Recently I was slightly shocked by how much magic is lost when replaying Zelda: Breath of the Wild and Legend of Zelda Tears of the Kingdom on Switch 2. Don't get me wrong, they're both fantastic games, but so much of their power is in the discovery, in uncovering new secrets, mechanics and revelations for the first time. Coming back years later for another go around, there was clearly no easy way to get the lightning back in the bottle. Without the thrill of exploration and revelation alike, knowing where everything is and how it all works, it all feels a lot less special. Now I know what's over the mountains and where the Master Sword is hiding, I feel less motivation to go out trekking.
But that was something that BOTW, at least, was able to solve. A special addition to the game (though admittedly not a free one) that shot life back into Hyrule and gave it the edge that I needed on a second playthrough. A bloody, serrated edge that turned the whole thing from a jolly adventure into a spiral down to the heart of darkness: Master Mode.
It's dangerous to go alone… or at all, actually
Master Mode was released for Breath of the Wild as part of the game's expansion pass, a high-difficulty setting that turns the challenges of Hyrule all the way up to eleven. Puzzles are left the same, but anything relating to combat is made far more deadly, including smarter, beefier enemies with innate health regeneration. Still, starting it up, I found myself being a little cocky about the whole thing. Modern Nintendo rarely makes things too tough, after all, and I was a veteran of the whole Soulsborne catalogue! As somebody who had cut down Sword Saint Isshin, what had I to fear?
Just about everything, it turns out. Among other changes to items and systems, Master Mode takes most enemies and just upgrades them to the next tier. So minutes after picking up a couple of flimsy branches in the intro, you've suddenly got hordes of middle-management blue orcs chasing after you, with even the endgame brown and white ones looming in the back rows. I hadn't even reached the first tutorial shrine! The first ten minutes were largely a mix of shrieking and panicking as I dove between exploding fire arrows and cowered from Ganon's burliest goons.
Things got no better as I explored the wider Plateau. Approaching the Magnesis shrine, floating platforms rose up from pools of water, ridden by eagle-eyed archers. I'd try launching sneak attacks on lone foes, only for my weapons to break ineffectively over their skulls. And hiking towards the woodcutter's hut, I realized with a sinking feeling that some villainous designer had left a motherfucking lynel in the tutorial zone. That realization was followed by a series of fiery blasts that sent Link's carcass soaring over the horizon like he was auditioning for Team Rocket.
Tears of the protagonist
I don't want to act like this wasn't fun, in a turbulent sort of way. Suddenly the game wasn't about choosing a preferred strategy, but having to use all of them if I wanted to have a hope of survival. I'd carefully scout enemy camps to judge the threat and what natural advantages were present well before daring to break cover. Rolling rocks down on foes isn't enough – now I was freezing them mid-descent with Stasis to ensure that they arrived at the precise moment to coincide with a powderkeg I'd set alight. Then it was a matter of sprinting in as they were reeling and snatching all the weapons in the armory, trying to stop them from reaching their armaments.
And even if I won – big if – there was no guarantee that I'd come out the other side having gained more than I'd spent. More than once I'd shatter all my gear and spend all my arrows clearing an enemy camp, only to stagger to the final chest and extract a chewed toothpick that wouldn't have been worth the effort.
But more broadly, Master Mode is absolutely worth the effort. I found that the challenge actually plateaued a little (har har) over time as I managed to accrue an arsenal of weapons and gear that better matched the elevated peril. But those early hours felt like a different game entirely, one where Link wasn't just a brave knight, but a desperate, strategic survivor, fighting from permanent disadvantage, picking and choosing his fights very carefully. That Tears of the Kingdom doesn't have an equivalent difficulty (and isn't likely to) isn't just a shame, it's a real blow against its long-term replayability. If I can build flying death machines covered in lasers and flamethrowers, I would've loved to pit them against a world that actually called for that sort of firepower.
