I have an ex whose introduction to Zelda was via my copy of Phantom Hourglass. She started playing one day, intrigued by the game's physicality: the puzzles involving the closure of the DS, the mortifying embarrassment of yelling, "I WANT A CRANE!!!" on a crowded bus. When she was done, she felt duty-bound to backtrack, through Minish Cap, all the way to Link to the Past, and she soldiered doggedly through them. But when Spirit Tracks was announced, she was overjoyed at the prospect of returning to "real" Zelda gaming. So when she messaged me the other day to announce that she was bored stupid by Spirit Tracks - which for her was like being made sad by a Polyphonic Spree song or calmed by an Ann Coulter interview - I had to wonder: what went wrong?

The Good Old Days.

The Zelda games are inherently progressive, as the Mario games are inherently conservative. Mario's games evolve with the slow pace of the guy who has a good thing going and doesn't want to jinx it. The basic formula - dude in hat jumps for coins, brutalizes fungi - may receive small augmentations in the form of having Mario carry things or having things carry Mario, but the gist remains the same. Thank God for the illegitimacy of Doki Doki Panic spicing up the gene pool, or Super Mario Galaxy would just be reaching the 3D phase.

Whereas every new Zelda is a crapshoot for new elements. This has been a constant ever since the notoriously divisive The Adventure of Link's addition of RPG elements to the Zelda formula. I worked in a games store when The Wind Waker was released, and the cries of disappointment from thick-skulled Nintentoughs at the game's "cartoony graphics" was equaled only by the shrieks of delight from more adventurous aficionadoes. Zelda games try new things. That's what they do.

Remember how before The Phantom Hourglass was released, the idea of a Zelda game controlled entirely with the Stylus caused consternation roughly equal to that created by the Global Economic Crisis or an outbreak of Ebola? The DS Zelda playing stance - hunched over the handheld like an antisocial teenager - now feels so natural that already, the mere idea of moving the little tyke around a portable Hyrule with D-pad and action buttons somehow seems ridiculous.

So, with Phantom Hourglass having done the hard work - persuading players that chasing the stylus' tip was just as valid as D-padding doggedly onward - Spirit Tracks ought to have been a true leap forward. Hourglass was like Radiohead's Ok Computer: giving fans permission to enjoy samples 'n' keyboards, clearing the way for Spirit Tracks to usher in an epic of Kid A-like sweep and texture. Or at least not an Eraser-calibre feast of plodderry that defied you to wring an ounce of fun out of its flaccid husk of an experience.

Skilled analogy-followers may be able to discern the author's attitude, confessed only now in the fullness of time, toward The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks. I like most everything with Zelda in the title, but excuuuuuse me, Princess: damned if that game was not some desperately boring crap. Sailing with Hourglass' Linebeck was constant joyous freedom, a treat so effervescent that even the game's third-act fetch-quest couldn't stop the fun. But riding the titular Spirit Tracks brought everyone's least favorite filler genre - wahey, it's a rail-shooter! - to Zelda.

I pronounce thee boring as all get out.

And the cutscenes! Where Phantom Hourglass was short 'n' sweet with the cinematics, Spirit Tracks aimed to become the DS' own little Guns of the Patriots, making players munch huge chunks of hopelessly drab story to get to the meat of the thing. All of which is a shame, because when Zelda is on point, it's basically everything a reasonable person could want from a videogame, and Spirit Tracks was no exception. The puzzles were still ingenious, and there were still those forehead-slappingly bittersweet "oh, of course!" moments that mark every Zelda adventure. And the action - rail-mounted boss-battles aside - was still a joy. But it feels doubly mean to dole out these moments of purity so stingily: bad enough we had to wait four years for the game, we then had to tap the screen through endless model-train semi-interactives?

Pictured: Fun?

Twilight Princess suffered from the same paucity of innovation. The Wii-specific immersivity - draw the Nunchuk back to notch an arrow, then release your grip to let it fly! - was dropped lest fans find the game's newness alienating. The game became the darker-'n'-edgier Ocarina sequel that fans professed to want, instead of the flurry of Wii-grade innovation they deserved to be confounded and delighted by. It was like seeing your favorite indie band release a 3:30 pop single: the games seemed to have lost that experimental spark that gave us the epic sweep of Link to the Past, the assured 3D transition of Ocarina of Time - and the Stylus-driven freshness of Phantom Hourglass.

An optimistic view of Spirit Tracks might see it as nothing but a sophomore misfire. Hourglass taught that Stylus-driven Zelda can be great, and Tracks warned that it's not inherently great. Hopefully the next DS Zelda installment will take the innovations of Phantom Hourglass and use them to craft an adventure that avoids the plodding mediocrity of riding the Spirit Tracks. And by extension, here's hoping the games start charting that new land promised a couple installments back. What with these being basically the best series in gaming and all - try and argue that Mario or Sonic or Final Fantasy or Halo don't put a foot at least as wrong as Zelda on a regular basis - here's hoping another rush of innovation is imminent.

And hey, maybe you'll be able to download The Legend of Zelda: In Hyrule's Rainbows for free off the Internet. Let's be optimistic.