The one constant thing about video games is the escape they provide.

It’s about as cliche as it gets, but it’s one of the reasons why I’ve stuck with the hobby for so long. When it comes to older games, they have a way of taking me back to specific times and places in my life.

“Final Fantasy VIII” takes me back to my Dad’s living room, playing Triple Triad for hours on end and chugging down powdered iced tea. “Sonic the Hedgehog” takes me farther back to when I’d game in our basement, and the boss music would scare the living hell out of me.

Be honest — boss music landed differently in our childhood.

So when Nintendo announced a remake of “The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time,” I had to sit with the news for a while. On the one hand, I was pumped. This is one of those games that easily ranks in my top 5, and yeah, it’s better than “Breath of the Wild” and “Tears of the Kingdom.”

But it’s also one of the few games that carries deeper, more personal emotional ties than most others.

My mom died in 2000. I was a punk kid who had experienced loss before that, but this was out of left field — no illness, no injury, no warning. One day she was there, the next she wasn’t.

That’s where “Ocarina of Time” comes in.

It was the game that served as a real comfort. It sounds crazy by today’s standards, but at the time, it felt enormous — it had a sense of wonder and awe that few other games had, and getting lost in Hyrule was therapeutic.

Now let’s be clear — I sucked at “Ocarina of Time”. I got lost at every turn (especially in the Forest Temple), didn’t bother searching for heart pieces and didn’t really appreciate the story or the lore behind the game.

Oddly enough, struggling with the game brought a sense of relief from the pain and confusion I struggled with. Fighting to save Hyrule — even if I wasn’t especially good at it — gave me at least a little break from the heaviness of real life.

Hell, “Ocarina of Time” was the game that one of my best friends and I forged our friendship around — once I turned 18, we got matching Triforce tattoos. (Shoutout to Aaron.)

I’ve finished “Ocarina of Time” several times over the years since then. To be fair, I haven’t played every entry in the series, but “Majora’s Mask,” “Twilight Princess,” “A Link to the Past” and “Link’s Awakening” deepened my love for the series.

“Ocarina of Time” wasn’t the only Zelda game that takes me back to that time in my life.

As you can probably imagine, Christmas in 2000 was hardly joyous. I remember wanting to be psyched, but losing mom was too fresh. My Dad was struggling too, but he wanted me to have a good Christmas.

I remember I had two choices for big presents I could ask for — either a Game Boy Color and “Pokémon Silver” or “Majora’s Mask” and the Expansion Pak for the Nintendo 64. I opted for the former, but sure enough, both were under the tree. That Christmas was sure as hell hard, but Dad brought back some of the magic.

Much like “Ocarina of Time,” I wasn’t exactly the best at saving Termina in “Majora’s Mask.” Dad had the foresight to get me the guide for the game, which proved to be a godsend.

One of my fondest memories is from sometime over that winter. Dad and I stayed up super late, and he read the guide step-by-step as I worked through Snowhead until I got through to the end.

Maybe it was the levity of something as random as a video game, or maybe it was just my Dad and me sharing time together in a state of “normalcy” despite the pain we were both in. But then there’s that recurring theme of rediscovering hope after losing so much — which is fitting, given it’s one of the core elements of the “Zelda” series.

“Ocarina of Time” will always hold a different meaning for me.

Every time I boot up that game, I’m reminded of what it was like to go through the worst time of my life. On the other hand, it reminds me of the hope I was desperately clinging to, even if that hope came from a video game.

This remake is a win on so many levels. New and young gamers are going to get arguably the best version of one of the greatest video games ever made. I can only imagine how Nintendo is going to improve it.

For me, it’s also a chance to revisit a world that helped me when I needed it the most.

Hyrule, I promise I’ll be better at saving you this time around.