In his biweekly column, "Down. Right. Fierce.," Chris Holzworth explores gaming topics from alternative approaches. Here, he delves into the direction the Zelda series needs to take for it to survive.
Zelda's Re-Awakening
A new Zelda is coming. It's official. Now seems as good a time as any to discuss what direction Shigeru Miyamoto needs to take the franchise in. I emphasize needs since Miyamoto recently told Nintendo Power that the next Zelda wouldn't be "radically different."
This is a problem. Change is a necessary component of growth. Unfortunately, change is one thing Nintendo's not very good at. Sure, they changed how we play games with Wii, but we're still playing the same games. It's been over 10 years since Mario and Link made the jump from 2-D to 3-D, yet whenever I play their Wii counterparts I feel like I'm back in 1998. All that's missing is Fred Durst's inability to rap choking the radio airwaves.
Zelda needs to change.
In literature, every story has conflict, and conflict comes in many forms: Human versus Self, Human versus Society, and so on. So what is Zelda's conflict? Human versus Nature. This is the core of the Zelda experience. Ganon, the Triforce, even Princess Zelda are all MacGuffins. They are plot devices that drive Link's quest. The Legend of Zelda is the story of a boy lost in the woods, of Link's journey through the myriad of environments that exist within the Kingdom of Hyrule.
Now we have a starting point - to make the "Link versus Hyrule" experience more dynamic. One aspect of this is easily accomplished: expand Link's physical abilities. The little Hylian is an athletic boy, an acrobat like Prince of Persia's protagonist or Assassin Creed's Altaïr. Yet, Link's athletic prowess seems amateur in comparison. These guys can scramble up walls, shimmy across ledges, climb up curtains, swing across rafters, run along walls, and jump on their own. Why can't Link interact with the world around him in the same fashion? The world of Hyrule should be a network of puzzles, like in Prince of Persia, and Link should have the necessary tools to solve those puzzles.
Furthermore, by powering up Zelda's biggest design trope - items, such as the hookshot, bow and arrows, bombs, boomerang, and magic wands - Nintendo could take Link's interaction with the world around him to the next level. What if Link could take a rope, tie it to an arrow, fire that arrow at a cliff ledge, and then climb said cliff ledge? The demarcation of where and what items can be used is passé. Come join the 21st century, Nintendo. Modern players want to cultivate a variety of means to overcome obstacles.
This idea should carry over to combat, as well. Take the Ice Rod. What if, in the next Zelda, the Ice Rod controlled similar to the Bow, and required precision targeting? Imagine being able freeze the legs of advancing enemies, immobilizing them, or freezing their sword arm, then disarming them with one quick-swap to the boomerang. These shades of nuance would add tremendous depth to the Zelda experience.
There is a second aspect to making the "Link versus Hyrule" experience more dynamic, and that's scale. Look at Shadow of the Colossus. The Colossi create such an epic sense of scale, one that Shadow of the Colossus nails while Twilight Princess only flirts with, and Shadow of the Colossus is analogous to The Legend of Zelda in many ways. Like Link, Wander sets out to save a damsel in distress, Mono, who, like Zelda, is little more than a plot element that compels Wander's quest. In his quest, Wander braves the Forbidden Land, a vast peninsula that rivals Hyrule in exoticism.
The Legend of Zelda should tear a page out of this book. Imagine scaling a hillside in the next Zelda, a hillside littered with towering trees and large rocky protrusions. This hillside continues to rise until it becomes mountainside. When you reach the precipice of this mountain, the ground shudders once, and then quakes violently. Suddenly the horizon shifts, and the sky whips into a blur of motion. This is no mountainside; it's some massive creature that was embedded in the earth.
Now to bring some of the hypothetical elements discussed earlier into play. The player, as Link, struggles to ascend the back of this behemoth. When they finally reach its head, players use the hookshot to anchor on, then take a running leap off the creature's brow, swing to eye level, and hack away at the massive orb until it's reduced to goo. Enraged, the behemoth thrashes about wildly, forcing players to retreat to safety on the creature's back until it calms.
I really hope I'm not alone in thinking the concepts described above paint an ideal picture of what Zelda could be (but probably never will). Of course, that's our own damn faults, now isn't it? We placate Nintendo by swallowing what they feed us without question, and then champion their games. I wonder: How can something that's never really changed be any better or worse than the last version that came out? Oh wait, it can't. Step it up, Nintendo.