Author: Kathryn

Reader of books and player of games. College professor and pokémon trainer. Writes about Japanese fiction, media, gender, and society. In love with monsters and magic. https://digitalfantasydiary.com/

Review of The Hills of Estrella Roja on WWAC

~ Kathryn

I recently had the immense honor of being able to review emerging artist Ashley Robin Franklin’s brilliant Southwest Gothic graphic novel, The Hills of Estrella Roja, for Women Write About Comics.

Here’s an excerpt:

Even as Kat and Mari enjoy queer teen solidarity, they’re inducted into an adult world of queerness that was previously denied to them. Mari’s side of the story is especially interesting in this regard, as she gradually comes to understand that her identity isn’t just a matter of her own lived experiences, but also a product of the heritage shaped by the experiences of her extended family. The art of The Hills of Estrella Roja cleverly suggests connections between generations in subtle allusions and callbacks while immersing the characters in a gorgeous world that constantly reaches out (sometimes literally!) to pull Mari and Kat deeper into the natural environment that surrounds them.

You can read the full review here:
https://womenwriteaboutcomics.com/2023/08/the-hills-of-estrella-roja-review/

As always, I have nothing but gratitude for my editor, Kat Overland. Kat gave me the go-ahead to write a review of Franklin’s minicomic Fruiting Bodies and then helped me get in touch with Clarion Books to request an advance review copy of The Hills of Estrella Roja. I’m not used to playing in the big leagues, so Kat’s support was invaluable, as were their notes as a native Texan. For excellent taste and good-sense takes on comics, politics, and pop culture, you can follow Kat on Twitter (here) and on Bluesky (here).

You can follow Ashley Robin Franklin on Instagram (here), where she posts cute and colorful botanical studies and shorter autobiographical comics that are touching, relatable, and well worth reading.

Divine Beast

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Zelda returns to her original form after the defeat of the Demon King. But, after so many years, is the being that comes back to Link entirely human? Zelda has appetites better suited to claws and fangs, but Link resolves to care for her, no matter the cost. This is a story about Zelda attacking and eating frogs, and cuccos, and horses… and possibly something with even sweeter flesh.

I’ve been enjoying Tears of the Kingdom, but I’m frustrated by its story. I love all the characters, and I think the game’s broad narrative arc is an interesting reimagining of Ocarina of Time. Still, there are many elements of Tears of the Kingdom that I find unsatisfying, especially its ending. I understand the plot mechanics of what happens, which are nicely explained in (this post) on Tumblr, but Zelda’s complete reversion to her human form doesn’t sit easy in my mind. Is it really possible for a transformation of such magnitude to have no lasting effects? Did the sacrifice Zelda made really have such little weight?

Tears of the Kingdom fails to attach meaning to its worldbuilding in a way that very few Legend of Zelda games have in the past. It’s understandable to dismiss these games as childish heroic fantasies. Still, at some point, the true darkness of each game’s story expresses itself. The player may have seen the plot through the limited viewpoint of Link, the teenage “chosen one,” but the crumbling kingdom of Hyrule looks substantially different through the eyes of other characters. Link will emerge triumphant and ride off into the sunset, but everyone else has to live in the ruins, and it’s only very late in his quest that Link realizes this. With this realization, the player can begin to put together the missing pieces of a much larger story.

Despite having an incredible potential to expand on the many mysteries of Hyrule, Tears of the Kingdom does its best to simplify its story to a single one-dimensional layer: Ganon is bad. By defeating Ganon, Link gets rid of everything that’s wrong with the world, meaning that everything in Hyrule is now good again. This is all that matters. What happened in Breath of the Wild doesn’t matter. What happened in the ancient era doesn’t matter. What happened to the Zonai doesn’t matter. None of Hyrule’s past matters, nor does its future. In the endless present of the game, Zelda only exists as a vessel for “good,” and the only important thing is that Link saves her.

As much as I love Zelda, I resent that she only exists as a plot device and a reward for the player. While superficially turning Zelda into a superhero, Tears of the Kingdom robs her of agency. I generally like happy endings, but I hate the conclusion of Tears of the Kingdom. Simply put: it’s happy, but it’s boring. What I therefore wanted to do with “Divine Beast” was to make Zelda’s decision more interesting by ensuring that it has consequences. I also wanted to give the worldbuilding of Tears of the Kingdom a bit of the weight and depth it deserves.

And, more than anything, I want Link and Zelda to be free.

“Divine Beast” is complete at 2,000 words, and you can read it on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/49296496

I drew the illustration myself. You can follow my art on Tumblr (here) or on Instagram (here).

Review of Soul Void on Sidequest

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I recently had the pleasure of writing a review of the Game Boy horror adventure game Soul Void for the online gaming magazine Sidequest. I love Soul Void, and I’d describe it as Undertale for people who love quirky adventures with elements of horror but hate bullet hell. Although the horror elements of Soul Void are quite gruesome, it’s accessible to players of all skill levels. The game is free to play on Itchio (here), but I’d recommend playing it on a Game Boy emulator like mGBA, which you can download (here). Here’s an excerpt from my review:

Soul Void is a dark fantasy Game Boy adventure game that takes about three hours to finish. Its story of a young woman navigating the perils of the underworld is intriguing and cathartic, and its art design makes incredible use of the eeriness of its retro pixel graphics. For anyone who enjoyed the characters and worldbuilding of Undertale, Soul Void offers a similarly offbeat odyssey of mystery and friendship illustrated with disturbing but brilliantly creative horror art.

You can read the full review here:
https://sidequest.zone/2023/08/21/review-soul-void-dives-deep-into-retro-body-horror/

I want to give a big shout-out to my editor, Maddi Butler, for helping me get my thoughts in order and work through some of the more interesting themes of this game. I’d also like to thank the Sidequest Editor in Chief, Melissa Brinks, for giving me an opportunity to write about Soul Void, and for allowing me to expand on my thoughts about this amazing game. For excellent writing and commentary on video games, you can follow Maddi on Bluesky (here) + Melissa on Twitter (here). If you’re in the mood for gorgeous horror art, you can follow Soul Void’s creator, Kabadura, on Twitter (here) and on Instagram (here).

Review of River’s Edge on WWAC

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I recently had the opportunity to review Kodasha USA’s release of Kyoko Okazaki’s 1994 graphic novel River’s Edge for Women Write About Comics.

River’s Edge is like an anti-shōjo manga about teenagers at the margins of society being evil to one another. This is the sort of gritty “all the trigger warnings” graphic novel that I wouldn’t recommend to everyone, but I really enjoyed it. I think it’s an important piece of art, and I’m grateful that it’s available in English. Here’s an excerpt from my review:

Even to readers not interested in manga classics or sociopolitical critiques of millennial Japan, River’s Edge tells an engrossing tale of teenagers precariously close to falling out of mainstream society. Characters who initially seem to be stereotypes gain fascinating depth and complexity as their lives spiral out of control over the course of a story that rapidly gains momentum. River’s Edge isn’t entirely bleak, however. The footholds the characters find in the landslide are meaningful, and their small moments of genuine friendship and connection are all the more valuable in the cultural wasteland they inhabit.

You can read the full review here:
https://womenwriteaboutcomics.com/2023/08/review-rivers-edge-reflects-gritty-millennial-malaise/

Review of Sas Milledge’s Mamo on WWAC

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I recently had the good fortune to write a review of Sas Milledge’s graphic novel Mamo for Women Write About Comics. The book came out last April, but it’s been at the back of my mind all year. Mamo is the sensitive queer critique of cottagecore that I’ve always wanted, demonstrating the appeal of “nature” and “tradition” while simultaneously arguing that these concepts must change and evolve for new generations.

Mamo is about a witch who returns to her hometown for a brief visit and gets pulled into a local mystery despite her best intentions. I started thinking about Mamo’s story this summer while trying to grow a tomato plant from Home Depot in my tiny concrete backyard. Either I was watering the plant too much, or I wasn’t watering it enough. Maybe it needed to be around other plants? Maybe it needed to be lifted farther off the ground? I couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t thriving, and I kept wishing that I weren’t so clueless about growing a simple tomato plant.

Like, wouldn’t it be nice if I’d lived in the same place all my life, and I’d grown tomatoes every summer, and I knew exactly when to plant and harvest them. Wouldn’t it be nice to bake my own bread to go with the tomatoes. Wouldn’t it be nice if a kind older adult helped me. Wouldn’t it be nice if, when I went to the grocery store, I knew exactly where the yeast is, and everyone I saw in the store greeted me by name. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a backyard that wasn’t concrete. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a tree by my house. Wouldn’t it be nice to live near the friends I grew up with, and be part of a community.

The truth is that I did spend a part of my childhood in a green and beautiful small town in rural Georgia where my mother’s entire extended family lives. And the truth is that I felt extremely alienated and unwelcome there, and that I couldn’t stay. My mother’s family has all the “tradition” you could ever want, and this was extremely unhealthy for me, especially as a young queer person. Even if you leave, though, a part of you is still going to miss the abstract concept of “homeland,” especially when it’s tied to all the simple pleasures most people don’t get enjoy in a city.

Mamo understands this, and it expresses these tensions beautifully. Here’s an excerpt from my review:

As a renegotiation of tradition, the cottagecore visual aesthetic of Mamo is liberating. Milledge’s bold and expressive art celebrates green spaces that exist on their own terms regardless of human relationships. The literary trope of seeking freedom from oppressive social constraints by venturing into the wilderness is as old as human storytelling, and Milledge’s colorful and immersive art invites the reader into the forest along with Jo and Orla as they attempt to find a new path between untethered freedom and rigid tradition.

You can read the full piece on Women Write About Comics here:
https://womenwriteaboutcomics.com/2023/08/mamo-by-sas-milledge/

As always, I’d like to express my appreciation for my editor, the amazing Kat Overland, who allowed me to write about a graphic novel that came out more than a year ago. Kat also writes about comics, and you can – and should! – follow them on Twitter (here) and on Bluesky (here). You can also follow Mamo’s creator, Sas Milledge, on Instagram (here) and on Tumblr (here). As I was reading Mamo, I realized that I used to be a huge fan of the artist’s Legend of Zelda comics (like this one), and it turns out that they still have excellent taste in fandoms.    

The Flower Thief

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“The Flower Thief” is a story about how Ganondorf visits Hyrule as a child and falls in love with the green and beautiful land, even as he is warned away by the queen who will become Zelda’s mother.

What fascinates me about Ganondorf (at least prior to Tears of the Kingdom) is that he’s a villain whose actions seem far more evil than his character. Given that he’s not necessarily an evil person, what would drive him to such extremes?

In my own experience, evil is boring and mundane. “Evil” is someone who sends hateful messages on social media because they know they can get away with it, or someone who pretends not to see when a colleague is being harassed at work. People who are born into privilege can often be evil without even thinking about it, as the rules that govern the actions of other people don’t apply to them. People in positions of authority are often evil simply because it’s the path of least resistance. So, in most cases, evil is passive; it’s a matter of not challenging the baser impulses of human nature, or not bothering to fix a system that’s become twisted and broken.  

It’s therefore intriguing to me that, when Ganondorf wants “power,” what he’s seeking is the ability to upset the established order. Even if it’s for his own selfish reasons, he aims to transform the world, whether by undoing the mistakes of the past or creating an ideal future. He fails – and he fails miserably – but at least he tries.

I grew up with shōnen adventure manga, and I’m interested in seeing a similar coming-of-age story about someone like Ganondorf, who is talented and works hard but still ends up as the villain. “The Flower Thief” was my attempt to write a story like this for myself, and I think I managed to do a decent job of creating a nice parallel to Link’s first journey to Hyrule Castle in Ocarina of Time.

You can read “The Flower Thief” on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32033518

This story was written for Ties of Time, an Ocarina of Time and Majora’s Mask fanzine. Ties of Time was published back in 2021, but you can still see the zine’s artwork on Twitter (here), and the zine’s stories have been collected on AO3 (here). The character illustration of teenage Ganondorf is by the bold and daring Taxkha, who shares their art on Tumblr (here) and on Twitter (here).

Speed Dating for Ghosts

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Originally released on Valentine’s Day in 2018, Speed Dating for Ghosts is a short and simple roleplaying visual novel (or rather, visual short story collection) in which you can date your choice of nine ghosts. The version currently available on Steam, on Switch, and on Itchio includes the “Go to Hell” expansion, which includes three more postgame ghosts to date and an epilogue in the form of a beach party in Hell.

You play as yourself. Presumably you are dead, and also a ghost. You have registered for a speed dating event that is, predictably, run by a ghost. At this event, you choose between three rooms, each of which contains three ghosts. You have two short conversations with each of the three ghosts. If a ghost likes you, you can go on a date with them. Thankfully, it’s not difficult to convince the ghosts to warm up to you, and you can go on a date with all of them without having to replay the initial conversations.

These “dates,” such as they are, involve helping each ghost take care of their unfinished business. Instead of romancing the ghosts, what you’re really trying to do is learn their stories. After you complete a date, you’re rewarded with more information about the ghost via a character sheet on the “Graveyard” page of the game’s main menu. Once you date the first nine ghosts, you’re given the option to visit Hell for postgame content.

The gameplay consists of choosing between dialog options and being friendly. The art is simple and stylized but manages to achieve a good balance of creepy and cute. The writing is wonderful.

For me, playing through one speed dating room + going on three dates took about 25 minutes. Technically, you can convince a ghost not to date you, but I don’t know why you’d do this. All of the dialog choices make sense, and I can’t imagine needing to use a walkthrough. The postgame content is a bit trickier, and two of the ghosts in Hell might require some extra effort to date. The third ghost in Hell is a dog, and you can pet him. I love him forever.

Aside from the ghost dog, I’m also a fan of Spooky Peter, the plague doctor ghost who’s been around for centuries and has found a vocation in frightening the living. If you agree to apprentice under him, he inducts you into one of the more arcane mysteries of the afterlife, and I appreciated the worldbuilding of his story. There are also two older ghosts (Vera and Gary) who were involved in murder mysteries, and both of their plot arcs are fantastic. One of these stories was so emotionally satisfying that it made me tear up a little, while the other thoroughly creeped me out.

Speed Dating for Ghosts is a fun collection of short stories tied together by an interesting framing device, and I enjoyed the two hours I spent with it. Based on the dry tone of its humor, I’d say that the game is aimed at a mature audience, but there’s nothing particularly grim or edgy or upsetting about it. The writing and art contain elements of horror, but they’re very mild. I didn’t know what to expect from Speed Dating for Ghosts, and I was surprised by how creative and clever it is. It’s always a pleasure to find a weird little game like this that uses the medium to craft a unique and engaging piece of storytelling.

The Best Wells in Tears of the Kingdom

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“The Best Wells in Tears of the Kingdom” is a series of short travelogue essays celebrating the hidden secrets, environmental storytelling, and understated exploration elements of Tears of the Kingdom.

One of my main criticisms of Breath of the Wild was that its world felt curiously flat. Why wasn’t Link allowed to go underground? What was lurking underneath Hyrule?

When I first discovered that Tears of the Kingdom was filled with wells and caves, I made it my mission to track them all down. Ganondorf would just have to wait. I’m currently taking my time and leisurely enjoying myself as I go cave diving, but I managed to locate all 58 wells before completing the first dungeon. Each of these wells is unique, but what I’ve been most impressed by are the small stories told by the characters who’ve found themselves at the bottom of a well by accident – or by choice.

For the record, these are my favorites:

1. Kakariko Village Well
2. Haran Lakefront Well
3. Rikoka Hills Well
4. Popla Foothills South Well
5. Kara Kara Bazaar Well
6. Zelda’s Secret Well

You can find the annotated list on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/48633913/chapters/122678209

The cover illustration for this piece, which depicts the veteran well explorer Fera, was created by the magical MiroiMirage. You can find their lively and colorful artwork on Twitter (here) and on Instagram (here). It was a joy and an honor to work with Miroi while getting a glimpse into their creative process. All of the groundwork they laid for the final painted illustration was amazing, so much so that I’d like to share one of their preliminary sketches, which you can see (here).

You’re Not Lost, You’re Here!

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Plenty of people want to leave Possum Springs. But what about the people who are happy to stay? “You’re Not Lost, You’re Here!” is a linked trio of short stories about a day in the life of the strange little town of Possum Springs. Mae’s aunt Molly reflects on the eeriness of depopulation, Mae’s father Stan fantasizes about breaking corporate windows, and Mae’s mother Candy wonders what her daughter will see when she returns home with nightmare eyes.  

Something Night in the Woods does really well, I think, is to offer the player an opportunity to glimpse into the lives of people whose perspectives might be difficult to understand out of context. To give an example, Mae hates the police and teases her Aunt “Mall Cop” Molly with more than touch of hostility, but why would Molly have wanted to become a police officer in the first place? Why would Mae’s father, a former factory technician, embrace worker solidarity but still distrust unions? And why would Mae’s mother, who doesn’t necessarily believe in God, feel such a strong connection to the Possum Springs church that she runs its business office?

It’s easy enough to sympathize with Mae and Bea and Gregg and Angus, whose attitudes of progressive Millennial cosmopolitanism presumably reflect the player’s own, but I think the older characters in Night in the Woods are just as interesting and compelling. I come from a working-class background myself, and I wanted to try to make these secondary characters more relatable as the heroes of their own stories.

You can read this trio of vignettes on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/49029619

I wrote this piece for At the End of Everything, a Night in the Woods fanzine. Their website on Carrd is (here), and you can check out everyone’s artwork on Twitter (here) and on Tumblr (here). If you’re interested in ordering a copy of the zine, leftover sales are open throughout August.

I had the pleasure of working on an illustration with the brilliant and multitalented Wolf Godwin. You can find his art and photography on Instagram (here), his animations on YouTube (here), and his music on Soundcloud (here). Wolf has written lovely piano versions of several songs from the Night in the Woods OST, so please check out his work if you’d like to indulge in some fun and eerie autumn vibes.

The Ritual of Lomei Labyrinth

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A vast labyrinth stretches under the ancient kingdom of Lomei. It is said that this labyrinth serves as the prison for a terrible monster known only as the Calamity. Every seventeen years, a sacrifice is performed in order to appease the monster. As the day of the ritual draws near, a young soldier named Link volunteers himself as the sacrifice, secretly hoping that he will be the one to put an end to the Calamity. It is tradition for the princess of Lomei to lead the sacrifice underground, a ritual for which Zelda has trained her entire life. Inspired by Link’s courage, she dares to reveal a hidden secret of the labyrinth that may save them both – as well as the monster trapped within a maze of deceit.

Since I started writing original horror stories in 2018, I’ve become increasingly fascinated with the Greek myth of Ariadne and the Minotaur. I consider this to be one of the earliest prototypes of gothic fiction, which explores the topos of a young woman navigating a large house that holds a terrible secret.

Earlier this year, I returned to one of my favorite gothic labyrinth stories, Ursula Le Guin’s The Tombs of Atuan. I love the idea of a bratty teenage girl being the priestess of horrific elder gods trapped in an underground maze, and reading The Tombs of Atuan while waiting for the release of Tears of the Kingdom made me think about the Lomei Labyrinths in Breath of the Wild, as well as the mysterious Zonai civilization that created them. Before I could stop myself, I ended up writing a three-chapter short story that casts Zelda in the role of Ariadne. I think Calamity Ganon makes a suitably creepy Minotaur, but hopefully Link is a much more sympathetic character than Theseus!

The story is complete at 5,400 words, and you can find it on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/44979319/chapters/113177725

I had a great time working with one of my favorite character artists, Benveydraws, to create a portrait of Princess Zelda. Benvey replaced Zelda’s characteristic feather motifs with the earthier imagery of golden leaves, and he worked closely with references of Greek statues to give the character a suitable Classical Mythology vibe. Benvey specializes in designing bold and beautiful female characters, and you can find more of his work on Tumblr (here) and on Twitter (here).