Over the last year and change, life has been incredibly difficult- at times incomprehensible. I’ve found myself getting distant from the things I love, watching the sparks of love and emotion fizzle out before they can ever reignite. Pokémon, in spite of itself, has avoided this. I open Violet and run around Paldea aimlessly and feel a wanderlust like no other- the messy map geometry doesn’t stop me from feeling a childlike sense of wonder at all the novel little sights that make the game so beautiful to me. Everything feels so lived in; the game feels like a well-loved world lovingly crafted by developers who want you to understand what it means to feel like you are at home no matter where you go so long as you allow it.
Violet is obviously not a perfect game, but I don’t care. There’s such a wonderful atmosphere to everything here, and my gripes with the game— the art direction being lacking, the performance issues, and the amount of really long craggy cliff faces that lead nowhere but still aren’t out of bounds (seriously why are those there)— it all doesn’t matter. The joie de vivre of my adventure in Violet is nearly unmatched by any other Pokémon title. These games are very special to me, and it seems like they will continue to be, no matter how much they fight themselves and hold themselves back.

This is not the perfect open world Zelda game we all hoped for. Given that I’ve had some time away from the game now that I’m pretty much done with it with about 100 hours on file, the longer I think, the more I find problems with it.
TOTK inherits more flaws of BOTW than we hoped for. Hyrule is essentially the same- largely busywork, beautiful environments tied together with mixed-quality plot beats, awful fetch quests, and a vicious cycle of getting meaningless rewards and burning through weapons with no larger meaningful end goal accomplished. The sky is barren, strewn about in a baffling manner, and while there’s some fun puzzles that are, generally, more fun than the shrines and other puzzles on the surface, it lacks substance and consistency. The depths are a joy to explore… until you quite literally hit a wall, wandering aimlessly in this inverted map in the pitch black. The story is barebones, with the highlights again being memories that depict events in the past, leaving the present, here-and-now motivation to progress suffering (though the motivation through the memories is better in this game). Characters and fun personalities are nigh-nonexistent, but Link remains a paragon silent protagonist. Environments are gorgeous, but the frame rate dips and pushing of the Switch’s aging hardware are felt even more here than in its predecessor.
So why do I love this game so much?
To play Tears of the Kingdom is to engage in a really, really exciting world that, for the most part, masks its flaws with its initially-seemingly endless possibilities. The illusion of content is, somehow, the game’s biggest strength. Ultrahand, the layered map, weapon fusing, and the like give you this incredible feeling, one that paradoxically fills you with a feeling of unrestricted control over the mechanics of the game while also presenting you with even more to do and harness on the horizon. How much of it TOTK acts on is up for debate, but the prospect of more is, in essence, the driving force of the game.
Finding the right words for this game is difficult. Like BOTW, it is frustrating, unintuitive, and cannot act on its incredible ideas due to either an inability or resistance to narrowing the scope of the world. But what TOTK does with its groundwork is something that truly has to be experienced to believe. Through all the flaws, clunk, and padding, Tears of the Kingdom is a game that delivers on a beautiful journey where, in many ways, the pros outweigh the cons.