I had not played Link’s Awakening since I had finished my commentary on it, so I figured that I would return to the game once again. I am almost convinced that the game gets better every time I play it. My love for the game grows as I do. After playing through the game for the umpteenth time, I thought that I would give thoughts that have developed in my mind regarding the game’s ending. Truth be told, I feel a bit guilty for ending my commentary with a critique of the last cutscene of the game so I felt like more was needed. In a stronger spirit of truth, I do not regret my criticisms on the cutscene. However, I did want to talk more about the aspects regarding the last moments of Koholint, memories, nostalgia, and the like. In short, this brief article can be considered an appendix or epilogue to the commentary. However, truth being my treasure, I must be a bit more honest: this will be much more of a transcribing of meditations than an analysis.
LA can be an emotional experience. All the better if it is. I would find it strange if any game at all did not spark some emotion. The thrill of a story, the joy of visuals and music, the feelings of being impressed and satisfied by a game’s mechanics and design; these are aspects that get me emotionally invested in a game. Emotion seems to be the way that we respond to anything that matters to us. Emotion may be what makes possible our comprehension of things like joy, peace, grace, and (above all else) love. Perhaps there will come a day when emotion will no longer be necessary in properly enjoying things such as love, but I digress.
I have heard of people’s reactions to LA upon reaching its end. I have heard of some even shedding tears over seeing Koholint disappear. I have never shed tears over LA. On the contrary, the ending of LA gives me a sense of accomplishment. Rather than a sense of grief, I feel a sense of satisfaction in finishing the game. Rather than regret, I feel gratitude. Was I too young to understand why I would care about Koholint on my first playthrough? It is possible, but what about now? Have I grown numb to LA over time? Is it possible that I have grown somewhat unemotional? I’m not sure if that is the case. If I were so emotionally stoic, I probably wouldn’t be writing this. No doubt that the story of LA is perplexing; I do not think that the ending was meant to leave the player in a happy state. I believe that the strength of LA’s ending is giving a unique sense of closure. Koholint’s story has ended. The door has closed. It is finished. It is time to move on.
On the other hand, the situation can come off as bleak. Koholint is gone. All the people and animals, an entire world has faded back into nothingness. The moment the switch is set to “off”, the world in your hands simply ceases. Your playground, your experience, your struggles, and your fun have ended. You will never see the game as you saw it before again (for you only have one first playthrough of a game). When a dream ends, you find yourself awake-totally lucid-on your bed as if you never even fell asleep. You may have “saved” Koholint, but it did not exist before you turned the power on. All you did was revert it back to its original state: an empty screen. What was the point in starting the whole process of “salvation”? Was it a waste of time? Should the game have not even been played at all?
What is left to explain my sense of accomplishment? If a thing is to be of any worth, the thing (or an effect of the thing) must last forever. Two solutions remain that attempt to make Koholint live on. I will list these solutions and dismiss them as useless.
1) I can always turn the game back on and restart the entire experience. Great appeal is in this solution. Replayability is a terrific attribute for a game to have. Just think of the possibilities! I can relive the same experience and perhaps try a few things differently to see if I am rewarded for my inspection. I can meet the same people all over again and get to know more about them then last time. I can challenge myself, experiment, and discover things that I would not have found on a single playthrough. I should have no fear of getting bored from playing the same game over and over; if I tire of one kind of playthrough, I can go back to another. This cycle can go on forever! So long as I have a charged battery in my device, Koholint can live forever. But there lies the problem. Koholint will live only as long as one is dreaming of it. In other words, a game must be played forever in order to last. Can I really play one game again and again? I can get the most out of a game, but all a game has to offer is the most it has. Even if I could enjoy Koholint incessantly, I only have so much to offer. I certainly will not live forever. Who will be there to turn the power on when I am gone? No dreamer means no dream.
2) The world will live on in my memories. As the ever ambiguous Wind Fish stated, the memory of the dream survives. I can always recall it! This solution is certainly less time-consuming and my eyes won’t have to grow tired. But it faces a similar problem as the first solution: memories depend on a “rememberer” (what do we call one who remembers?). Just as I cannot be ever physically present to turn the power on, can I say that my memory will always remain? I struggle to remember my daily work schedule; how hopeless I will be when I grow old. I have never had much trouble in believing in the eternality of the soul, but I’m not sure I can say that memories will tag along. One day, I will forget everything and everyone in LA (forgive me, Marin!).
All this talk of things living forever in my thoughts makes me think I’m speaking at funeral. I may as well be speaking at a funeral: listen to me babble on about all the good times I had with this game! I may as well say, “LA was a good game; it lived well while it lasted, and may it never be forgotten!” I suppose that, in a strange sense, my commentary can be read as an obituary.
augustusc8 