Tag Archives: legend of zelda

Some Hilarious Zelda Talk I Overheard At The Rock Climbing Gym

Kotaku Game DiaryDaily thoughts from a Kotaku staffer about a game we’re playing.  

When your job involves talking about video games all day, you get pretty attuned to hearing people mention them when you’re outside of work. While eavesdropping can be a way to learn what games people are playing and thinking about, it can also provide neat insight into how those games fit into their lives.

I’ve just gotten into rock climbing, and on Saturday night I went to the climbing gym near my house. I’ve been on a somewhat maddening hiatus for a few weeks because I’d hurt myself, and even though I told myself to take it easy on Saturday, I was so excited to be back at my new hobby that I was throwing myself at challenging bouldering routes in no time.

Before I started climbing, I didn’t know how psychological the sport is—it’s as much about solving a little puzzle as it is physical strength. Routes have a “crux,” a part where they get particularly tricky. I was stuck on one route’s crux, hanging horizontally while trying to figure out how to haul my far-too-spread body around a sort of corner and get back to vertical, when I heard some people near me talking. They were not talking about rock climbing.

“So you have to find these little, like, leaf guys,” one person was saying to the others, “and they kind of laugh?”

“They pop up when you find stuff,” another explained. “And they go, like, how does it go?..” He made a loud, high-pitched laugh.

I realized they were talking about The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, in particular the Korok seeds you can find scattered around the game’s map. When you find one, a Korok—a weird little monster with a leaf face—pops up and makes a very distinct cackle.

I tried to concentrate on my climbing, but the little group was determined to exactly emulate to their friend how the Koroks laugh.

“It’s, like, ‘yahoo!’” one said, sounding more like Mario than a Korok.

“No,” the other corrected, “like ‘yo-ho-ho!’”

“Yahaha!”

“Right! Yahaha!” They both made the sound together eagerly.

Their imitation was so spot-on, and they were so delighted to have figured it out, that I started laughing. This was, of course, not that helpful for climbing. I promptly fell off my perch and dropped to the mat below.

I never quite know what to do when I hear people talking about video games in public. Once, I overheard someone trying to remember the release date of a video game and tried to help, only to get into an argument about it. They kept insisting on the wrong date, and I kept insisting on the right one—I knew I was right in part because I used to be in charge of keeping Kotaku’s game release calendar and had entered the correct date myself that day—but they wouldn’t believe me. In a less-than-noble moment, I finally said, “Look, I work at Kotaku, and I know I’m right.” They continued not to believe me, and I’m sure thought I was a pretentious jerk.

Recently, I was riding the subway when two teenagers near me were talking about Fortnite. One of them was trying to explain a building move called 90s to the other, but they couldn’t quite describe it. They kept challenging each other:

You don’t know what 90s are!”

“Yes I do!”

“OK, explain it then.”

You explain it!”

I wondered if I should help, but I didn’t want to be some strange adult popping into two kids’ conversation about video games. (I will also admit that, in the moment, I couldn’t quite explain what 90s are either.)

In these moments, I put pressure on myself to be an expert. When people find out what I do for work, they often want game recommendations, which can be hard to offer a stranger. Sometimes they tell me fascinating things about games they love—I met an older man at a bar once who proudly told me he only owns five games, mostly Souls games, and he’s going to play them forever. We talked about how excited he was for Sekiro, and he knew way more about the then-upcoming game than I did. It was cool to get excited for something through the experience of a player instead of through the internet or my professional colleagues.

I don’t know why those people at the gym were thinking about Breath of the Wild instead of rock climbing, but it was a fun distraction. It was cool to learn that other people at the gym share more of my hobbies than just climbing. I didn’t manage to complete the climbing problem I was working on that night, but now I’m going to think of Zelda whenever I try. 

Source: Kotaku.com

Chokeslammed From Space

Today on Highlight Reel we have big dudes with bells, complex claymore kills in Rainbow Six Siege, Sekiro stealth, Blade & Sorcery chokeslams, and much more!

Watch the video then talk about your favorite highlight in the comments below. Be sure to check out, like, and share the original videos via the links below. Subscribe to Kotaku on YouTube for more! Catch up on all the episodes on the Highlight Reel Youtube playlist!

Highlight Reel is Kotaku’s regular roundup of great plays, stunts, records and other great moments from around the gaming world. If you record an amazing feat while playing a game (here’s how to record a clip), send it to us with a message confirming that the clip is yours at [email protected] Or, if you see a great clip around that isn’t yours, encourage that person to send it in!

Source: Kotaku.com

It’s The Perfect Time To Return To Legend Of Zelda: Breath Of The Wild

Recently, a friend of mine started playing Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild for the first time. This has had an interesting side effect: Any time I try to play anything else, I just wish I were playing Breath of the Wild. My ironclad resolve to continue making my way through games I hadn’t yet played lasted two days. So anyway, I’m playing Breath of the Wild again.

It’s been surreal to fall back into Breath of the Wild’s world so easily, especially considering how I’ve felt about new games that have come out in what was supposed to be a packed month. I ended up having mixed feelings about Metro Exodus, Anthem might be a good video game in a year, Crackdown 3 is less a meal than a throwback snack—the Dunk-a-roos of video games—and I got my fill of Far Cry New Dawn back when it was Far Cry 5, Far Cry 4, Far Cry Primal, Far Cry 3, and Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon.

Breath of the Wild came out two years ago, but there’s still nothing out there that replicates the sheer joy of exploring its world. While other open-world games that arrived before and after rely on quest icons so plentiful that they threaten to blot out the map, Breath of the Wild lets you plot your own course. It trusts you to have a good time. You can always see the next interesting, weird, or harrowing thing just over the horizon, or peeking out from behind a particularly inviting hill. Every piece of terrain you have to negotiate is its own stamina-based puzzle. Then you reach the top, see a veritable promised land of intrigue beckoning you onward, and glide down into the still-mostly-unknown. That moment is perfect: an exhilarating reward and a trepidation-soaked dive into the deep end. Breath of the Wild strings these perfect moments together, turning them into an irresistible rhythm. When I first returned to the game last Sunday, I planned to mess around for 30 minutes or so, maybe do a shrine. I played for eight consecutive hours.

Curiosity is constantly rewarded, most obviously with puzzle-laden shrines, but also with fairy fountains, oddball characters, location-dependent survival mechanics, dragons, mysterious ruins, special items with unexpected interactions, food recipes, and of course, demigods who can bring horses back from the great pasture in the sky. I love the little touches that go into making those things feel like more than just video game rewards. After I discovered the horse reviver’s pod-shaped pad for the first time, I encountered an adventurer who’d heard tell of a horse god not long after. “I wonder if it’s actually real,” the adventurer said. I got the impression that I was supposed to meet this person before I met the god of life, death, and horses, but it still added to my experience. “The horse god is real!” I wanted to shout. “I just met them and paid them a fuckton of rupees to bring back my dead horse! I’m poor now!”

In hindsight, I realize that I never really quit Breath of the Wild like I did with Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, Far Cry 5, Spider-Man, and even Red Dead Redemption 2. I never completed yet another mission that felt less thematically appropriate and more like Content (TM) and said, “OK, I get it. That’s enough.” Because it wasn’t enough. After 40 or so hours of playtime, life just got in the way. But returning to it now, it’s still just as special as it was back then—in some ways, it’s even better after so much time away.

What’s changed most, I’ve realized, is my approach to playing Breath of the Wild. I’m much more methodical now. I creep up on everything: bokoblin camps, camouflaged lizalfos, dogs I want to feed. This, surprisingly, is not a byproduct of the fact that all weapons are breakable, a system I actually love because it forces experimentation and creates occasional moments of absolute, hilarious desperation (eat it, haters). Rather, it’s just kind of how I play most games now. I stealthed all of Metro Exodus, for example, while I played its two predecessors much more violently. My general video game play style was still in flux when Breath of the Wild first came out, but it solidified after more time passed and even more games presented stealth as an option in most scenarios. I’ve found myself more and more inclined to explore these games’ stealth options as they’ve become more prevalent (to varying degrees of success), and when I returned to Breath of the Wild, I had a new layer of the game to dig into. 

Sure, there’s an appeal to emerging pristinely unscathed from a sword (and spear and boomerang and lightning) fight with a small army of enemies, but I love messing with them when they can’t see me. Dropping bombs downhill, watching curious enemies scratch their heads and investigate, and then sending them flying is one of life’s simple joys. Similarly, who doesn’t love stealing weapons from idle enemies and then watching as they go bonkers in frustration while trying to fight you? These are, I recognize, not the machinations of a Machiavellian brain genius, but one of Breath of the Wild’s greatest strengths is that it can combine majestic exploration, larger-than-life heroics, and dumb slapstick antics, and there’s no dissonance. Unlike in the Far Crys and Red Deads of the world, it all feels like it belongs.

Breath of the Wild took the rigid, sometimes awkward underpinnings of the open-world genre and made them feel as natural as a dip in a secluded river. It’s one thing to play such a mind-blowing game upon its release, when it can only be compared to its peers. It’s another to see it put countless games that have come after to shame, too.

Source: Kotaku.com