The thirteen year-old crumpled pages of our guide through Link's world

I always thought I was different. Time and time again I would hear people talk of how music had become a soundtrack to their lives; of how a single song could simultaneously recall their most beloved or hated memories. For me though, video games have always filled that gap, as they’ve been an ever-present throughout my life.

Time spent with my mum swell up as I progress through Donkey Kong Country; nights spent lying on the couch as I stumbled my way around Topsail Trouble. Or those times when I’d be just ill enough to be skipping school; a runny nose but enough strength to continue on with Squall and the gang from disk to disk of Final Fantasy 8.

Yet as I sat alone on a rainy day, staring blankly back at my computer screen, random happenstance brought me upon something I hadn’t thought of in years. The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time’s re-mastered soundtrack sat before me

 
I hit "Play"

 
The game’s title theme began, as the undeniable sound of the ocarina pierced the soft melody, just as it had all of those years ago. I was seven at the time, sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring intently as the camera panned across the wide open fields of Hyrule. It was my birthday.

But my day up to this point hadn’t gone to plan at all. A trip to the local videogame store in search of a steering wheel for my beloved Nintendo 64 had been unsuccessful, as the cashier replied:

 
“Sorry, none in stock...”

 
And so a random choice left me leaving that store with my first Zelda game, the then new golden box glistening in my childish grasp. The comforting smell of a fresh instruction manual greeted me as I flipped through the pages.

Who was this young boy dressed in green? Who was the fairy accompanying him on every page? There was a hint section at the back too, as an Owl’s eyes stared back at me.

It was foreign, intriguing; I sat alone in front of the TV and selected “New Game”

 
The “Kokiri Forest” theme started after the opening track came to an end, followed closely by “Inside The Deku Tree”, and memories came flooding back of exploring Link’s home village, of meeting what would become long term companions in Saria and Navi, and of my first dungeon.

Or as I should have said, our first dungeon. By this time my family had become deeply intrigued by the on-screen action, and the Deku Tree became just one of many dungeons we would face together.

Games had always been “my” hobby, one they’d supported but bore the repercussions of every time I would fall to my death and that game over screen would arise. From this moment on though, Ocarina of Time became something more.

From then on we would crowd around the television in the living room, day or night, as we all became invested in the future of this unsuspecting hero. Though I may have been the one at the helm, we were all playing, our collective whole becoming Link's guiding force as we made our way through dungeons and puzzles together.

"Oh, I know..." and "Quick, over there!" were repetitious cries, as difficult puzzles and impossible bosses became the easiest thing in the world knowing that you had support in your journey; you weren't alone.

 
“Goron City” and “Dodongo’s Cavern” followed closely after, signaling the first meeting with the rock-like Goron’s, and a precarious journey into a bomb-filled dungeon. “Zora’s Domain” reminds me of my first sighting of the mermaid like race - saving princess Ruto while traipsing through Jabu Jabu’s belly, a giant fish that was always too hungry.

Interspersed between these tunes were themes from places we visited along the way. Kakariko village’s laid-back lifestyle, Hyrule Castle’s hustle and bustle, and the Fairy Fountain jingle representing a meeting with the simultaneously welcoming yet frightening Great Fairies.

And then the small tunes began - those which accompanied every accomplishment. Though they may have seemed cursory, they offered a sense of familiarity and dependability throughout a quest that was both exciting and scary. Ocarina of Time was full of these queues, though they would only present themselves to you if you listened carefully enough.

False walls offered up a sharp twang upon being hit, the attainment of a new item brought with it that rewarding musical solo, and hunting for collectible Skulltullas required your audio senses to be at their best in an effort to pin point their ever present rustling.

Even your companion Navi offered up a constant “Hey, Listen!”, a sure sign that something of interest needed attention, as that companionship was built alongside his constant tingling everywhere you went. You built a repertoire of auditory signs which would help you along the way.

 
As Jabu Jabu’s theme closed out one all the more stirring began, that of the Temple of Time. Together we had managed to make it this far, all in our quest to help Princess Zelda; the young boy Link was truly starting to grow.

I say truly grow because that’s exactly what Link would come to do. The boy full of childish innocence and unabashed enthusiasm would change over time. Seven years to be exact, placing the gems we’d obtained in the Temple's pedestal, extracting the fabled Master Sword and transporting Link forward in time to an utterly devastating future reality.

This future was one where Ganondorf had begun to succeed in his quest to conquer the land, yet the only thought in our mind as the once bright Hyrule was thrown in to darkness was that of the well-being of those friends we had made. What had happened to Zelda, the Zoras, the Gorons?

 
But why did we care so much? What made these crude polygons so endearing?

We cared because, just as in reality, this journey was a difficult one and any companionship or help throughout it was accepted with open arms.
Alone I wouldn’t have been able to make it through, as time and time again it would be one of my sisters who would finally crack that puzzle which had us stumped, or my mum who would assume control as I trembled in fear at ceiling monsters all too frightening.

And so too did Link. He needed support, and the characters he would meet along the way were all too happy to provide it. They offered items, they offered advice, and one or two would come to make a sacrifice all too heart-breaking. Yet the one offering that almost all of them made was one which would last long after our final meeting.

The songs that they would teach you would become their lasting memory, as each new one became more complicated, serious and dour as the quest progressed. Each and every character held such a strong identity and charming character that exceeded their inherent technological simplicity, each one recalled with their identifying tune.

 
These were the tunes we just kept playing. Throughout our time spent with the game they became second knowledge to us. It went further though, as my sisters and I would practice them on any musical instrument we could get our hands on, mastering the songs that seemed so easy when you were simply pressing buttons; Link was always a better musician than we could ever be.

Link carried his sword and shield everywhere he went, yet despite his constant progression and acquisition of new equipment it was his Ocarina which would prove his most powerful weapon. Those songs not only held memories but held power, as each one was used along the way to aid us in our quest – whether it be to transport us around the wide world of Hyrule, or as a way to communicate with the ones who had taught them.

 
And then the closing themes began to play out in my headphones.

 
Boss battles were always a tense time, as the room would become eerily quiet as I tried my hardest, and the final encounter with Ganondorf was no different. It was a long and nerve wracking fight, made even more so once I had defeated him and the escape from the crumbling Hyrule castle began.

The silence lifted as the room burst alive with shouts back and forth. “Hurry!” was repeated more times than I can remember, as we all twitched and jumped around as the timer counted down. Through the final door, defeating the last few skeleton warriors, and over the last bridge.

A joyous roar swelled up from everyone in the room. We’d made it.

 
That joy was quickly replaced with growing sadness, as Link bid goodbye to Zelda for the final time. Ocarina of Time closed out before my tear-filled eyes, as the camera once again panned across every far-reaching corner of Hyrule, though this time the world we had become a part of was being whisked away.

Back then I was saying goodbye to the friends I had made - Saria, Epona, Zelda, Navi. Looking back I was also bidding goodbye to a time in my life. Our family had come together and bonded in a way that was truly special, all centered on a videogame we had grown to love. We were growing up, we were moving on.

 
And we have grown up. I'm twenty now, I’ve continued on in my own journey of life, yet Link’s influence still remains. We still sit, huddled around the now bigger television, as our tradition continues. We all gasp in awe as Uncharted 2’s cinematic sequences play out, and we all laugh in harmony at GLaDOS’ comedic jibes, though there’ll never be anything that will come quite close to the origins of it all.

It turned out music did do the same for me, I wasn’t as wildly different as I thought I was, yet videogames – as always – sat right alongside; the time we had shared came flooding back as those tracks played out. More than anything else, Ocarina of Time elevated its music to more than a background noise, as its auditory elements became the defining and everlasting signifier of every step in our journey.

 
And as I sat there, silently, soundtrack coming to an end, the Song of Time began to play. Back then my sisters and I had always joked about it. At our wishes that with a simple tune we could transport ourselves through time, just as Link had.

But what I realised as I sat back and closed my eyes, was that it could, and it had. That tune, as well as the others, had transported me like we had always wished they could.

I was seven again, we were all there as we were, and the melodies continued.