It’s Not Your Zelda’s Eldin

Recently, while fussing over what to play whilst we wait for the sequel to Breath of the Wild, we ventured into a realm the likes of which we’d never before explored: FromSoftware’s latest release, Elden Ring.   

Desperation drove us. After all, one can only tool around Hyrule on a Master Cycle Zero for so long. Even then, desperation had to wait its turn, as Demelza had decided that nothing would do but a PlayStation 5 on which to play Elden Ring.  No PlayStation 4 for us!  No Xbox!  And no way we’d play hunched around a computer screen, our eyes straining, our bad backs complaining.

In due time (okay, four months), a PS5 arrived.

Permit us a tangent here.  We remember a quiz from long ago in which one had to choose between the Rolling Stones and the Beatles as the best rock band ever.  And declare whether one preferred cats to dogs. Chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Et cetera. One’s choice in these matters signified something about the person.  And if you’re a Stones, dog, and vanilla fan, you’re never going to carry the banner for Beatles, cats, and chocolate.[1]  

The same ingrained preference might be said of video game consoles. 

We’ve always been Nintendo-ites, and more particularly, Zelda-ites.  Perhaps that explains our abject horror at the size of the PS5, which looks like a miniature starship about to unload aliens on an unsuspecting Earth.  Eventually, however, Demelza had the ungainly thing connected to the television and the interwebs (more about that later), and we loaded up Elden Ring.

Whereupon we were promptly overwhelmed.

Character is everything

First off, we had to choose a character.  Little did we know how this would decide our future!  There should be some warning about choosing carefully.  Instead, we assumed the choice was cosmetic, like Link coloring his armor at the Kochi Dye Shop in Hateno. And thus we decided our character in haphazard fashion: Demelza disliked the Samurai, Itzal nixed the Confessor.  The Prisoner looked uncomfortable; it seemed presumptuous to call ourselves a Hero. And playing as a near naked Wretch was flat out.  Snobbily picking brains over brawn, we elected to be an Astrologer.

Next up was selecting our Cracker Jack prize, aka our keepsake. We didn’t want the boiled prawns (Itzal has an allergy) and we didn’t understand the rarity of golden seeds, so we opted for a nice, cheesy medallion appropriate to someone who writes horoscopes for a living.  

There were additional selections to be made about our character’s gender, age, and other things we don’t recall. 

Online? Who knew?

But there was one decision we weren’t asked to make. The game has an M-17 rating, meaning that to purchase and to play the game, one should be at least 17 years old and mature.  (We contend that’s sometimes a contradiction in terms.)  But surely the DEFAULT setting on any game, whether rated mature or childish or doddering, should not be online play.  

We didn’t initially realize that we were broadcasting or gaming in the cloud or whatever.  True, we were perplexed about the messages littering our environs and a large number of bloodstains inviting examination. And what was going on with all those white spirits racing about?  Once we discerned that, OMG, we were playing online, we hastily changed the default setting.  Surely privacy is as important as boiled prawns![2]

And speaking of the aforementioned bloodstains: there’s also a setting in which one can decline to have blood splayed across the screen.  This game being violent enough, we toggled NO THANKS. Whether our enemy’s blood or our character’s, we have no desire for such graphics.  Shoot, in BOTW, we wouldn’t even want to see Octorok blood, and we loathe Octoroks!

One other setting caught our eye (barely), such that we eagerly selected LARGER font for our subtitles.  Unfortunately, we don’t think the game developers understand the meaning of larger font, which should be visible without putting one’s nose up to the screen or using fingers to stretch the corners of one’s eyes apart.

Finally – white spirits and bloodstains mercifully gone from our screen – we settled down to play in earnest.

And promptly realized we were out over our greaves.  

We had no soul
After several hours’ play, our cocktail needed the Wondrous Flask of Refilling.

If you’ve never played a Dark Souls game (we hadn’t) – if you’re instead more familiar with the comforts of Hyrule, Elden Ring will make you long for the nice, homey atmosphere of Death Mountain in Hyrule’s Eldin province. 

There are so many VARIABLES.  Pulling up the equipment or status screens is like trying to read ancient script (in tiny font) with no Rosetta stone in sight. And all those numbers! There’s Strength and Dexterity to worry about.  Vigor and Faith.  Poise and Endurance.  Intelligence? We thought we had that in abundance, but we soon found that, to play Elden Ring, we needed to level up our own intelligence, not solely that of our character.  Weaponry stats and scaling? Immunity? Then there’s Holy damage and Poison damage and…argh.

Furthermore – and unlike in Zelda games, where you can answer yes, no, or maybe to an NPC with little consequence, because you can always choose a different response next time – in THIS game, actions and even conversations have definite and lasting consequences.  Do not accept a hug from the needy NPC in the Roundtable Pizza place![3] Do not kill a bear before first speaking with Blaiid![4]

And don’t get us going on the enemies.  Ganon is practically fatherly in comparison to the villains of the Lands Between. Shoot, we’d even take a Lynel over that scary big dude on a horse who hangs out around the Church of Elleh.[5]

Inside the safe area of Church of Elleh

Accustomed to ranging Hyrule far and wide to accumulate rupees and other materials, Demelza has instead consigned herself to the area proximate to the aforementioned church (in a different direction from the scary big dude, naturally). 

She’s dispatched the same soldiers of Godrick over and over again and scrounged for fruit and leaves in an effort to level up our Astrologer.  She’s concerned, you see, that Itzal’s tendency to doggedly declare that he is keeping his eyes on the prize, which manifests in a Neville Chamberlain-like approach to conflict, will result in a paucity of necessary resources to advance our game.

Astrologer disparagement

And finally, a word about that Astrologer.  We have discovered a certain disdain in reddit and similar forums over playing as the stargazer.  Unbeknownst to us, we have apparently chosen an easy path, such that if we do ever, eventually, maybe eight years from now, finish Elden Ring, there will be those who say, “You didn’t really beat the game.”

If the number of times we died in four days of play is any indication, we can’t agree that playing as the Astrologer is taking the easy way out.  Yes, we occasionally wave our magic staff, but it often looks more like we’re blessing the faithful than attacking an enemy.

Instead, we are currently playing as if we were Link, determinedly wielding our Short Sword (Itzal is annoyed that a short sword is the Astrologer’s starting weapon) and occasionally raising our paltry wooden shield, which looks remarkably like a pot lid from BOTW.  Neglecting the Mind and Intelligence attributes, we’re steadily leveling up Strength and Dexterity so we can use the bow we acquired. We added to our Endurance when Demelza was horrified to learn that we might otherwise succumb to fat roll.  (Itzal wishes to assure the reader Demelza is NOT fat.) 

Perhaps we’re not using our, or the Astrologer’s, Intelligence as we should.  

What can we say?  Once a Nintendo-Zelda-ite, always one.  And the Beatles have nothing on the Stones.

Editor’s Note:  This is the first in an occasional series in which we Zelda Elders discuss our (mis)adventures in The Lands Between. Don’t expect many screenshots: “You Died!” disappears far too quickly for us to snap a photo. 

[1] We can’t remember the PURPOSE of the quiz, but that may be as much about our age as the usefulness of the questions.

[2] Itzal notes he does NOT have an allergy to his right to privacy.

[3] If it needs be said, not its real name. 

[4] We sensibly ran away from any and all bears we met, even before we learned of this advice. (Demelza of Itzal: It’s like playing with the Cowardly Lion.) (Itzal of Demelza: Says the woman who hasn’t left the Church of Elleh.)

[5] Also not his name.  He’s a Tree Sentinel.  But “scary big dude” describes him far more accurately than anything associated with foliage.

The Great Checkpoint Debate

Back in the day – that is, in our day – we were debaters.  We don’t mean that we spent our days arguing as a matter of course; rather, we were bona fide members of a speech and debate team.  Demelza being a tad older than Itzal, we never faced one another in a competitive forum.  We recently decided to rectify that with a good old-fashioned debate here.  And for our purposes, we have chosen the following resolution to deliberate: 

Resolved: Miserable quests, shrines, dungeons, and other game sequences without reasonable intermediate checkpoints should be eliminated from future Legend of Zelda games. 

It will come as no surprise that Itzal chooses the affirmative side.  Indeed, he nearly knocked his martini over and onto his computer keyboard while racing to type “Dibs!” That leaves Demelza, calmly up to the task, to argue the negative. 

But first, the rules.  Each side will have no more than 300 words in constructive argument, 200 words in rebuttal, and 200 words in closing statements.[1] There will be no shouting or personal attacks.  Assertions must be backed by logic and evidence.  Itzal is not allowed to leave the debate in a huff.  Demelza is not allowed to pause the proceedings to consult the Internet.  

And off we go.

The affirmative constructive

Itzal:  Resolved, that miserable quests, shrines, dungeons, and other game sequences – hey, stating the resolution doesn’t count against my word limit, does it?

Demelza:  No, I don’t think so.  Because that resolution is awfully long. In fact, one might rightly criticize it for leading the witness.

Itzal:  Wait, you’re bringing a witness?  

Demelza:  Of course not. I meant, speaking metaphorically, that the resolution’s very wording is prejudicial. 

Itzal:  None of this counts against my words.

Demelza:  Fine. Take it from the top.

Itzal:  Resolved – paraphrasing here – miserable stuff that requires starting over whenever one fails is bollocks and should be banned from all Zelda games forever, because it is unnecessary and no fun and purely sadistic.

(Pause.)

Demelza:  Have you forgotten how to debate?  You’re supposed to offer evidence to back up your assertion.  Otherwise it’s just an ipse dixit argument.[2]

Itzal:  Oh, we’re resorting to Latin, are we?  Fine. This resolution is self-evident.  Self-actualizing.  Self-whatever, meaning that any normal human being knows that it is true, as we say in Latin, ipso facto,[3] and no evidence is needed.  But if you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence.  (Mimes reading from a 3 X 5 index card.[4]) “Last month, large swaths of Great Britain experienced power outages when hundreds of players threw controllers through their television screens upon failing to infiltrate the Yiga Clan Hideout.  In New Jersey, a 56-year-old grandmother’s family staged an intervention when she went without food or sleep for 35 hours while attempting to follow Oaki in the Lost Woods.  And recently, a Reddit forum devoted to Skyward Sword crashed after the site was swamped by players attempting to access the forum’s newly discovered Spiral Charge Tutorial cheat that bypassed not only the tutorial, but also the ensuing Bilocyte fight.”

Demelza: We both know you’re making that up, but I’ll allow its entry into evidence.

Itzal:  Because you know it’s plausible.

The negative constructive

Demelza:  My turn.  Ahem.  Quests, et cetera, without intermediate checkpoints should not be banned from future Legend of Zelda games, because –

Itzal:  What does that mean, anyhow, intermediate checkpoints?

Demelza:  It’s….it’s when you can’t save during a particular segment.  Like in the Trials of the Sword, where you only keep your progress after reaching a particular level.  That’s a checkpoint. 

Itzal:  Oh, you mean it’s that place you’re trying to reach before you die, like, a thousand times. And I notice you dropped the word reasonable from the resolution.

Demelza:  It was prejudicial. May I continue?  So if there’s no place to save between beginning and, er, dying, then there’s no intermediate checkpoint.  But such quests should not be banned, first, because they train the player for similar, but more difficult tasks, later in the game.  And second, players relish a challenge and are gratified when they finally succeed.

Itzal (snorting):  And where’s your evidence of that?

Demelza (smugly):  Let me just cue up this video. You might recall that YOU left Mirro Shaz without the Giant Ancient Core, but I did not…

Demelza-as-Link celebrates earning Giant Ancient Core, which Itzal had abandoned, in Mirro Shaz.
And now, Itzal’s rebuttal

Itzal:  Eh, so you went back for a treasure chest. Nobody said you had to! You didn’t keep respawning there, did you? Is it time for my rebuttal?  Well, cue this!

Demelza-as-Link dies in final section of Rohta Chigah, meaning she has to start over from beginning.

Demelza:  Oooh.  That was a low blow. 

Itzal:  Continuing my rebuttal – even worse than the quests that start you over when you don’t arrive at Checkpoint Charlie are the ones that start you over and you can’t progress further in the game until you get past them. 

Demelza:  You can’t let up on the Spiral Charge tutorial, can you?

Itzal (smugly):  It’s a solid argument.  Just try to refute it.

Demelza’s rebuttal

Demelza:  Right, then.  Had we not used a cheat to skip the Spiral Charge tutorial, we would have been able to get the heart piece from the chandelier in the Lumpy Pumpkin, instead of running into the railing over and over again, which I must have done a hundred times before figuring out that the stupid heart piece was never going to fall. 

Itzal:  You realize you’re making my case. 

Demelza:  Am not!  

Itzal:  Very adult of you, that rejoinder. Did you use it in tourneys?

Demelza:  The point is that a job worth doing is a job worth doing well!  Cheaters never win!

Itzal:  Says the woman who bought every Amiibo available for Breath of the Wild.

Demelza:  That’s – that’s – another low blow! 

The collapse of closing arguments

(Itzal jots a note on the legal notepad in front of him.)

Demelza:  What’s that you’re writing down?  

Itzal:  I’m flowcharting the debate.  So far, the negative side – that’s you, Demelza – has conceded that BOTW was easier with Amiibos and that the heart piece in the Lumpy Pumpkin was fruitlessly frustrating.  The negative has further conceded that miserable quests without timely checkpoints cause rage-quit, power outages, and collapse of the Internet. You also lost points for dropping the word reasonable, indicating you knew it was true.  Finally, I am logging your tacit acknowledgment of the corollary resolution that miserable quests without checkpoints that can’t be skipped are even worse than run-of-the-mill miserable quests without checkpoints, because without a cheat, we would never have made it through Skyward Sword.

Demelza:  XYZZY!  I call XYZZY!

Itzal:  Er…did you say zizzy? Is that more pretentious debate Latin, or is that an argument? I’m not sure where to put it on the flowchart.

Demelza:  Well, mister, you can just put it at the beginning of your silly chart! XYZZY is a game code that teleports one to another area,[5] and I want to return to the beginning of this debate. 

Itzal:  Hey, are you leaving in a huff? That was supposed to be against the rules.

Demelza:  I’m leaving to make up a batch of Yakka, the college debater’s cocktail of choice.  

Itzal:  Oh, huff away, then. And why didn’t we know about this Yakka when we were in forensics?

Demelza:  Because we were in high school. By the way, this drink seems to be made in vast quantities, like a giant lemon drop martini.

Itzal (jots note on flowchart):  Negative side finally scores sole point in debate.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: This is where, typically, we would drop a hyperlink to our cocktail of the day, in this case, the aforementioned Yakka. But being (mostly) responsible Zelders, we’ve decided not to, since the recipe involves a trash can, lemons, and more vodka than we consume in a year. Okay, in six months, at least. We’re not kidding. Google the recipe.]

[1] There are many types of debate, for which different rules exist. That said, we are not following the rules of any of these types but instead are making up our own, since clearly the whole discussion will deteriorate before long anyhow. 

[2] We vaguely remember this phrase being very much in vogue during our debating days. It is Latin for “he himself has said it,” which in turn translates roughly to “You don’t have a 3 X 5 index card to back up that statement.”)

[3] We vaguely remember this phrase also being very much in vogue during our debating days.  It is Latin for “by that very fact,” which in turn translates roughly to “I don’t need a 3 X 5 index card to back up my statement.”)

[4] Yes, this is what we recorded evidence on, back in our high school days, when no one had a computer.

[5] Demelza recently learned this term while reading Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, a marvelous novel by Gabrielle Zevin about two early video game designers.  She apologizes to the author and to video game coders everywhere if she’s using XYZZY incorrectly.  Itzal opines that if XYZZY were Latin, it would translate roughly to “The Rohta Chigah shrine is in serious need of checkpoints.”

Anatomy of a Speedrun

It took us nine months to finish Breath of the Wild, if by “finish” one means defeating Calamity Ganon and his Dark counterpart, admiring the clear skies over Hyrule Castle, and watching the credits roll. 

Not exactly a speedrun. 

What’s meant by a speedrun, by the way?  We suppose that, by any definition, it wasn’t our game – but, as it turns out, there are many different categories of speedruns.  (We’re talking about Zelda here, and specifically Breath of the Wild; we mean no disrespect to the Super Mario Odyssey or Minecraft speedrunner communities.)  

Rhoam advises Link against a speed run to castle

The most well-known BOTW speedrun, not surprisingly, is the Castle run, also known as the any-percent run.[1]  Unlike other games, Breath of the Wild allows the player to take on Ganon immediately after the Isolated Plateau quest is complete. Indeed, King Rhoam, aka the Old Man, acknowledges that going straight to the Castle is possible, although he advises against it; he suggests seeking out Impa instead.  (We took his advice.) 

There are other recognized BOTW speedruns, however:  how long to do all the main quests, to complete 120 shrines, or to do a 100-percent game, for example. (On that last type, the 100-percenter, our clock is still ticking at two years, one month, three weeks, and some odd days. We’ll get there eventually.[2])

In fact, the types of speedruns are limited only by the player’s imagination, as evidenced by the moment in time in which the Bake a Loaf of Bread speedrun swept the BOTW world. Getting a particular type recognized by the running community is not a given, however. (Is there a record for the fastest time accumulating 100 Game Overs? Sign us up!)

There are sub-categories, too, such as with or without Amiibo, Normal mode or Master mode, on Wii or on Switch, and with or without glitches.  That last makes us laugh; it can take us far longer to master a glitch than to do it the regular way. 

Our Link got dressed before beginning the quest. #alreadybehind

But back to the Castle run, the one that Demelza most nags poor Itzal about.  In this category, the player must complete the four shrines of the Isolated Plateau, and then, with “Defeat Ganon” now showing on the quest list, do just that.  Do not pass the Plateau.  Do not talk to Impa. Go directly to the Castle. 

We’re amazed that anyone does this at all, in any amount of time, with or without Amiibo.  Running to the Castle in your underwear with a Boko spear, unless you take the time to don well-worn trousers and an old shirt and to gather up a Woodcutter’s axe or two?  Come on!  Sure, there’s a set of Hylian trousers near the Temple of Time and scattered treasure chests with other armaments.  One could also stop to cook up a meal or two, all without leaving the Plateau.  But even if you use Amiibos to drop Epona, some fancy bows, nicer melee weapons, and a few pieces of armor – if you elect to do a Castle run, you’re still facing four Blights and then Ganon and then Dark Ganon, all with limited provisions and only four regular hearts.

We’re in awe.  And one of us (guess who) talks about it a lot.

But in fact, we might try it, one of these days, using every Amiibo at our disposal.[3]  And hunting and gathering and cooking.  In that event, we expect we could do a Castle run in four or five days, provided we didn’t shower or take our usual cocktail and snack breaks.  That hardly seems like a “run,” though. More like a saunter.

Speedrun tactics

How does a true speedrunner do it?  We’ve watched some runs online.  For most, there’s a drive-by through a Bokoblin camp to pick up a shield, essential to shield-surf and shave minutes off the run.  One also uses a shield to crawl under the four Plateau shrines (okay, so maybe the technical term is shield-clipping), thus avoiding time spent to complete the Follow the Sheikah Slate quest, which opens the shrines to regular front-door business.  Once in the shrines, the player does the minimum necessary, even if doing so involves losing some heart health, to get the rune and reach the monk as quickly as possible.  Treasure chests be damned!  Besides, each monk will replenish Link’s health, the runner says dismissively. 

Shield-surfing isn’t the only travel speed enhancement. How about climbing atop a boulder that’s just been Stasis’ed in order to launch into the sky?  

Still more impressive are those who – we don’t know how to explain this, although the running community would laugh at us for not understanding, let alone for attempting it – those who appear to bounce off the heads of enemies and catapult themselves in precisely the direction they want to go. The maneuver is known as the Bullet Time Bounce, which sounds more like a dance from the Roaring 20s.  If ever we managed to catapult ourselves, it would be accidental, and we would likely bounce ourselves off the Plateau into oblivion.

Then there’s that weird thing some runners do with vases and live bombs…really doesn’t look like something for a family-friendly blog.  But boy howdy, do they go fast.

Most runs we watched were in French, although the player was based in an English- or other-language-speaking country.  Did someone actually time the difference between how long it took for cutscenes and dialogue sequences in one language versus another?  (Upon further research, it appears someone did, and, in fact, French is the fastest.)

Whistle while you work – or run

In watching the tutorials – which mostly left us shaking our heads, both in disbelief and in acknowledgement that WE would never be able to do such tricks – we found one useful tool that could be applicable to, and achievable by, even non-speedrunners like us:  whistle-running!  

We often whistle accidentally, usually at the worst possible time (while crouching to avoid notice in an enemy camp or sneaking around in the Yiga Clan hideout), but we never knew that one could whistle purposefully, and not to summon one’s horse, but rather to speed up one’s rate of movement without depleting the stamina wheel.  One can also do whistle-climbing, provided the incline isn’t too steep. We don’t know who came up with this originally …we wonder, sometimes, if younger gamers’ brains are simply wired differently, such that multiple players think of these crazy things simultaneously…but we’ll credit where we learned of it, from Limcube at speedrun.com.

Ganon and his henchmen
Impa disapproves of speedrunning

With the four shrines done, the paraglider earned, and the new Defeat Ganon quest enabled, it’s off to the Castle, still in one’s underwear.

Since the Divine Beasts have not been liberated, the player has first to deal with the four Blights before tackling the Big Guy and his darker half. We note, for the record, that if one had taken King Rhoam’s advice and instead sought out Impa first, that lady would have counseled against battling Ganon without the Divine Beasts on one’s side. (We took her advice, too.) And yet, in the runs we watched, players made short work of the Blights – under four minutes for all four. Ganon and Dark Ganon didn’t take much longer.

About time. . .

Speaking of time, which is, after all, the point:  what’s a respectable run time?   

When BOTW speedrunning first became A Thing, a scant two weeks after the game’s release, three speedrunners broke the hour mark. (There was some controversy over use of an Amiibo to spawn Epona.) 

Now?  There are multiple, verified runs at or around the 25-26 minute mark.  At the time of this writing – we must use that disclaimer – a recent record run was under 25 minutes. Under 25!  Amiibos were used during this run, but honestly? Even with Amiibos, it is mind-boggling. (As an aside, 25 minutes is about the time it takes us to finish arguing about whether to claim the Hylian trousers before leaving the Plateau.  It’s an old fight.  You’d think we’d be faster about it.)

And watching a speedrun is like watching an Olympic race with checkpoints along the way.   SpeedyVai has just finished Owa Daim at 14 minutes, 18 seconds….she’s on track to get the paraglider in under 20….oh, dear, she lost some time with that Bokoblin head bounce …

Yep, one of these days, we might attempt a speedrun[4].  For now, we’re going to practice whistling while we shake up a pitcher of martinis.  Whistle-shaking has been proven to chill the drink faster, you see, and we’re working on the world martini-making record. With or without olives.  

[1] Defeating the Ganons with any percentage of other game completion.  

[2] “If we live long enough,” Itzal quips.

[3] “We will not,” Itzal quips.

[4] “We certainly are not,” Itzal quips.

Two Years of Playing Nintendo

Recently, we celebrated our two-year anniversary of playing Breath of the Wild.  It’s true we started the game four years after everyone else, and perhaps we should feel chagrin at that; instead, we’re glad we were “late to the game.”

First and foremost, we were in the middle of a quarantine.  Businesses were largely shut down.  Restaurants were shuttered except for limited curbside options.  Gyms were closed (not that we frequent gyms, but we didn’t have the option of feeling guilty about it); hair went long weeks in between coloring and cutting (more of a problem for Demelza, to be sure, than for Itzal); and there were only so many jigsaw puzzles one could do, right?   We were glad to discover BOTW and have something to look forward to each week.

What’s more, starting four years after everyone else meant that considerable trailblazing had gone before us; the Internet abounded with information to help us two Zelders when we were frustrated, hapless, or on the verge of a rage-quit (more of a problem for Itzal, to be sure, than for Demelza).  

Picon Punch, snacks, and Demelza’s photo-bombing dog

Finally, with nonessential businesses initially shut down – including wine and liquor stores! which are surely essential in a lockdown! – we were grateful when food and alcohol deliveries became not only possible but commonplace. 

With Nintendo, snacks, and cocktails, what more did we need?  (Don’t say gyms, please.)

Birth of a blog

A few months into what would become the first of two playthroughs, we had yet to free a single Divine Beast, but it was becoming a glaringly obvious omission.  (In our defense, we played only five or six hours each week, and much of that time was spent eating and drinking.)  We had reached a point where Korok seeds were burning a hole in Link’s pockets, and we desperately wanted an inventory expansion before tackling Vah Ruta. The discussion went something like this – OK, quite like this, because Demelza never deletes her emails and thus we have a written record:

Demelza:  We should activate Woodland Tower so that we have a travel point closer to the Great Hyrule Forest, just in case it takes us a while to navigate the Lost Woods. After some research, I have an idea to get us there, but it might involve crossing a poisonous bog on Cryonis blocks. 

Itzal: Hard pass on poisonous bogs. 

Demelza:  But Itzal, we need to upgrade our inventory, and to do that, we have to find Hestu.  He’s already left the other two places we found him.

Itzal: These woods sound horrible.  I hate the quests that transport Link back to the beginning, like Fezzik making a wrong turn in Princess Bride.

Demelza: Sigh. Okay, I’ll find a way around the tower.

Itzal: By the way, are we playing at my house or yours tomorrow?  If mine, do we want a morning cocktail?

Demelza:  If a drink is mixed with Champagne or similar, does that make it socially acceptable in the morning?

(A DAY LATER)

Demelza: I am so glad we did the Hestu thing yesterday.  We needed more inventory space.  And my plan to simply avoid the evil tower worked!   

Itzal:  You hate it when online guides say “simply.”  

Demelza:  It’s different when we say it.

Itzal: I forget, being senile, if there is a shrine next to Hestu and the Sword in the Stone?  We can get back there easily, yes?  If there is a shrine, did we complete the Trial of the Hidden Staircase or whatever?

Demelza:  We did activate one, although there are other shrines in the forest yet to do. I need to watch some videos on the Daag Chokah shrine. It requires following a leaf or a baby Korok or something, which you are sure to hate.  (Is it cheating to research like this?)

Itzal:  Cheating is as cheating does. It’s not like we’re winning a prize.  We’re just avoiding more yelling and frustration and high blood pressure.  And besides, if you don’t research, I’m telling you right now I’m not doing that shrine.

Demelza:  Maybe we should start a blog to offer advice to older gamers like us playing Nintendo. We would never say “merely” or “simply” when clearly a task is neither mere nor simple. And if we didn’t have advice, at least we would have a sense of humor about how bad we are.  BRB, I’m heating pizza for dinner.

Itzal:  Having no pizza, have made (small) pitcher of margaritas.  

Demelza:  I mean, not everyone is a teenager who can perfect-parry a Guardian in their sleep, and there’s no shame in skirting a tower surrounded by poisonous bog until you are prepared to face it, right?  Shoot, the twelve-year-olds who post some of these how-to videos don’t bother to avoid a Lynel in their path, even if there’s an easier way forward sans Lynel.  We – we would tell people to run away from the Lynel!

Itzal: I’m going to remember that comment the next time you want a Lynel hoof.

Demelza: Let me rephrase. We would tell people to run away if there was no pressing need for a Lynel hoof.

Itzal:  You know, this really is a small pitcher of margaritas. But it’s got me thinking… if we did start a blog, we could pair cocktails with our posts. Like, we would have margaritas for when you’re finding Hestu.  They’re both, you know, green.

Demelza: And we could call it Zelda for Elders.  Because we’re, you know, elder.

Itzal:  Now I want ice cream.

Demelza:  Is that apropos of anything?

Not-so-fast forward

Two years and two games later, with a lot of Nintendo, cocktails, snacks, and yes, ice cream under our (somewhat expanding) belts, we still enjoy laughing at ourselves and, we hope, helping someone else born before the Legend of Zelda was a twinkle in Miyamoto’s eye. Yiga Clan Hideout, anyone?  Eventide Island? Looking for a Spiral Charge Tutorial Cheat?  We may not have originated these tricks, but we sure as heck had fun with them. 

We’re standing right before your very eyes, fame and fortune!

But although we enjoy writing our blog – not to mention crafting the cocktails to accompany our posts – and we sincerely appreciate the “likes” and “follows” on social media, we thought BY NOW we’d have been discovered by a talent scout or marketing guru.  

Where is our contract with a liquor or glassware company?  The Big Rum lobby has yet to call! When do we read the New York Times profile of our meteoric rise to Internet stardom?  Where is the Lyle Lovett to our Duchess Goldblatt?  Failing all that, when can we expect a call from AARP offering to buy the rights to our witticisms?

 Sigh.  Now we want ice cream. And a bigger pitcher of margaritas.  

Monk Maz Koshia

We Zelders believe it is not so much dangerous to go alone as it is less fun.  We play solo only when we must.  The rest of the time, we have a routine:  Demelza researches in advance; Itzal – er, does whatever it is Itzal does; we determine what cocktail suits the day’s planned adventures; and we buy snacks. On the day of play, we perch on the sofa, Itzal on one side with the controller, Demelza on the other surrounded by books, notes, papers, iPad, and phone for photography.  During gameplay, it is Demelza’s custom to alternate between consulting the guidebook and online guides, the better to advise Itzal, and typing notes about what worked, what didn’t; what we learned, what we spurned.[1]

In preparing to draft this post, we confidently consulted the notes Demelza had jotted on her iPad the day we battled Monk Maz Koshia.  But that was a month ago, mind you.  And here we found a motley assortment of badly-typed, grammatically-challenged advice, which, after a month’s delay in review, proved not as helpful as we’d hoped.

To wit:

  • If you leave and come back to fight the monks, there will be guardian’s (sic) waiting to fight you. 
  • Ancient in final
  • Use an ir Oda to get rid of all of them clones. 
  • Ancient arrows 
  • Flail
  • *

“Oh, now that’s going to be helpful to writing this post,” snarked Itzal.  To which Demelza retorted, “Well, it all happened so fast, you jumped straight in without waiting for me to tell you what to do, and I can’t be expected to read the guidebook and type notes at the same time, and why is it, by the way, that autocorrect always works when you don’t want it to and never when you do, and–”

At this point, Itzal stepped in to halt a defensive harangue that could have gone on until the release of the sequel to BOTW2, and we all know how long that might be.  He suggested that surely we could transform the gibberish into something resembling usefulness.  And so we began to interpret.

  • If you leave and come back to fight the monks, there will be guardian’s waiting to fight you.  

This one made sense:  We did indeed leave Vah Motoh after activating all the terminals, because the guidebook advised being ready before approaching the monk’s altar.  We decided we weren’t ready, as we hadn’t yet researched the fight with Maz Koshia.  And shoot, we are somewhat senior citizens who need to eat and drink and visit the facilities now and again.  Those activities, ahem, taken care of, we returned to the Shrine of Resurrection and jaunted off to where we’d left the altar.  And, it turns out, if you leave after completing the Divine Beast folderol but before fighting Maz Koshia, all the Guardian scouts or whatever will have returned, and they don’t care if you’re a senior citizen.  

(DEMELZA’S ANNOTATION:  Notwithstanding that there will be monks in the plural later in this post, the note above should reference a singular monk, and “guardian’s” should be “Guardians.”  No apostrophe and capitalized, all very tidy and proper, as one would type it if one were not balancing an iPad on a knee and a heavy book in the hand, and also tasked with refilling drinks, and – THIS ANNOTATION HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED BY ITZAL’S DESIRE TO GET ON WITH THINGS.)

  • Ancient in final

We may have felt ancient in the final trial with Monk Maz Koshia, but it’s clear that this snippet referred not to our age but to wearing Ancient Armor in the final battle against the monk.  We recall (vaguely) having a discussion[2] about which Amiibo-derived Divine Helm to pair with the Ancient Cuirass and Ancient Greaves, and – after reviewing the photographic evidence – we think we decided on Vah Naboris’s helm.  Itzal can’t stand the Vah Ruta helm’s elephant snout, so that was straight out, and we figured if anything was going to get us, it would be electricity, against which the Vah Naboris helm provided protection.[3]  Besides, according to the guidebook, Maz Koshia would act like a Yiga in the first phase of the battle. 

Monk Maz Koshia

Speaking of the first phase:  The monk does indeed hover around, shooting arrows and then vanishing just as you’ve notched and aimed your own arrow, exactly as the Yiga do when encountered out in Hyrule.  Keep your wits about you and shoot at the monk in return. Eventually, he’ll lose a quarter of his health, which brings us to this stellar advice:

  • Use an ir Oda to get rid of all of them clones. 

Erm….is it time for another whinge about why the iPad autocorrects things when you don’t want it to, and doesn’t when you do, and sometimes it comes up with something entirely odd?  Or Oda, in this case? But before we get to that, Demelza is beside herself to clarify that she would never, ever, not in a million years, deliberately write “them clones.”  Of course she meant those.  Or perhaps she wrote “the clones,” but the iPad added an m.  EITHER WAY IT’S CLEARLY NOT A MISTAKE SHE WOULD MAKE. Instead, Demelza offers this explanation:

She has a Spanish keyboard enabled on her iPad and occasionally, in times of high excitement or stress, she accidentally toggles between the default English keyboard and the Spanish, which makes the device’s autocorrect, unreliable even in English, still more perplexing.  Such explanation is supported by the fact that “ir” is the verb “to go” in Spanish, and Oda could mean an ode or a hymn, and after all, this is the Champions’ Ballad, get it?  Ode? Ballad? Oda? Let’s Ir to the Oda, forthwith!

“Now, Demelza,” inquired Itzal, not unreasonably, “if you accidentally toggled the Spanish keyboard, surely you did not suddenly, mid-typing of notes, also switch your thoughts to Spanish, and decide to write “let’s ir to the oda” as if one were off to see the Wizard. What were you actually trying to type in English?”

“Well then,” pivoted Demelza airily, apparently unconcerned about being called out for fabricating a fantastical explanation, “clearly the Spanish-induced autocorrect changed Urbosa to ir Oda. I must have meant to type: Use Urbosa’s Fury to get rid of all the clones.” 

Lots of Monk Maz Koshias

You see, in the second phase of the battle, Maz Koshia splits into a bunch of clones, and you must figure out which is the real Maz Koshia to strike.  We used Urbosa’s Fury to knock out all them clones – er, those clones – at once, leaving the real monk to stand and deliver. 

[ITZAL’S ALTERNATE EXPLANATION:  Instead of the famous Spanish Keyboard Defense, he suggests Demelza started in too early on the cocktails.]

When the monk’s health is depleted by one-half, he becomes very big, sort of like a Hinox, but worse, aerial.  And that’s where the following advice comes in handy, and needs no translation:

  • Ancient arrows  

Pepper the monk with Ancient Arrows and he will fall to the ground briefly, where you can whack at him with your weapon of choice.  When he’s diminished to one-quarter health, he’ll still be large, but at least he won’t be in the air.  During this phase, he’ll use a red laser beam and more clones.  And to that we say:

  • Flail
Monk Maz Koshia brought to his (very large) feet.

For regular readers of our blog, this, too, requires no explanation, since button-mashing is our default strategy in nearly every situation. Flail, and eventually you’ll prevail.

And so it came to pass: the monk admitted defeat. 

At last, the prize
Link admires his new artwork.

Following the battle, the Master Cycle Zero rose from the fighting arena with a full tank of gas; we received the motorcycle rune on our Sheikah slate; and Kass was finally able to sing the Champions’ Ballad in its entirety.  What’s more, he gave us a photo of the Champions, which now hangs proudly in the bedroom loft of Link’s house in Hateno.  

After Link changed clothes to something Itzal deemed more appropriate to his new wheels – the climbing set being the closest he could get to leathers, apparently – we sported about Hyrule doing wheelies and running over Moblins with the Master Cycle Zero.  

Link on Master Cycle Zero
Post-script

But what about that asterisk, you wonder, in Demelza’s notes?   What did the lone asterisk, the final bit of mysterious, badly-typed advice, signify? 

To be honest, we don’t know what the asterisk meant.  But perhaps it could be:

* When it’s over, don’t forget to make yourself a Grand 75 to celebrate.  

[1] It should go without saying, but after that barb about Itzal doing whatever it is he does, we’re saying it, by Jove:  It is also Demelza’s custom to shout directions.  Hmph.

[2] Cough, cough.  If shouting is a discussion.

[3] The four Divine Helms can each pair with the other two pieces of the Ancient Set to generate the Proficiency Bonus, while still offering assistance associated with the beast (and helm) in question. 

Zelda and the Art of Motorcycle Attainment

Some while ago, after downloading the BOTW expansion pack, we set about to obtain the Master Cycle Zero, which, we submit, sounds a lot like a piece of exercise equipment that we avoid in real life.   But Itzal hankered for this motorcycle.  And since he had been understanding (if impatient) of Demelza’s desire to have a complete closet of upgraded armor and jewelry for Link, she indulged his hankering.  To acquire the Master Cycle Zero required the following, in summary:

  1. Returning to the Shrine of Resurrection[1] for the One-Hit Obliterator, which left us with a fragile quarter-heart, to infiltrate and clear enemy camps surrounding the future locations of four new shrines on the Great Plateau;
  2. Spending several discouraging and frustrating days, albeit not consecutive ones, in Rohta Chigah, one of the aforementioned new shrines, still with our mere quarter-heart, since the Obliterator could not be ditched at this point in the quest;
  3. Watching with satisfaction when finally the blasted One-Hit Obliterator split into four pieces and careened across Hyrule, creating, when those shards landed, four pedestals in the home regions of Hyrule’s Champions;
  4. Visiting each pedestal to peer intently at its surrounding pillars that (ostensibly) offered clues to the locations of three additional shrines associated with the regional Champion in question, then activating and solving these shrines;
  5. Reprising our original fights with Windblight, Fireblight, Waterblight, and Thunderblight Ganons, this time in a so-called Illusory Realm, with limited armor and only meager foodstuffs; and finally
  6. Proudly and eagerly returning to the Shrine of Resurrection to claim the Master Cycle Zero – only to learn that we had a new Divine Beast to liberate.

Yes, you heard that right.  After all the steps above, we still had no motorcycle nor even a piece of exercise equipment, which at this point we might have taken instead just to be done with the Champions’ Ballad.[2]  

But wait, there’s more: Even after (re)fighting all four blights in the Illusory Realm, there’s still Maz Koshia…

Instead, Monk Maz Koshia allowed as how we might just have the right stuff to be a hero.  But to prove our worth, first we would have to enter another of those torture chambers of rotating cylinders and terminals and things that wanted to kill us, if we didn’t kill ourselves first.  (We do that, occasionally.)

There’s no official name for this fifth Divine Beast wannabe, like Vah Ruta or Vah Naboris or such.  In keeping with our expected prize, we’ll dub it Vah Motoh. (Vah Zero sounds almost normal.) 

Vah Motoh is a best-of Beast.  Or rather, a worst-of.  Whatever you hated in the original four Divine Beasts will be here, too.  There’s a lava-themed wing; an electric one; a windy section; and a water wing.  We’ll discuss each briefly, both because we don’t care to remember them in great detail and, you know, we don’t remember them in great detail, a month having transpired since we entered Vah Motoh.  

Zelder Tip #1:  If it’s been a while since you freed the last Divine Beast, review the steps:  When you enter the beast, you must locate a map, in this case, called the Guidance Stone. We snort at this, because honestly, who thinks it provides that much guidance? However, activating the map also enables you to rotate the articulated beast using the right analog stick, which in turn enables you to become hopelessly and frustratingly lost.  Remember also that there will be so-called “terminals” that must be activated; these are designated by orange circles on the map.  Vah Motoh has four such terminals, one in each of its wings.

Champions’ Ballad: Fifth (new) Divine Beast

The previous Divine Beasts had their individual shticks and quirks. There was the elephant trunk to move up and down in Vah Ruta; in Vah Naboris, one had three circular segments of the main room that could be rotated.  Et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum. In Vah Motoh’s case, there will be cogwheels that can be turned one direction or another, said directions denoted by a color (either orange or blue) both on the map and on associated equipment in the beast. 

Zelder Tip #2:  Ignore the treasure chests.  They contain regionally-themed weapons and shields, but do you care?  You’re after the motorcycle, remember?  (Okay, there was one diamond.  We won’t make fun of you for going after that.)

When you enter the beast, Vah Motoh’s Guidance Stone is straight ahead with a few Guardians blocking easy access.  Take out the Guardians, activate the stone, set the cogwheels in motion, and prepare to venture into the four wings of Vah Motoh, described below. 

Our complaint and disclaimer

But first hear, oh Reader, our Zelder Complaint:  When we played BOTW’s main game, we frequently lamented in shrines, and definitely whilst in Divine Beasts, “who does this without a guide?” 

It’s true the player gets minimal direction on the mapscreen or from obscure clues offered by NPCs or in discovered diaries or ancient runes, but honestly, who would out of the blue THINK:  “Oh, my, here are these cogwheels, they must need to be turned, and surely in this room they should be turning in the orange direction, and oh yes, over there I spy a piece of metal that is somehow different from every other piece of metal in this room, clearly I must use Magnesis on it to slot it into that other piece of metal that looks like every other piece of metal in this room, so that the entire round wall over there will rotate and I can step through one of its spokes…” Belatedly, we tip our hats to those who have gone before us, leaving detailed instruction on the Internet!  If not for you, we’d probably still be on the Great Plateau, wielding a tree branch in our underwear.

In short, we cheated, if by cheating one means acknowledging there’s no way to do this on one’s own in a timely fashion, unless said one were stranded on a electric-socket-equipped desert island with naught else to do but meander a Divine Beast for weeks or years on end. For those who don’t have a physical guidebook, we recommend consulting one of the excellent Internet resources such as zeldadungeon.net. Us?  We’re here to recap and provide some comic relief.

Electric Wing

But anyhow.  Back to the electric wing, which delights are foreshadowed by the complaint above.  Set the cogwheels in the blue direction.  Then use Magnesis to move metal pieces and whatnots and set things to rotating and creating electric flows.

When, after frequent consultation with the blasted Guidance Stone map, you’ve managed to open the way to the terminal, activate it and be glad it’s over. Return to the main chamber, where Guardians have also returned (naturally).  

Lava Wing

Champions’ Ballad: Link poses for selfie inside fifth Divine Beast

After dispatching the Guardian Scouts, set the cogwheels to orange.  Orange for lava, get it?  But they’re not going to stay orange throughout the entire wing, so don’t get complacent. Next, don your upgraded Flamebreaker armor.  Then consult your guidebook or website (we being neither, as evidenced by the complaint and disclaimer above) and set about moving cogwheels again, as per the Guidance Stone and your map, to locate, access, and activate the terminal.  

Wind Wing

Back in the main chamber, a Guardian Turret is now poised to make Link’s life miserable.   To state the obvious, but it’s at least one thing we remember well (and we’re otherwise short on both memory of, and advice regarding, this beast), shoot its eye out.  

But don’t linger; head to the room on the right.  There’s a treasure chest on a ledge, viewable after climbing to the top of a ladder in this room.  Despite our earlier comment about ignoring chests, this one is valuable not because of the bomb arrows it contains, but because its ledge is also the location of a metal piece which you need to move up and insert into a cogwheel, then use more Magnesis to move it into position and start the wind wing.  As before, use the Guidance Stone map, rotate directions, and generally fumble about using your runes until you access and activate the terminal.  Honestly, we’re useless here.  

Back to the main room.  Enemies…let’s see.  We started with Guardian Scouts, more Guardian Scouts, and then a Guardian Turret.  What’s left?  Why, a Guardian Skywatcher, of course!  We used Ancient Arrows against it, and we do not apologize for same.  

Water Wing

In the water wing, you’ll be using Stasis, Magnesis, and, no surprise in a watery environment, Cryonis.  Start with the cogwheel set to orange, but note that you’ll change the cogwheels back to blue early in the wing. Then use the Guidance Stone (or a teenager) to find and activate the terminal.  We really have no memory of this, although our guidebook assures us we did use Cryonis to create an ice block under a pressure switch and later to get to the terminal; Stasis to pause a water faucet while we bashed on it to change its direction because why not; and Magnesis to grab a metal orb for use in a launcher that hits a faucet causing the room to fill with water.  

Finale

Once all the terminals are activated – see video to the right for proof that we made it, notwithstanding all our cheating – there’s a final altar.  Our guidebook advised against approaching the altar unless we were ready, as doing so “triggers the closing boss battle of the Champions’ Ballad.”

We weren’t ready.  We left. 

[1] One must also have freed all Divine Beasts in the original game.  Mentioning that seemed self-aggrandizing, however.  And we have aggrandized enough.

[2] It is a good thing Itzal did not know this before we embarked on this adventure.  Demelza did know, but she has learned that the best way to get Itzal to do something long and complicated is to bread-crumb him along, offering information only as necessary.