The Great Deku Tree: A Triumph of Aided Discovery
Author’s Caveat: I have done almost no research into game design, nor have I pondered it at any great length. I highly doubt that this article’s subject is original to me, and I do not know if the design of this dungeon has been discussed by others, or to what length or degree. However, I am an educator by vocation, and am thus appropriately fascinated by the interrelated processes of teaching and learning — especially when they are done well. Serendipitously, the educational power of this tiny dungeon was struck home during my recent play-through of Ocarina of Time, and I felt a burning desire to get my fleeting thoughts onto the page. This is the fallout.
What is “aided discovery”, and whence the term? Mortimer Adler, in his living classic, How to Read a Book, expounds upon two different methods of learning, or of gleaning new insight from the world, which he derived from the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas: aided and unaided discovery. Both concepts are rather self-explanatory, but, to not belabor simple points while still explaining them, unaided discovery is firsthand learning through research, observation, or experimentation; aided discovery, then, is learning through a secondary source, which leads us to discover new truth or new understanding. This can be lecture, film, a teacher, or a book, among many other forms of instruction. In our case, our teacher is the game itself on levels both implicit and explicit. And while some of the learning is completely explicit, and some completely heuristic, there is much the game teaches through subtle assistance that is present if the player but grasps it. It is this third kind of guidance which is the focus of this article.
In my attempts to reach Dodongo’s Cavern for a separate article, I decided to begin Ocarina of Time anew, something which I haven’t done for many years; the title screen unrolled as it ever has, with its penchant for soft, melancholic beauty, the familiar selection noises cascading over Epona’s distant gallop. And the story unfolded, taking me presently before the dying Great Deku Tree, who bade me enter and attempt his salvation. Until this point, most of the discovery in the game has been aided discovery, learning shield techniques from signs, sword techniques from friendly Kokiri, and basic game controls through Navi. Now, this is all well and good, of course, but it is not the bulk of our learning. The majority of our learning, and of the learning of the child that has never before played a Zelda title, is heuristic in nature, meaning that it is done by repeated trial and error, or in an explorative manner. Our first lessons, past cutting down signposts and tufts of forest grass, come in the form of Deku Babas, of which there are two variants. The winding gully leading to the hollow of the Great Deku Tree is lined with Babas, which stand utterly straight, chattering at the skies. These are easily dispatched with a snick of the sword, yielding Deku Sticks. Upon entering the Great Deku Tree, momentarily awed by the darkness and the haunting atmospheric music, another Baba rears its head, this one far more aggressive and challenging by comparison. The introduction of this foe is therefore a surprise, and, as with scraped knees and burned fingers, a potent lesson. One lesson taught by this encounter is the importance of being careful — of analyzing a situation before leaping into it, and of observing one’s environment in order to understand just what is happening. As the designers likely intended, the loss of a heart or two is the outcome of this brief combat, and we will see why momentarily. In the middle of the floor is a springy web, and around it are centered more Deku Babas; dispatching the others reinforces nascent combat skills, and we are further taught by Navi how to climb up vines. Something easily overlooked on the second story, but unspeakably important for the curious, is a small outcropping leading to a recovery heart; the heart floats enticingly in the air, a few feet from the outcropping, and, in order to reach it and fill our health, we must take a leap of faith. Doing so, attaining our goal of reaching the heart, we plummet a short distance onto the web, causing it to bow and undulate ever so slightly. We have just learned something critical, though it will not be apparent until later.
What is “aided discovery”, and whence the term? Mortimer Adler, in his living classic, How to Read a Book, expounds upon two different methods of learning, or of gleaning new insight from the world, which he derived from the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas: aided and unaided discovery. Both concepts are rather self-explanatory, but, to not belabor simple points while still explaining them, unaided discovery is firsthand learning through research, observation, or experimentation; aided discovery, then, is learning through a secondary source, which leads us to discover new truth or new understanding. This can be lecture, film, a teacher, or a book, among many other forms of instruction. In our case, our teacher is the game itself on levels both implicit and explicit. And while some of the learning is completely explicit, and some completely heuristic, there is much the game teaches through subtle assistance that is present if the player but grasps it. It is this third kind of guidance which is the focus of this article.
In my attempts to reach Dodongo’s Cavern for a separate article, I decided to begin Ocarina of Time anew, something which I haven’t done for many years; the title screen unrolled as it ever has, with its penchant for soft, melancholic beauty, the familiar selection noises cascading over Epona’s distant gallop. And the story unfolded, taking me presently before the dying Great Deku Tree, who bade me enter and attempt his salvation. Until this point, most of the discovery in the game has been aided discovery, learning shield techniques from signs, sword techniques from friendly Kokiri, and basic game controls through Navi. Now, this is all well and good, of course, but it is not the bulk of our learning. The majority of our learning, and of the learning of the child that has never before played a Zelda title, is heuristic in nature, meaning that it is done by repeated trial and error, or in an explorative manner. Our first lessons, past cutting down signposts and tufts of forest grass, come in the form of Deku Babas, of which there are two variants. The winding gully leading to the hollow of the Great Deku Tree is lined with Babas, which stand utterly straight, chattering at the skies. These are easily dispatched with a snick of the sword, yielding Deku Sticks. Upon entering the Great Deku Tree, momentarily awed by the darkness and the haunting atmospheric music, another Baba rears its head, this one far more aggressive and challenging by comparison. The introduction of this foe is therefore a surprise, and, as with scraped knees and burned fingers, a potent lesson. One lesson taught by this encounter is the importance of being careful — of analyzing a situation before leaping into it, and of observing one’s environment in order to understand just what is happening. As the designers likely intended, the loss of a heart or two is the outcome of this brief combat, and we will see why momentarily. In the middle of the floor is a springy web, and around it are centered more Deku Babas; dispatching the others reinforces nascent combat skills, and we are further taught by Navi how to climb up vines. Something easily overlooked on the second story, but unspeakably important for the curious, is a small outcropping leading to a recovery heart; the heart floats enticingly in the air, a few feet from the outcropping, and, in order to reach it and fill our health, we must take a leap of faith. Doing so, attaining our goal of reaching the heart, we plummet a short distance onto the web, causing it to bow and undulate ever so slightly. We have just learned something critical, though it will not be apparent until later.
Attempting to climb the next wall of vines will not prove so easy, however, for if Link tries to ascend before the Skulltulas have been defeated, he is apt to fall. Our course is therefore determined, and we arrive shortly in a room with a single Deku Scrub; here, we are almost completely unaided but for Navi’s advice, and need to figure out how to dispatch an enemy that disappears each time we approach. This is pretty simple from the standpoint of heuristics, as when we defend ourselves with the Deku Shield, we find that nuts are deflected back in the direction from which they came; using a simple ricochet is enough to survive the encounter, and so another skill has been learned. The next room has two lessons for us: one of insight and one of reward. The insights are two in number: that the most obvious path forward is rarely the correct one, and that, in Zelda games, new items are a form of Chekhov’s Gun — they are necessary elements which further the narrative. The first insight is borne out in the falling platform in the room’s center; it would appear that we simply need to jump upon it, and then jump once more to get to the treasure chest. However, once our weight is added, the stone falls to the ground, forcing us to reconsider our position. Happily, the solution is simple: we need to climb. And, if we continue our climb, we are rewarded. The second wall of vines reveals a chest, showing us that exploring non-essential areas can still be fulfilling or meaningful in some way — even if there is no material reward. Once we have the Fairy Slingshot in hand, we must search for a way out. Scanning the room shows only one thing left untouched: a ladder above the doorway. Focusing upon the ladder, Navi then flies to alight upon it, showing us that it indeed is the way out. Now we must fire Chekhov’s Gun. When the Deku Seed is flung from the slingshot, the ladder falls, and the problem is solved. It is an incredibly simple room, analyzing now as mature readers, but it subtly illustrates three seminal features of design within The Legend of Zelda, quietly shaping our minds to be aware, to be curious, and to approach problems from many angles. These are profound lessons, and to learn them is a formative blessing.
Returning to the main hollow of the tree, it is now time to scale the vines. After some practice with the slingshot (and if we fail to see the third Skulltula higher above the others, we learn the additional lesson to always look up), Link arrives on the third level, a wooden pathway bound by walls of web. There is one room which is accessible from this floor, and it reinforces previous teachings. Along with three new staples of the Zelda dungeon (torches, switches, and timed challenges), we are again shown to put aside the main quest for brief moments of exploration; clearly, the large chest is the principal item in the room, but, to the side, we see a smaller chest guarded by Skulltulas. We are rewarded for this side-venture with another recovery heart and a Gold Skulltula, and even though we must reset the timer and return to the beginning of the puzzle, it is reinforced that to explore is a worthy pursuit. Once the compass has been obtained, we find ourselves at a locked door, and no conceivable way out. However, there are two torches — one ablaze and the other lifeless. Basic laws of symmetry intimate that we should make one like the other, and since it would be odd to extinguish one and diminish the room's light (and because we cannot), we must kindle the other. The tools available to us are few, and only one makes sense to anyone that has ever seen a campfire, candle, or torch. Finally, a use for the humble Deku Stick.
Returning to the main hollow of the tree, it is now time to scale the vines. After some practice with the slingshot (and if we fail to see the third Skulltula higher above the others, we learn the additional lesson to always look up), Link arrives on the third level, a wooden pathway bound by walls of web. There is one room which is accessible from this floor, and it reinforces previous teachings. Along with three new staples of the Zelda dungeon (torches, switches, and timed challenges), we are again shown to put aside the main quest for brief moments of exploration; clearly, the large chest is the principal item in the room, but, to the side, we see a smaller chest guarded by Skulltulas. We are rewarded for this side-venture with another recovery heart and a Gold Skulltula, and even though we must reset the timer and return to the beginning of the puzzle, it is reinforced that to explore is a worthy pursuit. Once the compass has been obtained, we find ourselves at a locked door, and no conceivable way out. However, there are two torches — one ablaze and the other lifeless. Basic laws of symmetry intimate that we should make one like the other, and since it would be odd to extinguish one and diminish the room's light (and because we cannot), we must kindle the other. The tools available to us are few, and only one makes sense to anyone that has ever seen a campfire, candle, or torch. Finally, a use for the humble Deku Stick.
This next part is ineffably wonderful to me. Once we return to the third-story walkway, we again see outcroppings leading to nothing. But, floating tantalizingly off the end of one outcropping is our Virgil: a lone recovery heart. Like we did on the first level, when we were just hoping to renew our hearts, if we jump once more (remembering the webbed floor below, and how it wavered slightly with a short fall), our impact severs the web, dropping us into a pool of water far below. The game has led us to the answer without telling us outright; it has forced us to use our own knowledge. This, I absolutely love. It is brilliant design, and uniquely memorable.
Wandering alone below the earth is a new experience for Link, and we cannot imagine what he must have felt, but we as gamers have insights to help us return in triumph to the larger world. A second switch causes a torch to flare into being, burning away years of cobwebs, returning light to a darkened corner; as with the web above, this will be extremely useful information in a moment, for as we explore other parts of the room, we find a door covered in musty webbing. Taking torch in hand, it is swiftly burned away, and we find ourselves confronted by a second Deku Scrub, a curious creature who betrays his own brothers in return for his life. We are again able to practice shield tactics, and then we are left alone with a familiar door, blocked off by bars of iron. As this room contains no switch with which to open the door, we must think farther back to recall the room with the suspended ladder. Looking up in this room, there is no ladder, but there is an eye, open and bound in a frame of silver. Making the necessary connection, it is a simple obstacle to overcome; but, again, this is key reinforcement of basic principles. Practice and repetition are critical aspects of education, but we should always be learning above our current level (for that is where true learning takes place [1]), and so, while the puzzle is familiar, and is achieved through the same means, the challenge is slightly different, so as to not become stale. This too is good design.
Wandering alone below the earth is a new experience for Link, and we cannot imagine what he must have felt, but we as gamers have insights to help us return in triumph to the larger world. A second switch causes a torch to flare into being, burning away years of cobwebs, returning light to a darkened corner; as with the web above, this will be extremely useful information in a moment, for as we explore other parts of the room, we find a door covered in musty webbing. Taking torch in hand, it is swiftly burned away, and we find ourselves confronted by a second Deku Scrub, a curious creature who betrays his own brothers in return for his life. We are again able to practice shield tactics, and then we are left alone with a familiar door, blocked off by bars of iron. As this room contains no switch with which to open the door, we must think farther back to recall the room with the suspended ladder. Looking up in this room, there is no ladder, but there is an eye, open and bound in a frame of silver. Making the necessary connection, it is a simple obstacle to overcome; but, again, this is key reinforcement of basic principles. Practice and repetition are critical aspects of education, but we should always be learning above our current level (for that is where true learning takes place [1]), and so, while the puzzle is familiar, and is achieved through the same means, the challenge is slightly different, so as to not become stale. This too is good design.
Probably the strangest room in the whole complex is the chamber with the spiked-log trap. Here the learning is explicit: we need to dive. If we try to ride the platform without diving, we are sent hurling into the water, slightly scratched up. A familiar switch rests at the bottom of the pool, and so this is where we are led to dive. Pressing this switch lowers the water level, allowing us to ride safely across; from here, it is a simple matter of felling an enemy and pushing a block (another Zelda staple). The next room is an easy lesson in repetition: light the torches and progress onward. The following room reinforces two other previous teachings: that we can burn webs away with fire, and that we should always look up. If we do not pay attention to our surroundings, we are ambushed by strange beings heretofore unseen; they lurk on the ceiling, and can be dispatched easily with a slingshot. If they are not, we stand to sustain far more damage fighting them en masse on the ground.
Crawling back into the main chamber on this floor, it is a simple task to push the block downward, but a harder one to realize what comes next. Seeing another webbed floor, our first thought is that we must fall upon it again, just like we did previously. But, looking upward (that invaluable skill) this time gives us nothing useful. We must think: what else can be used to dispel webs? Not heights, because there is nothing from which to fall . . . but fire! That must be the answer. Scanning the room, we are now able to light a torch, travel across the channel created by the freshly-pushed block, and we find that the solution is not that simple: how do we set fire to something that is on the ground? Here, in this moment of thought, is where we improve upon our abilities; we know what we have to do, but we don’t know how to do it. The only avenue open to us is trial and error. Fortunately, we know of a few ways to get closer to the ground. Squatting and shielding does nothing, and so rolling is the only remaining option, which causes the web to disappear in flames, dropping us, once again, into a pool of water even farther below ground.
Diving for hearts, we emerge from the pool and see three Deku Scrubs, by now an easy foe. However, we must still remember the order told to us by the treacherous Scrub above. And once this riddle is finished, the boss chamber is open to us. As the door thuds dully behind Link, we are met with darkness and a faint rustle somewhere in the gloom. Finding nothing in this four-pillared cavern, we are once again made to look up, seeing a horrible eye piercing the shadows. This is Gohma, Parasitic Armored Arachnid, and she forces us to use all our previously-practiced skills: she requires item-based skills with sword and slingshot, and she emphasizes situational awareness, for her children have already taught us that lesson. Not only is her eye her main feature, but it was our first glimpse of her; because of this, we intimate that her defeat lies therein. (Glowing eyes are also a huge feature within this series.) Gohma is not particularly difficult, and nor should she be: she is simply a potent tool of in-game learning. Once she is defeated, Link is taken once again before the Forest Guardian, who teaches him some of the most difficult and meaningful lessons of all: that Good is not inevitable, that even success can be bittersweet, and that the world is far more terrible and beautiful than he has ever realized.
Crawling back into the main chamber on this floor, it is a simple task to push the block downward, but a harder one to realize what comes next. Seeing another webbed floor, our first thought is that we must fall upon it again, just like we did previously. But, looking upward (that invaluable skill) this time gives us nothing useful. We must think: what else can be used to dispel webs? Not heights, because there is nothing from which to fall . . . but fire! That must be the answer. Scanning the room, we are now able to light a torch, travel across the channel created by the freshly-pushed block, and we find that the solution is not that simple: how do we set fire to something that is on the ground? Here, in this moment of thought, is where we improve upon our abilities; we know what we have to do, but we don’t know how to do it. The only avenue open to us is trial and error. Fortunately, we know of a few ways to get closer to the ground. Squatting and shielding does nothing, and so rolling is the only remaining option, which causes the web to disappear in flames, dropping us, once again, into a pool of water even farther below ground.
Diving for hearts, we emerge from the pool and see three Deku Scrubs, by now an easy foe. However, we must still remember the order told to us by the treacherous Scrub above. And once this riddle is finished, the boss chamber is open to us. As the door thuds dully behind Link, we are met with darkness and a faint rustle somewhere in the gloom. Finding nothing in this four-pillared cavern, we are once again made to look up, seeing a horrible eye piercing the shadows. This is Gohma, Parasitic Armored Arachnid, and she forces us to use all our previously-practiced skills: she requires item-based skills with sword and slingshot, and she emphasizes situational awareness, for her children have already taught us that lesson. Not only is her eye her main feature, but it was our first glimpse of her; because of this, we intimate that her defeat lies therein. (Glowing eyes are also a huge feature within this series.) Gohma is not particularly difficult, and nor should she be: she is simply a potent tool of in-game learning. Once she is defeated, Link is taken once again before the Forest Guardian, who teaches him some of the most difficult and meaningful lessons of all: that Good is not inevitable, that even success can be bittersweet, and that the world is far more terrible and beautiful than he has ever realized.
Notes:
[1] This phenomenon, termed the Zone of Proximal Development by psychologist Lev Vygotsky in the 1930s, focuses upon the difference between two different stages of learning: the gap that exists between that which a learner can do without assistance, and that which a learner is currently unable to do. If we imagine the zone between those two stages (between what the learner can and cannot do), that is the sweet spot, so to say: the spot in which true learning occurs. If we give a student that which they can already do, it is practice; if we give them what they cannot do, and do not guide them, it is at best an impossibility, and, at worst, a cruelty. Educators must create tasks slightly above the student’s current level, and scaffold learning to that end. Once the path is laid out, then a student can use learned principles to work away at the issue, eventually being able to achieve success by himself or herself. This is, in essence, Adler’s aided discovery: the movement from ignorance to understanding with help from a knowledgeable other.
[1] This phenomenon, termed the Zone of Proximal Development by psychologist Lev Vygotsky in the 1930s, focuses upon the difference between two different stages of learning: the gap that exists between that which a learner can do without assistance, and that which a learner is currently unable to do. If we imagine the zone between those two stages (between what the learner can and cannot do), that is the sweet spot, so to say: the spot in which true learning occurs. If we give a student that which they can already do, it is practice; if we give them what they cannot do, and do not guide them, it is at best an impossibility, and, at worst, a cruelty. Educators must create tasks slightly above the student’s current level, and scaffold learning to that end. Once the path is laid out, then a student can use learned principles to work away at the issue, eventually being able to achieve success by himself or herself. This is, in essence, Adler’s aided discovery: the movement from ignorance to understanding with help from a knowledgeable other.