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This idea has not been overlooked by philosophers. Actually it’s been embraced. The reason we’re willing to suspend the nature of death in a simple game, and as a result condemn Link to a type of purgatory, is that we are incapable of contemplating the nature of death.

This can be seen as a modern philosophical problem, as it was traditionally tackled only in relation to religion. Even the most liberal philosophers of days past acknowledged the existence of a soul, and usually far more: a God and an afterlife. But the modern philosopher is faced with the concept of nothingness in death. If you reject a God that allows some sort of afterlife, regardless of how appealing or non appealing it may be, and further disregard the concept of a soul, what does that leave? A body lying in the ground. Nothingness … the absence of all experience. No wonder people can’t comprehend this situation. There is never a point in people’s lives at which a comparable scenario occurs, except for the event of dying when it’s too late. So how could anyone truly grasp the concept?

The only similar situation in which we “experience” death is in the virtual world. Consider Link when you’re not controlling him—not when you pause your game to go to the bathroom, or even to get a drink—but when the game is turned off. Assume Link is a human avatar, and for the sake of argument we ascribe to him human traits, thus allowing us to view our own mortality through him. Is the off game not this absence of experience? Link is “alive” when you are playing the character. When he dies he is “resurrected” and continues in a purgatory-like state, an avatar for the Hegelian concept of the soul. It’s only when the game is off that Link acts as an avatar for the experienceless death. He’s not “alive” but neither does he experience an absence of life. There is nothingness. You can even go so far as to say his “body” decays if the cartridge is damaged over time or its data is corrupted.

Although most people find it impossible to comprehend existing in a state without experiences, the videogame medium can function as a metaphorical looking glass, albeit a non-intentional simulation of death from the perspective of the game designers. The designers expended no effort to create this period of experiencelessness, but its occurrence is inevitable. Even the hardcore gamer eventually has to power down his console.

So how should the present day philosopher interpret this analysis? It could be said that the act of turning off a Zelda game is a perfect metaphor for biological death, considering both situations result in an absence of any experience. Link is not deprived of experience forever, just indefinitely. The player could return to the game at any time, so there is nothing approaching the degree of finality that comes with biological death. Unlike the reality it models, Zelda is organized, sensical, and follows a strict formula. The Zelda gamer gains something far more valuable than an abstracted view of death; she gains a structured view of the universe.

The Order of the Triforce

The fact that the Zelda series has managed to carve out a place in gamers’ hearts for so long is in part due to its strong formulaic nature. The only way to get a truly unpredictable experience from a Zelda title is to be playing it for the first time … or you could try playing it backwards. While certain aspects of a Zelda game may vary, enough elements are consistent to provide a familiar environment for the gamer.

Starting a Zelda game is a prime example of a successfully applied formula. In each game it’s necessary to provide the player with certain tools and skills that will assist her with later challenges. This foundation has to be laid in order to get to the more varied and unpredictable aspects of any Zelda title. These elements mirror certain aspects of everyday existence that could be viewed, especially by the school of existential philosophy, as having a distinct order. So it would appear that the formulaic