The Legend of Zelda was released 25 years ago for the Famicom in Japan, and when it was ported over to the States on August 22, 1987, gamers had a reason to rejoice. Something epic, something legendary had arrived. It announced itself boldly in the form of a golden cartridge and a battery pack to save the journey’s progress. Players were invited to take part in weaving a new tale involving a shattered Triforce, a kidnapped Princess Zelda, and nine labyrinthine dungeons spread throughout the map. 

As big as the world was, even more daunting (or liberating, depending on your perspective) was the complete freedom you had - Link could travel almost anywhere. This was arguably the inception of open-world gameplay, which would evolve into the likes of Liberty City (GTA IV) and the Wild West of Red Dead Redemption. Back then, it just meant gamers had their hands full. Almost every screen hid some kind of secret; a cheaper marketplace, defecting moblins aiding Link’s cause, an elderly sage giving you the choice of a heart container or a red water of life. It’s a testament to the core tenets - exploration, accessorizing, and combat - that the game has stood the test of time. The franchise has progressed with every iteration, but the foundation has remained intact.

Let’s take a look at these three elements before rounding out some personal thoughts on the game and wishing Link and Zelda a ‘Happy Birthday.’

Exploration:

When Shigeru Miyamoto mentions inspirations for The Legend of Zelda, he talks about the countryside of Kyoto, wandering into a mysterious cave, and getting lost in his family home in Sonobe. That sense of wonder and astonishment abounding in childhood is what he tried to recapture in The Legend of Zelda. He did it by creating a youthful protagonist, Link, who was as young as many of the players, giving them free rein to go anywhere they wanted. The openness from the offset was innovative, but it wouldn’t have been as important if the geographic diversity hadn’t encouraged exploration in the first place. The massively mystical landscape encompassed an arid desert, the oceanside to the east, Death Mountain, a creepy graveyard, the Lost Woods, the central lake, and a myriad of others. It’s pretty remarkable that there were no two screens alike in a time when recycling backgrounds with a palette swap was the norm. 

In the process of the journey, the designers also set plateaus to help players chart their progress. You could enter Death Mountain at the beginning of the game, but you’d most likely get killed by the legion of Lynel’s. If you returned later with the Magic Sword and the Blue Ring, you’d be ready to clean shop. And while certain areas were locked off, there were enough visual cues to both help you and spur you on. See a dock; Link needed something to help him cross. An extra heart container is on a wooden plank; how to reach it? 

The exploration wasn’t just about reaching new territory, though; it was about interacting with and solving the puzzles on each screen. I spent weeks burning every bush, and pushing every rock with the power bracelet. In the dungeons, moments of frustration would be balanced by moments of clarity, as a series of dead-ends would force me to search until I’d find a new route. Architected into distinctive shapes rather than random assemblages, the rooms had a connective logic to them. I had to bomb every wall and press against every suspicious block to uncover hidden staircases. The Underworld was a tricky place to navigate, but the inclusion of maps and a compass were an invaluable aid, as was the trail map in the subscreen showing where you’d actually been. Hyrule was an ‘undiscovered country,’ imbued with paints from the canvas of Miyamoto’s imagination. No two visits to this land of fantasy were ever quite the same.

Accessorizing:

If there’s one element that almost all Zelda fans love, it’s the equipment and gadgets. Utilitarian and just plain cool, a permanent suite of tools has become part of the identity of the franchise. This could have easily become a cluttered nightmare if not for the integration of a few features. 

First off, The Legend of Zelda had an intuitive subscreen that made it easy to swap and select items. I’d go so far as to say it set the standard for inventory management / menus in games. Second, the decision to make some items usable and others automatic was brilliant. For example, it would have been annoying if everytime you had to cross a river, you had to change to the ladder and use it. Third, new items were made the highlight of every dungeon. I always wondered what treasure would be next, as items empowered Link with new abilities. This sense of progression supplanted the need for a ‘level-up,’ yet still made us feel like Link had grown in power. 

I loved the bow and arrow, since it let me kill the Pols Voice with one shot; paralyzing enemies with the boomerang was an efficient way out of a tight spot; and the wand was my personal favorite, mainly because I loved the sound effect that accompanied it.

There were three things I always wondered. What was written in that letter to the old woman that convinced her to bring out the potions? What exactly was the enemy bait made of that made the Goriya in dungeon 7 like it so much? And why was the Magic Sword hidden in a cemetery?

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