Mother Nature reclaims what is her's. It's an oft-used motif, a beautifully visual way of world un-building. Nature has a way
of ravaging a planet that rivals our own - in retaliation to our own, even - and seeks
to undo our architecturally obsessed need to colonize. A verdant, green,
all-consuming reclamation poring over ruined civilizations. There's too much post-apocalyptic media to count all the films and games that
play with this theme of a reclaimed world, but there's one series whose
consistent takes on the idea remain interesting time and time again. The Legend of Zelda is the brainchild of Shigeru Miyamoto, a visionary at Nintendo
who created many of the most enduring video games of all time. Zelda was inspired by his own adventures as a young boy in rural Japan, and in 2017
Nintendo released one of the best games the series had ever seen, and in it, a wonderful new look at the end of the world. Breath of the Wild is not the first time
the Legend of Zelda has flirted with apocalypse. In Ocarina of Time you
abandon a world on the brink of destruction so that you may return to it
better prepared, and find it empty and abandoned, the dead literally walking
the streets of the once lively town square. In Majora's Mask you must repeat
the days leading up to an armageddon event in the hopes of stopping the moon
from falling. Twilight Princess sees the titular monarch governing a land long dead, With its corrupted denizens pouring out of alien pockets into other realms to wreak their havoc. And of course there's the Wind Waker, where the world has been
completely flooded in an almost biblical event that paints 95% of the map screen a
vast, blue ocean, going so far as to allow you to visit the submerged remains of
Hyrule in a truly haunting moment halfway through the game. The Legend of Zelda isn't concerned with the fall of these kingdoms - instead its
interested in returning to them years, decades, even centuries later - long enough
for nature to wrap its tendrils once more around what was always her's, and
create a world worth exploring. Breath of the Wild is no different:
occurring 100 years after an event known as the Great Calamity - an ambiguous end
of the world to our amnesiac lead, Link. Throughout the adventure we're given the
puzzle pieces to this world ending catastrophe, and told to fit it together ourselves as we trek between the decimated
townships, the overgrown temples and even the inoperative husks of the Guardians -
The ironically titled arbiters of Hyrule's destruction. That destruction is
far enough in the rear-view mirror that humanity has managed to start rebuilding
in earnest - little pockets of people with only a few elderly survivors to tell
tall tales of the day the world died. A new generation has been born who have
only ever known this uncomfortable peace: idyllic life with a demon haunting the
horizon. When it comes to gameplay, Breath of the Wild's influences are obvious and diverse. A crossbreed of of the most beloved Western games of our generation: Minecraft, Assassin's Creed, the Elder Scrolls and The Witcher -
comparisons that read like a dream mashup, and for the most part plays like
one too. But visually and thematically, I think Nintendo looked closer to home for
inspiration - Just a short Shinkansen ride from their offices in Kyoto A marriage between Studio Ghibli and The
Legend of Zelda is a dream I think most fans have long wished for in the form of
a genuine feature-length film. When the prospect of an adaptation is brought up, I think most diehards would want to tap Miyazaki and company, because in a world
full of talent they're the only group that seems up to the challenge of not
only nailing the aesthetics of Zelda, but the feel. It's never been a series solely
interested in good versus evil. From its start in the 80s, Zelda has been more interested in nature, exploration and discovery - a focus mirrored in Studio Ghibli's greatest works. Up until now these resemblances could be put down to coincidence - the intersection of great minds with similar ideals. With the latest in their flagship series, however, Nintendo flirted with a full-blown
homage. From the chunky, artistic Japanese logo to its painterly, cel-shaded style,
Breath of the wild immediately impressed upon players a deep-rooted love for the
works of Studio Ghibli. Playing through it for the first time I saw so much of
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, Laputa Castle in the Sky and of course
Spirited Away, and was immediately transported back to when I first
encountered those films and devoured them, one after the other. But one film
that stood out as a thoroughly mined source of inspiration is perhaps
Ghibli's finest work to date: Princess Mononoke. Mononoke is Miyazaki's opus, as far
as I'm concerned. Released 20 years ago, it took the story of a princess and her prince - an already overplayed theme at this point in time - and completely flipped it on its head. The titular Mononoke is a near feral woman raised by
wolves, intent on murdering any human who encroaches upon her forest. The prince,
Ashitaka, is a man whose right arm is cursed by a hateful, writhing, murderous
evil he can barely control. In a world of overgrown animals, ferocious warlords, mountain sized gods and roaming demons, these two have to find a way to bring a
balance to the world. Mononoke has countless parallels in
Breath of the Wild: there are hundreds of rattling forest spirits, a human faced
Deer God who reigns over a mountain, and ferocious, overgrown animals. Even the
entire adrenaline-fueled tussle with Nago that kicks off Princess Mononoke,
where an erratic creature whose overpowering out-of-control momentum
sends it careening into foliage and forestry was eerily mirrored by Breath
of the Wild's debut trailer. These are surface level similarities, however, and
ones that don't take much digging to uncover. The true beauty of Breath of
the Wild's inspiration comes from its thematic similarities. in Mononoke there's a sickness consuming
the land, tainting everything it touches and twisting the powers of the world
against each other. It's wrapped itself around the once-proud beasts, desecrating
entire tribes and reducing their godlike deities to bleating animals or, worse
still, turning them into monsters. It's fully ingrained in the humans of the
piece as well, with beloved, sympathetic leaders turned into hungry warlords
doing unspeakable things. Even our two leads aren't deaf to its siren call.
It's hatred, of course, a writhing, poisonous embodiment of blind hatred
that literally wraps its tendrils around good, kind beings and twists them to its
will. ASHITAKA: "Look everyone, this is what hatred looks like." ASHITAKA: "This is what it does when it catches hold of you." ASHITAKA: "It's eating me alive and very soon now it will kill me." Studio Ghibli had been addressing mature themes long before they tackled Princess
Mononoke but it was the first time their visuals were surprisingly adult as the
narrative. Flashes of shocking, visceral violence coming from our protagonist of
all people sours the opening of the movie and Ashitaka's grisly display
looms over the rest of the film. He struggles with the powers and pitfalls
of hatred throughout the rest of the movie, with his arm hungering for similar
bloodshed time and time again. This all-consuming hatred is also at
play in Breath of the Wild. Since the very first installment Zelda has had a name for evil in Ganon, the pig-like monstrosity that threatens to overpower
Hyrule, only to get cut down by a hero in the final act. In many of the series'
titles Ganon is actually dead, killed by a previous incarnation of Link, but the
threat of his reincarnation or resurrection is enough to drive the
story. The shadow of Ganon is enough to strike fear into the hearts of Hylians
and inspire a whole new generation to take up a sword against his return. In
Breath of the Wild, Calamity Ganon is an ethereal, Smog like entity manifesting
as an ever-present smoke trail in the sky, engulfing Hyrule's capital and, in
doing so, Hyrule itself. It's an ever-ominous sight on the horizon and from most places on Breath of the Wild's massive map you can usually see it in
the distance, spurring you on towards your goal, never letting Link forget what
he's fighting for. For every detour you take between
awakening to your final confrontation - and you'll take many - the visual reminder
of your endgame taunts you in the distance, giving weight to every extra Heart Container nabbed and high-level weapon preserved. You're preparing for that
final showdown. Much like in Mononoke, hatred has
infected Hyrule. On your quest to defeat Ganon the world and its inhabitants take
up arms against you. His beastial army, from Bokoblins to Lynels,
understandably fight you every step of the way, but Ganon has also found devout followers in the Yiga clan - a human tribe
who longs for his return. Civilization's own hubris even plays a part in their downfall, with the Divine Beasts and Guardians they built to protect
themselves being subverted by an inky black ichor. Even nature fights you, be it
through the deadly lightning storms or the very rocks beneath our feet. And the
once proud dragons have succumbed to hates cloying grasp. The world is
a tainted, deadly place. Clearly in both Mononoke and Breath of the Wild, good and evil is a muddy affair. The Chinese philosophical ideals of Yin and Yang are at play in every beat of the movie. Irontown is a force of destruction driven by
the ambitions of a leader beloved by her people - an equal society built in a world
that is often anything but. The tribes of Nature - the wolves the boars and the monkeys - are as misguided as the humans driven by vengeance and strife. This
unnamed evil is desecrating both sides of the war and no one is immune to it, no
one is wholly good or evil. Duality is key to Ghibli's reading of the world. Mononoke understands this best in its idyllic vision of godliness - the Great Forest Spirit is made up of paradoxes: during the day it whispers through the
forest as a proud deer with a crown of magnificent antlers, and when night falls
it rises up to become a mountain-sized Daidarabotchi - a giant, ethereal yokai
that roams the land in humanoid form. It seems to represent both humans and
animals alike, and is both life and death at once. MORO: "The Forest Spirit gives life and
takes life away." MORO: "Life and death are his alone." Beautiful plants sprout underneath its feet only to die a second later, and leave the
earth scorched and barren. The Deer Deity is Taijitu complete. There's a duality of the heart of Breath
of the Wild as well - the end of the world brings new life, and the powers of nature
and technology uncomfortably coexist, constantly butting heads. This
juxtaposition extends to the game's visuals as well, with gaudy
ugly and out of place shrines and mechanized enemies spoiling the lush
rolling hills of Hyrule, and it's this theme of nature versus industry that is
at the heart of both titles. Even the game itself seeks to balance the old with the new, marrying the fundamentals and direction
of the very first Zelda title whilst also carrying the series into an
unrecognizable future - a trail that Nintendo themselves are blazing. Much like Mononoke's shockingly violent turns, likely stunning a few parents who
brought their children along to 'yet another Ghibli classic', Breath of the
Wild feels relatively grown-up compared to its predecessors. Following the uproar over Wind Waker's supposedly childish aesthetics, there was
an almost enforced adolescence for the series in Twilight Princess. This
somewhat awkward evolution never actually matched some of the most brutal
moments of the deceptive Wind Waker, but it satisfied the cry for a grown-up Link. Following this overly dark outing into Hyrule and Twilight Realm, the series was
allowed to mature at its own pace, resulting in the phenomenal Breath of
the Wild. It's a game that feels like a coming-of-age both in its open-ended
exploration and its trust in its player base. Because whilst Breath of the Wild
never has the stark violence of Mononoke's opening battles, it instead presents
a surprising difficulty curve. For the first time since the 3d era began,
Nintendo throw a demanding challenge your way in Breath of the Wild, and expect
you to use the various tools at your disposal to overcome significant odds -
especially in the early game. Mononoke's was one you desperately
wanted to explore, from the serenity of its divine forests to the mountainside
surrounding Irontown. I wanted to find out more about Ashitaka's hometown, and explore the rolling, verdant fields surrounding it. I wanted to walk the trail he takes on the back of Yakul, and meet the less dangerous inhabitants
he comes across. Breath of the Wild's greatest trick is delivering exactly that. Hyrule was a world worth exploring: for the first time since the NES Games I
felt I had to take notes. Breath of the Wild runs on an economy of secrets and riddles, of whispered rumors and vague and vague clues. I began jotting these down as I played, and sketching the monoliths I encountered, and the terrifying beasts I
faced. I scribbled the brilliant, incidental lines of dialogue I heard, from the helpful to the hilarious, and charted my own version of Hyrule and the twisting path I cut through it. In climbing the highest peaks and poking
around in the darkest valleys I was never left disappointed with the time I
invested getting there. Nintendo was always one step ahead of me, preparing a breadcrumb trail of rewards - whether they be in the form of a
treasure chest or an unexpected emergent moment of fun. Despite all the cues
Nintendo clearly took from Ghibli with Breath of the Wild, they delivered on
something that animation giant never could - a way to interact with such a
stunning creation. A way to plot your own course, be it on the back of Yakul, or on the top of a giant flying Boulder. As always thank you so much for watching.
This project was a mammoth undertaking but the lovely folks over at my Patreon
voted it in, and I'm really grateful they did. I had an absolute blast talking
about my favorite game series and the best Ghibli film ever made. I want to say
a big thank you to Matt Vince who allowed me to use his awesome art for
this video and my good friend Patrick Henaghan, for the music you're listening
to now - a jaunty rendition of the Legend of Zelda's best music to date. In other
cool, Patreon related news my campaign hit his first stretch goal so I'll be
making a video about the incomparable Akira next - I can't wait to share that
with you guys. If you want to know exactly when it drops or how the project
is coming along, consider subscribing or follow me on
Twitter. If you want early access and a whole host of extra goodies head on over
to the patreon and pledge a buck. If, instead, you want to punish me for this
video hit the like button and I'll play Zelda II Adventure of Link On a serious note, Zelda II is the best videogame ever made.
