The Zelda Effect

Anyone who knows me can tell you I'm a huge fan of the Legend of Zelda series, a new installment of which comes out from Nintendo's development process on a regular basis. Yes, if they handed out trophies for winning video games, my multiple statuettes engraved with "Hero of Time/Winds/Seasons/Ages/etc"would be gleaming on the top shelf.
I tend to ignore all criticisms of the game's plot because really, from the beginning the LoZ games have always been the Campbellian Hero's Journey distilled into pure form, and I'd rather have a tried and true formula that plays with the platformer format than some convoluted, twisted plot hastily tacked onto yet another semi-stealth action game with pretty graphics (I'm looking at you, Tom Clancy franchise. Metal Gear series. ASSASSIN'S CREED.).
I ignore claims that Zelda's more recent games are packed with useless filler quests for ungrateful citizens, because the games are entertaining enough that I want to complete the quests, and therefore don't deem them as necessarily useless. Besides, being desirous of fame, fortune and praise at the end of every quest is exactly why YOU'RE NOT THE HERO. The hero of the Zelda mythos, Link, does it because it's the right thing to do. He pretty much epitomizes the "good" alignment: he goes through all the motions, he never complains, or asks for help, or, really says much of anything, ever. Seriously. The kid is mute or something.
The point is, I overlook the quests and bite my tongue when Princess Ruto decides to force me to carry her around because she can't be bothered to walk (also because the game mechanics won't let me kill her). I continue on anyway because I love the game and it's fun to play. There is very little criticism that I can be persuaded to even consider as legitimate.

...But.

There is one point that continues to rankling in my soul. See, ever since LoZ made the leap to 3D format, its title character has changed from "bystander who happens to be royal" to integral character whose badass skill set involves piracy, sorcery, or ninjutsu as the setting of the game demands. I suppose I should clarify: In each 3D incarnation of the franchise there is a female character who helps you in your questing and is clearly experienced and skilled enough to survive on her own. However, the moment this female says, "My name is Princess Zelda, and now it is time for you to fulfill your destiny," those powers tend to crystallize--literally.

"Welp, I'm out bros. Peace."

Once the princess takes on her royal role, she is invariably kidnapped by the villain and somehow magically forgets all the useful skills that helped her avoid capture in the first place. I get that the Hero's Journey traditionally requires a damsel in distress of some kind, but why go to the trouble of making her any sort of powerful entity beforehand? They're not exactly winning over any feminists with this kind of behavior. Heck, they don't even try to forgo the transformation in Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess: you meet her during one period of imprisonment, then toward the end of the game, she gets captured by someone else.

I'd like to be able to attribute this trend to some kind of cultural bias, but Nintendo studios also came up with Samus Aran of the Metroid series, a fearless, driven bounty hunter whose preference for solitude meshes with her subtle maternal instincts to create a believable, well-rounded character (as long as studio Team Ninja isn't allowed within 100 yards of the development, but I'll rant about that later). In addition, one of their most prolific kidnapped princesses, Princess Peach of the Mario franchise, has evolved from human Macguffin to a go-kart driving, fry-pan wielding healer of the fallen and possible mother of spiky turtle monsters.

A lady never tells.

There is no reason (other than, perhaps, lazy writing) that I can see for this change from powerful to helpless to occur so frequently in the Legend of Zelda series, but there it is. It's... troubling.
The conspiracy feminist in me says it's a device to maintain the attentions of the male audience: raised on "hero gets the girl" stories, the menfolk need a reason to go defeat the villain, and that reason must have boobs. It's a pretty bleak assertion, and one that I simply cannot put any stock into provided I stay as far away from Reddit as possible.
No, I suppose it's something I have to let the subject rest and, in the meantime, silently plead with Nintendo for a more purposeful princess. At the very least, it's given me a shortcut to vent my frustrations with modern female characters in cinema; now you'll know exactly what I mean when I reference the Zelda Effect.