I love Shigeru Miyamoto. No, really. I LOVE Shigeru Miyamoto. I was fortunate enough to meet him and interview him earlier this year. He's just a normal, nice guy, but, as most readers will acknowledge, he is a game design god.
I have his Zelda game series featured on my webpage under the "Hall of Fame" Video Game section, with other games I consider beautifully designed. Anyone inspecting the page, however, will notice a small disclaimer under the Zelda section, which says:
"*Zelda II (NES) was purposely removed because its design lacked focus"
What? Miyamoto screwed up? He sure did. About every three or four years I dust off Zelda II and, once again, I'm disappointed by its boring and unfocused design. It is recognized, at least in mainstream video game journalism, to be Miyamoto's only "failure".
For those who aren't familiar, Zelda II abandoned the top-down action view of the original for RPG style exploring, with a distant representation of the main character traveling over a tiled mainland, being attacked by randomly-appearing enemies. Combat was done in a side-scrolling environment, like Konami's Castlevania series. What was he thinking?
The point is he was thinking. He was thinking of combining his two most popular franchises (Zelda & Super Mario Brothers) into one supergame. In fact, if you look closely, you'll see that the bridges in Zelda II are exactly the same as the bridges in the original Super Mario Brothers. He was thinking that two great games would make one incredible game.
Of course, I don't know exactly what he and Nintendo were thinking. However, let's fast forward to 1998, when Miyamoto and team tasted success with one of the best selling games ever - The Legend Of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.
How did the series change from the previous SNES Zelda? He was thinking of combining his two most popular franchises (Zelda & Super Mario Brothers) into one supergame. It is acknowledged as one of the best games of all time.
The question is: What's the difference?
The answer is: There is no difference.
Perhaps another example will help explain. Around 1995, David Caruso was a very popular man. He was the lead actor on the very popular cop show NYPD Blue. He was staring in a few films, including Kiss of Death. He was on his way.
Then he quit the show. He said he wanted to do movies full-time. Anyway, people were pounding on his door with millions of scripts.
That was the last the general public heard from David. He's STILL the butt of jokes on shows ranging from Saturday Night Live to South Park. He is failure.
Now, let's look at Adam Sandler. He had a secure positions on TV, working on Saturday Night Live, making plenty of money.
Then he quit the show. He said he wanted to do movies full-time. Anyway, people were pounding on his door with millions of scripts.
You see, there is no difference.
When I made my games public earlier this year I got some of the harshest criticism I've ever heard. I'm a journalist, so I'm used to criticism, but some of it bordered on harassment. One email in particular said (paraphrasing) "After 15 years of game programming, your games really suck."
Hmmm.
With very few exceptions, my games aren't run of the mill. I've done a "Zelda II design" a few times, and I'm still trying to do a "great" game, but the point is that I'm willing to take that risk. You HAVE to take that risk to make something great.
As a final note, one of my favorite groups, the Beastie Boys, came out with an album called Paul's Boutique in the late '80s - early '90s. It's one of my favorite albums ever.
However, it bombed in the record store. This was because it wasn't as accessible or as mainstream as their multi-platinum debut album License to Ill.
Now, years later, it is selling like hotcakes, generally acknowledged as a classic and as their best album ever. In an interview, one of the members laughed (paraphrasing) "They weren't buying it back then, but now everyone's saying they always thought it was a classic."
That's something to think about.
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Written by Damon Brown.
