Zelda reminded me that play isn’t childish—it’s necessary

As a teenager, I loved Nintendo games for their bright worlds and effortless wonder. Then I grew into an early-2000s “serious” version of myself—and I started dismissing games as shallow. I began treating play like homework, trying to prove that what I was doing “mattered.”

That mindset cracked when I finally returned to The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker. The art style—full of cartoon charm instead of grim realism—made it feel “too childish” to take seriously. But something about that expressive little world pulled me back into the simple act of enjoying.

The Wind Waker flipped my idea of “real” games

Wind Waker came out in 2003, around my fifteenth birthday, but I didn’t play it then. I judged it from a distance, especially compared to the trend toward dark, heavy titles and gritty storytelling. In my mind, cartoon Link didn’t belong in the same conversation as “important” games.

When I was 17 and stuck in an existential spiral—questioning my career and even my relationship with games—I gave it another chance. And it worked. The game invited curiosity, not criticism.

Instead of overthinking, I could just:

• swish my sword through patches of grass
• sail with a bright, chatty boat
• chase small creatures on the beach
• hunt secrets on distant islands

Play became my coping tool—and my parenting compass

What surprised me most wasn’t just the fun—it was what fun did for me. Zelda taught me that “childlike” doesn’t mean “lesser.” Play is a way to stay connected to wonder, to experiment, and to breathe.

In adulthood—especially as a woman—there’s constant pressure for everything to be productive. Fun gets reframed as frivolous, hobbies become “side hustles,” and even reading or exercise gets justified through improvement metrics.

Keeping play in your life isn’t a luxury. It’s a survival strategy. It helped me navigate grief, make sense of what isn’t working in relationships or work, and show up with more patience and openness as a parent.

Looking ahead: more room for play

The world may keep trying to turn everything into output. But Zelda’s lesson endures: play is part of being human. The future, for me, is simple—protecting time to play, because it keeps life from hardening around the edges.