I don't remember if there was a brilliant blue sky outside the apartment or not during the second week of June in 2019.
In truth, I don't remember much of those seemingly insignificant details that we so often print into our memories, because that's kinda the stuff that you filter out when you've witnessed something as earth-shattering as the reveal of the sequel to Breath of the Wild.
Because it was indeed earth-shattering for me. EPD4 has always had this uncanny knack of knowing exactly what I want in a game, only for them to give it to me, and then some. Like Shadow of the Colossus? Here's a Zelda game with dungeons inside big, walking beasts. Always wanted futuristic tech in Zelda? Here's a game with canonical lightsabers. Heck, do you think Link would look good in a ponytail? Here! And from that initial sequel trailer, it seems like they would do it yet again. Did you ever yearn for a darker tone in Zelda to return? Do you think reverse chanting in songs is cool? Heck, do you think Zelda would look good with short hair? Here, here, here!
Fast-forward to May 11th, 2023, at 11:58 PM, and for the following two minutes I would briefly reflect upon the last 4 years, and how every little smidge and hint of the sequel to Breath of the Wild was like a running theme through all of those years, with each piece of the puzzle becoming a highlight in life: Endless nights speculating with my best friend: late evenings rewatching trailers: a longing stare into the horizon when I dreamed about the day that I was sure would prove the unlimited potential of games once and for all: and of course engaging in speculation and hype with all of the wonderful people on Famiboards. (especially holding last year's launch party!)
And then the game was finally ours. That initial run through the Great Sky Island had me starry-eyed completely starstruck by that special kind of spell that only games - Nintendo games especially - has the capacity to elicit: part the feeling of brushing your hand across a freshly mown lawn, part the feeling of being a small kid set loose in a Lego store. Beauty in atmosphere and mechanics, working in harmony to create an interactive experience so immersive that it really is like the television screen expanded and swallowed me whole, only for me to never wanting to be let out again.
The following weeks would be borderline absurd. I would walk around with a spring in my steps, while my brain went "TEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOMTEARSOFTHEKINGDOM". I melted into a pool of awe evening after evening as I discovered exactly what this marvel had in store for the world to see. The first time I found the depths, hit the map button, and saw that there was an entirely separate map layer, I went into the ST and yelled "HOW IS THIS GAME POSSIBLE?!" to everyone. The first time I landed on top of the Light Dragon and found what was waiting for me there, I just stood still for minutes and soaked in that specific, mournful rendition of the Dragon's theme. Gaping into Gloom's Origin for the skydive that I knew would determine the fate of the kingdom. Ascending Hera's snowstorm only to emerge on top of it, in something I can only describe as a once-in-a-generation wow moment. Ascending Wellspring Islands with Sidon, doing the skydiving challenges for the bird suit, delving into all the different caves, blasting camps apart with home-made mechs, the entirety of the Construct Factory, all of the many, many, many side adventures that takes the Tarrey Town quest from BotW and says "hmm, what if we went all in on this?", the various things you can do with Fuse, all the ways you can cheese shrines, and so much more. So, so, so, so, so much more.
But most of all, the ending. What. An. Ending. I couldn't believe the places that the game insisted on taking me. Just flat out couldn't believe it, like I was in some kind of silent, euphoric state of denial. That descent, those battles and that final sword swing, that later unfolded and erupted into the single most emotionally loaded button press I've ever enacted in my life: it all brought me home in a literal sense, only for me to stare at the credits with a feeling in my chest that I still find it extremely hard to describe. All I knew was that I was so happy to finally be there for that moment, to see the finale of the four-year journey that has brought me so much I treasure dearly.
Those weeks, I found it hard to hold back a smile, even in the most unfavorable of circumstances, whether it be a tough work life or a dealyed train home. The sun was brighter. My laughters were louder. Food tasted better. I slept more soundly those nights when I wasn't busy fucking Hyrule up with my armed automobile.
Tears of the Kingdom has divided my life into a "before" and "after". It might sound pompous, but that truly is the case. When that game came out, it was one hell of a stopping point at a four-year journey dotted with some of the most precious memories I'll ever have, while also being a brand new opening to a new chapter, most of which is still unknown, but hopefully bright.
It's wild that it's already been a year. Tears of the Kingdom is nowadays not as much of a game as it is a part of my life. Whenever I'm sad, I play it and let the calm winds of the sky islands sweep my worries away. Whenever I'm bored, I mess around with ultrahand "just for a little while", and end up spending an entire night trying to go viral. Whenever I'm excited, I fish up the Colgera theme on YouTube and have a jam. If I'm having a nice, quiet time at home, I start the game up, pour a glass of wine and just forage into the depths. And whenever I find myself longing for a reminder of why this art form it where the true magic in life, Hyrule is always the place I keep returning to. Happy birthday, you wonderful, marvelous and miraculous masterpiece of a game. Soar long, fami.
