# Nintendo's $60 Ocarina Of Time Remake Has No New Content, But At Least You Can Pay For DLC Later
Look, I know we've all been thirsting for that sweet, sweet nostalgia hit like a dehydrated man in the desert who just realized his canteen is full of disappointment and microtransactions. Nintendo finally dropped the trailer for the *Ocarina of Time* remake we've been begging for since the N64 era, and let me tell you—it's exactly what you'd expect from a company that still charges $60 for a Wii U port they found in a dumpster behind the Kyoto office.
The price tag? A cool $59.99. The content? The exact same game you played in 1998, but now with "enhanced lighting" that makes Link look like he's been hitting the tanning bed a little too hard. And before you get excited about that "master quest" stuff from the GameCube days, sit your ass back down, because this remake doesn't even have that. It's literally the vanilla game, but now you can see every single polygon of Navi's annoying-ass face in 4K glory.
"Hey! Listen!" is about to become the most expensive three words in gaming history.
Let's talk about what you're actually getting for your sixty bucks. You get the same Hyrule Field that takes seventeen business days to cross. The same Water Temple that made you question your life choices. The same goddamn owl that interrupts your gameplay every five minutes to explain basic puzzles like you're a toddler who just discovered opposable thumbs. But now? Now you can see the individual pores on Ganondorf's nose when he drops that "I am the King of Evil" speech for the millionth time.
The internet, predictably, is losing its collective mind. People are posting side-by-side comparisons of the original and the remake, zooming in on a single blade of grass in Kokiri Forest like it's the Zapruder film. "Look at the volumetric fog!" they scream, while I'm over here wondering if Nintendo paid someone actual human money to render the dust particles in the Lost Woods. Spoiler alert: they did. That's why your wallet is crying.
But here's the real kicker, the part that made me spit out my Monster Energy drink all over my keyboard: Nintendo already confirmed there's going to be DLC. Not new dungeons, not a co-op mode, not even a playable Zelda campaign. No, the "expansion pass" is going to include... wait for it... cosmetics. You can pay $4.99 to give Link a different hat. A different. Fucking. Hat.
I can already see the Reddit threads: "AITA for spending $200 on the complete Ocarina of Time experience?" Yes, Karen, YTA, but so is Nintendo for charging you $15 to change the color of Epona's saddle. We live in a society where people will defend this with "but it's just optional content" while simultaneously complaining that they can't afford rent. Pick a struggle.
The pre-order bonuses are also peak 2024 bullshit. If you order through GameStop, you get a "golden cartridge" that's actually just a cheap plastic case with a sticker on it. Amazon's exclusive? A digital art book that's literally just screenshots from the game with filters applied. Best Buy is offering a "steelbook" that's already selling for $200 on eBay from bots that bought the entire stock in 0.3 seconds. Congratulations, you played yourself.
And can we talk about the performance? This is a game that originally ran on a console that had less processing power than your average smart fridge. You'd think a modern remake would at least hit a stable 60 frames per second, right? Wrong. The frame rate drops harder than my GPA in sophomore year when you enter Hyrule Castle Town. It's 2024, Nintendo. I have a 4K OLED monitor that costs more than your entire corporate valuation. I should not be getting stutters in the Deku Tree.
The sound design is "remastered," which apparently means they recorded a guy blowing into a microphone for the ocarina sections instead of using the original MIDI files. The soundtrack now has "dynamic range," which is fancy talk for "the fire temple theme will blow out your speakers while the background ambience is barely audible." Great listening experience for the low low price of possible hearing damage.
But you know what the most insulting part is? The original N64 cartridge, complete with its janky controls and fog that made everything look like Silent Hill, is still the best way to play this game. Speedrunners have been breaking it in half for decades. Modders have added ray tracing, widescreen support, and 4K textures for free. Meanwhile, Nintendo's official version has Denuvo anti-tamper software that makes the game run worse than the emulated version you pirated in 2005.
This is the same company that sued a guy for modding a Wii. The same company that took down fan projects that were literally fixing their broken games. And now they want you to pay $60 for a product that modders improved for free while also charging extra for content that modders already added to the original ROM.
I know, I know. You're going to buy it anyway. I can see you already pulling out your wallet, tears in your eyes, whispering "but the Temple of Time music makes me feel things." And you know what? I don't blame you. I've been there. I've paid $50 for a "HD remaster" of a PS2 game that still had the same loading screens. We're all addicts chasing that first high of stepping into Hyrule Field for the first time.
But for the love of all that is holy, at least wait for the reviews. Wait for the Digital Foundry breakdown. Wait for the inevitable "actually the original is better" video essay that will drop three hours after launch. Or don't. It's your money. I'm just the guy pointing out that you're paying inflation-adjusted prices for a game that came out when Bill Clinton was still president and people thought the Y2K
Final Thoughts
After years of speculation and fan demand, the rumored price point for a Zelda: Ocarina of Time remake feels less like a tribute to a masterpiece and more like a test of nostalgia’s wallet—Nintendo knows we’ll pay a premium to relive Hyrule Field in 4K, but that doesn’t make a $60-to-$70 tag any less audacious for a game we’ve already bought three times. The real question isn’t whether it’s worth the money, but whether a faithful visual overhaul can recapture the revolutionary wonder of 1998 without the industry’s current tendency to polish the soul out of classic design. Ultimately, this pricing strategy reveals a hard truth: in 2025, even our most cherished memories have become a premium subscription service.