A curious bit of Nintendo history surfaced this week, revealing a playful deception embedded within a 1987 feature for Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. The trick originated in the Japanese Family Computer Magazine and was brought to light by Supper Mario Broth on February 8, 2026.
The magazine article presented readers with 51 tips for the notoriously challenging action RPG. However, one of these tips was intentionally false, designed as a challenge to see if players could discern the fabrication. The bogus advice claimed that repeatedly interacting with a fountain – specifically, drinking from it five times – would transform it into Mario, the company’s mascot. The article then instructed players to destroy this transformed fountain to earn a 1-Up, a common power-up granting an extra life.
This playful deception speaks to a different era of game journalism and community engagement. Before the widespread availability of online guides and forums, magazines like Family Computer Magazine served as crucial sources of information for players. The inclusion of a deliberately false tip wasn’t intended to mislead maliciously, but rather to encourage critical thinking and foster a sense of playful interaction between the publication and its audience.
Zelda II: The Adventure of Link, released in in Japan and later that year in North America, is a significant departure from the top-down perspective of the original The Legend of Zelda. It adopts a side-scrolling action platformer approach, incorporating RPG elements like experience points and character stats. The game is known for its high difficulty and unconventional gameplay, making it a polarizing title within the Zelda franchise. The inclusion of a hidden, intentionally incorrect tip within a strategy guide feels particularly fitting given the game’s reputation for demanding players explore and experiment.
The fact that the false tip involved Mario is also noteworthy. While Nintendo is known for its distinct franchises, there’s a long history of subtle crossovers and references between its properties. This instance, however, is a more overt – and ultimately illusory – connection. It highlights the strong brand recognition of Mario even during the height of the Zelda series’ early popularity. The image of Mario appearing in the world of Hyrule, even as a temporary, destructible form, would have undoubtedly captured the attention of players.
The discovery of this detail underscores the enduring appeal of retro gaming and the wealth of hidden stories contained within older titles. The internet, and accounts like Supper Mario Broth’s, have become vital resources for unearthing these historical nuggets, preserving gaming culture, and offering new perspectives on classic games. The practice of including deliberately misleading information in gaming publications isn’t entirely unheard of, but its presence in a strategy guide for a challenging game like Zelda II is a particularly charming example of a bygone era.
The incident also offers a glimpse into the editorial approach of Japanese gaming magazines in the late 1980s. The emphasis on challenging readers and encouraging active engagement contrasts with some modern gaming media, which often prioritizes providing comprehensive, readily available solutions. The Family Computer Magazine tip wasn’t about simply telling players how to beat the game; it was about prompting them to question, investigate, and learn through experience.
While the fountain-to-Mario trick won’t actually work in Zelda II: The Adventure of Link, the story serves as a reminder that even within the rigid structure of a video game, there’s always room for a little bit of playful deception and a nod to the broader Nintendo universe. It’s a small detail, but one that speaks volumes about the creativity and community spirit that characterized the early days of gaming.
