Crafting the Greatest Mini-Boss

This is a guest article written by Tom-Olav Hundstad and edited by Colin McIsaac. If you’d like to submit your own guest article, we encourage you to send us your work here.

When it comes to the Legend of Zelda series, there are a lot of things we can look at that have been constant throughout the series from either the very first game or from those that followed soon after. However, some aspects are not as set in stone as others, and may vary greatly from game to game. Case in point, mini-bosses.

Think back to what you might consider a classic mini-boss in the series. I’m sure you can think of a few, and I bet they typically share the same characteristics: the mini-boss is a unique enemy that is tougher than regular enemies, and more often than not, it will yield a reward—usually the dungeon’s designated item—upon defeat. We can see this “tradition” perhaps most clearly with Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess, two games in which mini-bosses are almost mandatory. It is an interesting notion, however—where did the mini-boss originate, and why?

In a sense, it could be said that mini-bosses originally started out as just being tougher enemies, or boss-like enemies that didn’t yield the same rewards as bosses did. An example would be Rebonack from Zelda II: The Adventure of Link, who appeared in one dungeon as a boss but then later in another dungeon as two mini-bosses. Since then, their purpose seems to have been changed and molded in different ways with every passing title, and that then begs the question; what is a mini-boss’ purpose?

I believe this purpose has a lot to do with adding variety to the process of traversing a dungeon. A fight that is tougher than regular fights, but not as tough as the eventual boss fight, is a good way of illustrating progress while keeping things fresh and interesting. Defeating the mini-boss is not just an accomplishment; it is also a benchmark which typically signifies that you are halfway through the dungeon. You are rewarded with a valuable treasure—an item—and then you move on. Sure, it can get a little stale if it’s not played with and experimented with, but the curious thing about the mini-boss is that it’s one of those things that never seem to quite stay the same.

Consider all the varieties of mini-bosses we have seen through the years. From the Poe Sisters in Ocarina of Time‘s Forest Temple to Majora’s Mask‘s King Igos du Ikana, there are a lot of variances in how a mini-boss is encountered and fought throughout the series. Think about Skyward Sword, the most recent Zelda game, and the mini-bosses we see throughout its course. Think about Twilight Princess. The Wind Waker. All these more recent Zelda games have very clear differences in how they approach mini-bosses, and clearly never establishing criteria for what constitutes a mini-boss. They’re just enemies that are stronger than the other, regular enemies of that dungeon. The Stalfos was considered a mini-boss of Skyview Temple in Skyward Sword, yet it became something of a “tougher-than-most-but-not-as-tough-as-the-mini-boss” enemy by the end.

If we’re going to talk about mini-bosses, however, there is one example that needs to be presented above all others, as a shining beacon of what a mini-boss can be and what it can contribute to the series. To find this awesome gem, we must once again delve into the realm of Ocarina of Time, where we shall find…

One mini-boss to rule them all… Dark Link.

There’s a lot of weight that comes with that name, for some reason. Dark Link is easily one of the most iconic enemies of Ocarina of Time, probably leaving a bigger impact on players than Morpha, the actual boss of the dungeon in question, did. This is odd when you consider that Dark Link’s fight was ridiculously simple, stripped of all build-up and with no designated weak spot to hit for massive damage. People have found various ways for how to best tackle the dark menace over the years, but upon encountering him you’re given no guidelines or helpful pointers that tell you what to do. For some players, myself included, it was a fight that yanked me out of a mindless state of boredom (the Water Temple will do that to most people) and left me almost shaking in my boots as I died for the first time since, well, ever. My first in-game death was to Dark Link, because he would counter all my goddamn attacks.

The brilliance of Dark Link has several dimensions, all of which combine to make him the conclusively best mini-boss of the series. First and foremost, his very design immediately catches the interest of the player. Think of other “dark” versions of characters, like Dark Samus or Dark Pit. Do they even compare? Let me just answer that—no, no they do not. They may be better characters and better villains, but their designs are not as interesting, and I’ll tell you why right now—we know nothing about Dark Link. Not a damn thing. We know something about Dark Samus and about Dark Pit—we know where they came from, and we know what they want. With Dark Link, there’s no such knowledge. There is nothing to herald his existence to us, nothing that warns us of him and highlights him within the game. He literally appears out of nowhere, and vanishes just as literally into nothing upon defeat, never to be seen again. Who was he? What was he? Where did he come from? Was he sentient? Was he an evil version of Link or just a monster that took his appearance? Dark Link was effectively a blank slate, which in itself accurately reflects the character of Link.

Dark Link’s character, or rather the lack thereof, spurred so many questions and so much interest that the manga adaptation of the game decided to focus on Dark Link rather than Bongo-Bongo as the monster at the bottom of the well in Kakariko. Dark Link had become more interesting, and more important, than an actual boss in the actual game. They decided to portray him a little differently in the manga, but the point stands that Dark Link’s appearance in the game was recognized as a big deal—even if the game went out of its way to pretend like it wasn’t—and that was the real beauty of it.

The next thing that makes Dark Link such an awesome mini-boss is the setting. The room you enter is eerie and mysterious in its design, and it appears serene while also seeming a bit threatening. The single dead tree in the middle of the room doesn’t give a very nice vibe, but there’s nothing in there. No enemies, no puzzles, nothing but you and that dead tree. What does the tree symbolize? Well, I’m sure there are theories already, and I’m sure someone has already figured it out, but I personally hold the belief that the tree symbolizes… a tree. The Great Deku Tree, to be exact. What the tree symbolizes, however, is just one part of the room’s design. You see, Dark Link doesn’t just appear when you enter the room, and he doesn’t appear when you approach the tree. You are required to go past the tree, and then you are forced to look back, to see your shadow facing you. Why is this necessary? Why is it done like this? What I think it is meant to do, is to act as a very literal representation of how Link is forced to look back on something from his past—the Deku Tree’s death—and face the darkness within himself as it physically manifests into his doppelgänger. He must conquer himself to be able to move on.

Do we know this, however? No. My interpreatation of the sequence could very well be wrong. That’s what’s so magnificent about it. There’s no cutscene to slam us across the head and tell us, “This is how you’re supposed to feel about this fight.” Navi doesn’t pop up and explain the nature of Dark Link or the significance of his appearance—in fact, this is probably the first time in the game where she has nothing useful to say about the enemy you’re fighting.

So many things about this mini-boss are things left floating in the air. There is no concrete way to understand Dark Link—no way of truly knowing who he is or what he is. There is no given strategy for how to beat him. There is no significance given to his appearance at all—he isn’t alluded to before the fight, and never referenced after. Through Dark Link, we see a masterful display of complexity through simplicity, where interest arises not from details being given, but the precise lack thereof. Dark Link came completely out of left field, like a particularly clever sucker punch, and the whole thing was treated like it was nothing at all. In truth, Nintendo created—intentionally or not—probably the most iconic “dark” version of any of their heroes.