It took 4 giants 9 years to walk 500 feet
I own fewer games for the Nintendo 64 than any other Nintendo system to date. I was a slave to the RPG and Crash Bandicoot drenched Sony Play Station. I'm not even sure of the number, but I owned ten games at most; compared to the possible 15 for SNES and seemingly improbable forty I might own for the Wii (a system nowhere near its demise.)Back in the year of 2000, the system I shunned most of the time did something so magnificent, so beyond the hardware that encased it, that it took me 9 years to wrap my unworthy noodle around. That something is the Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask. A game, that for some reason, is rarely mentioned on its own, only coming up with much larger mention of Ocarina of Time. Most games advertise themselves as containing one defining emotion: creepy, funny, sad, intense or shocking, just to name a few. Majora's mask throws all of these at you, some at the same time, all in great honesty; and without ever saying it's going to do anything but be a fantasy game. Because of the Moons crash course, everything that happens, even handing over rupees to the banker girl, seems more miserable, funny, or heartwarming than it would otherwise.
Receiving Majora’s mask for Christmas can be seen as a mistake on my part, as I never actually finished the “hard copy” of it. I played through half of the first dungeon and gave up, like the Deku scrub I was. Selfishness damned Termina to eternal Hell because of my inability to deal with the world’s scariest timer. When I tried to play it again, years later, the cartridge had broken, in no outwardly visible manner. Link and his entire universe froze, twisted, and repeated the same second of sound over and over again. Is this some more insane, THIRD alternate dimension that can’t be saved or even explored? There went 60 of my parents' dollars, right down the retroactive crapper. The shameful golden stump is still in my Nintendo 64 right now actually. Then, nearly a decade after its initial release on May 18, 2009, I was given a second chance. A second chance being nothing compared to the possibly infinite amount link allows himself in the game. So I gave Nintendo ten more fun bucks of my OWN money this time and got back into the game, older, wiser, and fatter.
The Moon’s destination forces into the open the odd traditions every video game character goes through to the deathly bitter end; but uses it to build up to moments of pure bliss. The mail man is the most vicious example of this, as following his path is like watching a light psycho drama play out. He refuses to divulge any information about where the mail comes from, following a small rule to the bleeding edge. If the player follows his fixed path long enough they can see what he does with the almost meaninglessly short free time he is allowed. He practices for further mail runs by lying in bed and pumping his legs in the air. He seems to live in the post office, which may be what he calls his house for the sake of brevity. On the final day, if you enter his house after nightfall, you can see him finally break down, faced with the choice between his Cliff Claven-esque devotion to deliver the mail to a town that won’t exist tomorrow, the only devotion he’s ever known; or the choice of running from his post to safe his own skin. When the player goes to the trouble of freeing him from his post, they can view a brand new animation of the postal worker frolicking out of town. This animation is available to view in an incredibly distinct spot of the game, and only for about 14 seconds. Accompanied by the fatal position of the Moon, this animation is one of the funniest things in the game after a series of boggling (but intentional) character derived frustration. Waiting with Anju for Kafé to show up during the final seconds of available time the game can muster is equally excruciating, but also has a lovingly designed pay off. That’s not even the longest wait in the game; delivering and waiting for Kafé to pick up his mail is a test in gamer patience on a level similar to waiting for that waterfall to open in Earthbound (the game forces you to time 30 exact seconds all by yourself, no help!) Or even any task in Takeshi’s challenge.
The game can also show how blind characters are to what they should really be doing when faced by the insanity of two colliding celestial bodies. Kafé won’t face his future bride without his half of the bargain, the marriage mask. A mask he goes through a small gauntlet of sorts run by a weirdo (the only npc Link has ever been able to KILL by the way.) The Zora band practices, even though their band leader has just died right in front of Link. Do they know he’s died? Do they ever go to his fresh grave right outside of town? I assume Link never says anything because he doesn’t want to break their hearts, or create another time staler. The men constructing a building for the upcoming festival contest that the Moon will not crash, and continue their construction. They follow this logic to the extent that on the third day, the foreman claims that if it was going to fall it would have already. Pure video game Machismo!
Some of the prettiest touches I’ve ever seen come from that generation of games are contained in this one. Entering the observatory is like entering a polygonal wonderland. It’s filled with vivid colors wrapped in stabilizing black areas, accompanied by amazing music that fits the mood of wonderment perfectly. I felt the same sense of amazement walking into that room in 2009 that I did I in 2000. The second scene may be the most graphically advanced set up on the entire system; after the hectic non-fight against Skull Kid, Link is transported to what I assume is the inside of the Moon: a gigantic field of tall grass with a monolithic tree in the distance. Four children can be seen running around the tree, with a fifth sitting under it, sadly. All of this accompanied by what I think was a bloom effect! The rooms you meet these children in later are small, bleak squares lined with sky blue walls with painted clouds accompanied by bizarre faced bricks on the floor seen nowhere else in the game. It should be pointed out that these rooms are optional, meaning that viewing these graphics involve collecting every mask in the game and completing fairly difficult tasks! That’s some devotion! The statues Link can create resembling each of his transformations are pretty damn good looking too. The Goron and Link forms go beyond the artistic requirements of something so minuscule. How did I go nine years without ever hearing about those things?!
If you’ve never had a chance to play this game, I implore you to do so! Even with all the spoilers I’ve written, I know you’ll find many things you find amazing on your own. It’s a rarely spoken of nugget of digital gold that needs to be experienced.
It should be noted that the day after I finished my play through of the game, the worst storm to hit New Jersey in 18 years decimated the poles attached to the roof of my house. Perhaps I was being punished for upsetting the way things were for a decade.
Receiving Majora’s mask for Christmas can be seen as a mistake on my part, as I never actually finished the “hard copy” of it. I played through half of the first dungeon and gave up, like the Deku scrub I was. Selfishness damned Termina to eternal Hell because of my inability to deal with the world’s scariest timer. When I tried to play it again, years later, the cartridge had broken, in no outwardly visible manner. Link and his entire universe froze, twisted, and repeated the same second of sound over and over again. Is this some more insane, THIRD alternate dimension that can’t be saved or even explored? There went 60 of my parents' dollars, right down the retroactive crapper. The shameful golden stump is still in my Nintendo 64 right now actually. Then, nearly a decade after its initial release on May 18, 2009, I was given a second chance. A second chance being nothing compared to the possibly infinite amount link allows himself in the game. So I gave Nintendo ten more fun bucks of my OWN money this time and got back into the game, older, wiser, and fatter.
The Moon’s destination forces into the open the odd traditions every video game character goes through to the deathly bitter end; but uses it to build up to moments of pure bliss. The mail man is the most vicious example of this, as following his path is like watching a light psycho drama play out. He refuses to divulge any information about where the mail comes from, following a small rule to the bleeding edge. If the player follows his fixed path long enough they can see what he does with the almost meaninglessly short free time he is allowed. He practices for further mail runs by lying in bed and pumping his legs in the air. He seems to live in the post office, which may be what he calls his house for the sake of brevity. On the final day, if you enter his house after nightfall, you can see him finally break down, faced with the choice between his Cliff Claven-esque devotion to deliver the mail to a town that won’t exist tomorrow, the only devotion he’s ever known; or the choice of running from his post to safe his own skin. When the player goes to the trouble of freeing him from his post, they can view a brand new animation of the postal worker frolicking out of town. This animation is available to view in an incredibly distinct spot of the game, and only for about 14 seconds. Accompanied by the fatal position of the Moon, this animation is one of the funniest things in the game after a series of boggling (but intentional) character derived frustration. Waiting with Anju for Kafé to show up during the final seconds of available time the game can muster is equally excruciating, but also has a lovingly designed pay off. That’s not even the longest wait in the game; delivering and waiting for Kafé to pick up his mail is a test in gamer patience on a level similar to waiting for that waterfall to open in Earthbound (the game forces you to time 30 exact seconds all by yourself, no help!) Or even any task in Takeshi’s challenge.
The game can also show how blind characters are to what they should really be doing when faced by the insanity of two colliding celestial bodies. Kafé won’t face his future bride without his half of the bargain, the marriage mask. A mask he goes through a small gauntlet of sorts run by a weirdo (the only npc Link has ever been able to KILL by the way.) The Zora band practices, even though their band leader has just died right in front of Link. Do they know he’s died? Do they ever go to his fresh grave right outside of town? I assume Link never says anything because he doesn’t want to break their hearts, or create another time staler. The men constructing a building for the upcoming festival contest that the Moon will not crash, and continue their construction. They follow this logic to the extent that on the third day, the foreman claims that if it was going to fall it would have already. Pure video game Machismo!
Some of the prettiest touches I’ve ever seen come from that generation of games are contained in this one. Entering the observatory is like entering a polygonal wonderland. It’s filled with vivid colors wrapped in stabilizing black areas, accompanied by amazing music that fits the mood of wonderment perfectly. I felt the same sense of amazement walking into that room in 2009 that I did I in 2000. The second scene may be the most graphically advanced set up on the entire system; after the hectic non-fight against Skull Kid, Link is transported to what I assume is the inside of the Moon: a gigantic field of tall grass with a monolithic tree in the distance. Four children can be seen running around the tree, with a fifth sitting under it, sadly. All of this accompanied by what I think was a bloom effect! The rooms you meet these children in later are small, bleak squares lined with sky blue walls with painted clouds accompanied by bizarre faced bricks on the floor seen nowhere else in the game. It should be pointed out that these rooms are optional, meaning that viewing these graphics involve collecting every mask in the game and completing fairly difficult tasks! That’s some devotion! The statues Link can create resembling each of his transformations are pretty damn good looking too. The Goron and Link forms go beyond the artistic requirements of something so minuscule. How did I go nine years without ever hearing about those things?!
If you’ve never had a chance to play this game, I implore you to do so! Even with all the spoilers I’ve written, I know you’ll find many things you find amazing on your own. It’s a rarely spoken of nugget of digital gold that needs to be experienced.
It should be noted that the day after I finished my play through of the game, the worst storm to hit New Jersey in 18 years decimated the poles attached to the roof of my house. Perhaps I was being punished for upsetting the way things were for a decade.