My Inspirations: Groundhog's Video Game

Like most video gamers who've been at this since the 80s, I'm a fan of Nintendo's games, especially the big-name ones around since my childhood. This means Mario, Zelda, Metroid, all the hits. It doesn't yet mean most of the new stuff, especially on the DS, since a) I don't have that system, as I barely had a gap in my schedule when playing console games, and b) I'm generally opposed to games that make you yell at them, blow at them, or play them in direct sunlight. Especially portable games.

The Zelda series holds a place in my heart as a result, but while it always entertained me, it hasn't inspired me that much. I don't know why; they certainly have impressed me, but other Action-RPGs, like Secret of Mana, tend to influence my work more. There are exceptions, of course, but the one game that affected me the most was one of the more obscure games in the series. That game is Majora's Mask.

The most recent Zelda game, Twilight Princess, defied tradition by being the first Teen-rated game in the series; earlier ones for aimed at a younger market and closer to the E or E10 range. But it wasn't the most adult game of the series, nor the darkest. That right belongs to Majora. The game has humble origins. While most Nintendo systems after the original intentionally only had one "real" game of their flagship series like Mario and Zelda, Majora was the second game on the N64, meaning it followed Ocarina of Time, arguably the most famous and defining game of the series. And it differed from its predecessor minimally; both used the same graphics and engine, and it even recycled most of the enemies, friendly NPCs and weapons from Ocarina.

The focus on the game's development, therefore was on the gameplay. From the outside, the game operates like nearly every Zelda game. The world of Majora's Mask has a large world, containing numerous environments from swamps and forests to oceans to mountains. As Link, the game's protagonist, he had to use his combat skills, other mobility skills, and a wide range of items to get to the dungeons of the game. Defeating all the dungeons' bosses will get access to the game's final boss. The most noteworthy of these items are magic masks. You can collect over twenty of them, and all had properties, from just provoking reactions when interacting with some people to completely transforming Link into new bodies.
The best gameplay feature, however, was that the game only gave the player three "days" to save the world, where each day was somewhere around a half an hour to an hour in real time. It's nigh impossible to beat the entire game in three hours, but the game made up for this by letting you magically transport yourself to the start of that time limit. It works like an actiony equivalent to "Groundhog Day," especially since important items like the masks will go back in time with Link.

Everything else, however, won't stay the same, and that is where the beauty of the game starts. The game takes place in Termina, an alternate universe version of the main Zelda setting of Hyrule (hence the recycled NPCs,) and the three day limit is justified by, well, the world ending. Specifically, the moon was enchanted by the game's main villain and will crash onto middle of Termina's capital in three days. And boy do the people now it. That's the first sign of how serious the game is; all the NPCs you speak to are afraid that they and everyone else will die in three days, and it's leading to fighting, irrationality, and quite understandable fear.

To combat this emotional response, though, Link is given ways to help (besides stopping the apocalypse.) In addition to normal items, Link has a journal that mentions all noteworthy characters, listing their motivations and showing when important events happen related to that person. Using the three-day schedule, it's possible to plan for when and how to help people. This can be as simple as listening to a grandmother tell old stories to reuniting a cursed and separated couple. Everyone you help will give you something, but also changes their life.

Until time resets again. And that sense of nihilism provides a nice balance. When you actually do save the world, you care far more than you would for the NPCs of most games, who offer a few static comments and otherwise don't do anything. It even sets up challenges like trying to save everyone, or at least as many people as possible, on the same time cycle that you beat the game. In Majora's Mask, that's not just a test of game skills, it feels like a moral victory.

What has this game, which on a good day is listed among my top 3 favorite games, inspired me to do with my games? Most importantly, it means that you can save a city, a country, a planet, or even the whole damn universe, and it won't mean a thing emotionally if you don't care about the people who actually live there. It also was one of the very rare games that, at the end, made me cry. On the other hand, it did introduce us to Tingle. But no game's perfect.