I don’t think anyone is surprised by the warm reception critics have given the recent 3DS remake of “The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time.” It’s a sure seller and perhaps the easiest boardroom pitch of all time – the original game holds the highest Metacritic score in history, and the 3DS release almost single-handedly justifies purchasing a software-starved system that nonetheless holds Nintendo’s highest-ever price tag for handheld hardware.

Take a closer look at the remake’s Metacritic page, though, and a somewhat less predictable trend emerges – or at least a less agreeable one, if you ask me. Amidst the obligatory praise for a brilliant remake from a company that often leaves its past untouched, critics have been deifying Ocarina 3D as the “definitive” release of the 1998 classic.

I want us on the same page about what that really means, so let’s unpack that claim a little bit – it may be less innocuous than it seems.

Calling Ocarina 3D “definitive” implies that it’s not only better than the N64 release, but that it somehow encapsulates the entire essence of what that game really was – and does so even more effectively than the original game itself. We’re talking about encompassing, surpassing and rendering obsolete one of the most revered and influential games of all time. “Definitive” is just a word, but it says a lot.

Before I get too dramatic about diction, I’ll let that thought sit for a bit and indulge some of my cohort’s claims. After all, it’s hard not to agree with at least a few of their points. I’ve spent more time with the original Ocarina than almost any other game, and I can’t shake the feeling that the 3DS version represents a more accurate representation of Miyamoto’s original vision for the game. Take a look at some of the concept art from the mid 90s, then compare them to a few screenshots, and you’ll see what I mean. Characters are more detailed but maintain their stylistic flair, Link’s animations are more fluid but don’t deviate from their roots and Castle Town is actually made of polygons. I’ve already played the hell out of Ocarina 3DS and delivered the final face-stab to Ganon, and I never felt that I was playing anything but good, old-fashioned Ocarina of Time.

For that, outsourced developer Grezzo should be praised. It was entrusted with an all-time classic and tuned the game up just enough to bring its visuals to where they should have been 13 years ago – and no further. The game looks not quite like it was, but still as I remember it. It’s a quietly astounding feat that developers should remember when touching up hallowed franchises (I’m looking at you, Halo).

But we’re forgetting the most important part of Ocarina of Time’s legacy – the impact it had on the industry. Think back to the context of the gaming landscape when it came out and the pure innovation it brought to the table. And of course, the countless games that continue to iterate on its basic principles. We simply can’t talk about a definitive version of Ocarina without remembering that it largely defined an era of gaming itself. Three-dimensional navigation and intelligent cameras, expansive open worlds, contextualized action – it all came from Ocarina, the same way Halo proved that first-person shooters can hold up on consoles.

As a pixel-to-pixel tribute, Ocarina 3DS is shackled to a golden blueprint that once turned the industry upside down for being unique. It’s a strict formula, and one that makes it inherently unable to have the same lasting impact on games again. Other than another reminder that our industry may be the most remake-friendly of any entertainment medium, it offers nothing notable or new but some well-implemented (read: non-intrusive) motion controls. Compared to the groundbreaking original, it’s just a drop in the sea.

I wouldn’t call it sad, but perhaps inevitably ironic: Ocarina 3DS was developed in the context of an industry that its source material largely defined, and by sticking to the script could never have truly recreated what the original really meant. Even if it did make an ill-advised but ambitious attempt to similarly redefine, say, open-world 3D games on handhelds, it would surely deviate too much from original to even carry the same name.

Ocarina 3DS is one of my favorite games of 2011, but it can never replace my favorite game of all time. Even putting my own pro-Zelda bias aside, it’s impossible to encapsulate the core of what Ocarina of Time has become. With 13 years of the gaming industry’s adolescent years stretched out before it, it’s clear Zelda’s maiden voyage into polygonal 3D has ascended beyond standard accounts of controls, animations and level design to an almost divine position that for years bent the arc of gaming history in its direction. Ocarina 3DS is a well-crafted love letter and a beautiful realization of the developer’s original intent, but it’s 13 years too late to have the galactic influence that’s so integral to the legacy of its predecessor. I know it’s picky, but if you’re paid to write you need to be careful with words – and “definitive” is one that just doesn’t belong here.