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By Root 330 0

The greatest positive departure may be Hyrule’s porous social structure. There may still be no firm movement between classes, but there is a sense of easy integration. As noted in the dialogue between The Princess and Master Smith, Link is Princess Zelda’s childhood friend. She visits him at the start of the game, and there is the feeling that such a thing is a common occurrence, as evidenced in Master Smith’s words to the princess, “The Minister is sure to be worried about you. You know how he gets.” This is reinforced by the fact that a “lowly” artisan such as Master Smith can deliver goods to the King in person: “I do have an errand at the castle”

Most telling of these fluid social boundaries is the ease with which Princess Zelda can move about the festival. She is left alone. No one asks for her autograph, no one crowds her and the paparazzi are nowhere to be seen. Furthermore, the carefree manner in which she walks among her people shows she is accepted as one of them: “Link, there’s a storyteller here! We should stop here and listen to—Oh! I wonder what’s over there …” Can anyone think of any real-world situation where this would be so? Even in other games with similar settings, this ease is unusual. Master Smith might note that the Minister will be worried about Princess Zelda leaving the castle, but Chrono Trigger’s Princess Nadia, for instance, is kicking against much more restrictive bonds. So overprotected is she that the court is quick to put on trial for abduction someone she befriends while out on a jaunt.

Indeed, the state’s authority, or control, in this, and for that matter all instalments of The Legend of Zelda, is extremely relaxed. It is comprised of a two-tier structure of Crown and Local Government: the existence of Mayor Hagen suggesting at least some democracy at work within the guardian, auxiliary and producer template.

The movements of the people help to reinforce a sense of easy living and personal freedom: Hylians wander the streets at will, sip milk at Mama’s Cafe and in at least one corner of the town, between Romio and Julietta, romance is in the air.60 There’s also an abundance of evidence that personal economic enterprise is encouraged—the traveling salesman at the fair, the machinations of the property developer Gormon, and Malon with her handcart of Lon Lon Milk all help to suggest that Hyrule is a place where the free market flourishes. This would be unfortunate and anti-Utopian of course if the nature of such business was morally suspect. However, none of this enterprise encroaches on the freedom or happiness of the people. The proprietor of the treasure game shop, Barlov, uses anything but the hard-sell (“It’s ten Rupees for one try, if you still want to throw your money away on such a terrible pastime … I would really just save it if I were you.”). Also, those managing to rent from the landlord are delighted (“Oh fabulous! And it’s so clean and new!”)

Hyrule is also a place where people desire to be. This is evidenced by the spacious and welcoming—with a free gift for every guest!—Happy Hearth Hotel, the aforementioned house-hunters and, perhaps most tellingly, the words of the inhabitants themselves: “I’ve been on the road for a while. I came back in time for the festival. It feels wonderful to be back in Hyrule again in this joyous time,” and “I love festivals. It’s like seeing your town transform into another world. It really gives you a chance to think about how well we have it here.”

Hyrulopolis

This lack of totalitarianism and the happiness of the citizens to some extent run parallel with Aristotle’s vision. Although there are guards everywhere, there is never the suggestion that they are there for anything but the security and well being of the populace. Perhaps even more than these factors, however, is how much in common the design of Hyrule town has with Aristotle’s Polis.

More so than Plato before him, Aristotle was clear about the physical design of his polis. It should, he felt, be large enough for independence yet small enough to engender a feeling