the Zelda material is super sad for me as well because my late baby sister and I bonded tightly over the Zelda games
First off, I hope you have been able to find your solace. Losing family sucks, but when it’s someone that close to you it frankly changes you. This internet stranger’s heart is with you, FWIW.
My brother and I bonded over the Zelda franchise (specifically the OoT/MM era, plus WW). We grew up rough, weren’t sure if we would even make it to our thirties, and those adventure games helped us escape from some pretty crappy experiences. To us, it’s more than a franchise: it’s a culture.
Link is (usually) never the same character in the games; they’re like reincarnations. Being a Link doesn’t mean being one singular person. To me, being a Link means being steadfast, flexible, compassionate and, above all, adventurous. Things anyone can do/be, and that’s why I think the Zelda franchise fosters some truly amazing gamers when they play those games. Although I do find myself regularly curbing the invasive thoughts to break people’s pots… small price to pay!
I digress, the explosive prevalence of the Internet has led to printed walkthrough manuals being a thing of the Early Aughts. Ahh, it’s great getting older!
Thanks for the supportive and insightful reply. It sounds like your experience was similar to mine, as we also struggled through adversity together (our N64 was powered by a light socket and we couldn’t run the heater if we wanted to play it). Unfortunately she couldn’t overcome our childhood trauma, became addicted, and in the end decided to take her own life.
The Zelda obsession started with OOT for her. Eventually her love for the games led her to a degree in computer science and a hobby restoring consoles. I grew up, enlisted, and unfortunately we parted ways for the rest of her life. In spite of geographic separation, we always kept in touch and often shared the joy of the next Zelda products and rumors.
Whenever I play the games, hear the timeless soundtrack, or see any Zelda artwork, I remember her laughter as Darunia burst into dance at hearing Saria’s Song, her groans of sadness as the Great Deku Tree passed away, her gasp of delight as Anju and Kafai were reunited, and even her grumbles of anger as the Skull Kid declared that he “got rid of” Epona.
Bittersweet memories, but no matter how much sadness I feel at her loss, the games ultimately remind me of the happy moments and warm my heart. I am happy to have had her as my sister, even if only for a relatively short time.
“The flow of time is always cruel… its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it… A thing that does not change with time is a memory of younger days…”
First off, I hope you have been able to find your solace. Losing family sucks, but when it’s someone that close to you it frankly changes you. This internet stranger’s heart is with you, FWIW.
My brother and I bonded over the Zelda franchise (specifically the OoT/MM era, plus WW). We grew up rough, weren’t sure if we would even make it to our thirties, and those adventure games helped us escape from some pretty crappy experiences. To us, it’s more than a franchise: it’s a culture.
Link is (usually) never the same character in the games; they’re like reincarnations. Being a Link doesn’t mean being one singular person. To me, being a Link means being steadfast, flexible, compassionate and, above all, adventurous. Things anyone can do/be, and that’s why I think the Zelda franchise fosters some truly amazing gamers when they play those games. Although I do find myself regularly curbing the invasive thoughts to break people’s pots… small price to pay!
I digress, the explosive prevalence of the Internet has led to printed walkthrough manuals being a thing of the Early Aughts. Ahh, it’s great getting older!
Thanks for the supportive and insightful reply. It sounds like your experience was similar to mine, as we also struggled through adversity together (our N64 was powered by a light socket and we couldn’t run the heater if we wanted to play it). Unfortunately she couldn’t overcome our childhood trauma, became addicted, and in the end decided to take her own life.
The Zelda obsession started with OOT for her. Eventually her love for the games led her to a degree in computer science and a hobby restoring consoles. I grew up, enlisted, and unfortunately we parted ways for the rest of her life. In spite of geographic separation, we always kept in touch and often shared the joy of the next Zelda products and rumors.
Whenever I play the games, hear the timeless soundtrack, or see any Zelda artwork, I remember her laughter as Darunia burst into dance at hearing Saria’s Song, her groans of sadness as the Great Deku Tree passed away, her gasp of delight as Anju and Kafai were reunited, and even her grumbles of anger as the Skull Kid declared that he “got rid of” Epona.
Bittersweet memories, but no matter how much sadness I feel at her loss, the games ultimately remind me of the happy moments and warm my heart. I am happy to have had her as my sister, even if only for a relatively short time.
“The flow of time is always cruel… its speed seems different for each person, but no one can change it… A thing that does not change with time is a memory of younger days…”
It sounds like she was a great person, and I’m happy you’ve found peace. I’m sure she’ll rest well knowing that.
I know all too well that time holds no prejudice to anyone. Take care, friend.