The Legend of Zelda and Philosophy_ I Link Therefore I Am - Luke Cuddy [5]
After going through some Socrates-style teaching, the boy realizes that the area of a figure double the size of a two foot square will be sixteen. As the dialogue goes:
SOCRATES: How big is it then, won’t it be four times as big?
BOY: Of course.
SOCRATES: And is four times the same as twice?
BOY: Of course not.
SOCRATES: So doubling the sides has given us not a double but a fourfold figure?
BOY: True.
SOCRATES: And four times four are sixteen, are they not?
BOY: Yes.
What’s important here is that the boy’s attitude went from thinking he knew, to actually knowing. And his answers—like “of course,” “true,” and “yes”—are indicative of that fact. This is the AHA! feeling. That point when you finally see why something is the case, when something finally clicks.
It isn’t hard to make a parallel to Zelda. In most of the games of the Zelda franchise the gamer has to struggle through dungeons, solve difficult puzzles, and defeat tough enemies. Toward the end of such endeavors he often encounters a secret room with a special item like the ladder, the raft, or the silver arrow. As Link holds the item above his head and those four familiar gradually rising notes ring out (duh, duh, duh, duh!) it can be seen as the gamer being rewarded for his struggle. And the gamer feels a sense of gratification, a sense of achievement—a feeling not far off from Plato’s AHA!
Link comes across the ladder in an item room in Level 4 (The Legend of Zelda, Nintendo, 1986).
When Link holds the ladder above his head it is especially significant since a ladder symbolizes a climbing to the next level, a moving beyond. As the AHA! feeling leaves the philosopher ready to do more philosophy, to make more discoveries leading to new AHA! feelings, so acquiring the ladder leaves the gamer ready to do more puzzle solving and game exploration. Both philosopher and gamer can file their new knowledge (or item) away for use in future endeavors.
Having read this far, you are now prepared to put down the Wii-mote and embark on an intellectual battle with Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates … Am I right? Then again, if you’d rather power up the old NES, pop in that gold cartridge, and beat the original Legend of Zelda for the twenty-seventh time, I wouldn’t blame you at all. I can only hope that you put down the controller and take a glance at this book before entering the labyrinthine Level 9. Perhaps some philosophical insights about life’s meaning will establish the requisite patience to navigate room after incredibly difficult room en route to the Red Ring.3
Level 1
Emotion, Experience, and Thought
1
Why Do We Care Whether Link Saves the Princess?
JONATHAN FROME
When you’re playing The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker, it’s easy to understand why you feel a swell of pride when you defeat the final boss, Ganondorf. It’s taken you many hours of gameplay to get to this point, and to beat him requires considerable skill. You can’t mindlessly mash buttons and rely on easy combos. You’ve got to master the parry attack and use your shield to deflect Light Arrows.
After Ganondorf goes down, as you watch the final cut-scenes, you might reflect on your first combat lesson with Orca, who explains to Link how to manage a sword (and at the same time explains to you how to use the controller to fight enemies). Back then, you couldn’t deal with a group of Green Chu-Chu’s, but now, you’re an expert at combat. You have achieved something and have every right to be happy with your performance.
You might also have some strong feelings about the game itself, outside of your performance in it. A lot of people criticized this game for its cel-animation style graphics, but maybe you like them. In their own way, they’re simple yet appealing. The anime design of the characters isn’t realistic, but it lets their expressions come