How "The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask" Frames an Apocalypse

You’re standing at the town center, gazing at the red night sky as the scowling moon draws closer to the Earth. The clock strikes midnight with an ominous, resounding bell toll. A brief cutscene triggers in which a giant mallet slowly rises out of the town’s clocktower and falls over, revealing, one step at a time, a wooden staircase that leads up to the tower’s viewing deck. The camera pans out and the player takes control of the game as an eerie, melancholy song begins playing in the background. A timer appears at the bottom of the screen, the seconds counting down in real time. Six minutes remain.

The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask, released by Nintendo for the N64 in 2000 and remastered for the 3DS in 2015, was radically different from the series’ prior installments. While other Zelda games instill a sense of adventure and courage in the player, Majora’s Mask’s central theme revolves around fear and uncertainty. The game’s basic premise is that a child possessed by an evil mask wants to bring the moon down onto Earth and unleash an apocalypse that will kill everyone. The player takes control of Link, who is given only three days to stop it. The game quickly seems hopeless and unbeatable, as the player naturally accomplishes little to nothing in the first three days. During the minutes right before the apocalypse, however, Link gets the ability to turn back time and can reset the three days at will. Even though the player has this ability at his disposal at any time, the three-day timer still creates a feeling of panic and forces the player to really plan out how he can make the most out of the time he’s given. On top of that, the player must quickly face the bitter truth that it’s impossible to actually save everyone in only three days and that the game would be completely hopeless if Link couldn’t turn back time. Few games try to instill a sense of hopelessness in the player, but Majora’s Mask does it masterfully.

Though the game does a good job of establishing hopelessness throughout, no part of the game better exemplifies this feeling than the six minutes leading up to the apocalypse. The moon is framed closer than ever during this sequence, filling up so much of the sky that it becomes impossible to see in its entirety. It turns into a presence that constantly imposes itself into the environment, yet it only does this visually when the player looks up at the sky. If the player explores the town without looking up, he won’t actually be able to see the moon because of all the buildings in the way. Even when it’s not visibly there, however, the player can still feel that it’s there. The moon has such a powerful presence that it instills a creeping feeling of fear for your life and makes the player feel like he’s constantly being watched and judged.

Aside from the moon’s visual appearance, there’s two elements in particular that help lend to its presence. The first of these elements is the ominous sound of the bell toll, which begins by ringing once every minute but ends up ringing more often as the timer goes down. After a certain point, the bell just rings constantly in a very panicked manner. The increasing speed of the bell toll actually gives the sound a human quality, almost as if the sound itself is terrified of the inevitable fate that will befall it. It helps build up to the event of the apocalypse and adds an extra layer of anxiety to the already anxiety-inducing six-minute timer. The second element is the periodic shaking of the earth, which occurs every time the moon gets closer. The entire screen shakes and a subtle gravelly sound accompanies it, serving as a solemn reminder of the increasing gravity of the situation. Even when the player is indoors and has no way of looking at the sky, these earthquakes always make him acutely aware of the weight of the moon against the planet and the increasing stakes of the timer counting down. These two elements, though subtle, work together to amplify the moon’s presence and make the player personally feel the dread of the world ending no matter where in the world they may be at that point.

The music also progresses in a way that gradually fills the player with dread. It begins with a lonely high-pitched sound that wavers between high and low, easing the player into the somber mood of the scene. When the main melody begins, it develops the sad feeling of the song into a feeling of tension. The melody is very slow and drawn out. It wavers a lot and creates many instances where it seems like the song is about to resolve itself, but it always continues anyway and leaves its moments of near resolution alone. Even outside of the context of the game, the song creates a feeling of apprehension because of the way the notes waver and leave the listener hanging at all times. It’s not very easy to listen to, but that’s the point. The song is integral in bringing the scene’s scary and apprehensive nature to the player on a personal level, and it succeeds in doing so. It makes the player mentally prepare for a catastrophe, even if he can just turn back time anyway.

During this sequence, the player is allowed to freely roam the world and talk to the few people that actually stayed behind. The guards usually stand tall and exude a sense of sureness in the way that they protect the town, but during the final six minutes they can be seen at their posts quivering while staring at the moon. If you talk to one, he’ll stutter and tell himself that he has to stay and wait for his captain’s orders. One character, a usually confident swordplay teacher, can be found cowering in a secret room in his dojo, crying about how he doesn’t want to die. Kafei and Anju, an engaged couple that the player can help reunite through a side quest, can be found holding hands and awaiting their fate together. Cremia and Romani, two sisters that live together on a ranch, also have an interesting exchange on the final day. Cremia allows her younger sister to drink Chateau Romani, a euphemism for alcohol, because she finally sees her as an adult. She later lets Romani sleep in her bed before their inevitable deaths. All of these brief moments involving these characters really bring the psychology of the characters to life. What do the people you’ve met throughout your adventure do when they’re faced with a catastrophe? In Majora’s Mask, they all hold on to what matters most to them. The guard values his job of protecting others more than his life while the teacher values his life more than his sense of courage. Cremia values the happiness of her sister more than anything while Kafei and Anju value being together the most. They’re hopeless, but they still make the most out of their time. It’s in these moments that the characters really come to life and show you how much they value the good things in their lives. Their motions help in establishing the mood and amplifying the buildup towards the end, making the apocalypse leave a lasting and personal effect on the player.

And then the moon finally lands. The clocktower is the first thing to be crushed under its might, but it completely fails to slow down the fall. The moon glows red with heat and spreads its heat waves throughout the town as it collides with the ground. The screen goes black. Link looks around, confused until red clouds form in the sky. A giant wave of heat then appears in the distance and quickly rushes towards him, completely knocking him away. The scene transitions into a closeup of Majora’s Mask, which flies away from the camera into a lone flame. And then you hear a laugh as a lone question appears on the screen. “You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?”