Once Upon an Ocarina

I don’t actually remember the first time I played The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but I do remember that it was the very first Zelda game I ever played.

Somewhere between the ages of seven and nine, my Aunt Nicole introduced me to the game. I don’t remember if she went out of her way to show it to me, or if I just got bored with Super Mario 64 and popped this other random cartridge into the Nintendo 64 system. Either way, I immediately fell in love. The first few notes of the title theme along with hoofbeats of Link's horse mesmerized my little child-brain and I felt myself transported to a land of fantasy.

One that I was absolutely unprepared for.

See, 3D games were still quite new, and my aunt was much farther along in the game than I, as a player, was equipped to handle. I had no idea how the game worked—had no idea what any of the mechanics were. And while I don’t remember much from that time, I do remember coming out of the Temple of Time and being absolutely terrified by the zombie creatures (ReDeads) in the ruins of the Castle Town Market. My aunt must have taken pity on me and gotten me to the field. And then she must have shown me the single greatest thing in the game: Horseback riding.

I would play the game specifically to ride Epona, Link's horse, around the fields of Hyrule. It was thrilling! It was beautiful (for its time)! Then, somewhere along the way, I discovered fishing! For well over a year (or maybe two), all I did in that game was ride the horse and go fishing.

Fast forward a few years, and that same aunt gifted a Nintendo 64 system to my sister and me. We got Super Mario 64 and Kirby 64. Both are wonderful games and 100% worth your time, but I couldn’t help being disappointed that she hadn’t included the game I most wanted as my own.

I wanted Zelda.

Months later, in July, my birthday rolled around, and my mother took me shopping for a birthday present. We spent a while at the store, looking at toys and books and other such nonsense until we ended up in the electronics department.

And there it was! Sitting behind the glass, in all its glory, was The Legend of Zelda. I would have known that font anywhere!

That was my choice, and finally I was the proud owner of the game that had so captivated me.

The drive home was pure torture, but the sense of anticipation as I loaded the cartridge into the game slot made it all worthwhile.

The game loaded with the familiar Nintendo 64 logo…

And I was greeted with the graphic of a purple-clad man who held a mask in the air and chuckled ominously.

…WHAT?

I remember my heart dropping to my stomach. That was not the way the game was supposed to boot up. I looked at the cartridge—it definitely had The Legend of Zelda written across it. I was so confused… My 10- or 11-year-old mind just couldn’t fathom what was going on. Why was it wrong?

Now, I don’t remember how long it took me to figure this out, but I eventually learned that The Legend of Zelda was a game SERIES! I distinctly remember saying, “There are MORE?? Which one did I play?” I was thrilled and dismayed all at once. Still, I decided to give the one I had a shot.

Upon closer inspection of the cartridge, I realized that it had a subtitle: Majora’s Mask.

Okay, I thought to myself, and booted it up again.

I have to say, it was the best decision I’ve ever made. The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask has become my absolute favorite game. Hands down.

With only a one-year window to develop the game, the creators somehow managed to create something deep and eternally engaging. I honestly can’t tell you how many times I’ve played the game, but I still find myself understanding something new about it each and every time I play!

In fact, there are those who liken the regions of the game to the Kübler-Ross model of grief. Now, while it’s difficult to say if that was intentional or not, I do believe that the overall similarities helped me along my own path in life.

More than that, I found—and continue to find—elements to relate to in every region of the game.

As a parent, I can relate to the Deku King’s anger and worry when his daughter goes missing. I understand that he would stop at nothing to bring her back.

As someone who has been stuck between a rock and a hard place, I feel for the Gorons who are desperately trying to survive the harsh and mysteriously long winter.

As someone who faces the future repercussions of climate change, I can help feeling the same overwhelming helplessness of the Zora who watched their habitat become more and more uninhabitable.

And as someone whose world has changed from the wonderment of childhood to the bleak reality of adulthood, I can’t help but relate to the resigned understanding and acceptance shown in the once-great kingdom of Ikana.

These are not the same feelings I had when I played the game almost twenty years ago, and they’re likely not the same feelings I will have in twenty more years. And that’s what I love most about this game. Instead of remaining the same and turning into a stale experience, it changes with the player. It’s all about perception and how it changes through your life.

I hope that, one day, another game like this will be created. But for now, it’s one of a kind.