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).
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.
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.