“Let Us Awaken… Together!” — Analyzing Themes in Link’s Awakening

Warning: This editorial contains spoilers for Link’s Awakening.

Recently, I organized a five-day series of articles focusing on Majora’s Mask, in which I discussed various cultural and philosophical themes from the game with the help of several examples of fan-created content. I enjoyed it so much (and hope you did too!) that I decided to venture out and take a look at more Zelda games.

Instead of publishing several articles over the course of a week, this dissection of Link’s Awakening will be one long editorial where I address a few select concepts. Some are already well-discussed, such as the “dream motif” that Link’s Awakening strongly utilizes. Some, I hope, are fresh and thus inspire new contemplation and reflection on what is truly a deep and meaningful game (though it might seem less so on the surface, and that’s the beauty behind it.)

I aim to utilize quotes from the game to serve as a starting point for these topics. First, I’ll touch on the illusory theme of the game and talk about the dualistic meaning of the word “dream.” I’ll then discuss the finality of Link’s decision to end the adventure, and thus end Koholint Island. I’ll discuss the essence and nature of the people and things Link interacts with in the game, and then talk about how truth is revealed to us, sometimes in cryptic ways. Finally, I’ll take a look at one of the final quotes in the game, where the Wind Fish asks us to join it in awakening.

All of this will tie into the central theme: that despite the conviction in our decisions, life and its predictions remain uncertain, and sometimes we will simply not know what’s right or wrong, or what’s real or not, leaving us to accept these limitations the best we can.

 

The Meaning of Dreaming

“If I wish to the Wind Fish, I wonder if my dream will come true…”
-Marin

I think it’s fair to say that the easiest layer of Link’s Awakening to comb over is the dream motif: What does it mean that Koholint is but a dreamscape? When we look at the quote by Marin above, we can see the dual meaning of the “dream” here: it is a place we go when in our unconscious state (or, perhaps, a place that comes to us?), and it is a goal or outcome we aspire to, one that may require some luck or chance, or even one that may be outlandish or unachievable.

What can make this dream motif frustrating to some players is the sense of meaninglessness it seems to convey — that the entire adventure, with all its implications and actions, its love and its losses, is all effectively erased in the end. It makes me think of deus ex machina, “God in the machine,” a literary device where a large problem that seems insurmountable within a narrative is suddenly overcome, often at the last minute, as a result of a new mechanic, sometimes literal divine intervention. The Wizard of Oz is the epitomized combination of the dream motif and deus ex machina, as the Wicked Witch is suddenly stopped with a simple bucket of water, and Dorothy, after all her adversity and triumph in the land of Oz, is woken up in her bed in Kansas.

But Link’s Awakening uses the dream motif differently, to a point where – personally for me, at least – there is never a sense that divine intervention is going to swoop up Link, save the day, and solve all the problems on Koholint Island. We’ll come back to this in a little bit.

Looking at the full quote by Marin, I find a wealth of depth to dive into:

“If I was a seagull, I would fly as far as I could! I would fly to far away places and sing for many people!…If I wish to the Wind Fish, I wonder if my dream will come true…”

Marin sees the Wind Fish as this supernatural gift-giver, her own “God in the machine,” and she looks to it for some divine intervention in her own life. She has faith that the Wind Fish will fulfill her dream, her goals and desires. She doesn’t know that she, and everything she knows, is, to the Wind Fish, the other kind of dream, the result of its literal slumber. What would her dream mean to a dreaming God?

Marin’s dream is that of liberation. Her dream, her goal, effectively, is to leave the literal dream of the Wind Fish. The caveat, “Be careful what you wish for… it just might come true,” immediately comes to mind. To her, the Wind Fish holds the secret to her freedom. The reality is that the Wind Fish holds the key to her life, and everything she’s known, and the only way the Wind Fish can free Marin is by leaving her to fade away as an unconscious afterthought.* Despite this, Marin feels determined in her dream, her goal, accepting the ambiguity of her life and what it means in the grand scheme of things outside of her control. It may be suggested that she is a “non-actor,” that she simply sits on the beach and waits for her fate. However, I would argue that the simple initial act of her waking Link up on the beach is her way of showing that she refuses to sit idly on the beach and let her dream stay a dream forever.

*It should be noted that, at the end of the Game Boy version of Link’s Awakening, if you manage to beat the game without dying (bravo!), a winged Marin flies across the screen, implying she did, in fact, get her wish. (In the Game Boy Color and Switch version, a headshot of Marin appears briefly and then fades as a seagull flies away, but it’s the same concept.) While this is probably just a cute Easter Island egg (see what I did there?), we can speculate on whether this is the Wind Fish choosing to keep part of its dream alive in some fashion.

So, how does Link play into all of this? Is he the “God in the machine?” Not quite. Link’s task to wake the Wind Fish, however, is more-or-less his heroic act to set things into “correct” motion. He sees Marin as a helper in need of his help, so, like Link always does, he dutifully works to help her, as well as help everything else in this world he sees as good. Unbeknownst to Link, he is also the victim of the dream motif in this adventure, leaving us to wonder if his work on Koholint was all in vain. Yet, like he always does, Link acts with certainty in uncertain times. He, and the player through him, determines his goal early on, and he resolutely acts toward that goal until the very end. He moves through the game with decisiveness and confidence, in spite of all the ambiguity. (More on Link and Marin’s convictions and actions in the second section below.)

Some may feel like the dream motif in Link’s Awakening was lazy storytelling or a tired trope for Nintendo to play into. The truth is that the multiple meanings behind “dream” create a rich relationship between Link, Marin, the island, and the Wind Fish. It’s my interpretation here (but doesn’t have to be yours) that Link and Marin both are, in this aspect, able to accept the ambiguity and uncertainty behind what is possible and what is impossible, and what the real “dream” to be had here is. This is the illusory theme of Link’s Awakening: that dreams aren’t always for coming true, or for waking up from. Link and Marin both accept this, knowing that “living the dream” requires taking action and making decisions.

 

Finality in Decisions

“But, verily, it be the nature of dreams to end!”
-Wind Fish

I have a confession: I am one of those gamers that, in the final moments of an adventure, or just before the last boss or accomplishment, tend to put the game down and never finish it. I actually did this in 2021 when playing the Switch remake of Link’s Awakening (I had completed the Game Boy Color version several times in my youth). I know I’m not the only one who makes this often conscious decision – so what subconsciously drives it?

The decision to not end things is all-the-more pertinent when we’re talking about Link’s Awakening. After all, to finish the game doesn’t just end your personal experience, nor does it just end a story, but it ends an entire world that you’ve spent hours exploring, familiarizing yourself with, and connecting to. 

Some argue that the psychology behind the aversion to finishing games comes from an unwillingness to leave a place you’ve grown to love so dearly. Sometimes, this can be a positive decision, as it furthers the resolve to keep the literal or figurative place you’re in that much stronger, sounder, and cozier. Often, however, it symbolizes an unwillingness to recognize when it’s time for something to end, like a relationship that has fallen apart, a toxic work environment, or a nasty personal habit.

So, the question then is: when Link is posed with the decision to end the island by waking the Wind Fish, is he finding the strength to acknowledge when it’s time to let a good thing go, or is he wiping away a stain on his personal experience and moving on to better things? Well, like most decisions regarding departure in our own personal lives, it’s a mix. As selfish as it sounds, Link needs to move on with his life.

He is not the only one who suffers or gains from his decision, though. He must consider all the residents of Koholint that will feel the ramifications of his decision. If he feels that he’s freeing Marin, then it must be a good decision, right? What of all the countless enemies he’s fought, the enemies that have begged him to leave the state of dreamy nature as it is, so that they can continue to exist in some weird symbiotic way with the Wind Fish? What of all the characters who don’t have a say, or may even be oblivious to the state of affairs? I’m going to come back to that last question later.

I can’t help but be reminded of the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah, specifically the very end of it. Lot and his family are leaving the town they called home in search of new lands, not knowing what lies ahead, but instructed to flee and not look behind them as they go. Lot’s wife, in a desire to gaze upon the burning city where she lived one last time, turns back to look, at which point God turns her into a pillar of salt. The moral of this story? When it’s time to move on – from a relationship, a job, or even a video game – it’s best to move forward, accept the need to do so, and resist the urge to look back. For Lot’s wife, it was her final decision.

While we may have convictions in our decisions, or beliefs on what might happen, many decisions — especially final ones — can cause us to second guess ourselves. 

This truth brings brings us to Marin. I can’t help but wonder: would she look back? Does she understand the finality of her dreams, her goals and desires? When she leaves her home and joins Link to wake up the walrus midway through the game, there’s an implied finality here too. It may seem like a silly example, but I can’t imagine waking up a semi-aquatic, saber-toothed mammal comes without substantial risks. It’s a reminder that even simple actions we take have consequences that last forever. This isn’t where Marin stops, either. We find her again in Tal Tal Heights, far from home. This doesn’t seem like something Marin would have done before Link showed up. Perhaps these examples demonstrate Marin’s resolve to enact change in her world, regardless of the risks that come her way or the uncertainty of the results.

On that note, what are your feelings on trading sequences? It’s proof that little things we do can add up to big results. Every transaction carries weight, and we wonder if it’s worth it in the end. Life, like Link’s Awakening, won’t tell us what the result will be, sometimes until the very end, and sometimes not at all. It’s a reminder that small steps can lead to rewarding finalities.

Starting with a simple plush Yoshi from the Mabe Village Trendy Game, through many unexpected exchanges and often the feeling that we got less than what we gave (at one point getting just a stick), Link ends up with the Boomerang, one of the most useful items in the game. Not only that, but he also keeps the real final item, the Magnifying Lens, showing that, with a some relentless legwork, the finality of our decisions can often be more than what we started with. Link, and the player through him, goes through this process without really knowing how it will end, but he goes through it anyway, knowing that what things are in the moment carry more meaning and depth than what we initially believe.

 

What It Is Isn’t Always What It Is

“The Wind Fish in name only, for it is neither.”
-Owl Statue

It isn’t until the very end of the game that we meet the Wind Fish and see its true form. Majestic, enormous, and still kind of sleepy, there really is no indication of what makes the “wind” in “Wind Fish,” except maybe a small pair of wings on its back (and the fact that he identifies himself as a deity of the sky, which is guess is kind of like wind?) That’s what brings me back to this writing found on an Owl Statue. Why is the nature and essence of what makes up the Wind Fish so important, anyway? It’s not the answer that’s important, but the question itself.

This is the case because it provides us an opportunity to step into a mindset that is crucial to understanding one of the morals behind Link’s Awakening: the importance of questioning the real components of what exists around us, and questioning what implications of that come from the names of these components. I think of the cliché, “If you put lipstick on a pig and call it something else, it’s still a pig.” While it may not necessarily fully apply here, the point is simply that things aren’t always what they try to be, or what they seem to be.

So how does this apply to Koholint? Link shows acceptance of his limitations and acts with finality by always absorbing the information the best he can. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t even stop to think about the depth of what’s in front of him; as mentioned in the first section above, he acts with what he has to work with. This is relatable, because we as humans have the same struggle: we absorb as much as we can at face value, knowing that there is always some deeper meaning, only faintly able to trust our knowledge of the world around us.

Aside from the obvious fact that the island itself is an illusion, there’s an implication to its residents and – more applicably – its enemies. Throughout the game, Link interacts with defeated bosses and their minions — labeled Nightmares in the Wind Fish’s dream — some who plea for Link to turn around and stop pursuing his goal to wake the Wind Fish. It’s unlike many enemies in the Zelda world, who don’t find themselves groveling at Link’s feet to cease his journey. In this way, Link’s Awakening subverts the expectations of Link, the seasoned adventurer and hero, and the player, who is likely familiar with video game conventions.

The first major enemy to petition Link is aptly named Facade, which presents as eyes and mouth in a floor, showing that the face and floor are neither, and which attacks with its environment, revealing that your surroundings are more than what meets the eye. After Facade is defeated, it implores Link to stop and consider what it is he’s really doing, suggesting that the path he’s on is not moving toward the noble finality he thinks it is. But this boss is not the sole façade; everything is. In a way, this scene makes us sympathize with Link’s Awakening‘s enemies and wonder if they’re more scared than angry. We as the player now begin to question what the right thing to do is, and who is innocent in all of this. There isn’t as much joy in defeating an enemy that’s cowardly pleading for you to stop.

What’s a Nightmare scared of, anyway? That the dreamer will eventually wake up, of course.

A primary focus of this article is the notion that things are not always as they seem, and that decisions sometimes need to be made without us having all the facts and information we want. Even then, the multitudes — complex, the multi-layered personas — that characters contain, in our games and in our lives, with their flaws, motives, and emotions in tact, is what makes ambiguity and uncertainty so entertaining and relatable.

 

New Information Has Come to Light

“Castaway, you should know the truth!”
-Mural in the South Face Shrine

This is perhaps the most iconic line in the game, and by far my favorite; the sense of desperation and conviction written on the wall of the shrine speaks volumes. Without falling to the urge to dissect the line word-by-word, let’s look at the implications of the foreboding etching.

Link and the player learn more and more as the game goes on about the fabrication that they find themselves in. However, as we’ve discussed, the truth is more gray than black-and-white, and the ambiguities we explored in section three reach out to everything, even our own existence. So, which truth is the wall speaking to? We already have a pretty clear idea of what Koholint Island really is, so what else is there to learn? The mural indicates that we’re not acting with a full awareness of what’s at stake here, and that the revealing of the truth might change our tune. 

I questioned above the consequences of Link’s actions being paid by residents on the island that either don’t know they exist in a dream, don’t have an opinion on what happens, or never get a chance to tell Link their thoughts. To them, Link is simply “the castaway” who is acting and existing on their island as an alien and a stranger. They seem to welcome him warmly. Do they know the truth? Do they know why the castaway is here? Clearly, the enemies and walls of the temples and dungeons do. So, to the seemingly apathetic, the truth is different – it’s innocuous and cordial. After all, in the games we play and the lives we live, who and what we are is complicated, and the notion of truth in the world is always fluid.

What draws me to this phrase more than anything is the conviction it rings out. It addresses Link almost directly and shares that it has the knowledge Link lacks. This is the last line on the wall, however. All the writing before it already tells us what the “truth” most likely is: that the island isn’t real, and waking the Wind Fish will cause the islands to disappear. Why wait until the very end to make this proclamation, if not to imply that this isn’t the end of what’s hidden and unknown? I posit that we never learn the truth that the wall alludes to – that there are other aspects of this island, the Wind Fish, and the game as a whole, that remain a mystery to Link and to the player. I wish I could shed light on what this mystery is, but I think that’s the more meaningful element of the phrase.

In life, we are almost always oblivious to what the truth of our world and existence is; we are our own castaway on our own Koholint Island. We search for answers, and we do what we think is right in the moment. The writing on the metaphorical walls on the literal places we find ourselves try to convince us that they have the information that will unlock our full awareness… but all they do is remind us of how little we really know. We’re left to accept this uncertainty the best we can, although, for better or for worse, we often struggle with such acceptance.

This makes me think of the Serenity Prayer, which compels us to “accept the things we cannot change, have courage to change the things we can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.” If Link and the game are trying to teach us anything, it’s this: that we can still act without knowing the final outcome, the truth of the whole scenario, or the full meaning behind what we do.

 

“Let us awaken… together!”

Link’s Awakening does a tremendously good job at taking something that, at face value, looks cute and innocent, and embeds it with deeper philosophical questions that, while not foreign to many other games, can provide us with a subconscious reckoning. It reminds us that our enemies have feelings, too, including fear, the ultimate motivator. It reminds us that a hero to someone is a villain to another. It reminds us that often nothing is ever what it seems, and that the good guy doesn’t always do what’s “right.” However, this is a universal experience.

So when the Wind Fish beckons us to awaken together, there’s a sense of acceptance, not just for the past or the consequences of our present actions, but for what we are capable of achieving in the future.

“Let us awaken… together!” is the last line spoken to Link by a character in Link’s Awakening. However, it’s important to bring into context this quote with the sentence right before it:

“Someday, thou may recall this island…That memory makes the dream world real…”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read these ramblings. Let me know what your thoughts are on my analysis and share your own perspectives in the comments below. Let us awaken… together!