The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time has revived the midnight game launch – but was it worth the wait?

When our writer found himself among the hundreds on Oxford Street hoping to get their hands on early copies and collectibles, it was a heartwarming reminder of the shared experience of fandom

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time review – a dream come true

It is Thursday night and I am sat blurry-eyed and runny nosed outside the Argos on Oxford Street. Incredibly, I am far from alone. This is not some strange protest against the popular retailer. When the clock strikes midnight, the lavish 4K Switch 2 remake of beloved N64 classic The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time will be released, and I have joined a lengthy queue of about 500 fans desperate to snag early copies. There are similar events taking place across the world, from Melbourne to Mexico City; at key locations, Nintendo has senior executives waiting at the tills.

These days, of course, most video games are bought as digital copies that download straight to your PC or console on the day of release. You don’t even have to get out of bed to start playing. But in a bygone era, when we used to go to shops to buy games, midnight launches offered a space for likeminded enthusiasts to gather and celebrate their fandom. Every Call of Duty, Halo or Grand Theft Auto release would have fans queueing outside branches of Game or Electronics Boutique, many dressed as favourite characters.

As one of the few Brits deluded enough to spend six hours queueing at the Wii U’s midnight launch, I have a certain fondness for the game launch as a cultural event rather than just a weird display of performative consumerism. There was something heartwarming about seeing the video game hype cycle transformed into a shared experience.

In our age of downloads and streaming services, however, you might wonder why anyone would bother queueing for hours in the November chill. Well, myself and hundreds of others have made the pilgrimage for one infuriatingly irresistible reason: those attending the launch would not only get a copy of the game but also a limited ocarina-shaped keyring and an exclusive replica of the original 1998 N64 box. To you, perhaps, a worthless piece of cardboard – but to us, a highly collectible, nostalgia-soaked … piece of cardboard.

Arriving at the queue for 22:45, bottle of water in hand, it’s not long before I realise I may have already blown it. With midnight launch events now few and far between, I had no idea whether people would still show up. Yet London’s Zelda fans had answered the Ocarina’s hymn and assembled en masse – snaking all the way around the corner.

Thankfully, we’re soon informed by staff that everyone will be receiving a precious exclusive box regardless. Even if the stock runs out tonight, they say, we will all be posted one. Cue the Zelda treasure chest fanfare. I befriend a popcorn-munching man behind me who regales me with tales of the GameCube launch, as confused gen Z queuers regard us elderly Nintendo fanatics with disdain. The throng shuffles ever closer from the sidestreet into the back street, but when the clock strikes midnight, the shop is still a world away. A parade of men with cameraphones clutched to their chests circles the snaking queue, recording our suffering for future generations.

At 2am, progress halts and frustration grows. Reluctantly, I scout to the front to investigate. It transpires that the store will soon shut, and the hundreds of queuers that remain will need to leave their details to receive the feted box by post. By the time I scrawl my name and address, I have been queueing for four hours.

As I wait for my taxi, questioning my life choices, I see a fellow cardboard enthusiast peering into the shuttered window, wistfully admiring the Zelda display. He tells me that his partner attended the Paris midnight launch where the queues were similarly enormous. Not only did she walk away with nothing, but Nintendo France were not taking details or promising to post boxes out to unlucky queuers. As my lift pulls up, the nostalgic appeal of the midnight launch has all but dissipated. I take small comfort in knowing one thing – at least we’re better off than the French.