I suppose my point is that Majora's Mask probably couldn't be made today because games are designed these days for the sake of maximum accessibility
Majora's mask is a game made for players who had already completed Ocarina of Time: players who would already be familiar with the lore and mechanics and therefore wouldn't drop the gamepad if put in weird situations: it aims at an audience which doesn't need maximum accessibility anymore.
It's actually a staple of Nintendo's school of design: in their main games, (say: Mario Galaxy, most home console Zelda, Pokemon games, etc...), the earlier segments are always easy and straightforward (and sometimes tutorial-ridden *coughTwilight-Princesscough*), with the level design getting progressively more creative and challenging as the game goes on: these games are clearly designed to be accessible to newcomers who never tried earlier episodes, which means that their first third or so are virtually always formulaic (and almost insultingly easy to people used to these type of game): this is why Twilight Princess becomes so much better after you get the Master Sword, or why an experimented player will finish Mario 3D World's first three world in one or two sitting, breezing through the levels and even completing the optional objectives with ease.
And then, there are the duologies: sometimes, Nintendo release a direct sequel to one of their games (say Thracia 776 after Seisen no Keifu, Echoes after Metroid Prime, Majora's Mask after Ocarina of Time, etc...): these games are built upon the postulate that they'll be played by experienced player, which means no drawn-out formulaic first act serving as newcomers' tutorial, much more challenging gameplay, and level design that gets much more experimental.
And I, for one, passionately love these games: I prefer Zelda II to the original, I prefer the ass-bustingly difficult Echoes to the first Metroid Prime, I find the vicious and apocalyptic Radiant Dawn superior in every ways to the predictable and safe Path of Radiance: these games are where Nintendo's (and its subsidiaries) impressive stable of talent are finally allowed to flex their muscle and display the unique melange of raw skills, experience and eccentricity which gave the company its legacy.
Basically, it's like going to a master jazzman's concert who, after playing the heard-a-thousand-times classics he's contractually obligated to perform tells his audience: "You know what? The night's still young, and I want to have fun! So now, I'll improvise": the music then played will probably be polarizing for neophytes, but for someone with a modicum of musical culture, oh booooooy: we're in for a treat.