Spring, Sore Throats, and Why Zelda Still Wins
Every spring, like clockwork, one (or both) of my tonsils flares up. It's frustrating—and weirdly nostalgic. I vividly remember it happening on the last day of high school. Back then, I had this brilliant (read: terrible) plan to tell everyone exactly what I thought of them before we all left forever.
In hindsight, I think the universe was doing me a favor by sidelining me with a sore throat. Turns out, unless you move far away after graduation—which I didn't—you end up seeing a lot of the same people around town. Burning bridges would’ve been a bad idea. But honestly, many of the kids I went to school with ended up moving away anyway, chasing bigger, more exciting places. But for me? I don’t think I needed a change of scenery. I’m content with a simple life: work, take care of the kids, clean up after meals, and squeeze in creative projects when I can.
Speaking of free time, I promised myself all fall that once winter hit, I'd finally tackle some personal projects and maybe dive into some video games. But I’m having a real hard time sticking with any new games lately—even the ones I used to look forward to.
Take God of War: Ragnarok, for example. I played the previous God of War reboot a few years ago and liked it fine, but Ragnarok just isn't clicking with me. It's beautiful, sure—super detailed environments, impressive visuals—but the actual gameplay? Kind of tedious. Most of the time you're just running around or solving simple traversal puzzles to open doors. All the "exciting" stuff happens in cutscenes.
Yeah, I get it—the whole game is designed like a continuous one-shot camera, which sounds cool on paper. But in practice? You barely notice it while you're playing. It ends up feeling like you're stuck watching an endless walking movie where you occasionally mash some buttons.
And the enemy types? So repetitive. First, you deal with normal enemies, then fire enemies that set Kratos on fire. Later, you face ice enemies that slow him down. Then acid enemies. Same basic idea—just different colored effects. Even the big trolls you fight at the beginning just get recycled over and over again with slightly higher health bars.
The boss fights? Completely forgettable.
It made me realize why I always end up comparing modern games to classics like The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.
Ocarina taught you how to play as you played. You started off in the Kokiri Forest, learning basic controls at your own pace. You went into houses, picked up objects, got a sword and shield, and practiced before facing any real danger. It was smart design: let players feel comfortable before throwing them into real challenges.
Then the real adventure kicked off. You entered the Deku Tree, completed your first dungeon, solved small puzzles, and learned how the game world worked. After that, the world opened up: Hyrule Field, day-and-night cycles, Castle Town—each step adding a little more complexity.
Boss fights had personality. They weren't just "hit them until they fall over." Queen Gohma had a clear weak spot. King Dodongo required bomb-throwing timing. Inside Jabu-Jabu’s Belly? Weird and messy, sure, but memorable. And then, once you grew up into Adult Link, the temples got even more intricate.
You had fights like Phantom Ganon popping in and out of paintings, the Water Temple’s confusing (but visually striking) layouts, a shadow boss fight on a giant drum against a severed hand monster, and many more. Each had unique strategies, aesthetics, and memorable moments.
Even today, after playing Ocarina of Time a hundred times, those experiences stick with me. Modern games may look better, but they don't always feel better.
Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard for me to stick to a game lately. I’m not just chasing something that look’s cool—I’m chasing something that feels cool.
