Posted February 03, 2025 by String Zero Project
Hello, fellow netrunners.
It’s been awhile since I’ve written one of these essays, and I’ve since had the opportunity to visit some conventions and meet many fans and other developers in person.
Both through those and online, I’ve been asked directly more than a few times now, “Why do you write String Zero?” or more obtusely “Do Furry Visual Novel writers do this just for the money or the clout?”
I’m going to take a little bit to speak to these questions from my perspective in the Furry Visual Novel (FVN) silo, but I expect much of this is true for most independent game development in general.
First. Let me dispel a myth very quickly.
“Do FVN writers do this for the money?”
No.
At least, not with the intent of “getting rich.” Realistically, devs would like projects to fund themselves, and maybe be able to make a subsistence living off their work, but no FVN developer is out here having tea with the nouveau riche due to explosive game revenue. Most of us have personally spent way more money than we have ever made or may ever make off our game(s). And even those who live off patreon etc. funds do so in modest tax brackets.
Next. “Do FVN writers do this for the clout?”
Sigh.
This is a more complicated question that demands a nuanced answer. Let me begin with another question: “Universally, is it common for people to pour money and time into anything public-facing for clout?”
Yes. And.
To deal with the walrus in the room: “What is clout? And is wanting it bad?” Generally, clout means influence, attention, social power, “popufur status.” In short, it’s “the will to power,” a fundamental human condition Friedrich Nietzsche spends a whole book philosophizing about. Therein, he concludes “the will to power” is neither inherently good nor bad, though it can be expressed in better or worse ways, and can inspire better or worse feelings in others (such as envy).
Other critiques of Nietzsche aside, I believe this to be essentially correct. However, I’m not going to go on a tangent about the nature of power and morality, so I will instead invite everyone reading this to take a moment to really consider that if a desire to improve oneself and one’s standing is a universal human imperative, then why is there a tendency to regard “clout-chasing” as tacky?
“Tall Poppy Syndrome” is one answer: Envy. Another is the idea that focusing on clout over craft devalues the art (or simply invites the art to be bad).
But I think there’s a more nuanced reality at play here.
When creating something public-facing, there’s always some element of personal validation inherent in the process. I can say forever: “I don’t care what people think—I’m doing this for me.” And while that may be mostly true, no one wants to see their work panned or critiqued into dust. We all want to provide some kind of experience an audience will connect with.
So do I desire readers to engage with my work and provide a feedback loop that motivates me to continue producing more? Absolutely. Do I need a readership whose validation I rely on for self-esteem and emotional support? Well, no.
Why? Foremost, because I’m experienced with how fickle an audience can be and have suffered my share of critiques over the years. I do love my audience, and I do need them for material support, but it is always inadvisable to leverage them for emotional support. An overt hunt for validation, I think, is what the term “clout-chasing” is most directed at: when the behavior is most “cringe.”
Which then begs the messy question: “So why does anyone do art at all?” Because the short answer is: There are an infinite number of answers. Do some FVN writers write because they want to be surrounded by a community that lifts them up through the admiration of their work? I’m certain there is.
Is that clout-chasing? Is that cringe?
I think a more fair question would be: Is a search for admiration and validation inherently bad? I don’t personally believe that it is, even if from experience I know it to be inherently risky. I think fan communities should be cherished, but also bordered with clear interpersonal boundaries: Emotional support should come from a domain of trust, not from convenience or proximity. Those whom you don’t know can suddenly decide to stop liking your work for any number of reasons, including that one ill-advised social media post which gets you canceled for six months.
However, the argument that “any writer who writes for clout should be shamed” generally assumes there are writers who write only for clout, which I don’t believe is ever actually true. People are complicated and reasons are complicated. Clout may be part of their ambition, but so may be expression, a love of the craft of writing, a simple desire to tell a fun story, or a hunger to connect.
So, tl;dr: “Do FVN writers do this for the clout?” Some probably do, but I bet they have a lot of other reasons, too. Sink $10,000 and/or hundreds of hours into a project and prove to me all that investment and labor can be sustained solely on a desire for “clout.”
It seems unlikely.
Moving on.
“Why do you write String Zero?”
As elaborated above, I have a lot of different reasons for wanting to do this, but there is one primary reason I want to underscore: Wanting to provide a more “literary” experience.
Some might argue even uttering the word “literary” is clout-chasing, which is why I wanted to get that discussion out of the way. Some might also argue “literary” by definition exists to distinguish itself as “high” art over everything else, and so is inherently elitist and bourgeois.
I disagree. Let’s dig in.
Before I go any further, let me be explicit that I am not judging the worth of any particular kind of writing style. I think a lot of readers (and writers, too) make the mistake of assuming anyone wanting to produce “literary” fiction always does so with the intent of deriding “lower” fiction. While I’m aware there are people who do this, I take a number of fundamental issues with the premise because: What sorts of stories tend to stay with people the most? That shapes their lives? That they reflect on constantly?
Those that are the most accessible to them.
The idea of “artistic merit” is messy and entangled with social hierarchy and the opinions of those with influence. Art in its most unburdened form is about connection as much as it is about craft, and while craft can certainly make connection easier and more successful, there are many elegant pieces of literature that are never spoken about at-large because they’re so densely-constructed, intricately-crafted, and frankly, hard to read. They may be considered magnificent works of art, but they aren’t accessible.
I’m overgeneralizing this argument extremely, but I don’t want this to be a 10-page essay. So in short, when I say “literary,” I’m not talking about “art” or “worth.” I’m talking about expression and messaging. There are many fine stories that just want to be a fine story; they’re not self-aware about trying to communicate a social or political truth. And though they still communicate something valuable about the human condition, we don’t call that “literary,” because “literary” implies a self-awareness, an intention to explore larger issues and themes.
What I want for “String Zero” is to land somewhere in the middle. I want my characters to breathe—to feel real and be fun to read. To be accessible. I also want to consciously explore issues of class and hierarchy; spirituality and faith; vulnerability and connection. I want to write a story that someone can enjoy for the sake of the story irrespective of those things, but I still want those things to exist for those who are hungry for the search, hungry for meaning.
To that end, my intention is to play with craft and be playful with language: a little alliteration and lyricism here, a bit of poetry there; and lean into the universality of certain symbols and metaphors, like creation through threads and spinning, or the search for meaning related to sailing and the sea.
In short, I don’t think the FVN space to date has a lot of works that are trying to touch upon larger themes in a methodical, symbolic way. To some extent, that’s a limitation of the medium, because visual novels inherently want to have small-scope, character-driven stories (because asset costs balloon otherwise). So this is not a critique of the existing catalogue; I’ve simply noted a content gap and have a desire to fill that gap.
It’s ambitious, and will be imperfect, but I’m excited to play in this space while learning to be better. And you know what? I hope others play in this space, too.
Let’s make great art.
– Reo