It was 1989. You sat down on a Friday afternoon, cereal bowl in hand, waiting for the Super Mario Bros. Super Show! to wrap up its live-action segments. But instead of another plumbing adventure, the screen faded to a dark, moody landscape of Hyrule. This was it. The Legend of Zelda cartoon had arrived. For exactly thirteen episodes, Link and Zelda became more than just 8-bit sprites on a golden NES cartridge. They became bickering teenagers with distinct personalities, a talking mirror, and a catchphrase that would haunt the internet for decades.
Honestly, it’s a weird piece of history. DiC Enterprises produced it, and while the animation quality was... let’s say "variable," it captured a very specific moment in the late eighties when video games were basically the Wild West. There was no deep lore bible. No Hyrule Historia. The writers were working with a manual, a map, and their own imaginations.
Link’s Attitude and the "Excuuuuse Me" Legacy
If you only know one thing about the Legend of Zelda cartoon, it’s probably "Well, excuse me, Princess!" Link wasn’t the stoic, silent protagonist we know from Breath of the Wild. Far from it. This Link was a cocky, slightly arrogant teenager voiced by Jonathan Potts. He spent a significant portion of the series trying to get a kiss from Zelda, which, looking back, is kinda hilarious given how high the stakes were.
He was essentially a teen heartthrob who happened to be a master swordsman.
The dynamic between Link and Zelda was surprisingly modern for a Saturday morning cartoon. Zelda wasn't a damsel. She didn't just sit in a tower waiting for rescue; she wore boots, carried a bow, and got her hands dirty. She was often more competent than Link, who frequently let his ego get in the way of his heroics. They argued. They flirted. They fought off Moblins together. It was a "will-they-won't-they" procedural set in a fantasy wasteland.
Potts actually talked about this role years later at various conventions. He mentioned that the "Excuuuuse me" line wasn't supposed to be a meme—memes didn't exist. It was just a way to show Link’s frustration with Zelda’s royal bossiness. But the delivery was so distinct, so whiny yet charming, that it stuck. It’s now the defining trait of this version of the character.
Ganon, the Triforce, and the Rules of the World
The show took massive liberties with the game mechanics. In the Legend of Zelda cartoon, Ganon lived in the Underworld and possessed the Triforce of Power. Link and Zelda held the Triforce of Wisdom. Interestingly, the Triforce of Courage was nowhere to be found—it hadn't been introduced in the games yet in the way we recognize it today.
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Ganon was voiced by Len Carlson, who gave him a deep, gravelly snarl. He wasn't just a pig-monster; he was a strategic villain who used a "Jar of Evil" to teleport his minions. He had a literal teleportation hub. It felt very much like a He-Man or G.I. Joe setup.
- The Triforce of Wisdom actually talked. It gave cryptic advice in a shimmering, ethereal voice.
- Link’s sword shot "beams" just like in the game when you have full health.
- Ganon’s minions, like the Octoroks and Stalfos, were surprisingly faithful to the original NES designs.
The show did this cool thing where it incorporated sound effects directly from the Nintendo game. When Link picked up an item or Ganon took damage, you’d hear that iconic 8-bit chirp. It grounded the weirdness in something familiar. It made it feel like the game was coming to life, even if the plot involved Link trying to avoid doing chores.
Why it Ended So Quickly
Thirteen episodes. That’s all we got. The Legend of Zelda cartoon was part of a syndication package, meaning it only aired on Fridays as part of the Mario block. When the Super Mario Bros. Super Show! transitioned into Captain N: The Game Master, Zelda got left behind.
It wasn't because it was a failure. Ratings were actually decent. But the licensing landscape for Nintendo was changing. They were becoming more protective of their IPs. Plus, Zelda II: The Adventure of Link had been polarizing for fans, and the franchise was in a bit of a transitional period before A Link to the Past redefined everything on the SNES.
The animation was handled by DiC, the same studio behind Inspector Gadget. If you watch it now, you’ll see the "DiC wobble"—backgrounds that don't quite line up and characters who change size from frame to frame. It has a low-budget charm that is impossible to replicate with modern digital tools. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s 1989 in a bottle.
The Cultural Afterlife and Meme Status
YouTube Poop. That’s how a new generation discovered the Legend of Zelda cartoon. In the mid-2000s, early internet creators took the clunky dialogue and strange animation loops to create surrealist comedy. This gave the show a second life that Nintendo probably never intended.
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Suddenly, Link’s whining was a global joke.
But beneath the memes, there's a lot of respect for what the show tried to do. It gave Link a voice when he didn't have one. It gave Zelda agency decades before it became a standard trope in the games. It explored the geography of Hyrule in a way that the limited NES hardware simply couldn't. North Castle, the Forest of Spirits—these weren't just names; they were places Link walked through.
You have to remember that at this time, there were no cinematic cutscenes. There was no voice acting in games. For a kid in 1989, seeing Link move and talk was groundbreaking. It didn't matter if the dialogue was cheesy.
Deep Cuts for True Fans
The show featured several items that were clearly inspired by the games but used in creative ways. Link’s "magic pouch" was a bottomless inventory system. He’d reach in and pull out a raft or a flute, which would instantly grow to full size. It was a clever way to handle the "sub-screen" inventory from the NES game without slowing down the action.
And then there’s Spryte.
Spryte was a fairy original to the show who had a crush on Link. She was basically the prototype for Navi or Tatl. She provided exposition and a bit of comic relief. Some fans find her annoying, but she’s a fascinating link (pun intended) to the future of the series. It’s almost like the game developers at Nintendo were watching and thought, "Hey, maybe Link does need a tiny flying companion to tell him what to do."
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How to Watch It Today
If you’re looking to revisit the Legend of Zelda cartoon, it’s easier than you might think. It has been released on DVD several times, usually as "The Legend of Zelda: The Complete Animated Series." You can also find it floating around various streaming platforms and, of course, unofficial uploads on video sharing sites.
Watching it today is a trip. You have to put on your 1980s goggles. Don't expect Tears of the Kingdom levels of storytelling. Expect a show that was designed to sell toys and keep kids occupied while their parents made dinner.
It’s a time capsule.
Practical Ways to Experience 80s Zelda Today
If this trip down memory lane has you feeling nostalgic, don't just stop at the cartoon. The era of the Legend of Zelda cartoon was a unique ecosystem of media.
- Play the NES Original with "Cartoon" Rules: Try playing the original Legend of Zelda on Nintendo Switch Online, but only use the items Link used in the show during specific episodes (like the Boomerang or the Bow).
- Track down the Valiant Comics: Around the same time, Valiant published a Zelda comic book series. It shares the same "vibe" as the cartoon but with slightly more serious art and storytelling. It’s the perfect companion piece.
- Listen to the Soundtrack: The cartoon used a rearranged version of Koji Kondo’s original theme. It’s synth-heavy, bombastic, and very much of its time.
- Compare the Character Designs: Look at the official art for Zelda II and compare it to the cartoon models. You can see where the animators took inspiration and where they just went totally off the rails.
The Legend of Zelda cartoon might be a "black sheep" in the eyes of some Nintendo purists, but it represents a period of fearless experimentation. It wasn't afraid to be silly. It wasn't afraid to make Link a bit of a jerk. And in doing so, it carved out a permanent spot in the hearts of those who grew up in the shadow of the NES. Whether you love the "Excuuuuse me" or cringe every time you hear it, you can't deny that the show helped turn a video game into a cultural phenomenon. It proved that Link and Zelda could carry a narrative outside of the console, paving the way for everything from manga adaptations to the upcoming live-action movie.
Basically, the show did the heavy lifting so the franchise could run.
Go watch the first episode, "The Ringer," and try not to get that theme song stuck in your head. It’s impossible. The show is short, it’s punchy, and it’s a vital piece of gaming history that deserves more than just being a punchline. It's a reminder of when Hyrule was still being mapped out, one Friday afternoon at a time.