This also explains the popularity of Donald Trump imo

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5843458&forum_id=2ГѓЖ’#49731340)

What’s interesting, looking back at the Tears of the Kingdom discourse from even a slight temporal remove, is how nakedly it exposed one of the central rituals of gamer consumer society at that exact stage of platform capitalism, which is that people had already half accepted that sequels were going to be asset reuse machines and iteration platforms and basically controlled re-deployments of prior labor, but they still needed to preserve this little sacred theater where every major first party release was supposed to feel like an ontological event, like no dude it can’t just be “more of the map” it has to be a Revelation, and so when TOTK came out and was, in the most obvious possible sense, the Same Game as Breath of the Wild and also very much not the same game at all, people had a complete fucking seizure because they could not metabolize the gap between formal novelty and experiential continuity, they couldn’t handle the fact that Nintendo basically ran the oldest move in the history of art and commerce which is “take the previous successful form and densify it until it becomes something else,” and because redditors are redditors they had to pretend this was some unprecedented moral crime instead of like half of all civilization.

And yeah lol here comes the first NPC reply already, “bro how is it the same game when they added sky islands and the depths and Ultrahand and Fuse and Recall and a huge amount of questing and systemic interactions,” yeah no shit they added mechanics, no shit they added verticality, no shit they restructured traversal and encounter design and puzzle affordances, that is literally the point, the scandal was never that TOTK was literally identical, only an actual vegetable thinks that was the claim, the scandal was that it preserved too much of BOTW’s phenomenological skeleton, same Hyrule silhouette, same cadence of shrine hunting, same weather annoyance logic, same durable rhythm of wandering across familiar terrain punctuated by little systems driven improvisations, same ambient solitude broken by modular activities, same “look over there and go” architecture, so the player was trapped in this uncanny situation where the labor of learning had clearly been amortized across titles and Nintendo was collecting on that amortization while still charging full Sacred Event price, and people viscerally felt that before they had the language for it, so they just yelled SAME GAME like apes banging stones together because primitive slogans are how consumers report structural truths they can’t yet formalize.

And from an anthropological angle this is very beautiful because people at that time were still using words like “same game” and “DLC” not as analytic categories but as taboo markers, purity language basically, contamination language, what they meant was not “this product contains insufficient delta in a technical design sense” but “I do not feel properly re-enchanted relative to the premium symbolic status of the release,” which is why the arguments were always so stupid on the surface and so revealing underneath, because one side would go “it has tons of new mechanics, objectively not DLC” and the other side would go “yeah but it FEELS like BOTW 1.5,” and both were right in their own narrow little crippled way, because the object under dispute was a sequel built on reuse so extensive that it challenged the folk ideology of novelty while also being mechanically ambitious enough to humiliate the simple reuse accusation. The ritual could not stabilize because the commodity exceeded the categories the consumers brought to it.

Like people act shocked that this happened, oh wow Nintendo reused a map, wow dude insane, as if Majora’s Mask didn’t already exist as basically one of the greatest proofs in games that formal reuse can produce a totally distinct work, but that’s exactly why this case was more inflammatory, because Majora’s Mask wore its difference on the surface through mood, temporality, dread, repetition, the whole thing screamed alternate ontology, whereas Tears of the Kingdom did something way more economically modern and therefore way more offensive to the gamer subconscious: it retained the same baseline world image and then overclocked the simulation layer, which means a lot of the development expenditure was going into combinatorial systems and production density rather than into providing the user with the immediate narcotic of obvious discontinuity. And gamers, despite endless posing about Gameplay are in fact huge whores for obvious discontinuity. They want to see where the money went. They want difference legible at screenshot resolution. They want to point at a trailer and say new biome, new continent, new vibe, new silhouette, not some higher order answer like “the intervention was in the state space of object interaction and systemic problem solving.” That’s too abstract. That requires cognition. They want a costume change and a passport stamp.

The real scandal is not that TOTK was the Same Game, it’s that Nintendo accidentally made visible the hidden accounting structure of sequel production. BOTW did the expensive civilizational work: engine direction, open world grammar, physics affordance culture, traversal norms, environmental legibility, all that foundational shit. Tears of the Kingdom then harvested from a partially solved problem space. That is not laziness. That is exactly what firms do when they are behaving rationally under conditions of blockbuster risk. Once you have a world model players already understand, every additional design move can go into deeper local expressivity. Ultrahand is not just a mechanic, it is a way of cashing in on prior player familiarity with surfaces, objects, cliffs, weather, enemy camps, distances, traversal bottlenecks. The sequel works because the original trained the player to inhabit that Hyrule. So yes, in one sense TOTK is parasitic on BOTW. Congratulations, you have discovered what a sequel is. The only reason it felt scandalous is because Nintendo’s prestige branding had trained people to confuse successful amortization with artistic illegitimacy.

And then of course you had the most irritating little church ladies of discourse showing up like “ummm actually if you spent 300 hours in BOTW then maybe familiarity is your problem :)” which is such a perfect late-stage consumer ideology line because it individualizes what is obviously a product form issue, like no sorry, if a sequel materially depends on your prior saturation with its predecessor in order to generate part of its affective profile, then prior play history is not some irrelevant personal defect, it is part of the reception structure of the artifact. TOTK was built to resonate with memory of BOTW. Familiarity was not noise, it was substrate. The developers were absolutely counting on your recognition of stables, ruins, roads, villages, mountain lines, old absences now filled, old expectations now interrupted. The entire emotional economy of “what has changed?” presupposes “I know what was there before.” So when people said it felt too similar, they weren’t hallucinating; they were reporting the same design dependency from the negative side.

From the future this whole thing reads almost quaint because it was one of the last big mainstream episodes where players still thought New Game and Same Game were discrete opposites rather than negotiated positions on a spectrum of asset continuity, mechanical variance, world memory reuse, and novelty presentation. Later discourse got more cynical and more technically literate about live service drift, franchise iteration, remaster logic, content pipelines, all that sludge. But in the TOTK moment you still had this touching little moral drama where people wanted to believe Nintendo was above ordinary industrial behavior, and then got mad when Nintendo behaved like an extremely sophisticated version of the same industrial logic everyone else uses, only with better toy physics and more restraint.

So was TOTK the same game as BOTW? Yeah, in the only sense that mattered. It inhabited the same world image, preserved the same exploratory grammar, and relied on the player’s prior cognitive map enough that the commodity could not cleanly present itself as a fresh ontological object. And no, it wasn’t the same game in the equally important sense that it massively reconfigured the action space, the problem solving texture, the vertical composition of the world, and the expressive bandwidth of player improvisation. The reason everyone went insane is that both of those statements are true, and forum discourse is generated by people whose brains immediately catch fire when asked to hold a two part truth longer than eight seconds.

That was the ritual. One side chanting “it’s literally DLC” because they felt the continuity too strongly, the other chanting “you’re blind, it changed everything” because they saw the systems delta too clearly, and floating above them the actual reality, which is that Nintendo pulled off a very advanced sequel maneuver: they made a game whose innovation was real but whose novelty signal was partially occluded by inherited worldhood, and the audience, being descendants of merchants and priests and cattle thieves with Reddit accounts, translated that difficult aesthetic economic contradiction into a holy war about whether reusing Hyrule was a sin.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5843458&forum_id=2ГѓЖ’#49731164)