People seem to be name-dropping Majora's Mask an awful lot when discussing The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks, and I suppose it's apt in a sense. After all, what we have here is a rapidly developed sequel whose mechanics and interfaces are based heavily upon its predecessor. Where Majora's Mask introduced a radical change in overall structure, however, Spirit Tracks brings refinement. It's far more sophisticated than Phantom Hourglass, and almost seems developed to ease gamers into the kind of complexity expected from a "real" Zelda game.
To wit, the early hours of Spirit Tracks evoke a bit of Phantom Hourglass déjà vu, with dungeons that are both extremely short and extremely basic. As you progress, however, the game builds and builds upon itself until the quality is almost stupefying. Dungeons increase in size and complexity, with puzzles and items that truly rival the best the series has to offer. There's some out-of-the-box thinking going on here that, really, I haven't seen at all in previous titles.
Past Zelda titles, Wind Waker in particular, have flirted with the idea of a dungeon-faring partner. Spirit Tracks combines the traditional "passive adviser" role with this rarely seen "active assistant" and ends up with Princess Zelda herself, who accompanies you for the entire game by way of a prolonged out-of-body experience. Where this partnership really shines is in the Tower of Spirits, an evolution of the Temple of the Ocean King idea first explored in Phantom Hourglass. While said temple (arguably) faltered due to repetition, stealth, and time limits, the Tower of Spirits succeeds wildly due to being tackled in distinct chunks, minimizing stealth, and exploiting heavily the dynamics behind the Link/Zelda relationship.
Zelda's main hook as a partner is her ability to inhabit the myriad Phantom armors that roam the floors of the Tower of Spirits. Aside from generally following the path you draw for her with your stylus, Zelda's more generic Phantom abilities entail hitting dudes with her sword, standing on switches, and defending Link from peril. Things start to get really fancy, though, when you consider that there are different types of Phantom to possess. Each has its own specialty, be it lighting torches, teleporting to specific waypoints, or bowling through barriers. The later floors in the tower throw all of the Phantom types at you en masse, and you have to switch between them to tackle huge and elaborate environmental puzzles. It's really quite something!
One of the particularly cool parts of the Tower of Spirits is the winding staircase that you climb to access its various floors. As you ascend, the background music picks up additional instruments, culminating in a multi-layered score that reflects well the gravity of your progress. This track-layering is hardly exclusive to the tower, though, and also kicks in when you enter shops and change speeds on the overworld. Spirit Tracks reuses classic themes far less than you might be accustomed to, and actually pioneers a surprising amount of extremely high-quality tunes—perhaps some of the best music in recent franchise history.
Nowhere are these melodies more engaging than in the fields of Hyrule, where the titular Spirit Tracks themselves crisscross the landscape. This is the first traditional overworld where the game camera is zoomed so far out, due mainly to Link's mode of transportation, and it's almost evocative of late-90s RPGs in its stylings. There's a much wider view of the country around you, and there's a significant amount of geometry dedicated to its rendering. Since everything doesn't have to be proportioned to an on-foot Link, there are grand views of hills, mountains, outcroppings, forests, lakes, and all manner of geographical curiosities. It's really the first 3D Zelda where you can actually see and appreciate the whole world, not just tiny Link-sized pockets of it at a time.
Of course, you traverse Hyrule by train. It seems pretty limiting at first, since all you can do is choose a path along existing tracks, but they somehow manage to elicit a sense of curiosity and exploration nonetheless. Each chunk of Hyrule starts with only a few tracks, but completing train-based objectives (ferrying individuals or cargo from place to place) reveals, bit by bit, new tracks that spear into heretofore unvisited locales. Glimpses at the map, or the landscape as you pan the camera around the train, will hint at places you have yet to gain access to. "I can probably get over there... I just have to find another errand to run!"
You spend an awful lot of time conducting that train, and it's kind of weird, actually. While in theory it's the least interactive overworld ever, due to only being able to travel along specific paths, its also one of the most involving ones. Enemies have to be fended off fairly regularly, passengers and cargo demand particular speed and horn etiquette, and there are plenty of other interactive elements that dot the sides of the tracks. If you consider a traditional Zelda overworld, there are often a fair amount of meaningless or insignificant secret areas—little holes that lead to a couple rupees or some extra arrows. In Spirit Tracks, any secret areas you come across on the overworld are actually pretty significant. New towns, outposts, and miniature dungeons hide beyond locked-away tracks, and while sure it's just a matter of remembering to check out the new tracks when you unlock them, it's pretty satisfying to find a new and uncharted destination—especially when you were expecting just another shortcut.
Just like in Phantom Hourglass, you can increase your train's durability and radically alter its appearance by attaching new parts. The mechanics for this system have changed somewhat in Spirit Tracks—instead of acquiring parts directly, you collect various "treasures" that you can then trade in particular combinations and volumes for the components you want. The difficulty here is that train parts are expensive. I'd say it's literally impossible to get enough treasure throughout the normal flow of the game to complete every set, or even get somewhat close. Treasures of varying rarity are the default reward for virtually every task or discovery in the game, but they're effectively worthless unless you build up a very specifically qualified quantity.
Now I'm not complaining about extra effort being required to max out a game. To the contrary—I love these quests for completion in Zelda games. The issue is that treasures are acquired randomly. Just like in Phantom Hourglass, and unlike every other Zelda game that preceded it, you have to grind for completion, which I'm not entirely comfortable with. In order to complete my train set, I replayed minigames where I had figured out the reward tiers for ages until I had collected what I wanted. I even spent an hour blowing away leaves in a village that was the only reliable source for a particular low-level treasure, and almost passed out in the progress (blowing on the microphone repeatedly for that amount of time: not a good idea). I finally ended up forwarding my DS clock day by day to refresh the in-game store inventory to acquire my last pieces. Zelda games used to be better than this, with rewards for exploration and skill, not for time sunk.
Don't let the treasure issues linger in your mind for too long, though. Spirit Tracks shines in virtually every other area, with dungeon design that stands on par with the series' best, and a very interesting take on the traditional Zelda overworld. While it's true that these DS Zelda games are developing some disturbing conventions, I'd expect yet another significant shakeup for the series the next time you play it on a handheld.
To wit, the early hours of Spirit Tracks evoke a bit of Phantom Hourglass déjà vu, with dungeons that are both extremely short and extremely basic. As you progress, however, the game builds and builds upon itself until the quality is almost stupefying. Dungeons increase in size and complexity, with puzzles and items that truly rival the best the series has to offer. There's some out-of-the-box thinking going on here that, really, I haven't seen at all in previous titles.
Past Zelda titles, Wind Waker in particular, have flirted with the idea of a dungeon-faring partner. Spirit Tracks combines the traditional "passive adviser" role with this rarely seen "active assistant" and ends up with Princess Zelda herself, who accompanies you for the entire game by way of a prolonged out-of-body experience. Where this partnership really shines is in the Tower of Spirits, an evolution of the Temple of the Ocean King idea first explored in Phantom Hourglass. While said temple (arguably) faltered due to repetition, stealth, and time limits, the Tower of Spirits succeeds wildly due to being tackled in distinct chunks, minimizing stealth, and exploiting heavily the dynamics behind the Link/Zelda relationship.
Zelda's main hook as a partner is her ability to inhabit the myriad Phantom armors that roam the floors of the Tower of Spirits. Aside from generally following the path you draw for her with your stylus, Zelda's more generic Phantom abilities entail hitting dudes with her sword, standing on switches, and defending Link from peril. Things start to get really fancy, though, when you consider that there are different types of Phantom to possess. Each has its own specialty, be it lighting torches, teleporting to specific waypoints, or bowling through barriers. The later floors in the tower throw all of the Phantom types at you en masse, and you have to switch between them to tackle huge and elaborate environmental puzzles. It's really quite something!
One of the particularly cool parts of the Tower of Spirits is the winding staircase that you climb to access its various floors. As you ascend, the background music picks up additional instruments, culminating in a multi-layered score that reflects well the gravity of your progress. This track-layering is hardly exclusive to the tower, though, and also kicks in when you enter shops and change speeds on the overworld. Spirit Tracks reuses classic themes far less than you might be accustomed to, and actually pioneers a surprising amount of extremely high-quality tunes—perhaps some of the best music in recent franchise history.
Nowhere are these melodies more engaging than in the fields of Hyrule, where the titular Spirit Tracks themselves crisscross the landscape. This is the first traditional overworld where the game camera is zoomed so far out, due mainly to Link's mode of transportation, and it's almost evocative of late-90s RPGs in its stylings. There's a much wider view of the country around you, and there's a significant amount of geometry dedicated to its rendering. Since everything doesn't have to be proportioned to an on-foot Link, there are grand views of hills, mountains, outcroppings, forests, lakes, and all manner of geographical curiosities. It's really the first 3D Zelda where you can actually see and appreciate the whole world, not just tiny Link-sized pockets of it at a time.
Of course, you traverse Hyrule by train. It seems pretty limiting at first, since all you can do is choose a path along existing tracks, but they somehow manage to elicit a sense of curiosity and exploration nonetheless. Each chunk of Hyrule starts with only a few tracks, but completing train-based objectives (ferrying individuals or cargo from place to place) reveals, bit by bit, new tracks that spear into heretofore unvisited locales. Glimpses at the map, or the landscape as you pan the camera around the train, will hint at places you have yet to gain access to. "I can probably get over there... I just have to find another errand to run!"
You spend an awful lot of time conducting that train, and it's kind of weird, actually. While in theory it's the least interactive overworld ever, due to only being able to travel along specific paths, its also one of the most involving ones. Enemies have to be fended off fairly regularly, passengers and cargo demand particular speed and horn etiquette, and there are plenty of other interactive elements that dot the sides of the tracks. If you consider a traditional Zelda overworld, there are often a fair amount of meaningless or insignificant secret areas—little holes that lead to a couple rupees or some extra arrows. In Spirit Tracks, any secret areas you come across on the overworld are actually pretty significant. New towns, outposts, and miniature dungeons hide beyond locked-away tracks, and while sure it's just a matter of remembering to check out the new tracks when you unlock them, it's pretty satisfying to find a new and uncharted destination—especially when you were expecting just another shortcut.
Just like in Phantom Hourglass, you can increase your train's durability and radically alter its appearance by attaching new parts. The mechanics for this system have changed somewhat in Spirit Tracks—instead of acquiring parts directly, you collect various "treasures" that you can then trade in particular combinations and volumes for the components you want. The difficulty here is that train parts are expensive. I'd say it's literally impossible to get enough treasure throughout the normal flow of the game to complete every set, or even get somewhat close. Treasures of varying rarity are the default reward for virtually every task or discovery in the game, but they're effectively worthless unless you build up a very specifically qualified quantity.
Now I'm not complaining about extra effort being required to max out a game. To the contrary—I love these quests for completion in Zelda games. The issue is that treasures are acquired randomly. Just like in Phantom Hourglass, and unlike every other Zelda game that preceded it, you have to grind for completion, which I'm not entirely comfortable with. In order to complete my train set, I replayed minigames where I had figured out the reward tiers for ages until I had collected what I wanted. I even spent an hour blowing away leaves in a village that was the only reliable source for a particular low-level treasure, and almost passed out in the progress (blowing on the microphone repeatedly for that amount of time: not a good idea). I finally ended up forwarding my DS clock day by day to refresh the in-game store inventory to acquire my last pieces. Zelda games used to be better than this, with rewards for exploration and skill, not for time sunk.
Don't let the treasure issues linger in your mind for too long, though. Spirit Tracks shines in virtually every other area, with dungeon design that stands on par with the series' best, and a very interesting take on the traditional Zelda overworld. While it's true that these DS Zelda games are developing some disturbing conventions, I'd expect yet another significant shakeup for the series the next time you play it on a handheld.