You have already had your state on the absolute best Zelda games as we observe the series’ 30th anniversary – and you also did a mighty good job also, even if I am pretty certain A Link to the Past belongs at the head of any list – so now it is our turn. We asked the Eurogamer editorial team to vote for their favorite Zelda games (although Wes abstained since he doesn’t understand exactly what a Nintendo is) and underneath you’ll get the complete top ten, along with some of our own musings. Could people get the matches in their rightful order? Likely not…

10. A Link Between Worlds

How brilliantly contradictory that among the very best original games on Nintendo’s 3DS would be a 2D adventure game, and that among the most daring Zelda entries would be the one that so closely aped among its predecessors.

It helps, of course, the template has been raised from one of the greatest games in the series and, by extension, among the best matches of all time. A Link Between Worlds takes all that and positively sprints with it, running free into the recognizable expanse of Hyrule with a new-found freedom.At site phantom hourglass rom from Our Articles

In giving you the capability to let any one of Link’s well-established tools in the off, A Link Between Worlds broke free of this linear progression that had reverted past Zelda games; that has been a Hyrule which was no more characterized through an invisible course, but one that provided a feeling of discovery and absolutely free will that was beginning to feel absent in prior entries. The sense of experience so precious to the show, muffled in the past few years from the ritual of repetition, was well and truly revived. MR

9. Spirit Tracks

An unfortunate side-effect of this simple fact that more than one generation of players has increased up with Zelda and refused to go has been an insistence – during the show’ sin, at any rate – which it grow up with them. That resulted in some fascinating areas as well as some ridiculous tussles over the series’ direction, as we’ll see later in this listing, but at times it threatened to leave Zelda’s original constituency – that you know, children – supporting.

Thankfully, the portable games have always been there to take care of younger gamers, along with Spirit Tracks for its DS (now available on Wii U Virtual Console) is Zelda in its maximum chirpy and adorable. Though superbly designed, it’s not an especially distinguished game, being a comparatively laborious and laborious follow-up to Phantom Hourglass that reproduces its own structure and flowing stylus control. However, it’s such zest! Link employs a small train to go around and its own puffing and tooting, together with an inspired folk music soundtrack, place a lively pace for your adventure. Then there is the childish, heavenly pleasure of driving the train: placing the adjuster, pulling on the whistle and scribbling destinations on your map.

Most importantly is that, for once, Zelda is in addition to the ride. Connect must save her body, but her spirit is with him as a constant companion, occasionally able to own enemy soldiers and play the brutal heavy. The two enjoy an innocent childhood romance, and you’d be hard pushed to think of another game which has captured the teasing, blushing strength of a reggae beat so well. Inclusive and candy, Spirit Tracks remembers that children have feelings too, and also will reveal grownups something or two about love. OW

8. Ghost Hourglass

In my head, at least, there has been a raging debate going on as to whether Link, Hero of Hyrule, is actually any good using a boomerang. He’s been wielding the loyal, banana-shaped piece of timber since his very first adventure, however in my experience it has merely been a pain in the arse to use.

The exception that proves the rule, nevertheless, is Phantom Hourglass, where you draw the path for your boomerang through the hand. Poking the stylus in the touch display (which, in an equally beautiful transfer, is how you control your own sword), you draw a precise flight map to the boomerang and it just… goes. No faffing about, no more clanging into pillars, only easy, straightforward, improbably responsive boomerang trip. It had been when I used the boomerang from Phantom Hourglass I realised that this game could just be something particular; I immediately fell in love with all the remainder.

Never mind that viewing a few gameplay back to refresh my memory lent me powerful flashbacks to the hours spent huddling on the screen and grasping my DS like that I needed to throttle it. Never mind that I did need to throttle my DS. The point is that Phantom Hourglass had touches of class that stay – and I will venture out on a limb here – completely unrivalled in the rest of the Legend of Zelda series. JC

7. Skyward Sword

It bins the recognizable Zelda overworld and set of distinct dungeons by hurling three huge areas at the participant which are continuously rearranged. It’s a gorgeous game – one I’m still hoping will soon be remade in HD – whose watercolour graphics leave a shimmering, dream-like haze over its blue heavens and brush-daubed foliage. Following the grimy, Lord of the Rings-inspired Twilight Princess, this was the Zelda series confidently re-finding its own feet. I can shield many of familiar criticisms levelled at Skyward Sword, such as its overly-knowing nods to the remainder of the series or its slightly forced origin narrative that unnecessarily retcons recognizable elements of the franchise. I can also get behind the bigger general quantity of place to research when the game always revitalises each of its three regions so successfully.

I couldn’t, sadly, ever get along with the match’s Motion Plus controls, which required you to waggle your Wii Remote to be able to do battle. It turned into the boss fights against the brilliantly bizarre Ghirahim into infuriating fights with technologies. Into baskets that made me anger stop for the remainder of the evening. At times the movement controls functioned – that the flying Beetle thing pretty much consistently found its mark – but if Nintendo was forcing players to leave behind the reliability of a control strategy, its replacement had to work 100 per cent of their moment. TP

6. Twilight Princess

After Ocarina of Time came out in November 1998, I was ten years old. I was pretty awful at Zelda games.

When Twilight Princess wrapped around, I was at university and also something in me – most likely a profound romance – was ready to test again. This time, it was worked. I remember day-long moves on the couch, huddling underneath a blanket in my chilly apartment and only poking my hands out to flap about with the Wii remote during battle. Resentful seems were thrown in the stack of books I knew I had to skim over the next week. Then there was the glorious morning if my then-girlfriend (now fiancée) awakened me with a gentle shake, asking’can I watch you play Zelda?’

Twilight Lady is, honestly, attractive. There is a fantastic, brooding atmosphere; the gameplay is enormously varied; it’s got a lovely art design, one I wish they’d kept for just one more match. It’s also got some of the top dungeons in the series – I know this because since I’ve been able to go back and mop up the current titles I missed – Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask and Wind Waker – and also enjoy myself doing this. That’s why I’ll always adore Twilight Princess – it’s the sport that made me click using Zelda. JC

5. Majora’s Mask

Zelda is a series defined by copying: the story of the long-eared hero and the Lady is passed down from generation to generation, a self-fulfilling prophecy. But some of its greatest moments have come as it turned out its own framework, left Hyrule along with Zelda herself and asked what Link could perform next. It took a much more radical tack: bizarre, dark, and experimental.

Though there’s a lot of humor and adventure, Majora’s Mask is suffused with doom, sorrow, and an off-kilter eeriness. A number of this comes from its true awkward timed arrangement: that the moon is falling on the planet, that the clock is ticking and you also can’t stop it, only rewind and start again, somewhat stronger and wiser each moment. Some of it stems in the antagonist, the Skull Kid, who is no villain but an innocent with a gloomy story who has given in to the corrupting effect of their titular mask. Some of this comes from Link himself: a kid again but with the grown man of Ocarina still somewhere within himhe rides rootlessly to the land of Termina like he has got no greater place to be, so far in the hero of legend.

Regardless of an unforgettable, most surreal decision, Majora’s Mask’s key narrative isn’t one of those series’ strongest. However, these poignant Groundhog Day subplots about the strain of ordinary life – reduction, love, family, job, and passing, always passing – locate the series’ writing in its absolute best. It’s a depression, compassionate fairytale of this regular that, using its ticking clock, wants to remind one that you can not take it with you. OW


If you have had kids, you will be aware that there’s amazingly strange and touching moment when you are doing laundry – stick with me – and these very small T-shirts and trousers first begin to become in your washingmachine. Someone else has come to dwell with you! A person implausibly small.

This is among The Wind-Waker’s greatest tips, I believe. Connect had been young before, but now, with all the toon-shaded shift in art management, he really looks youthful: a Schulz toddler, with huge head and small legs, venturing out amongst Moblins and pirates as well as those mad birds that roost across the clifftops. Link is little and exposed, and so the adventure surrounding him sounds all the more stirring.

The other fantastic tip has a great deal to do with those pirates. This has become the normal Zelda query since Link to the Past, however with the Wind-Waker, there did not seem to be one: no alternate dimension, no switching between time-frames. Rather you had a wild and briney sea, reaching out from all directions, an endless blue, flecked with abstracted breakers. The sea was controversial: a lot of hurrying back and forth across a enormous map, a lot of time spent in crossing. But look at what it brings along with it! It brings pirates and sunken treasures and ghost ships. It attracts underwater grottoes and a castle waiting for you in a bubble of air back on the seabed.

Best of all, it attracts that unending sense of discovery and renewal, one challenge down and another awaiting, as you jump from your boat and race the sand up towards another thing, your tiny legs swinging through the surf, and your huge eyes fixed on the horizon. CD


Link’s Awakening has been near-enough that a perfect Zelda game – it’s a huge and secret-laden overworld, sparkling dungeon layout and memorable characters. In addition, it is a fever dream-set side-story with villages of talking animals, side-scrolling places starring Mario enemies and a giant fish that participates the mambo. It was my first Zelda experience, my entry point to the show and the game where I judge each other Zelda title. I absolutely adore it. Not only was it my very first Zelda, its own greyscale entire world was among the very first adventure games that I playedwith. I can still visualise much of it today – the cracked flooring from that cave at the Lost Woods, the stirring music as you enter the Tal Tal Mountains, the shopkeeper electrocuting to an instant death in case you dared return to his shop after stealing.

No Master Sword. And while it feels like a Zelda, even after enjoying many of the others, its own quirks and characters set it apart. Link’s Awakening packs an astonishing amount onto its small Game Boy capsule (or Game Boy Color, if you played with its DX re-release). TP


Bottles are OP at Zelda. These humble glass containers may turn the tide of a struggle if they have a potion or – even better – a fairy. If I had been Ganon, I’d postpone the evil plotting and the measurement rifting, and I’d just put a good fortnight into travelling Hyrule from top to bottom and hammering any glass bottles I came across. After that, my horrible vengeance are even more dreadful – and there would be a sporting chance that I might be able to pull off it also.

All of that suggests, as Link, a jar can be a real benefit. Real treasure. Something to put your watch by. I believe there are four glass bottles in Link to the Past, every one making you that little stronger and that bit bolder, buying you confidence from dungeoneering and hit points in the midst of a tingling boss encounter. I can’t recall where you get three of those bottles. But I can remember where you get the fourth.

It’s Lake Hylia, and when you are like me, it’s late in the game, with all the large ticket items accumulated, that lovely, genre-defining minute at the peak of the hill – where a single excursion becomes two – cared for, and handfuls of compact, ingenious, infuriating and enlightening dungeons raided. Late game Link to the Past is all about sounding out every last inch of this map, which means working out how both similar-but-different versions of Hyrule fit together.

And there is a difference. A gap in Lake Hylia. An gap hidden by a bridge. And under it, a man blowing smoke rings with a campfire. He feels as though the greatest key in all of Hyrule, along with the prize for uncovering him would be a glass vessel, perfect for keeping a potion – along with a fairy.

Link to the Past feels like an impossibly smart game, fracturing its map into two measurements and requesting you to flit between them, holding both arenas super-positioned in your mind as you solve a single, huge geographical puzzle. In truth, however, someone could probably copy this design when they had sufficient pens, enough quadrille paper, sufficient time and energy, and when they were determined and smart enough.

The best reduction of the electronic age.

However, Link to the Past isn’t simply the map – it’s the detailing, as well as the figures. It is Ganon and his wicked plot, but it’s also the man camping out under the bridge. Perhaps the whole thing is somewhat like a jar, then: that the container is very important, but what you’re really after is the stuff that is inside . CD

1. Ocarina of Time

Where do you begin with a game as momentous as Ocarina of Time? Maybe with the Z-Targeting, a remedy to 3D combat so simple you hardly notice it’s there. Or maybe you speak about a open world that’s touched by the light and shade cast by an internal clock, where villages dancing with activity by day prior to being seized by an eerie lull through the night. How about the expressiveness of that ocarina itself, a delightfully analogue device whose music has been conducted by the control afforded by the N64’s pad, notes flexed wistfully at the push of a pole.

Maybe, though, you just focus on the second itself, a perfect snapshot of video games appearing aggressively from their very own adolescence as Connect is thrust so abruptly into a grownup world. What’s most impressive about Ocarina of Time is the way it came so fully-formed, the 2D adventuring of past entrances transitioning into three dimensions and a pop-up book folding swiftly into existence.

Other Zeldas may make for a better play now – there’s a thing about the 16-bit adventuring of A Link to the Past that remains forever impervious to time – although none could claim to be as important as Ocarina. Thanks to Grezzo’s unique 3DS remake it has retained much of its verve and influence, as well as putting aside its technical achievements it’s an adventure that ranks among the series’ finest; emotional and uplifting, it’s touched with the bittersweet melancholy of growing up and leaving your youth behind. From the story’s conclusion Link’s childhood and innocence – and this of Hyrule – is heroically revived, but once that most revolutionary of reinventions, video games would never be the same again.