Wind Waker is developmentally immature.
Make no mistake about my use of the word; in no way does it refer to the game's premise or its graphical style. As I've tried to make clear, the presentation in this game is refined, inspired, and beautiful. It is evidence of great mastery.
Where the game is immature is in its understanding of the game/player interface.
You could call its mechanics dated, and that would not be inaccurate; while we slide toward the fourth age of game design, Wind Waker behaves as if we're at the end of the second. This mindset serves to rather miss the point, however.
For a concept to be dated, it must have been a viable enough solution within its own timeframe. That perfectly reasonable idea must then be taken out of its proper context and applied to a circumstance for which it was never originally conceived.
To unquestioningly solve the game design problems of 2003 using the methods of 1993 is to try to cut steak with a butter knife. To then call that design theory dated is to blame the knife rather than the bozo wielding it. There is nothing wrong with the butter knife; it was merely designed for a different situation. Within that context it is an elegant enough solution.[8]
It is not so much the design theory at fault in Wind Waker; these same principles, in the situations for which they was originally devised, are responsible for some of the most memorable classics in the gaming repertoire. Likewise, the earlier Zelda games were, for their time, some of the greatest masterpieces of game design.
The fault lies in Wind Waker's failure to understand the reasoning behind why the earlier games were so great. As a child mimes the actions of his parents without fully apprehending the meaning or significance of those acts, or as a student adopts the eccentricities of a master in misattribution of the nature of that same mastery, this game -- which is its own unique and interesting beast -- innocently looks for success in the actions of its elders.
At its heart, Wind Waker is guilty of a sort of idolatry; of praising past actions for their own sake; of admiring the useful, as it were.
This is the manner in which Wind Waker is immature. Were this game more enlightened, it would question the laws set out by its elders and see them as general guideposts of principle rather than as implicit mandates of the world at hand. It would grasp the fact that those rules were arbitrary, if well-chosen, solutions to specific problems of the time -- not panaceas passed down from above.
The bond between game and player is of a fragile, intricate nature. It demands an equal supply of respect and effort from both parties. As it is, Wind Waker fails to account for the player as anything more than a hypothetical concept alluded to in its teachings. In so doing, the game takes the player for granted; as a given.
Using its position as the videogame, Wind Waker assigns task after menial task for no particular reason. The expectation is that the player's job is to complete whatever the game puts in front of it. As long as the game keeps the player sufficiently busy, everyone will be happy. The problem is, of course, that tasks are not inherently interesting just for the sake that they exist. Applied for no other reason than to fill time, or to keep the player away from rewards, tasks tend to be somewhere between tedious and maddening -- depending on how frustrating they are.
Forced repetition is another problem area. As I mentioned, every single map square must be uncovered, one-by-one, using the same laborious process. Every single chart must be found and opened, and every treasure must be tracked down, using the exact same process. Every Triforce chart must be individually decoded. Every time the Wind Waker or grapple is used (either on land or in the boat), every time an a chest is opened, every time an item is found, the player must sit through the same short, unskippable animation sequence.[9]
Not even the (otherwise rather clever) level design is immune; every time one enters the forest stage, the game forces the player to go through the same extended and precise sequence of jumps, swings, and enemies. Every time the player falls from a later portion of the level, it's all the way back to the start. Every time the player falls into lava throughout the game, Link's pants catch on fire and the entire area must be restarted.
What is disconcerting is that the game generally sees how misplaced the old rules are, that it uses as its framework. In its script, in the dialogue between characters, the game calls continual attention to the silly, arbitrary aspects of contemporary game design -- but then it doesn't do anything about them, content merely to poke fun at its own shortcomings.
With all of this frustration, tedium, and condescension, I just can't help the feeling that I'm being toyed with; not only manipulated, but teased along the way. Wind Waker just doesn't seem to have a good sense of how to behave; of what its responsibilities are, as a videogame.
There is one good explanation for many of the game's problems; if one looks closely, it is clear that two major dungeons are missing.[10] That is to say, the game is unfinished. It was hastened to completion, in order to keep up with the release schedule. Nintendo is so famous for major titles which slip for months or years past their deadlines, that it raises an eyebrow for Zelda game -- of all things -- to be as prompt as Wind Waker.
It's not only that the game was rushed, however.
In some respects, this is not Miyamoto's story anymore. Wind Waker is the product of a new generation; a story told in Miyamoto's universe, using his words, but taking the rules of that universe as a bible.
Wind Waker was directed by Eiji Aonuma, under Miyamoto's tutelage. Along with Super Mario Sunshine, this is one of the first solid examples of Nintendo's recent game design strategy. Eager to take some of the load off of Miyamoto's increasingly all-encompassing shoulders, and to train the next generation of designers, EAD has taken a approach not unlike the apprenticeships of old.
For a time I was intrigued by this setup. It seemed a step toward a new level of cultural sophistication in terms of the artistry -- or at least artisanship -- of game design. The old masters would pass down the benefits of their accumulated experience to the newcomers; the newcomers would rework those ideas into their own intuition, then eventually pass down their own honed observations to the following generation. Over time, the collective base of knowledge and experience could be huge.
I'm not sure that's really what's happening, though. If Wind Waker isn't Miyamoto's, then neither is this game any one other person's driving vision. No one in particular seems to entirely own it. By thumping the Miyamoto bible, Aonuma has effectively relinquished his claim in favor of a seat in the shadow of his teacher.
If the game feels like an awkward compromise, then perhaps that's because it is.
If this were Miyamoto's personal project, he'd have pushed the game back as long as it needed. If a system just plain didn't work, he'd have ripped it out and started from scratch -- even toward the end of development. By keeping his hands -- and his power over deadlines -- off the project, perhaps Miyamoto unintentionally opened the door for an impatient design schedule, for a lack of greater daring.
On the other hand, perhaps it's Miyamoto's partial presence and influence that is to blame for the game's debilitatingly conservative nature. Maybe in effort to please Miyamoto, or to ensure that the game feels adequately Miyamoto-like, Aonuma felt compelled to spout back all of Miyamoto's ideas the way a student might in a term paper geared to engratiate himself to the professor.
Regardless of all that might have been, the game is what it is -- and must be judged as such.
[Next: conclusions]
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