Zelda From an Existentialist Perspective

This is an essay I wrote for my AP Literature class in my senior year. I was swamped with college applications and final exams, but I still spent so much time pouring my heart into this work. If I recall correctly, the prompt was simply to compare Jean-Paul Sartre’s Existentialism Is a Humanism, a famous existentialist work (I chose Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis), with a work of fiction of your choice (I chose Nintendo’s The Legend of Zelda, Breath of the Wild).

This is a 25-minute read. Enjoy!

In the Driver’s Seat

Existentialism places the individual at the center of their own world, rejecting philosophies of “human nature” and emphasizing the authentic and particular essence of human existence. Jean-Paul Sartre, arguably the most influential existentialist philosopher, unintentionally popularized existentialist principles through a lecture at Club Maintenant in Paris, set barely a month after Victory over Japan Day. He tackles themes of subjectivity, individual choice, alienation, and anguish, all of which explicitly apply to the worlds crafted by Franz Kafka in The Metamorphosis and Eiji Aonuma and his Nintendo team in the Legend of Zelda video game franchise. Kafka’s novel follows the life of a young traveling salesman, Gregor Samsa, after his overnight transformation into a human-sized cockroach, and Aonuma’s Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild game allows players to control Link as he explores the vast kingdom of Hyrule and tries to save his princess. The worlds crafted by Kafka and Aonuma explore Sartre’s idea of an absurd existence and prove that individual choice prevails against indifferent universes and never-ending calamities.

THE “UNGEHEUREN UNGEZIEFER” AND UNDEAD HERO

The most significant event of both works occurs before the protagonist awakes. In Kafka’s world, Gregor Samsa, the sole breadwinner in his family, wakes up to disturbingly absurd circumstances: “When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin” (Kafka 3). The audience does not witness his metamorphosis into a grotesque, giant bug; yet this introduction is the most important event of the novel. Samsa’s transformation precedes all the events that follow—his loss of identity, his alienation, and his eventual death—and any explanations for his new form remain unknown. Aonuma paints an eerily similar picture, of an unconscious, pitiful boy floating in near-boiling water, dreaming about a golden light that softly commands him to rise: “…Open your eyes… Open your eyes… Open your eyes. Wake up, Link” (Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild). Link does not know it yet, as evident by his completely bewildered state, but the most important event of his story has already happened: he has been gravely injured in a battle against his greatest foe’s minions. He has slumbered for a hundred years, and time has not slowed for him. Medically, Link’s condition is not unlike being resurrected from the dead. He roams his new world with no recollection of the memories tying him to it. The absurd nature of Samsa and Link’s new existence reveals the cracks in the collective image of humanity. A human-sized cockroach and undead hero push the conventional boundaries of what being human really means. Sartre argues that these characters contribute to their society by challenging the notion of human nature: “Subjectivism means, on one hand, the freedom of the individual to choose what he will be, and, on the other, man’s inability to transcend human subjectivity” (Sartre 23-24). Samsa and Link do not have the aid of supernatural beings or a predefined path to guide their journeys. They must navigate their new absurd realities through their choices alone; this is only the first of the personal calamities the pair faces, only the beginning to their end.

Kafka and Aonuma tactically manipulate the lens through which their audience watches their protagonists. Kafka chooses to name his main character Samsa, alluding to the Czech word “sám”, meaning “alone”. This name immediately alienates Samsa and foreshadows the absurdity of his isolation. Aonuma employs a similar approach in naming his character “Link”, a literal embodiment of the connection between his kingdom’s past and present, between a wicked king and a righteous princess. Their names provide a twisted sense of predictability and comfort in their absurd realities; the audience knows Samsa ends his story in solitude, and that Link winds up being a true link between worlds, never getting to truly live in his past or the present, always stuck between two timelines.

Both stories heavily rely on their impactful beginnings. Samsa and Link begin their tales by dreaming and simply being ignorant of the absurd changes that have happened in their realities. They are unaware that time did not stop for their transformations, and the audience is only left to speculate on the life they might have had without their metamorphoses.

AS THE SUN RISES, REALITY DAWNS

Life in both worlds seems vaguely familiar yet so strange. Breath of the Wild opens with a beautiful orchestra piece and an expansive view of the Hyrule kingdom. Even when playing for the first time, the opening song feels nostalgic, like the world is not new at all. As the song fades, the player is placed completely in Link’s shoes. There is a compelling feeling to go explore the dark forest, the lake, or the dilapidated church down the hill. There are traces of society that once stood there, overrun by nature: axes left to rust in the wood, surrounded by mushrooms and boars, guarded by red and blue humanoid enemies. It is silent, peaceful, and eerie. Bizarrely, Samsa’s room feels oddly familiar, too. Kafka describes Samsa’s thoughts as he takes in his room after waking up: “As he looked over at the alarm clock, which was ticking on the chest of drawers. ‘God Almighty!’ he thought. It was six-thirty, the hands were quietly moving forward, it was actually past the half-hour, it was already nearly a quarter to. Could it be that the alarm hadn’t gone off?” (Kafka 4). Samsa’s contemplation of mundane details such as his alarm clock, catching the train, and observing the city all paint a scene mirroring the ordinary aspects of life, yet Samsa seems to be in denial of the physical state in which he finds himself. He is only thinking about his job, enslaved to materialism, destined only to serve his family. In this sense, Samsa is barely human even before his transformation, representing only a small cog in a giant machine that runs on dehumanization. This message is particularly timeless; many readers around the world find themselves akin to a slimy bug in the morning, too tired to contemplate their physical and emotional state, only conscious enough to follow a dehumanizing routine. Both Link and Samsa’s situations are completely ridiculous only because they are partly relatable; their absurdity lies in the parallels with the dehumanizing struggles millions across the world face every day. Sartre interprets this as the fundamental meaning of existentialism: “When we say that man chooses himself, not only do we mean that each of us must choose himself, but also that in choosing himself, he is choosing for all men. In fact, in creating the man each of us wills ourselves to be, there is not a single one of our actions that does not at the same time create an image of man as we think he ought to be” (Sartre 24). Link and Samsa’s struggles are innately human; they suffer from burdens thrust upon them from the worlds they find themselves in. This makes their worlds accessible to global audiences; their anguish is relatable. Link’s responsibility quickly becomes clear as he explores post-apocalyptic Hyrule. His choices—battling monsters, assisting villagers, or uncovering secrets buried under rubble—influence not only his personal narrative but contribute to the broader understanding of the game’s universe. This is completely literal in the digital realm Link finds himself in; every single action of his changes how his world behaves. Samsa finds himself in the same boat. Before his metamorphosis, Samsa accomplishes all that is expected from him as a son, brother, and salesman. However, his awakening as a monstrous vermin completely destroys his everyday routine and old life. Even in this state, though, Samsa continues to make decisions and to act: “One right after the other, and with eyes streaming with tears of contentment, he devoured the cheese, the vegetables, and the sauce; the fresh foods, on the other hand, he did not care for; he couldn’t even stand their smell and even dragged the things he wanted to eat a bit farther away. He had finished with everything long since and was just lying lazily at the same spot when his sister slowly turned the key as a sign for him to withdraw. That immediately startled him, although he was almost asleep, and he scuttled under the couch again” (Kafka 23). Samsa clearly shows signs of human consciousness and emotions; he devours certain foods with tears of satisfaction, while actively avoiding others that repulse him. He deliberately moves the foods he likes farther from the door of the room he’s trapped in. Additionally, he consciously hides himself to avoid frightening his sister and self-appointed caretaker, Grete, as she picks up leftovers and dishes. By scuttling under the couch, Samsa is forced to choose between primal instincts of self-preservation and residual human awareness of social expectations. He must decide if he will remain comfortably on the floor, encouraging his body’s necessary rest, or if he will delight Grete by vanishing from her sight and thoughts. Samsa’s intentional actions reflect his continuing capacity for choice, challenging the simplistic assumption that Samsa’s metamorphosis is solely a descent into despair. His quick adaptation to his new circumstances is symbolic of the broader human experience, as he has rarely any time to make choices that drastically impact his relationships and well-being. Ultimately, this is why both Samsa’s isolating room and Link’s expansive Hyrule seem so bizarrely familiar; they are humanity’s canvases, painted by the choices its protagonists make.

The protagonists battle with wounds far greater than physical as they are swiftly compelled to navigate their identities in strange circumstances. Link is constantly forced to question his role as the hero of Hyrule. He has no memories of the people that he once served, no recollection of his purpose. All he remembers is how a knight’s sword rests in his palm, how to tame a horse, how to light a fire and cook a meager dinner, usually out of crickets and monster guts. It is these ingrained habits that Link enjoys most; he can slow time when he fights, the game’s most magical songs play when he gallops around Hyrule, and he hums playful tunes when he cooks, no matter how disgusting the meal. Samsa, like Link, finds comfort only in the life he will never be able to live again. He is happiest when there is bread on the table, his father’s debt is getting paid off, and his family can rest comfortably, without needing to worry about working. Samsa allows himself to dream of a brighter future for his family the moment he receives a promotion: “Only his sister had remained close to Gregor, and it was his secret plan that she, who, unlike him, loved music and could play the violin movingly, should be sent next year to the Conservatory, regardless of the great expense involved. Often during Gregor’s short stays in the city the Conservatory would come up in his conversations with his sister, but always merely as a beautiful dream which was not supposed to come true, and his parents were not happy to hear even these innocent allusions; but Gregor had very concrete ideas on the subject and he intended solemnly to announce his plan on Christmas Eve” (Kafka 26). Now, that dream is certainly gone with the wind; Samsa is not able to care for himself, let alone his family. In his new state, he finds himself content when he acts upon his insect instincts, as he hangs from the ceiling or hides under the dark sofa. Both protagonists succumb to what comes naturally to them to avoid their anguish. Sartre argues this is a natural response to despair: “a man who commits himself, and who realizes that he is not only the individual that he chooses to be, but also a legislator choosing at the same time what humanity as a whole should not be, cannot help but be aware of his own full and profound responsibility, True, many people do not appear especially anguished, but we maintain that they are merely hiding their anguish or trying not to face it” (Sartre 25). By this point in their stories, both the characters realize the responsibility that comes with their new realities, and both of them must face their new worlds alone. Link is a silent hero, with no audible dialogue in his entire story; barely a handful of people recognize him as Princess Zelda’s former knight. In her diary that survived Ganon’s attack, she describes why Link never speaks: “When I finally got around to asking why he’s so quiet all the time, I could tell it was difficult for him to say. But he did. With so much at stake, and so many eyes upon him, he feels it necessary to stay strong and to silently bear any burden. A feeling I know all too well… For him, it has caused him to stop outwardly expressing his thoughts and feelings. I always believed him to be simply a gifted person who had never faced a day of hardship. How wrong I was… Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world… I was so absorbed with my own problems, I failed to see his” (Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild). Link chooses to silently persevere through his struggles. This secrecy is innately human. It shows that Link is very conscious of the indifferent world he lives in and that his preference for solitude is not irrational. He refuses to burden his kingdom with his mission. To Hyrule, he is nothing more than a common traveler, so he finds comfort in navigating the vast lands alone. Samsa shares Link’s comfort in solitude. He is most comfortable when he is left alone in his room. Samsa nearly loses his mind when all the furniture is taken out of his room, nonetheless by the sister and mother who do not view him as their brother and son anymore. Disturbingly, he stops eating as the cleaning lady begins to frequently visit and his family uses his room as a junk closet: “Only when he accidentally passed the food laid out for him would he take a bite into his mouth just for fun, hold it in for hours, and then mostly spit it out again” (Kafka 43). Samsa fails to ignore his anguish when he is not the only person cramped into his small room. Both Samsa and Link find solace in solitude, seeking refuge from a world that has rejected or forgotten them. Symbolically, Samsa hides himself beneath the sofa or a blanket for as long as he can, despite the pain in his body refusing to comply with his conscious choices. Link dons silly disguises and prefers to talk with child-like forest spirits to the people of the kingdom he is meant to restore. Their attempts at avoiding anguish influence their choices more than physical injuries do; Samsa begins to starve himself and Link withdraws into quiet corners of Hyrule. They are forced to confront personal calamities without the help of their society or universe; they are truly alone.

CYCLE OF DESPAIR

Kafka and Aonuma craft stories that utilize the fairy tale framework as a vehicle for exploring the human condition. The main characters undergo a major transformation influenced by magic or technology beyond human comprehension. The stories are absurd yet entertaining, just like many folk tales around the world. However, this structure breaks near the end of the narratives: there is no happy ending.

Both endings resonate with the idea of an unending cycle, passing their burdens and anguish onto successive generations. Neither heroes defeat their calamities, but instead pass them onto the next generation. Link never really completes his quest; the moment he defeats the main boss of the game, Ganon, everything resets back to the way it was before the fight. There are barely any changes in his world, and the quest is never marked as complete in his quest log. This is a physical manifestation of Link’s existence. In all of Aonuma’s games, Link is always the hero, Zelda is always the princess, and Ganon is always evil. Like Link, Ganon will always be reincarnated. The Samsa family faces a similar gut-wrenching ending, as Gregor’s mother and father welcome Grete’s own transformation into a young woman: “While they were talking in this vein, it occurred almost simultaneously to Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, as they watched their daughter getting livelier and livelier that lately, in spite of all the troubles which had turned her cheeks pale, she had blossomed into a good-looking, shapely girl. Growing quieter and communicating almost unconsciously through glances, they thought that it would soon be time, too, to find her a good husband. And it was like a confirmation of their new dreams and good intentions when at the end of the ride their daughter got up first and stretched her young body” (Kafka 55). Samsa’s absurd transformation does not stop the cycle of dehumanization in his family and beyond. After his death, he is simply replaced without much thought or time for his family to mourn. Business continues as usual; the family must be fed. Naturally, Grete is the next to inherit Samsa’s responsibilities as the breadwinner of the family. It is her turn to become the cog in the industrial machine, her turn to wake up to the same routine and unreachable dreams every day; it is her turn to enter the cycle of dehumanization. Sartre argues that this existence is completely absurd, but that the only way to battle this absurdity is through individual essence. These characters are compelled to make choices even though they are trapped in a world with no inherent meaning. Sartre’s assertion that individuals are responsible for themselves and for everyone else echoes in the perpetual cycle of calamities faced by Link and the Samsa family.

Although their endings may not be cheerful or gratifying, Link and Samsa’s stories compel audiences to confront the complexities of human existence. In the face of unending cycles of calamity, Link and Samsa choose to act, echoing Sartre’s assertion that, even in an indifferent world, individuals must navigate the absurd by making choices that define their essence.

THE WORLD DOES NOT FORGET

The medium in which these existentialist stories are presented drastically influences the major struggles of the protagonist. Breath of the Wild is an “open-world” game, meaning that essentially all gameplay is completely up to the player’s discretion. So, while Link carries a quest log and roams Hyrule in hopes of saving Princess Zelda, the player is free to explore the world and completely ignore Link’s main mission. Many players choose not to defeat the main villain, Ganon, as they hope to explore Hyrule further before heading to the fight. Due to these diversions, the undead hero faces an existential battle against time. He must choose between saving his princess in the castle or his kingdom ruled by Ganon’s monsters, and with every second he wastes, Zelda suffers more from malice’s grasp. Dread follows Link’s every step and manifests itself as the faint memories that haunt him, the countless nights he spends wandering into nothingness, and a vast world that seems to feel empty after Link realizes the cyclical nature of his universe. He will never truly save Hyrule or Princess Zelda; that is his curse. Despite this, Link will always choose to even slightly better the lives of those around him. He will always choose good, never evil: “Choosing to be this or that is to affirm at the same time the value of what we choose, because we can never choose evil. We always choose the good, and nothing can be good for any of us unless it is good for all” (Sartre 24). Link never gives into the comforting promise of destiny and chooses to act, despite knowing how his story will ultimately never end. He chooses to help the villagers who greet him in the street, to cure the wounds of those infected by Ganon’s poisonous gunk, and to reunite families. His heroism lies in his actions, not in the past he has long forgotten. In this sense, the narrative structure of both works is completely different. Samsa’s story is set in stone and completely linear, without many heroic side quests between his metamorphosis and death. Samsa’s agency is limited, and his choices are constrained by his physical transformation and the claustrophobic walls that imprison him. Link has all the freedom in the world to travel for days on end through unexplored land, and when Link is eventually able to purchase a house farther along in the game, it’s the least exciting part of his world; he now owns a stable that can’t hold horses and a kitchen that he cannot cook in; he cannot indulge in his favorite pastimes in what is supposed to feel like home. Link returns to the wild, while Samsa remains trapped in his room and is punished and injured every time he exits. This difference sets up a contrasting atmosphere for both worlds. Samsa’s world is claustrophobic and confining, and Link’s is vast and enticingly adventurous.

Additionally, the video game medium allows for second chances and still places a large emphasis on the impact of death. In Breath of the Wild, Link can battle his greatest enemy over and over again, without losing any progress or items, until Ganon is finally defeated. The game itself is a second chance. The undead hero wakes up after a grueling battle at Hyrule Field. His heartbreaking defeat plays on the screen in a final memory he recalls at the very place of his fall. He would have died, were it not for his resurrection. Link’s second chances are the foundation of the entire franchise; he is always reincarnated or brought back to life. Samsa does not get this opportunity; his death is final and eerily alleviating: “He remained in this state of empty and peaceful reflection until the clock tower struck three in the morning. He still saw that outside the window everything was beginning to grow lighter. Then, without his consent, his head sank down on the floor, and from his nostrils streamed his last weak breath” (Kafka 51). Despite their different interpretations of the suffering or relief that death brings, the protagonists both die alone. No one in their lives has enough time on their hands to mourn for them; their deaths are ultimately a reflection of human existence. Their worlds are once again indifferent to their existence and demise, and, according to Sartre, it is their preference for solitude that has influenced how mankind views them; they are outsiders, strangers in a world devoid of meaning. The absurdity of their deaths is relatable through this lens; it is human to be forgotten, to be buried. Everyone faces the inevitability of being forgotten as life moves inexorably forward and attempts to leave a legacy behind to be remembered by. Link and Samsa do not get this chance. Link’s bravery dies with Hyrule’s fall; his kingdom is overrun by Ganon’s malice not soon after Link’s defeat. Samsa’s role as a son, brother, and breadwinner is forgotten immediately after his metamorphosis; his body is tossed out by the cleaning lady; his family is emancipated, and goes out to the countryside for the first time in months. These absurd endings are representative of most of humanity. Rarely anyone gets the opportunity to leave a lasting legacy that the whole world will remember. Yet, according to Sartre, this is not completely true: “If, moreover, existence precedes essence and we will to exist at the same time as we fashion our image, that image is valid for all and for our whole era. Our responsibility is thus much greater than we might have supposed, because it concerns all mankind” (Sartre 24). Optimistically, Sartre believes that everyone leaves a legacy behind. This view offers a glimmer of hope when viewing Link, Samsa, and humanity’s stories. Everyone leaves a legacy through their choices. History rarely remembers individuals, yet, everyone still leaves an enduring impact on collective humanity through their choices.

Despite the different narrative structures, Kafka and Aonuma’s stories share a message that resonates with millions: choosing good despite absurd circumstances and being conscious of the responsibility of choosing for all of mankind is the ultimate legacy one has on the world. Samsa and Link’s lives, purposes, and dreams have been but in vain. Though they may not have been mourned, both protagonists rest peacefully upon knowing they have done all they could have to influence their universes.

CHOOSING EXISTENTIALISM

At the top of a Breath of the Wild music compilation, YouTube user @danewarner8995 writes, in a comment liked by four thousand others, that they “would do anything to play this game for the first time again” (Love Life Music, 2018). They are not alone. The worlds that Aomuna and Kafka craft accomplish what Sartre had with his public lecture at Club Maintenant: promoting existentialist ideas. Their work makes it possible for millions to explore the meaning of their existence through characters that are absurd because they are so familiar, serving as allegorical landscapes for the anguish everyone feels. It is easy to read The Metamorphosis and relate to Samsa as he runs across the ceiling, losing his mind, or to Link’s overwhelming world of choices and fear of running out of time to save his princess. It is easy to visualize the world’s problems through the eyes of a monstrous vermin and an undead hero.

These worlds allow readers and players to grapple with existential dilemmas through the safe lens of fiction. The allure lies in the opportunity to explore, through narrative or gameplay, the intricate dance between choice and consequence. Merely interacting with these universes evokes feelings of dread and emptiness, but with it, a growing sense of warmth from understanding existential anxiety is shared.

Ultimately, these fictional worlds emphasize the interconnectedness of individual choices with the fate of humanity. By shattering norms about what it means to be human, or what it means to be a hero, these worlds open the door to millions to find their identity in a society that might have otherwise shunned them. They underscore Sartre’s argument that the source of all value is an authentic existence and that choices define one’s essence.

So, in a world with so many choices, it is only natural that audiences choose Kafka or Aonuma as their guides, stepping into the universes they’ve crafted to grapple with the essence of human existence, the implications of choice, and personal calamities. Their stories offer a sanctuary for contemplation, a space where the familiar and the absurd converge to paint a picture of humanity.

Works Cited

Aonuma, Eiji, et al. Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Nintendo, 3 Mar. 2017.

Kafka, Franz. The Metamorphosis. Translated by Stanley Corngold, Bantam classic ed., Toronto, Bantam Books, 1986.

MrWhaleOfTime, et al. “Legend of Zelda - Breath of the Wild Main Theme by Manaka Kataoka Chords and Melody.” www.hooktheory.com/theorytab/view/manaka-kataoka/legend-of-zelda—breath-of-the-wild-main-theme. Accessed 18 Dec. 2023.

“1 Hour of Emotional & Relaxing Music - Breath of the Wild.” YouTube, uploaded by Love Life Music, 23 Aug. 2018, youtu.be/if05wZrR6Kc. Accessed 18 Dec. 2023.

Phillips Kennedy, Victoria. “Breath Of The Wild Explains Why Link Never Talks.” 4 Nov. 2023, screenrant.com/botw-why-link-doesnt-talk-silent-protagonist-zelda-diary/. Accessed 18 Dec. 2023.

Sartre, Jean-Paul. Existentialism Is a Humanism: Including, a Commentary on the Stranger. Translated by Carol Macomber, edited by Arlette Elkaïm-Sartre, New Haven, Yale UP, 2007.