From the Picto Box to Clock Town.
Years ago there was a huge videogame exhibition at the Barbican in London.
“When I go out playing now, the stick I carry with me becomes a sword.”
They seep from their world and into ours.
What does Zelda mean to us?
What are the best items?
What are the memories that have lingered the most?
Oh yes, and why was knocking a book off a shelf once so very thrilling?
What does Zelda mean to us?
My tiny mind was blown.
A world that fizzed with magic and opportunity.
Then, by chance, I was out Christmas shopping with my parents the day it was released.
I dragged my dad to Electronics Boutique giddy with excitement.
I’m utterly transfixed.
Next time though dad, keep your wallet on you.
I begged my mother to buy it for me.
I loved animals, and I loved writing.
That dairy was a natural fit for an eight-year-old like me.
I can remember my mother inspecting our items.
He was adamant that this Nintendo magazine would be used more than my dog-fronted dairy would be.
“Pah, not likely!”
How could a magazine be used more than pen and paper?
Surely, he’d just read it once and cast it aside.
But, oh, how wrong I was.
That magazine would indeed go on to be used more than my diary.
It was this Ocarina of Time magazine that sparked something in me, and that spark soon became fire.
I was just so drawn to the Kingdom of Hyrule.
Even on the static magazine pages, the world felt so alive.
It was a truly magical time, and a time that I hold very dear in my heart.
It made me feel calmed, and secure, and ultimately less alone.
It was dangerously intriguing.
I attempt to make everyone happy even if it’s just for three days.
That’s the spirit of Zelda.
Excitement about what lies ahead combined with the trust that it will be intricate and ingenious and special.
Trust that it will have moments that make your heart beat quicker.
It’s weird, isn’t it?
Wind-Waker just found a perfect way of expressing this feeling that had always been there.
The sand, the surf, the moment you have actual land underfoot.
Gosh, I should really play this game again.
-Donlan
What’s the best Zelda item?
But it also embodies Zelda’s perpetually cycling legend, and serves as a kind of potted design blueprint.
But there’s something about the Picto Box that remains special to me.
Can you store reviving milk in a shield?
Does the Master Sword allow you to temporarily home game-saving fairies?
Your slingshot can’t carry a Deku Princess from one area to another, can it?
These mighty weapons do of course have their place, but bottles, they are just the best.
And, yes, I am one of them.
(BowWow just eats them.)
BowWow’s time with Link is brief, which perhaps makes this section so memorable.
And it has to be brief, really.
-Tom
Hookshot
I’m not sure there’s any item more ‘Zelda’ than the hookshot.
Yes there’s the Master Sword but come on, that’s just a sword.
Equally it’s got an air of magical impossibility: surely firing it will rip Link’s arm off?
But its use in Ocarina of Time was probably the most revolutionary.
What’s your favourite Zelda moment?
This is not because of the landscape, itself very nice, but because of the music.
Music is a key part of Ocarina of Time.
You would expect it to be, what with the game having a musical instrument in its very title.
And I am not just talking in video games, but generally.
Shrinking in Minish Cap
Zelda’s dungeons are typically bigger on the inside than on the outside.
This doubles as an opportunity to take some gentle liberties with the art direction.
It’s like zooming in on a painting to discover the fingerprints of another artist.
Zelda is hardly the only game to try its hand at such Brobdingnagian antics.
Mario’s been there in the shape of Bowser’s Inside Story.
So has Duke Nukem.
But for me, this was my first example of in-game stealing.
Here was an in-game shop, with items for sale and prices laid out on screen.
But if you wanted, you could also just… nick stuff instead?
Not only that, this was an optional thing which the game recognised and also punished you for.
It was the best kind of punishment, too.
Link became a hero, but he could never get rid of the fact he was a THIEF.
A doorway in an island in the middle of the lake, for example.
you’re free to see it, but you’re free to’t cross the lake.
So what do you do?
You wait, normally, and the solution eventually presents itself, often in an unexpected way.
Normally these moments are quite grand.
But Zelda is very good at working on a smaller, more domestic scale, too.
I want the book.
No, I need the book.
I can’t remember why, but I have to get that book.
For an entire afternoon, way back when, getting that book was all I could think about.
But Link’s so small!
And the library shelves are so high!
Not to avoid something, but to carry myself into the shelf with real force.
The book comes down.
But it’s also this lovely domestic snapshot that works on the familiar physics of our day-to-day worlds.
It’s just lovely.
But it was my face that dropped when I reached the game’s halfway twist.
Most Zelda games have one.
Collect three doodads and then seek the temple of whatsit before embarking on the real adventure.
I knew it was coming in Wind Waker.
The Master Sword, of course.
What exactly are ‘Them’?
Where do they come from?
She returns in the morning, but she is changed.
