About ten years ago, I experienced one of the most beautiful, terrifying things in human existence: having your first child. I was immediately in love with this little being that alternatingly wailed for my attention and nuzzled into my arms. With that love, I also experienced the terror and frustration of trying to figure out what to do when she wouldn’t eat, and crying in the bathroom because I didn’t want to show my wife that I was scared to death that I was already not living up to the title of “father.”
During all this, I decided to try to relieve some stress by turning to a constant, fun presence in my life since the age of six: the Legend of Zelda series. It was during this time that I tried Majora’s Mask for the first time.
People seem to alternate between loving and hating Majora’s Mask. I’d somehow missed it in the shuffle from the Nintendo 64 to the Gamecube, but I’d heard great things about the sidequests and a weird time-shifting mechanic. It sounded amazing, so I popped the Legend of Zelda: Collector’s Edition disc into my GameCube and booted it up.
From its opening moments, an eerie mood oozes from Majora’s Mask. From Link’s weird fever dream, as he is transformed into a Deku Scrub against his will, to his constant screams of agony as he willingly dons masks that transform him into fallen members of the various races of Termina, this game can be downright creepy.
I remember feeling shocked the first time I’d heard Link’s scream. It was nothing like the “hyahs” that accompanied his sword slashes in previous games. It held such hurt in it. It was as if by putting on the Deku, Goron, and Zora masks Link was accepting all the regrets and pain of the spirits contained within the masks. Seeing a character that I’d connected with and whose guise I’d conquered villains in experiencing such pain was not what I needed during that time. As I was hurting so was Link.
In addition to Link’s cries of anguish, the 72-hour time limit was a great source of stress for me. I remember cursing as the seconds ticked down while I was feverishly running around the Stone Tower Temple only to have to play that accursed Song of Time and start the cycle all over again. To have all that work be wasted, especially when I wasn’t sure if my daughter might wake up and need me, was extremely frustrating. I’m sure I quietly cursed Nintendo under my breath, “Really, Nintendo? You give me roughly 54 minutes to complete that dungeon in one go? Ridiculous! What’s the matter with you?” As Link’s frustrations grew while saving the residents of Ikana Valley, such as Pamela and her father (only to have to cast them into despair again by playing the Song of Time), so did mine.
While the stories of the characters involved in the sidequests of Majora’s Mask are great, they are also often very depressing. Watching Romani look so devoid of life if you don’t help her save her cows, watching Anju desperately wish to be reunited with Kafei only to remain alone as the moon crashed down, and hearing of the deep regrets of the restless Captain Keeta who feels like he led his soldiers to ruin is heartbreaking. While Zelda always had moments of sadness, it had never been so pervasive, seeping into Link’s relationship with every resident of this distant land. I felt some relief as I helped ease the burden of some of these residents, but I also felt a deep sense of regret when I couldn’t help the others. I could have, but the difficulty and my frustrations with the time limit kept me from wanting to. I just didn’t have the energy for it. As I was cowering in fear, so were the residents of Termina.
I did finish Majora’s Mask ten years ago, but only because I was (and am) extremely stubborn. Like a child, I kicked and screamed the whole way through, and when I was finished, I was sad because it was a Zelda game that I didn’t really like, but I was happy as I spitefully sneered at the game case and said, “Well, I will never play you again.”
It’s been ten long years since I originally played Majora’s Mask, but I recently, hesitantly, picked up the remake for the 3DS because, as she’s grown older, my daughter has become interested in the Zelda series, and especially Majora’s Mask.
As I’ve played, she’s sat beside me and watched. We’ve winced at Link’s cries but discussed how courageous it is of him to put on those masks, knowing the pain they’ll cause each time, just so he can help others. We’ve laughed at my stories of time nearly running out on me as I’ve completed the Snowhead Temple but still wanted to try to participate in the Goron races. I’ve shared all the emotions I’ve been having as Link salutes Captain Keeta and brings peace to his troubled soul, freeing him from the torment he’d been feeling for centuries.
Something has changed. It obviously wasn’t the game. It was me. What once seemed like a 72-hour cycle of despair, now seemed like a cycle of rebirth. If I screwed up making baby food, there was no moon impact to be felt. I simply tried again. When my daughter’s cheeks were stained with tears because of something I did or said, I apologized and made it right. No matter what your mistakes, with some effort, they can be fixed. Majora’s Mask taught me that.
Be sure to check out the rest of our articles from Majora’s Month, our month-long celebration of Majora’s Mask’s 20th anniversary!
