Category: art

The Memory of Stone

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

I wrote “The Memory of Stone” back in 2020, when the announcement of a sequel to Breath of the Wild encouraged many Legend of Zelda fans to speculate that the game would feature Princess Zelda as a playable character. I returned to this story after finishing my second playthrough of Tears of the Kingdom, which reduces Zelda to a voiceless source of crafting materials. It was a disappointment, to say the least.

One might argue that there are other games with female protagonists, so why insist on playing as Zelda? I would counter this argument with another question: why not play as Zelda? The concept of Zelda as a playable character makes perfect sense within the context of the games’ stories. Link’s journey almost always runs parallel to a journey that Zelda undertakes on her own, after all, and being able to explore Hyrule with a different set of skills (and from a different narrative perspective) would be a lot of fun.

“The Memory of Stone” follows Zelda through each of the temples in Ocarina of Time, and it’s a small attempt to imagine what the eponymous “legend of Zelda” might look like through the eyes of Zelda herself.

You can read the story on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230271

The illustration of Sheik included in the story preview graphic was drawn by the revolutionary Nolvini, a fan of shōjo anime who creates magical character illustrations filled with personality and flare. You can check out her work on Twitter (here), on Instagram (here), and on Tumblr (here), and she also has a shop on Etsy (here).

Love in the Time of Gloom Spawn

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

After years spent investigating the mysterious shrines of East Necula, Dr. Calip has joined the Zonai Survey Team’s efforts to study the Ring Ruins of Kakariko Village. The ancient structures are fascinating, but what has captured Calip’s attention is the chasm in the forest on the hill. While Calip has been gazing into the abyss, however, the leader of the Zonai Survey Team has been gazing at him.

As I grow more impatient with grand narratives of nation-building and heroic destiny, I’ve become more interested in how epic fantasy universes appear to normal people. Hyrule is especially fascinating as a case study, as the privileges enjoyed by Link clearly aren’t applicable to everyone else. This is especially true of the knowledge Link accumulates over his journey, during which the secrets of prior eras are revealed to him alone.

In the present postapocalyptic era of Breath of the Wild, it seems the only person trying to study and understand Hyrule is a scholar named Calip, who lives in an isolated cabin as he attempts to stage an archaeological investigation into the site of one of the ancient Sheikah shrines. As an academic, Calip is a pompous asshole. Regardless of “Dr.” Calip’s self-serving motives, I admire him as a character who investigates the world and tries to understand it instead of simply killing things and accumulating treasure.  

Perhaps because of the popularity of the fandom’s speculation and study of Hyrule, Tears of the Kingdom leans into the ethos of archaeological inquiry with the establishment of a large and diverse set of NPCs forming the Zonai Survey Team. This Sheikah-funded research organization is led by a brick house of a character named Tauro. Tauro has set himself up in Kakariko Village, which has been beset by ruins falling from sky islands and a giant pit opening in the forest on the eastern hill.

Given their interests, it’s only natural that Calip and Tauro would interact. When you read the diaries that Calip has left at his former cabin and at his desk in his office in Kakariko, you learn that Calip is undeniably attracted to Tauro, who apparently went out of his way to invite Calip to work with him. Late in the game, the two men abandon their duties to run off and do research together. I think is a sweet lowkey love story – and even Kotaku agrees, apparently!

The emphasis on archaeological excavation in Tears of the Kingdom is somewhat problematic. In essence, the kingdom of Hyrule had a state-building myth that justified its sovereignty over the surrounding regions, and the result of the archaeological study performed by state-sponsored Zonai Survey Team is the demonstration that these myths were true in the most literal sense. Yes, there are evil outsiders who will kill everyone if they get the chance; and yes, only the royal family and its servants can protect everyone; and yes, the royal family is literally descended from gods/dragons. It’s all kind of gross.

What I therefore appreciate about the implied love story between Calip and Tauro is that they turn their backs on the politics of ancient texts and leave Kakariko so that they can go out into the woods and look at ruins together. For them, curiosity about the world has nothing to do with national mythologies and everything to do with the connection they feel to the people who lived on the land before them – and the connection they have with each other.

Because I am apparently incapable of creating anything that doesn’t have monsters, however, the story I wrote about Calip and Tauro ended up being a horror story as much as it is a love story. It has a happy ending, but it also has a healthy dose of eldritch horrorterrors. Phantom Ganon also makes an appearance, because of course he does.

The story is complete at 4,000 words, and you can read it on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/51328888

The illustration is by the marvelously talented Martina Belli, whose magical artwork helped me bring these two characters and their story to life. Marty paints dynamic portraits of fantasy characters and dramatic science fiction scenes, and she excels at creating compositions that draw the viewer into the world of her art. It was a lot of fun to work with her, and I highly recommend following her creations on Twitter (here).

They Only Come Out at Night

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

Grog has noticed a number of peculiarities in Kakariko Village. Eerie lights flicker in the mountain valley after dark. Murky black water fills the old stone well that no one uses. Golden spiders spin their webs under the eaves of abandoned buildings. Little does Grog know that the legendary Sheikah of Kakariko still live, and that they are watching.

I’m one of the many children of the 1990s who read Stephen King way too young. I think I must have been ten years old when I first encountered the IT, and I read the novel like it was Harry Potter. I was too young to understand a lot of what was going on, but what I took away from the story was a lifelong fascination with haunted towns.

This is one of the many reasons why I love Kakariko Village in Ocarina of Time. Like Derry, Kakariko seems pleasant and idyllic in the daytime, but all manner of horrors creep through its sewers. Over the course of his journey through Hyrule, Link learns that Kakariko is a Disneyland-style stage setting that covers an underground labyrinth of corpse-choked dungeons. Impa opened the depopulated village to the refugees from the civil war that left Link an orphan, which means many of the people living in Kakariko have no idea what their homes are standing on top of.

I’m curious about the perspective of normal people who live in fantastic worlds, and I’m particularly interested in Grog, the odd young man who greets Link at the entrance to Kakariko after dark. His dialog is iconic: “People are disgusting. My own father and mother are disgusting. You must be disgusting, too!”

When Link returns to Kakariko after seven years, Grog is nowhere in sight. No longer a surly teenager who resents his parents, Grog has gotten himself caught up in some truly strange business. It was only when I played Ocarina of Time as an adult that I was able to put together all the pieces of Grog’s story, which ends with his death (or perhaps suicide) in the Lost Woods.

I think Grog’s unfortunate fate is representative of what happens to people in Hyrule who see too much or ask too many questions. He’s therefore a fun character to use to look at Kakariko from an outsider’s perspective while speculating on what may have happened to the Sheikah. “They Only Come Out at Night” uses some of my favorite Stephen King tropes to tell a story about a deeply haunted village, and I really enjoyed writing it.

If you’re interested in peering into the shadows, the story is on AO3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/51149224

I wrote this piece for The Eyes of Hyrule, a Legend of Zelda fanzine about the mysterious Sheikah clan. The zine will hold leftover sales on Etsy (here) during November, and you can check out more of the work appearing in the zine on Twitter (here) and on Tumblr (here).

For the story illustration, I was fortunate to be able to join forces with Frankiesbugs, a true master of cute and creepy art. You can follow their work on Instagram (here) and on Tumblr (here). I also recommend checking out their current video game project in development, which is on Steam (here) and on Instagram (here).

The Kumo Diary

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

A professor’s assistant at Tokyo Imperial University uncovers a curious manuscript whose author weaves an elegant tale of the twilight years of the Heian court. As she reads between the gossamer lines of the narrator’s account of a moonlit assignation, the quiet and unassuming scholar reflects on what happens in the shadows cast by civilization and enlightenment.

This story is a play on The Tale of Genji that I contributed to Carpe Noctem: Vampires Through the Ages, an anthology of historical fantasy fiction, illustrations, and comics about vampires in historically specific settings.

I wouldn’t say I’m a “fan” of The Tale of Genji in the same way that I’m a fan of the Legend of Zelda series, but I’ve read multiple translations of the book and enjoyed them all. When you engage with a story so deeply, it’s difficult not to come up with fun theories. I certainly wouldn’t be the first person in Japanese literary history to make this suggestion, but please consider: Why are the characters in The Tale of Genji always described as being so pale, and why are many of them only active between dusk and dawn?

“The Kumo Diary” is set in the Meiji period (1868-1912), Japan’s industrial era of “civilization and enlightenment.” As Japan attempted to establish itself as a nation that could compete with Western powers, its intelligentsia were motivated to create a unified “Japanese culture.” The Tale of Genji occupied an interesting place in this movement. On one hand, it could easily be regarded as the quintessential work of classical Japanese literature. On the other hand, its plot is largely concerned with the love affairs of a rotating cast of beautiful but neurotic women. Japanese scholars were therefore tasked with making The Tale of Genji a respectable classic to be held in esteem by a modern nation.

Scholars had been compiling and revising the chapters of The Tale of Genji for centuries, so it was necessary to create a “definitive” version of the text. While I was studying the history of The Tale of Genji, I couldn’t help but wonder about all the apocryphal chapters that never made it into the canonical text.

It took me ten years, but finally I wrote one of these apocryphal chapters myself. I embedded the so-called “Kumo Diary” into a frame story about a woman who finds the manuscript and decides not to share it with the stodgy male professor who employs her. It’s interesting to imagine there being a secret history of The Tale of Genji, and I really enjoyed writing the ending of my story. After all, who’s to say there aren’t demonic women pulling the strings from the shadows? If they do their work correctly, we’d never know they were there at all.

I’ve posted the story on AO3, and you can read it here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/50802628

The illustration is by the darkly brilliant Paristandard, whose creepy and creative illustrations can be found (on Twitter), (on Tumblr), and (on Instagram). It was an amazing experience to work with them, and I can’t recommend them enough for character designs, book covers, short comics, and other illustration projects. For this project in particular, the historical specificity of their costume design was uncanny, and I am in awe.

A Worthy Successor

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

In an eerie castle submerged under cursed waters, Ganondorf tells Tetra about the world that once was. Ganondorf’s story is at its end, but his words inspire Tetra to dream of the world to come.

I recently started playing The Wind Waker in order to do research for a short essay about Koroks. The Wind Waker is a fresh and lovely game, at least at the beginning, and I always forget the emotional impact of the end. The pathos of Ganondorf’s longing for the Hyrule of the past always gets me right in the heart.

I think it’s interesting that, after The Wind Waker, Tetra goes on to establish New Hyrule, the setting of Spirit Tracks. She thereby achieves Ganondorf’s goal of restoring an ancient kingdom blessed by gentle winds. This begs the question – how would Tetra know about Hyrule? Given how much time Tetra spent with Ganondorf under the Great Sea, I think it’s safe to assume that they must have talked to one another.

This story is my attempt to envision what these conversations might have been. I wrote this story a few years ago, but I’m returning to it now because it still resonates with me. The older I get, the more I sympathize with Ganondorf, and the more willing I become to let decaying empires fall to ruin in favor of embracing the winds of change.

You can read the story here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/35251798

The comic adaptation is by the magical Lightsintheskye, who is:
(on Twitter) + (on Tumblr) + (on Etsy)

Divine Beast

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

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).

The Flower Thief

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

“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).

You’re Not Lost, You’re Here!

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

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

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

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).

Seeded Ground

~ Kathryn ~ Leave a comment

Seeded Ground is a twelve-page botanical horror comic about growth. It reads a bit like a supervillain origin story, but I created it as a statement of resistance against the oppressive ideologies of neoliberalism that have lured so many people in my generation into the trap of self-optimization.

You can download a free digital copy of the comic from Itch.io here:
https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/seeded-ground

I was inspired to draw this comic by a tweet written by a respected senior scholar. They argued that assigning at least five pages of writing every week is necessary to maintain “a certain standard of quality” in the undergraduate students who register for their classes.

This tweet inspired me to reflect on an unfortunate aspect of education in the United States. Namely, it’s an unstated but almost universally accepted goal of the formal education system to monopolize students’ time in order to train them to become the sort of adult workers who are willing to devote their lives to their career. An employee at a “good” job is expected to wake up early, commute, spend the entire day at work, and then go home and finish the tasks they didn’t have time to complete at the office. Meanwhile, freelance and part-time workers are expected to be available at any hour of the day, every day of the week, and at short notice. This is messed up, and I hate it.

My own experience as a professional working adult has essentially been the equivalent of that professor’s tweet. Namely, I’ve felt compelled to engage in meaningless work that no one will ever see in order to maintain the pretense of “a certain standard of quality.” Around the time of the pandemic, I got fed up. Was I really supposed to feel guilty about not replying to emails within 24 hours while I was sick with Covid? Fuck that.

These days I’m much more aggressive about enforcing boundaries concerning how much work I’m willing to do, and I can’t even begin to express how much the quality of my life has improved. I have no regrets.

As an epilogue to Seeded Ground, I illustrated a quote from the radical social theorist Herbert Marcuse’s 1964 book One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Society:

“If the individual were no longer compelled to prove himself on the market, as a free economic subject, the disappearance of this compulsion would be one of the greatest achievements of civilization.”

And he’s not wrong! I know it’s a twee Millennial stereotype to hate capitalism, but I really do believe that the point of life is not to optimize your performance as an employee. People need room to grow.

And if that growth is impeded? All sorts of bad things can happen. 🌿