Since I was a child, I have been afraid of spiders. Despite being told so many times that I have nothing to fear — that they are smaller than I am, more afraid than I am, and so on — I remain petrified. It’s paralyzing at some points, such as when a large one takes up residence in my garage, and I cannot go to my car until I know it’s been taken care of or one drops from the ceiling and sends me running for a shoe. It’s one thing to fear arachnids in real life, but I’m fortunate enough that this fear permeates all mediums to the point that reading about or seeing spiders in videos or games makes me feel a little icky.
As you guessed, this can be a problem while playing several Zelda games.
Upon first entering the Great Deku Tree in Ocarina of Time, I remember yelping as one of the Skulltulas dropped from the ceiling. It wasn’t the skull that gave me pause, but rather the twitching legs and extended pincers, the grimacing face looking at me when it turned belly-side forward. It was only then I could strike, and waiting for that moment in front of this monstrosity was nerve-wracking for me. Even though I knew the Golden Skulltulas were harmless, each time I killed one, I would flinch. They weren’t the most frightening thing in the game for me, but the temples where the spiders live continually make me anxious and cause me to jump when they come crashing down from above with that scuttling movement and skittering noise.
Wind Waker was easier—it was smooth sailing, if you will. Spiders apparently cannot live on the open sea, so this was a pleasant experience for me. The only time you see a spider is during the final battle with Puppet Ganon as he takes on the form of a giant balloon-like monstrosity that spins above you then drops down. This spider-shaped villain bothered me, but not nearly as much as the Skulltulas had.
Wind Waker is the exception of the games I‘ve played. Spiders or the spider-like Tekkites are present in many Zelda games, and even in some outliers like Super Smash Bros. Brawl and Link’s Crossbow Training. As the technology and abilities of the game progressed, so did the Skulltula design. In Skyward Sword they are bulbous creatures that will hang, ready to descend, on strings or linger in large webs. If you knock them down, they will crawl toward you and shoot a web that entangles Link, rendering him helpless until he can break free, the monster slowly scuttling your direction the entire time. They’ll even tackle you if you hesitate too long.
The ones that give me the most fright, however, are in Twilight Princess. Their spindly legs, scuttling movements, and how they rear up and show their fangs upon approach make me flinch during every encounter. They will rush attack at times, pincers wiggling just itching for a bite of Link’s flesh. Every time I see them, I shiver, and I realize that Twilight Princess was designed with a darker aesthetic than its predecessors, and they went out of their way to make the Skulltulas terrifying to encounter.
The worst encounter with a spider in the entire series, however, comes in the Temple of Time. When I first played Twilight Princess, this dungeon captured me with nostalgia. The Song of Time playing when you first enter, then the strange, staccato tune that plays in the background. It’s enormous and utterly fascinating that this gigantic temple could be housed in secret behind the ruins. I was so caught up in the design and the complex puzzles, the mini-boss fight, and the gigantic statue as I was walking downstairs that I didn’t pay attention to the plethora of tiny bulb spiders that lurked throughout the dungeon. I gave no thought to what the final boss would be.
When I reached that boss and saw its hairy, grotesque form clinging to the ceiling above me, I shrieked, paused the game, and put down my controller so I could walk away. I felt sick to my stomach, that same paralyzing fear overtaking me as though that spider was right in front of me on the floor. There wasn’t a boot in the world big enough to destroy this monster.
I took twenty minutes to calm down so I could finish the boss, and while some say the fight against Armoghoma is cathartic — that smashing this giant spider-beast with a hammer could be seen as satisfying — I only found it upsetting. Having to watch as the spider crawls about on the ceiling, waiting for its singular eye to pop open in order to pierce it with an arrow, put knots in my stomach and shivers in my spine. Racing so close to the beast to take hold of the statue with the Dominion Rod was even worse, especially if I became disoriented or was clear across the room and the monster rose before I tackled it. I loathe that battle, despite the affection I have for the temple that houses it.
The only thing that makes it bearable is Link’s look of confusion at the end, when the gigantic, formidable beast that was Armoghoma dissolves into hundreds of scuttling mini-spiders you have to slay to reach the singular eye still twitching about.
I will always adore the Zelda series for its puzzles, the individual aesthetic of each game, the stories and more. But the presence of spiders, both small, medium, and giant, will always leave me flinching as I try to determine the best way to squish them.
