As I near the finish of my week long series spotlighting my top five console games of all time, I’m struck by the realization that while my number one remains the end all, be all of the list, the other selections really jockey for position in terms of what number they fall on. Essentially, numbers five through two share two characteristics in common:

1. They’re beloved titles I could play and replay endlessly, and
2. They’re not number one.

With a shout out to Highlander, “There can be only one.”

The Legend of Zelda series

I’m sorry. I can’t pick one. They’re like children.

Every game in this series has held me completely spellbound. A new installment seems to come out once a decade (I know it’s more frequent than that but that’s what it feels like.) When they do come out, it’s like that little triumphant audio cue you get when Link triggers a secret door or unlocks a chest. You feel like you really located buried treasure.

As I wrote in my inaugural post on this site, of all my pixel-perfect memories, none stands taller than the day I encountered The Legend of Zelda on the Nintendo Entertainment System. Before Zelda, with its strange new landscape of magic and mystery, games were relegated to the “Plumber Jumps on Winged Turtle” genre of electronic entertainment. Now, before me, lay a gleaming gold cartridge.

“Gold? Aren’t cartridges typically dull gray? What’s this remarkable treasure?

Legend has it, a pre-pubescent Flava Flav was so enthralled, he melted 16 of them down to form that marvelous grill of his.

Anyway, the original Legend of Zelda, with its mythic locales, brutal boss fights and, most importantly, fiendishly clever dungeon puzzles, drained many a day of its hourglass sand. You produce a new Zelda game and I don’t care where I am (work, grocery shopping, neurosurgery) — I’m dropping everything and heading back to Hyrule.

For those unfamiliar with the series, the Zelda games revolve around the adventures of a
young elf-boy named Link, who in each game is called upon to save the princess, fight the evil demon Ganon and save the world from imminent doom. The story is old hat, and after five major console releases could be argued as stale, but there’s something in its telling that continually keeps each new adventure fresh.

I think the intro to 2003′s The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker captured my feelings very well. This elegant introductory passage, told through a mix of subtle sight and sound (flashes of wood carvings scored to a medieval arrangement of the classic Zelda themes), tells the tale of the legend of princess Zelda. This four minute sequence effortlessly recaps the events of the prior (seemingly unrelated) games, weaving a dense tapestry depicting this perpetual dance between good and evil — setting the stage for one final showdown.

Viewing this simple cut scene (composed of still images apparently ripped from some ancient text) provoked one good sensation after another, culminating in a moment of such sublime simplicity that it sent a shiver coursing down my spine. In it, we spied a simple wood carving of a young boy pulling a sword from a stone and holding it aloft while blinding light poured from the heavens.

In the past year and a half, fans got a twofer in the dual release of The Legend of Zelda: The Twilight Princess (Wii) and The Legend of Zelda: The Phantom Hourglass (DS). That’s two Zelda titles in under a year. If Nintendo can keep this up, I’m quitting my day job.