An ocarina imbued with the power of time provided by a female owner; the deified Triforce assembled from three female gods resembling a vaginal symbol comprised of power, courage, and wisdom; the lone male antagonist of a race of women save for the centuries-defying birth of the opposite sex; and, with him, the necessary competition of phallic powers: Master Sword (not to mention the various other weapons Link wields), the sky-breaching tower of Ganon's Castle, and two men destined to the repetitious duel of good versus evil—this is the construction of the impressionistic eroticism of Nintendo's masterpiece, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Link, from boy to man, symbolized by the growth of body and his erect weapon alike, vies for what others call unto him to seek as his ignorance becomes empowerment. Ganon(dorf)'s Manichean evil personifies a difference of moderation where death throughout Hyrule cannot satisfy lust as the eternal search for the Triforce's perfect construction of sexual want and (in)organic representation defy him another game.
Nintendo capture in their fantasy open world—desolate not due to technological limitation but an approach to what a Hyrule as a conceptualized world can impress in its innovative 3D creation, interconnected without the magical borders of the imaginary Super Mario 64—something rich in subtle, unconscious reactions to a formula now improved beyond gameplay mechanics to evoke largely unspoken desires which flourish within an archetypal framework of a boy, a girl, a division between them, and the eroticism of a world within and without that boy, that girl, that world built on feminine creation, defined by it, and at the will of deterministic masculine forces in the hope of peace and prosperity thwarted in time by desires too unstable to maintain itself until these forces see balance or collapse when desire is sated. Ocarina of Time is an unexpected work of greatness for a cynic to Nintendo's game design, yet this 1998 game finds purpose in ways the medium, devoid of the erotic intensity of cinema and literature except in the indie sphere (besides the sexist and/or pornographic representation of explicit objectification and physical relations which do flood the medium), can conceive of eroticism by way of an impressionistic environment and the modalities of violence and resurrection Link utilizes in his journey toward the legend of his princess, engaged in manners personal and epic, intertwined by want for another.
Nintendo capture in their fantasy open world—desolate not due to technological limitation but an approach to what a Hyrule as a conceptualized world can impress in its innovative 3D creation, interconnected without the magical borders of the imaginary Super Mario 64—something rich in subtle, unconscious reactions to a formula now improved beyond gameplay mechanics to evoke largely unspoken desires which flourish within an archetypal framework of a boy, a girl, a division between them, and the eroticism of a world within and without that boy, that girl, that world built on feminine creation, defined by it, and at the will of deterministic masculine forces in the hope of peace and prosperity thwarted in time by desires too unstable to maintain itself until these forces see balance or collapse when desire is sated. Ocarina of Time is an unexpected work of greatness for a cynic to Nintendo's game design, yet this 1998 game finds purpose in ways the medium, devoid of the erotic intensity of cinema and literature except in the indie sphere (besides the sexist and/or pornographic representation of explicit objectification and physical relations which do flood the medium), can conceive of eroticism by way of an impressionistic environment and the modalities of violence and resurrection Link utilizes in his journey toward the legend of his princess, engaged in manners personal and epic, intertwined by want for another.