and another. There are more.
[20] “There’s frankly too much going on, with no real prizes for bothering to seek out the opportunities. The world doesn’t feel barren, per se, but the rewards for exploring it are virtually non-existent or largely inconsequential. Some of my fondest memories of the Zelda franchise stem from exploring not only to satisfy my own curiosity, but to find game-changing gear, heart containers, new powers and combat techniques, rupees, or even just a bottle for storing potions and bugs. A surprise fight with a dragon is always appreciated, but when the reward is just another Shrine, my enthusiasm to explore takes a nosedive.”
Brown, Josh. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom — These tears are salty.” Gfinity. 16 May, 2023. https://www.gfinityesports.com/reviews/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-review/
[21] Though some characters (like Hestu, Bolson, and many in Tarrey Town) seem to not remember Link at all, even after repeated encounters, which seems lazy and strange to me.
[22] Nintendo Dream Web. “An adventure beyond the revolution. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Developer Interview.” 26 October, 2023. https://www.ndw.jp/totk-interview-231026/2/
[23] King, Andrew. “I Wish I Hadn’t Replayed Breath of the Wild This Year.” The Gamer. 27 May, 2023.
https://www.thegamer.com/tloz-breath-of-the-wild-totk-2023-too-recent-replay/
[24] Petit, Carolyn. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom: The Kotaku Review.” Kotaku. 23 June, 2023.
[25] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 1.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-1/
[26] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 2.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023.
https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-2/
[27] Hook, Talbot. “On Stables.” Architecture of Zelda. https://www.architectureofzelda.com/on-stables.html
[28] For a notable explanation of the ever-expanding concern for non-human species, see:
Singer, Peter. “The Expanding Circle: Ethics and Sociobiology.” Farrar, Straus, and Giroux. 1981.
As to Kilton himself, he ends his public presentations with: “Look and learn! Then you won’t hate! Understand what you fear and you’ll feel great! For those with an open mind, wonders always await!”
[29] “Did you know some folks think bugs are scary? That’s natural! They might not know about bugs, and the unknown is scary. But if you pay attention and get to know them . . . you’ll see how amazing they are! It’s against Beedle’s life philosophy to hate things without giving them a chance.” — Beedle, Tears of the Kingdom
[30] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 3.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. https://www.nintendo.co.uk/News/2023/May/Ask-the-Developer-Vol-9-The-Legend-of-Zelda-Tears-of-the-Kingdom-Chapter-3-2383821.html
[31] I think we can mention the lead-up to the temples here. As one reviewer wrote, “In the developer’s defense, each dungeon has more of a lead-in with their respective quests, which do invoke minor flashbacks to, say, the trip to Ice Temple in Twilight Princess. But rather than instilling that feeling of deserved triumph that the conclusion to any pre-Breath of the Wild dungeon manages, Tears of the Kingdom’s slightly tweaked approach still never reaches that high.”
Brown, Josh. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom — These tears are salty.” Gfinity. 16 May, 2023. https://www.gfinityesports.com/reviews/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-review/
[32] “‘Strange are the ways of Men, Legolas! Here they have one of the marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! Caves! Holes to fly to in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, do you know that the caverns of Helm’s Deep are vast and beautiful? There would be an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance!’
‘And I would give gold to be excused,’ said Legolas; ‘and double to be let out, if I strayed in!’
‘You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,’ said Gimli. ‘But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight. And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains’ heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm’s Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.’
‘Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli,’ said the Elf, ‘that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.’
‘No, you do not understand,’ said Gimli. ‘No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin’s race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.’
‘You move me, Gimli,’ said Legolas. ‘I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain – if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey for a while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm’s Deep.’
‘That would not be the way of return that I should choose,’ said Gimli. ‘But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves and share their wonder with me.’”
[33] Nintendo Dream Web. “An adventure beyond the revolution. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Developer Interview.” 26 October, 2023. https://www.ndw.jp/totk-interview-231026/4/
[34] Rear, Jack. “Making Tears of the Kingdom: Inside The Legend of Zelda's finest hour.” The Telegraph. 9 October, 2023. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/gaming/features/legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-making-of-interview/
[35] https://www.reddit.com/r/truezelda/comments/15h6tk0/totk_in_your_opinion_what_makes_totks_a_poor/
[36] “Specifically, some ideas we had were in Breath of the Wild. There are these infinitely spinning cogwheels, so we took four of those and put them on this stone slate and discovered we were able to make a makeshift car.”
Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears of the Kingdom and the State of Zelda with Aonuma and Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[37] Sterling, James Stephanie. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom — Like Tears in Rain (Review).” The Jimquisition. 21 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023.
[38] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 3.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-3/
[39] Ibid.
[40] “The invention of languages is the foundation. The 'stories' were made rather to provide a world for the languages than the reverse. To me a name comes first and the story follows.”
Carpenter, Humphrey, ed. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien. Houghton Mifflin, pp. 219–220.
[41] “As was the case with the previous game, the best-case scenario would be for players to start playing at the same time, and when they get together later, they realize that they don’t know what each other is talking about because each of them is experiencing something completely different. Even though they're enjoying the same game, they're taking different routes, doing different things in their own ways, and when they ask each other how far they've gotten, each learns for the first time about what the other is playing.”
Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 5.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-5/
[42] Ratatoskr. “Breath of the Wild Broke the Zelda Fanbase in 2.” YouTube. 4 February, 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9q0wE8Hw2Os
[43] Byrd, Matthew. “Princess Zelda is the Real Star of Tears of the Kingdom.” Den of Geek. 17 May, 2023. https://www.denofgeek.com/games/princess-zelda-tears-of-the-kindom-best-character/
[44] Watts, Steve. “Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Inverts One of the Oldest Story Tropes.” Gamespot. 25 May, 2023. https://www.gamespot.com/articles/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-inverts-one-of-the-oldest-story-tropes/1100-6514567/#comments-block-33603670
[45] “So, simply put, I think we were able to, with that addition, provide an entirely different story and an entirely different experience between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. With Breath of the Wild, we knew what we wanted to make, and we knew what kind of story we wanted to tell. And within that kind of setting that we set for ourselves, the idea of the Demon King Ganondorf wasn't the right fit, and that's why we created what was Calamity Ganon. With Tears of the Kingdom, there were ideas that weren't able to make it into Breath of the Wild, or maybe setting-wise, we had thought about potentially using it in Breath of the Wild but didn't, and now, it became possible to drop all of that into Tears of the Kingdom.”
Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears of the Kingdom and the State of Zelda with Aonuma and Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[46] Bailey, Kay. “‘The Grass is Greener’: Tears of the Kingdom Developers Look Back While Responding to Classic Fans.” IGN. 11 December, 2023. https://www.ign.com/articles/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-interview-nintendo-eiji-aonuma-hidemaro-fujibayashi
[47] “You know, we asked ourselves whether those mazes, where everything is always linked in a linear fashion, are actually still interesting to players. Is it still fun to spend all that time plotting your way through them? And the conclusion we came to is no, it's not really that much fun. Instead of mapping your way through a maze, I think what's more important is a sense of dread, a sense of pressure, and of course an opportunity for finding secrets and solving puzzles — we should be pursuing an emotional immediacy, the sense that you are really there. Before Ocarina of Time was released, I spoke of Zelda as having a 'scent', or a 'temperature', and that's what I was trying to get at.”
JKVoice. “Ocarina of Time — 1999 Developer Interview.” Republished on Shmuplations. 1 April, 1999. https://shmuplations.com/ocarinaoftime/
As promised, some better (i.e., somewhat nuanced) reviews: Here, here, here, and here.
[1] Byrd, Matthew. “Tears of the Kingdom Earns Rare Review Accomplishment.” Den of Geek. 17 May, 2023.
https://www.denofgeek.com/games/tears-of-the-kingdom-review-accomplishment/
[2] Mahardy, Mike. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom changes the conversation.” Polygon. 11 May, 2023. https://www.polygon.com/reviews/23718684/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-review-switch-totk
[3] JKVoice. “Ocarina of Time — 1999 Developer Interview.” Republished on Shmuplations. 1 April, 1999. https://shmuplations.com/ocarinaoftime/
[4] Baxter, Steve. “Zelda: a tale of two video game legends.” CNN. 4 December, 1998. http://edition.cnn.com/TECH/computing/9812/04/nintendo.zelda/
[5] Satoru, Iwata. “The Indefinable Essence of Zelda.” Nintendo. https://www.nintendo.co.uk/Iwata-Asks/Iwata-Asks-Wii/Iwata-Asks-The-Legend-of-Zelda-Twilight-Princess/1-The-Indefinable-Essence-of-Zelda/1-The-Indefinable-Essence-of-Zelda-227135.html
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Satoru, Iwata. “Always Striving to Stay True to the Spirit of Zelda.” Nintendo. https://www.nintendo.co.uk/Iwata-Asks/Iwata-Asks-Wii/Iwata-Asks-The-Legend-of-Zelda-Twilight-Princess/4-Always-Striving-to-Stay-True-to-the-Spirit-of-Zelda/4-Always-Striving-to-Stay-True-to-the-Spirit-of-Zelda-227377.html
[9] JKVoice. “Ocarina of Time — 1999 Developer Interview.” Republished on Shmuplations. 1 April, 1999. https://shmuplations.com/ocarinaoftime/
[10] Nintendo. “The Making of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Video – The Beginning.” 14 Mar. 2017.
[11] “Making sure that Zelda-ness or that Zelda feel is really in the game. I think that's a really important point. Even if a game like Breath of the Wild has really big changes in it, as long as the fans and the players are able to feel that this is a Zelda game at its core when they play the game, that is something that is really important for us when meeting fans' expectations.”
“And really, when we're talking about this, I guess, essence of Zelda, as long as we preserve that, then I think it provides us with the freedom to really build Zelda, and it can become many different things. For example, it could be a puzzle game, an adventure game, or an action game. All of these moments that can be dropped into a game help it become a Zelda-like game as long as that essence is preserved. I think even with Breath of the Wild, there are big changes in the core gameplay mechanics, but that essence was still preserved. Likewise, with Tears of the Kingdom, we're really providing players with the freedom to use their creativity to come up with solutions, so that nervousness or doubt about whether this is okay isn't something that we're really worried about. What we really are focused on is that, through experimentation, making sure that the gameplay experience is something that is enjoyable and fun, and then taking that and making sure that the essence of Zelda is still alongside that. That is what I think makes it important, and that's a field that the Zelda team really has a lot of confidence in.”
Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears of the Kingdom and the State of Zelda with Aonuma and Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[12] Kennedy, Victoria. “Fans think they've worked out the time gap between Zelda: Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom.” Eurogamer. 5 June, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.eurogamer.net/fans-think-theyve-worked-out-the-time-gap-between-zelda-breath-of-the-wild-and-tears-of-the-kingdom
[13] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 1.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-1/
[14] Ibid.
[15] The developers called these elements worth keeping “The Great Mundanity,” though how they are mundane escapes me.
Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 2.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023.
https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-2/
[16] Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears Of The Kingdom And The State Of Zelda With Aonuma And Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[17] Ibid.
[18] The first four that pop up after a standard Google search are from IGN, The Guardian, Kotaku, and Gamespot. All four speak to various things important to the authors, but they are all in agreement about three things: the massive map, the delights of construction, and the game’s overall freedom.
[19] Here’s one article, and another, and another. There are more.
[20] “There’s frankly too much going on, with no real prizes for bothering to seek out the opportunities. The world doesn’t feel barren, per se, but the rewards for exploring it are virtually non-existent or largely inconsequential. Some of my fondest memories of the Zelda franchise stem from exploring not only to satisfy my own curiosity, but to find game-changing gear, heart containers, new powers and combat techniques, rupees, or even just a bottle for storing potions and bugs. A surprise fight with a dragon is always appreciated, but when the reward is just another Shrine, my enthusiasm to explore takes a nosedive.”
Brown, Josh. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom — These tears are salty.” Gfinity. 16 May, 2023. https://www.gfinityesports.com/reviews/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-review/
[21] Though some characters (like Hestu, Bolson, and many in Tarrey Town) seem to not remember Link at all, even after repeated encounters, which seems lazy and strange to me.
[22] Nintendo Dream Web. “An adventure beyond the revolution. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Developer Interview.” 26 October, 2023. https://www.ndw.jp/totk-interview-231026/2/
[23] King, Andrew. “I Wish I Hadn’t Replayed Breath of the Wild This Year.” The Gamer. 27 May, 2023.
https://www.thegamer.com/tloz-breath-of-the-wild-totk-2023-too-recent-replay/
[24] Petit, Carolyn. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom: The Kotaku Review.” Kotaku. 23 June, 2023.
[25] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 1.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023. https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-1/
[26] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 2.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 18 December, 2023.
https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-2/
[27] Hook, Talbot. “On Stables.” Architecture of Zelda. https://www.architectureofzelda.com/on-stables.html
[28] For a notable explanation of the ever-expanding concern for non-human species, see:
Singer, Peter. “The Expanding Circle: Ethics and Sociobiology.” Farrar, Straus, and Giroux. 1981.
As to Kilton himself, he ends his public presentations with: “Look and learn! Then you won’t hate! Understand what you fear and you’ll feel great! For those with an open mind, wonders always await!”
[29] “Did you know some folks think bugs are scary? That’s natural! They might not know about bugs, and the unknown is scary. But if you pay attention and get to know them . . . you’ll see how amazing they are! It’s against Beedle’s life philosophy to hate things without giving them a chance.” — Beedle, Tears of the Kingdom
[30] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 3.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. https://www.nintendo.co.uk/News/2023/May/Ask-the-Developer-Vol-9-The-Legend-of-Zelda-Tears-of-the-Kingdom-Chapter-3-2383821.html
[31] I think we can mention the lead-up to the temples here. As one reviewer wrote, “In the developer’s defense, each dungeon has more of a lead-in with their respective quests, which do invoke minor flashbacks to, say, the trip to Ice Temple in Twilight Princess. But rather than instilling that feeling of deserved triumph that the conclusion to any pre-Breath of the Wild dungeon manages, Tears of the Kingdom’s slightly tweaked approach still never reaches that high.”
Brown, Josh. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom — These tears are salty.” Gfinity. 16 May, 2023. https://www.gfinityesports.com/reviews/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-review/
[32] “‘Strange are the ways of Men, Legolas! Here they have one of the marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! Caves! Holes to fly to in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, do you know that the caverns of Helm’s Deep are vast and beautiful? There would be an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance!’
‘And I would give gold to be excused,’ said Legolas; ‘and double to be let out, if I strayed in!’
‘You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,’ said Gimli. ‘But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight. And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains’ heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm’s Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.’
‘Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli,’ said the Elf, ‘that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.’
‘No, you do not understand,’ said Gimli. ‘No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin’s race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.’
‘You move me, Gimli,’ said Legolas. ‘I have never heard you speak like this before. Almost you make me regret that I have not seen these caves. Come! Let us make this bargain – if we both return safe out of the perils that await us, we will journey for a while together. You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to see Helm’s Deep.’
‘That would not be the way of return that I should choose,’ said Gimli. ‘But I will endure Fangorn, if I have your promise to come back to the caves and share their wonder with me.’”
[33] Nintendo Dream Web. “An adventure beyond the revolution. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Developer Interview.” 26 October, 2023. https://www.ndw.jp/totk-interview-231026/4/
[34] Rear, Jack. “Making Tears of the Kingdom: Inside The Legend of Zelda's finest hour.” The Telegraph. 9 October, 2023. https://www.telegraph.co.uk/gaming/features/legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-making-of-interview/
[35] https://www.reddit.com/r/truezelda/comments/15h6tk0/totk_in_your_opinion_what_makes_totks_a_poor/
[36] “Specifically, some ideas we had were in Breath of the Wild. There are these infinitely spinning cogwheels, so we took four of those and put them on this stone slate and discovered we were able to make a makeshift car.”
Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears of the Kingdom and the State of Zelda with Aonuma and Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[37] Sterling, James Stephanie. “The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom — Like Tears in Rain (Review).” The Jimquisition. 21 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023.
[38] Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 3.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://www.nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-3/
[39] Ibid.
[40] “The invention of languages is the foundation. The 'stories' were made rather to provide a world for the languages than the reverse. To me a name comes first and the story follows.”
Carpenter, Humphrey, ed. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien. Houghton Mifflin, pp. 219–220.
[41] “As was the case with the previous game, the best-case scenario would be for players to start playing at the same time, and when they get together later, they realize that they don’t know what each other is talking about because each of them is experiencing something completely different. Even though they're enjoying the same game, they're taking different routes, doing different things in their own ways, and when they ask each other how far they've gotten, each learns for the first time about what the other is playing.”
Nintendo. “Ask the Developer Vol. 9, The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom—Part 5.” Nintendo.com. 9 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://nintendo.com/us/whatsnew/ask-the-developer-vol-9-the-legend-of-zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-part-5/
[42] Ratatoskr. “Breath of the Wild Broke the Zelda Fanbase in 2.” YouTube. 4 February, 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9q0wE8Hw2Os
[43] Byrd, Matthew. “Princess Zelda is the Real Star of Tears of the Kingdom.” Den of Geek. 17 May, 2023. https://www.denofgeek.com/games/princess-zelda-tears-of-the-kindom-best-character/
[44] Watts, Steve. “Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Inverts One of the Oldest Story Tropes.” Gamespot. 25 May, 2023. https://www.gamespot.com/articles/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-inverts-one-of-the-oldest-story-tropes/1100-6514567/#comments-block-33603670
[45] “So, simply put, I think we were able to, with that addition, provide an entirely different story and an entirely different experience between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. With Breath of the Wild, we knew what we wanted to make, and we knew what kind of story we wanted to tell. And within that kind of setting that we set for ourselves, the idea of the Demon King Ganondorf wasn't the right fit, and that's why we created what was Calamity Ganon. With Tears of the Kingdom, there were ideas that weren't able to make it into Breath of the Wild, or maybe setting-wise, we had thought about potentially using it in Breath of the Wild but didn't, and now, it became possible to drop all of that into Tears of the Kingdom.”
Shea, Brian. “Interview: Tears of the Kingdom and the State of Zelda with Aonuma and Fujibayashi.” Game Informer. 12 May, 2023. Accessed 25 December, 2023. https://www.gameinformer.com/interview/2023/05/12/interview-tears-of-the-kingdom-and-the-state-of-zelda-with-aonuma-and
[46] Bailey, Kay. “‘The Grass is Greener’: Tears of the Kingdom Developers Look Back While Responding to Classic Fans.” IGN. 11 December, 2023. https://www.ign.com/articles/zelda-tears-of-the-kingdom-interview-nintendo-eiji-aonuma-hidemaro-fujibayashi
[47] “You know, we asked ourselves whether those mazes, where everything is always linked in a linear fashion, are actually still interesting to players. Is it still fun to spend all that time plotting your way through them? And the conclusion we came to is no, it's not really that much fun. Instead of mapping your way through a maze, I think what's more important is a sense of dread, a sense of pressure, and of course an opportunity for finding secrets and solving puzzles — we should be pursuing an emotional immediacy, the sense that you are really there. Before Ocarina of Time was released, I spoke of Zelda as having a 'scent', or a 'temperature', and that's what I was trying to get at.”
JKVoice. “Ocarina of Time — 1999 Developer Interview.” Republished on Shmuplations. 1 April, 1999. https://shmuplations.com/ocarinaoftime/