The Legend of Zelda and Philosophy_ I Link Therefore I Am - Luke Cuddy [80]
The games of the Zelda franchise have the ability to be “looked” at; we don’t “look” at Zelda the same way we “look” at Doom. Zelda is translucent; all the games of the franchise create a spatio-temporally distinct world that draws the gamer in. And Zelda clearly has the possibility of freeplay as elucidated by the discussion of the flippers from A Link to the Past above.
A Win for Zelda?
So does this settle any possible debate about Zelda and art? The next time we stick our heads in an art museum should we see a Nintendo Wii console and TV positioned strategically next to a da Vinci? For that matter, does this mean videogames are art? Has the gamer won? Should the ivy-league art historian walk away in shame, pathetically clutching his print of Starry Night?
It might be objected that I have simply defined Zelda into its art status. And yet, the framework I’ve developed here is rather restrictive. There are many paintings which are not art according to this framework—many realist paintings, for example, might not make it as art. And not all videogames fit the bill. Think about games like the original Super Mario Brothers for the NES. Where is the freeplay in this game? Clearly, the gamer has to beat these side-scrollers left to right, one level at a time. Sure, warping is possible, but this can hardly be argued to distinctly establish freeplay. The gamer is bound by a time limit and can’t even go backwards. She is constrained by the game (Super Mario Brothers 2, however, might count as art). What about Tetris? How much freedom does the gamer have here? This doesn’t mean such games are not fun, fulfilling activities. But art? It doesn’t seem likely.
The take home point is this. The question as to whether videogames are art is a more in-depth question than the traditional aesthetician might imagine. Just as some paintings are art and some are not, so some videogames are art and some are not.55
13
Hyrule’s Green and Pleasant Land: The Minish Cap as Utopian Ideal
PAUL BROWN
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness.
—The Holy Bible: Genesis
A long, long time ago …
When the world was on the verge of being swallowed by shadow …
The tiny Picori appeared from the sky, bringing the hero of men a sword and a Golden light.
With wisdom and courage, the hero drove out the darkness.
—The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap
In 1516, the writer (and Saint to be!) Thomas More used the word ‘Utopia’ for the first time. It was the title for his fictional tale of a faraway land. The word means, literally, ‘no-place’—from the Greek ‘ou’ (‘non’) and ‘topos’ (‘place’)—but, as the faraway land was pretty much More’s idea of a perfect society, the word has since become a catch-all term for a “better” or “ideal” place.
Thinkers have explored numerous variants of this ideal from Plato onwards. What is perhaps less well documented, however, is that utopias have also been explored by the likes of Shigeru Miyamoto and Eiji Aonuma. Their Utopia