For the first few weeks after The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild came out, my kids and I settled into a familiar routine on Sunday mornings. I’d make them breakfast, get myself some coffee, then we’d laze around on the couch for a few hours exploring Hyrule. They couldn’t actually play it themselves — at two and four years old, they’re not quite ready for that — but they were entranced by the fantastical realm, helping guide me through tricky dungeons and offering up ideas for recipes to cook up. They’d sit quietly, intensely focused as I tried to sneak up on a wild horse and ride it.
As I savored these moments — I know they won’t last forever — I also secretly hoped that they’d eventually turn into warm memories, the kinds of...
