Many people view video games much more as toys than as serious works of art. In light of this, without dwelling on it too long, I would like to dedicate one post to an attempt to convince the cynic that video games deserve to be taken seriously as aesthetic works.
In this post, I explore what about "Majora's Mask" and the world of Termina makes death more imminent and haunting than any other "Zelda" title could.
In the game entitled "Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask," Zelda does not exist. It is this anomaly and its effects that I chart in this post.
In this post, I argue that music is a prime example of how "Majora" is simultaneously familiar and terrifyingly different from the rest of the "Zelda" canon: it takes the significance of sound to a whole new level in game design.
"Majora's Mask" is exceptional because it offers the most meaningful and ontologically logical sidequests possible of a game.
We can easily write off the disturbing undercurrent of "Majora" as a result of aesthetics, but in this post, I want to offer an argument that the horror which pervades the game is much more subtle and existential than that interpretation. I submit that the ultimate reason "Majora's Mask" continues to terrify us is that, as much as we want there to exist an evil for us to conquer, there ultimately exists no evil in the game.
The aim of my project here is to reflect on a game which, far beyond being merely the sequel to "Ocarina of Time," is, in my view, one of the most significant pieces of art in modern times. While the release date for "Majora's Mask 3D" has not been publicized at this point, my goal is to write weekly reflections on different facets of the game, in the hopes that, by the time it is released, I will have articulated just what about this game strikes me at irrevocably moving.