Why Zelda’s End Credits Are Important

It’s all done and dusted.

Ganondorf is beaten, turned to stone, blown to smithereens. Or one of his accomplices

is. Through ice and fire, and sand, and back, Link defeats hordes of beasts, overcomes

a multitude of puzzles, and comes to understand himself and the title bestowed

upon him.

We all know that it’s never

really the end; Link and Ganondorf will return with renewed vigour, coupled

with a new art style carefully crafted by Nintendo’s finest designers. But it’s

important for the player to feel that sense of accomplishment having walked the

path laid out before them. What better way to cement our connection to Link,

and somewhat self-inflated sense of heroism, by settling down to see the story

wrap up nicely.

In a lot of ways, it doesn’t

really matter how enjoyable the game has been for the player — the journey that

the characters have been on deserves recognition and a conclusion that fits the

Zelda ethos. I also think it’s fair to say that as each game is released on

enhanced hardware, there is a greater expectation in terms of gameplay and

graphics. End credits are expected to make the same full use of these tools.

So let’s talk Ocarina of Time. It gave gamers an enemy

targeting system and an A button with multiple functions. It was able to

provide grand vistas and sweeping views. It was in 3D for goodness sake, and

if you were around for its inception in 1998, you’ll know that Ocarina of Time changed the way video games were played forever.

When Ganon was dead, and his spirit banished by the Sages, we were treated to more than just conversation. Princess Zelda did her

piece, but what was truly striking about the end credits was everything that

went unsaid and relied purely on phantasmagoria. The slow, steady beating of

Kaepora Gaebora’s wings, the revolving vanes of Kakariko’s windmill, the still

waters of Lake Hylia on a clear day. All are memories from Link’s journey; a

calmness permeating every corner of the land. Hyrule Field, finally free from

Stalchildren and Big Poes, provides a silent space for Epona to run.

Then the real party begins. A

red-faced Ingo and Talon have settled their differences and are dancing

together in celebration. Zoras, Gorons and Kokiri too, sway from side to side

by the multi-coloured campfire. While Biggoron stomps silently in the background,

King Zora and Mido are sitting to one side. Not all of us have the ability to

party all night. And not all of us are really all that happy when the dust

settles. Mido was never able to be the person he wanted to be. In light of Link’s

actions, he’s probably a little ashamed of himself. Here the game shows us how

unified all the races have become, whether it’s with joy or in this case, sorrow.

The Sages, gathered on the

peak of Death Mountain to gaze over the world they’ve helped save, epitomise

this feeling of unity. Ganondorf wanted everything to be under his command, for

everyone to be confronted by his dark designs. Link fought to stop him and

bring the people of Hyrule together.

The story concludes here; Link is reverted back to his childhood self, the Master Sword is placed back in

its pedestal, Hyrule having been restored. The beauty of watching Navi scale

the Temple of Time is in the solitude that consequently befalls our hero. He is

truly a Hylian now, even if we will forever associate him with the children of the

forest. Despite everything Link has achieved, his closest friend cannot stay

and it makes the end to a glorious game bittersweet. Plus, there’s nothing like

a black and white still to capture Link and Zelda’s relationship.

Majora’s

Mask, similarly, uses

the end credits to bring together the characters we grew to love and understand

while danger loomed and Link conquered it. With the 3-day cycle’s sense of impending doom, those

bonds were made even tighter, so that when we see a Clock Town still standing,

the Indigo-Gos performing, the Deku Royal Family and monkey allied at last, we

can see the effects of Link’s actions on restoring parity to Termina.

Termina has survived longer

than anyone thought it would. Romani is practicing her skills with a bow,

the Milk Bar is alive with performers, and Pamela and her father are safe in

one another’s company again.

Once again, there’s the

bittersweet ending. Anju is married — although we don’t get to see Kafei as his

restored adult self — and the Deku Butler is grieving at the site of his son’s

death. There are some things that can’t be undone by the might of Majora.

I haven’t delved into the minutiae

of every Zelda credits sequence, but

each one could be dissected and analysed in terms of how it sits with the rest

of the gaming experience. Because Ocarina

and Majora precede Wind Waker in terms of graphics and

hardware, they set up what was going to be possible, what had the potential to

reinvigorate our collective imagination.

So much weight rests on these

end credit sequences, and it’s for these reasons that I found The Wind Waker’s credits so

underwhelming. Stories, even ones in video games that we get to control, need a

beginning, middle, and an end. And The

Wind Waker wasn’t able to give players the reward for their triumph in the

way previous and future titles were able to.

With the release of The Wind Waker HD, I half-expected the

end credits sequence to be revamped. There was a greater variety of images that

appeared in the bubbles that floated from the bottom of the screen to the top,

but there still wasn’t any sense of the people around the islands, safe in the

knowledge that Ganondorf’s army had disappeared.

Perhaps part of the problem

is that most of the people dotted around the Great Sea weren’t even aware of

the terrors emanating from Forsaken Fortress or the world below. It’s quite

likely. What we do get to see is Medli, Makar, and Aryll safe aboard the pirate

ship. And then after the credits, the people of Outset Island bidding you

farewell all over again. But what about the Koroks returning to Forest Haven,

the Rito tribe and Valoo circling Dragon Roost, the comings and goings of

bustling Windfall?

So many unanswered questions.

Do Lenzo and Minenco find romance? Does Sam decorate the island? Does Moe visit

Maggie? Does Komali become a postman like Quill or travel the world as Valoo’s

aide? There are many questions, the kind that seem to have been answered

in other Zelda games, but for some

unknown reason left untended in The Wind

Waker.

There weren’t many things

that The Wind Waker HD wasn’t able to

enhance and embellish, but at the point in which it was important to see how

the islands of the Great Sea were flourishing in the wake of Ganondorf’s death, the story was cut short. There were segments of gameplay, design and story that

outsmarted its predecessors as well as Twilight

Princess and Skyward Sword, which

makes its lack of a comforting, satisfying conclusion even more difficult to

take.

As the water rushes down around

them, Zelda tells King Daphnes what the land above has the potential to be, “the

next Hyrule!”. With a wise and knowing smile, the king replies, “Ah, but child…That

land will not be Hyrule. It will be YOUR land!”

It strikes a chord within us

as a reward for expelling Ganondorf from the land — the land whose future now

belongs to Link, to Zelda, and to us — the player. An end credits sequence that

explores the Great Sea in a state of peace would fulfil that feeling. Perhaps, twenty years from now, when Nintendo release The Wind Waker 4D,

they’ll show us the world we helped to save.