I’ve never been a huge hype eater, mostly because I’m also a very disappointment-prone fellow — but ever since the first leaks and rumors started to get more and more viral, the idea of an Ocarina of Time remake kept me daydreaming about the minuscule possibility of such a thing even happening.
And truth be told, after a very polarizing Nintendo Direct, the red brand showed it: a remake of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. The GameTyrant Slack was filled to the brim with crashing out messages, and immediately, tears began to pour. But these were the sort of tears that are reactionary, those that come about after witnessing something the mind can’t fully comprehend, but at the same time understands it as something majestic.
About 10 minutes after the reveal, my childhood memories of Ocarina of Time came flooding back to me, like a rainy day. They were a different, much deeper type of tears.
Where it all started
I was just a kid sitting in my parents’ apartment watching TV when, out of all things, a commercial popped up about a game that was about to be released on the Nintendo 64. That game, of course, was Ocarina of Time. I had never played a Zelda game before, so what I saw didn’t make much sense contextually, but I loved what I saw and let my father know how much I needed that game.
We drove to the nearest, and, to be precise, the only and very last Blockbuster in my home city of Lima, Peru. They had it, and since they were going out of business, they sold us OoT for about nine dollars. We got home, I booted the game, and then I heard a horse’s gallop, followed by some chords and a melody that I learned later came from an ocarina.
I played the game. I devoured it. I almost dropped it thanks to the Water Temple. I printed a guide from an internet booth (no shame). I came back to it. I finished it. I... I was shaken to the core.
I didn’t fully understand it back then, but not only had I played what many now consider the best game of all time, but I had also set myself on a path that would transform my way to approach life; to live it, to embrace it, to tolerate it, and to grasp on it, even if by the thinnest of threads.
The musician
Ocarina of Time had changed me. And looking back, the first thing that I connected with was the music. I won’t make a deep analysis on why Koji Kondo’s music worked the way it did, but I will say that, if one were to touch the innermost fibers of my being, then they would have to do so through music. And OoT did exactly that.
Song of Storms, Kakariko Village, Minuet of Forest, Saria’s Song, and Zelda’s Lullaby, among many others... These were tunes that not only moved me but gave me a chance to perform (even if I was just pressing buttons in a very unconventional controller). I didn’t know it at the time, but this mechanic implanted the idea of becoming a musician deep into my mind.
I eventually went on to study music in college. And here’s the part where I would tell you that I went on to become a success, filling up stadiums and even writing music for my own Ocarina of Times... But alas, I had only the talent, not the discipline or social tools to make the musician's dream come true.
The writer
Years later, I rediscovered writing. I began doing some guide work, and one of the first games I got to cover was Tears of the Kingdom. The same boy who printed out a guide for the Water Temple was now actually writing the guides that other players could potentially read if they found themselves stuck.
That feeling ignited a passion inside me that I never knew existed. Writing was always an afterthought to me, as I only thought of myself as nothing but a musician. But writing guides, and later reviews and features, eventually led to a creative hunger that, in turn, led to an epiphany: I want to tell stories. And what story came to mind that would explain this hunger, thirst, and necessity to express myself through the written word? You guessed it. Once again, Ocarina of Time.
The game’s narrative beats, Link’s tragic arc, and the perfectly crafted characters stuck with me for over 20 years. And while the game’s music sent me down a path of what I wanted to do, its story led the way to who I wanted to become: a writer.
A boy without a fairy
Growing up, I would choose to stay home and play on my Nintendo 64 and the other consoles that followed rather than spending time with friends. To be honest, I don’t really think I had a real friend when I was a child.
The concept of friendship, occasionally, became alien to me, as if there was something inside me that was broken. Every kid could interact with the others in a way that seemed natural. Meanwhile, I had to struggle to take notes of whatever I could: how to smile, how to behave, how to keep a conversation going.
That sense of belonging, or rather the lack thereof, was crushing for me. A contradictory way of living: not being able to be around others, but also feeling lonely when no one was around.
Link got his childhood stolen from him by destiny. Traumatized, he was sent to fight the world’s most dangerous and fear-inducing monstrosities, all in the hopes of preventing Ganondorf from ruling the world. And Link, in silence, did it without hesitation, because that is what needed to be done.
In a way, I was also a boy without a fairy.
It wasn’t destiny that forced me into a path of heroism, but rather a neurodivergence that made all the easy things seem like Redeads, Dead Hands, or Wallmasters, sending me to a life that I would have never picked for myself or for others. But I faced these monsters the best I could.
At times, it was through imitation, endurance, or even sleepless, tearful nights. But refusing to let go of a potential purpose or a sort of higher calling made me find music, writing, and a loving family. Suddenly, the sense of loneliness got a bit quieter. Now, the sleepless nights are no longer filled with existential tears, but with the cries of two kids who breathe life into my weary bones, exhausted by the weight of a man who is very hard on himself for being the way he is.
The game of my life
Ocarina of Time is my favorite game, but it is also the game of my life. I cannot think of a better game companion who has always been there for me. Whether it was a kid escaping the world or an adult man crying at the prospect of replaying his childhood memories, OoT is one of the few things that, no matter what, manages to make me happy.
I don’t know if the Ocarina of Time Remake will do the original justice. But, at some level, I’m not really worried whether the game will be good or not. What I know is that, whatever comes next, I will always find solace in knowing that, whenever I hear Epona’s gallop, I will no longer feel alone.
