# Nintendo Announces $70 Ocarina of Time Remake, Gamer Tears Immediately Sour the Economy
Look, I get it. We're all trapped in this capitalist hellscape where a gallon of milk costs more than your first car and housing prices are a joke that stopped being funny about fifteen recessions ago. But even I, a person who has willingly paid $18 for a craft beer that tasted like a hipster's disappointment, was not prepared for the absolute clown show Nintendo just dropped on us.
Yesterday, the Big N—because yes, we're still calling them that like they're some cool uncle and not a multi-billion dollar corporation that has successfully convinced you that paying for online multiplayer in 2024 is normal—announced they're remaking *The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time* for the Switch 2. The price? A cool $70. For a game that originally came out in 1998, when Bill Clinton was president and people still thought Y2K would end civilization.
Let me repeat that: $70. For a game that is old enough to drink, vote, and have its own quarter-life crisis.
Now, before the Nintendo Defense Force comes for me with their Joy-Con drift-ridden controllers raised high, let me clarify something. I love *Ocarina of Time*. It's a masterpiece. It defined an entire genre. It made millions of Millennials and Gen Xers feel things they still can't explain in therapy. But charging $70 for a remaster of a game that came out when most of your current player base was still shitting their pants is the kind of energy I usually only see from people selling "vintage" t-shirts they found at Goodwill for $50.
The internet, predictably, has reacted with the grace and nuance of a toddler who just had their iPad taken away. The r/gaming subreddit is currently a war zone where people are arguing about whether this is "fair" while simultaneously posting their 500th "look at my Nintendo collection" photo that includes nine copies of *Skyrim*. The takes are so hot they could power a small city.
"BuT iT's A fUlL rEmAkE!" screams the guy who hasn't touched grass since 2017.
Is it though? Because from what I've seen, "full remake" in 2024 just means they've added ray-tracing, which is basically the video game equivalent of putting a new coat of paint on a house that's actively on fire. The core gameplay is still the same. The dungeons are still the same. Link still makes that stupid grunting noise when he pulls out the Master Sword like he's trying to lift a refrigerator by himself. It's the same game, just with better lighting and a higher price tag.
And let's talk about that price tag for a second. $70. For a game you can currently buy on the Nintendo eShop for $9.99. A game that, if you're like me, you've already bought three times: the original cartridge, the GameCube disc that came with *Wind Waker*, and the digital version on your 3DS that you never actually finished because you got stuck in the Water Temple and threw your handheld across the room.
Nintendo knows this. They know you've bought this game multiple times. They're counting on your nostalgia to override your common sense. They're betting that the same people who complain about "lazy remakes" will be the first ones to pre-order the collector's edition that comes with a plastic sword that will break within a week.
And you know what? They're probably right.
The worst part isn't even the price. It's the fact that Nintendo has conditioned us to expect this. We've been so thoroughly beaten down by $70 games that come with day-one patches, $60 "deluxe" editions that are just the base game with a hat, and subscription services that charge you monthly for the privilege of playing games you already own, that $70 for a remaster of a 26-year-old game almost seems... reasonable?
Almost.
But here's the thing that's really grinding my gears. *Ocarina of Time* is a fantastic game. It deserves to be preserved and played by new generations. But at what point does "preservation" become "exploitation"? At what point do we stop pretending that Nintendo is some benevolent guardian of gaming history and start acknowledging that they're just another corporation trying to squeeze every last dollar out of your childhood memories?
They're not doing this for the art. They're doing this because they know you'll pay for it. They know that the smell of fresh Hyrule Field grass and the sound of the Fairy Fountain music triggers a dopamine response in your 35-year-old brain that you can't control. They've weaponized your nostalgia, and you're handing them your credit card with a tear in your eye.
You want to know what $70 could get you? A full indie game that's actually innovative. A month's worth of groceries if you're smart about it. A therapy session to deal with the fact that you're using video games to fill the void left by your failed relationships and stagnant career. But no, you're going to spend it on a game where you play as a mute elf boy who talks to trees and fishes for bottles.
And let me address the inevitable comments: "But they put so much work into the remake! The textures are better! The frame rate is higher!"
Cool. I'm happy for you. But here's a thought: maybe Nintendo should put that effort into making a new game instead of re-releasing the same one for the fourth time. Maybe they should give us a *Zelda* game that doesn't follow the exact same formula they've been using since 1998. Maybe they should let us play as Zelda for once, you cowards.
But no. We get *Ocarina of Time* again. For $70. And we'll buy it. We'll pre-order it. We'll post pictures of it on social media with captions like "childhood memories" and "worth every penny." And Nintendo will laugh all the way to the bank while they plan their next remake: *Super Mario 64* for $80, now with more polygons
Final Thoughts
Having covered the industry long enough to remember the original’s launch, I can say that Nintendo’s decision to price a simple port of *Ocarina of Time* at a full $60—when the 3DS version already exists at a fraction of the cost—feels less like honoring a masterpiece and more like a cynical stress test of our nostalgia. The game is legendary, no doubt, but a re-release that offers nothing beyond a resolution bump and a save state isn't a "remake" by any honest measure; it’s a plain emulation dressed up for a premium shelf. Ultimately, the price tag tells us more about Nintendo’s confidence in its brand loyalty than it does about the value of the game itself, and for many of us who’ve already bought this adventure twice, it’s a bridge too far.