This is a video game rater where we rate nintendo games and explain pros or cons with them. to send your review of a game email us here at Ashmed_salim@hotmail.com
we are just starting of so we do not have a lot but here are some of the owners favourite's
About three hours into Breath of the Wild, you receive a paraglider. You've been stuck, up until this point, on a walled-off plateau, hundreds of feet above the rest of the kingdom of Hyrule, which is itself pocked with mountains and chasms. In a land of extreme elevation changes, the paraglider grants freedom, opening up the entire continent to the player. It's a vast, and often desolate place.
The once ascendant kingdom, you learn, has been in disrepair for the past hundred years. Back then, Calamity Ganon---the classic enemy of the series, Ganondorf, reconsidered here as a pollutive, impersonal force of evil---overtook it. Link and Zelda tried to stop it, but they failed: Zelda was magically imprisoned in the castle, and Link was locked in a chamber of resurrection. You play as that Link, the one who died and was reborn, and as you roam over Hyrule's peaceful decay you realize that your job is to save it.
The task of defending this Hyrule is overwhelming. The world Nintendo has built is immense, your objectives scattered over miles and miles of virtual territory. You'll spend most of your time in Breath of the Wild in transit, slowly creeping through the mountains, valleys, volcanoes and wetlands of Hyrule. Wonderfully, the designers largely leave you to it.
Prior 3D Zelda games, beginning with the Nintendo 64's Ocarina of Time, were heavily choreographed experiences. The hand of the designer, instructing the player on how to manage every element of the game, was abidingly visible, usually in the form of vocal companions offering advice and direction over Link's shoulder. In the early days of 3D gaming, this made sense: a digital, three-dimensional space was overwhelming in and of itself, and there wasn't yet an agreed language to communicate meaning elegantly to the audience, forcing the use of heavyhanded narrative propellants.
That approach even blended into the world itself. Over time, the Zelda games evolved to give the player items and tools specifically crafted to open up paths and overcome obstacles in the game world, an approach critic Tevis Thompson called "a giant nest of interconnected locks" and their concordant keys.
In Breath of the Wild, I'm lost constantly. The world is too large, too dense, and much of it is unknown until I get there. I climb trees and mountains to get a sense of perspective, tracing paths in the distance. If Ocarina of Time and its ilk are guided safaris, Breath of the Wild is more like cartography. There are familiar challenges in the form of puzzle-heavy shrines and climactic encounters, small dungeons and large bosses, but they're largely secondary to the tasks of exploration and survival.In an important way, this is a move toward recapturing what was so special about the first The Legend of Zelda, released on the Nintendo Entertainment System in 1986. That game was all about getting lost. There was no direction, no exposition, and you could even miss picking up a sword if you weren't careful. Its power was in immediacy and solitude, the sense that had to find your way amidst great hardship. This was one of the most profound pleasures of many old games. Technological limitations made it impossible to craft believable AI companions, and so you spent much of your time alone. There's a sweetly anxious joy to that loneliness. In emulating and modernizing that approach, Breath of the Wild gives me that pleasure in a way I haven't felt in a long time. The price this new Zelda pays for that joy is a clumsiness in design and motion. Make no mistake, the world is beautiful, with subtle sound design and better physics. Your abilities are broader and more interesting, and instead of serving to open gates in a closed-off world they give you expressive power over it. Bombs don't exist here to knock down walls, but to mine rocks for minerals and generate fire. But the task of controlling Link through this vision of Hyrule has a wildness to it all its own. There's almost too much you can do, too many interactions mapped to too few buttons, constrained slightly by the just-a-little-too-small JoyCon controllers of the Switch. Link is a little unsteady, the task of combat feeling more hectic and less elegant than it has in the past. Your weapons are unbelievably fragile, and they break too often. Link is presented as a seasoned, preternaturally talented warrior—but instead he feels inexperienced and young. Those frustrations are meaningful, but still feel minor in the broader scope of what The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is accomplishing. Because Eiji Aonuma was wrong for all those years. Forcing the player to get lost isn't a sin. In fact, it can be a triumph. Getting lost forces you to build connections with the world, to try to understand it. Losing your way is a universal human experience, and it's not without its pleasures. When we're finding our way, we can be surprised or frightened. We can find things we weren't even looking for.
Even when you touch down in the game's opening levels, it's hard to shake the impression that this is merely more of the same; there are coins to collect, characters to chat with and platforms to negotiate, all taking place within a confined stage, Mario 64-style. However, you soon notice something is very different – Super Mario Odyssey lacks traditional power-ups.
There's not a single Mushroom, Leaf or Fire Flower in sight; Mario doesn't change size or alter the color of his overalls, and there are certainly no Tanooki or Cat suits to be found.
Instead, Cappy can be flung at nearby enemies to possess them, thereby gaining their unique talents and powers. A frog imbues the player with the ability to leap high into the sky, while a Goomba is capable of walking on ice without slipping and sliding.
It's not just enemies that can be possessed in this way; other characters can be “cap”-tured and used to find secrets and hidden routes. At one point you have to possess a slab of meat in order to achieve your objective. While the absence of power-ups could be perceived as a negative, Cappy's talents mean that Super Mario Odyssey gives the player more gameplay options than ever before.
Cappy isn't just good for possessing enemies; he can be used in other ways, too. Holding down the throw button after you've released him causes a prolonged spin which is ideal for dishing out additional damage or smashing crates.
You can also use him as a temporary platform in this state, which allows you travel across wide expanses of the landscape. Using the motion controls on the Joy-Con you can add wrinkles to these commands; a waggle of the controllers will cause Cappy to home in on the closest enemy, while other gestures trigger vertical and even circular throws.
These commands accentuate Mario's already impressive repertoire, which he has tirelessly built up over the years. He can wall jump, triple jump, ground pound and – of course – leap on the heads of foes to vanquish them.
Cappy isn't just good for possessing enemies; he can be used in other ways, too. Holding down the throw button after you've released him causes a prolonged spin which is ideal for dishing out additional damage or smashing crates.
You can also use him as a temporary platform in this state, which allows you travel across wide expanses of the landscape. Using the motion controls on the Joy-Con you can add wrinkles to these commands; a waggle of the controllers will cause Cappy to home in on the closest enemy, while other gestures trigger vertical and even circular throws.
These commands accentuate Mario's already impressive repertoire, which he has tirelessly built up over the years. He can wall jump, triple jump, ground pound and – of course – leap on the heads of foes to vanquish them.
Then there are the coins. The way in which Super Mario Odyssey uses this timeless collectible is nothing short of genius.
There are no lives in the game; instead, death merely results in you returning to the last checkpoint and losing a handful of coinage – hardly a major frustration as coins are everywhere.
However, coins do have more value here; they are used to purchase new costumes, Power Moons and other items from vendors in each kingdom, so you'll want to grab as many as possible.
Each kingdom also has 50 purple coins which are unique to that region; these are also used to purchase items, albeit ones which are more desirable. Finding them all becomes just as compelling as finding the Power Moons – even more so when you consider that some of the costumes on offer can be used to gain access to bolted doors in each kingdom.
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