A Link to the Past, Amidst an Uncertain Future
It's easy to min-max a video game. Should you be min-maxing parenting, too?
When my wife and I had our daughter, I thought becoming a father would mean I would become a grown man. I imagined learning to cook properly, fixing broken faucets, replacing flat tires. I assumed I’d understand that even though my 9-to-5 job isn’t inspiring, it pays the bills and grants my family security. This is what one does when one has a family. Sacrifices need to be made and I thought I would accept those sacrifices and step into my new role as a father.
It didn’t occur to me that I would remain the same and, not only would I remain the same, but I would dive more heavily into hobbies that were supposed to take a backseat to, you know, having a family.
I already had a PlayStation 3, PlaysStation 5, Sega Genesis, and Nintendo 64 before my daughter. They just sat collecting dust most of the time. When there was a game I was interested in (Metaphor ReFantazio), I would play it intensely for about a month and then put away the controller to let the consoles collect dust once again. But I found that becoming a father made me want to play games even more. I added a Super Nintendo and PlayStation to my collection and more games: Bushido Blade, Aladdin, A Link to the Past, Ocarina of Time, Mario 64, WWF No Mercy, SimCity. I kept buying even though I knew I shouldn’t. I should have been saving money for my daughter’s college fund, or for healthier groceries instead of cheaper, frozen meals.
I had a nagging thought that collecting video games was my way of running away from the uncertainty of fatherhood but, no, no, no. I shook my head and told myself that, perhaps, one day, my daughter and I would play these together.
She’s barely one; she has no idea I placed all of these expectations on her.
During particularly stressful weeks, mostly when we had to contact nap so my daughter could sleep for more than 30 minutes at a time, I purchased more games as she slept on my chest. In between buying games, I was reading advice columns online about how to be a great father, or whether contact napping would ruin my daughter’s sleep, or whether we were spoiling her.
As my wife and I tried everything suggested so that we could all have a good night’s sleep (paying attention to wake windows and timing, trying to get sleep perfect), I bought more video games. But I spent very little time playing. The games came in and I put them on my shelf.
But then at around eleven months, my daughter’s sleep improved. Her naps were longer and she was able to sleep through the night. I actually had a small stretch in the evening of around 45 minutes where my daughter was asleep and my wife handled her nighttime routine that I could actually play these games I spent so much money on. I went through my collection and looked at my backlog: Final Fantasy III, SimCity, ActRaiser, Mario 64 … A Link to the Past.
I stopped there. I thought A Link to the Past would be the best option at this point. I could explore, save, turn it off. Play it in small doses.
I turned on the game and right away I was greeted with enemies, left and right, along with a map that I didn’t know how to navigate. I knew that I had to go to Hyrule Castle, so I explored. I eventually found it, broke in, got some items, defeated enemies. It was thrilling to jump in blind, not knowing what the hell was going on and then feeling accomplished at the end of it.
After leaving the castle, I was back on my own to wander around. As I was playing through, I noticed that I was dying a little bit more and getting lost. I also had a feeling that I was missing some items. So I found a guide to point me in the right direction. I found the Zelda Dungeon Walkthrough and did exactly what it told me to do. In the 45 minutes of free time I had, I would stop to read, play, stop to read, play, stop to read, play.
The initial thrill I had when playing the game was replaced with a to-do list, a checklist of things to make sure I was getting it 100% right. As I was playing, I no longer enjoyed the game. I didn’t know why. I thought to myself: I’m getting everything I need, I have all the heart containers I need, I’m solving the puzzles quickly, I know exactly where to go. I need this guide so that I can make the most out of these 45 minutes. Why isn’t this fun?
“The initial thrill I had when playing the game was replaced with a to-do list, a checklist of things to make sure I was getting it 100% right. As I was playing, I no longer enjoyed the game. I didn’t know why. I thought to myself: I’m getting everything I need, I have all the heart containers I need, I’m solving the puzzles quickly, I know exactly where to go. I need this guide so that I can make the most out of these 45 minutes. Why isn’t this fun?”
A Link to the Past rewards exploration and curiosity. But I’m not comfortable with just exploring. In this game, if you miss something, you’ll hit a roadblock because you don’t have an item you need to go further. I didn’t want to miss things. I wanted to get it right the first time. I didn’t want to go through the game and find out I messed up. I wanted to get it right so that I wouldn’t make any mistakes.
Being a parent is hard. The first year is about survival and I spent the first year of my daughter’s life consulting guides on how to be with her. Sleep schedules. Wake windows. Feeding schedules. Milestones. I looked down to read advice, then looked up at her to see if she was doing what the guide said, and then would look back down again.
A part of me is afraid that my daughter will be messed up in some way, because most (all) humans are. That’s why I consult advice columns; they tell me exactly how to do it. But then, wouldn’t that be like my A Link to the Past experience? I’m optimizing (or trying to optimize) her development, but am I actually being with her, responding to her?
If I play video games with my daughter, I don’t want either of us staring at a guide the whole time, afraid that we’re going to miss something. I want us to seek each other out and figure it out together.
That’s what makes A Link to the Past so rewarding. When you place a bomb on a crack in a cave and find fairies, or rupees, or a new item, it’s satisfying. But when you read a guide and expect to find it, it loses its magic.
It’s not easy for me. I want perfection, so as I played through A Link to the Past, I tried very hard not to consult a guide. And when I got stuck and found a YouTube walkthrough, and saw that the guy had more hearts than I did and a few extra items, I tried very hard not to backtrack or restart. I told myself that I need to play through and only consult guides if I’m truly stuck.
Sometimes, I’m lost for the entire 45 minutes of free time I have, but at least I remember it. When I consult a guide and blast through 45 minutes of gaming, I don’t remember anything at all. So while I continue with this game, I’m certainly missing things and getting confused and lost, but I’m there for the experience. Maybe that’s enough.
I need to end it here. My daughter just woke up from her nap.






