I’ve been thinking a lot about creativity lately: Where it comes from, how it works, why the most unexpected things can spark the most exciting flights of imagination, all of this interests me. It must interest others as well; cliché as it is, people really do ask writers and artists all the time where they get their ideas. Some creative types might have better answers, but my typical reply is something like, “Ah, well, everywhere?”
I like to picture imagination like a dragon gathering a horde of strange and shiny ideas, and creativity is best nourished by an open-minded willingness to take in and contemplate what our big, strange world has to offer. This can include overheard snippets of conversation, works of art in different media, vague old memories, bad television, historical events, true crime documentaries, staring at a pond in the forest, the creepy things my friends’ son says about the imaginary friend who lives in their heating vents…
K-pop music videos.
And real life, I guess, sometimes.
But mostly K-pop music videos.
I’m neither a musician nor a filmmaker, but I love music videos and have ever since I was allowed to stay up late on Fridays to watch Headbangers Ball on MTV. I love how the creativity and constraints of the form can be used to convey so many ideas and tell so many stories, like a flash fiction type of film.
These days, I especially love K-pop videos. I find the bold, maximalist theatricality of it all very entertaining—and, yes, inspiring. What’s more, speculative concepts abound, so I never have to look very hard to find something that gets the thoughts churning: What if reality is not as it seems? What if there is no difference between human and monster? What if technology has fundamentally altered us in ways we barely understand? What if this is not the only universe? What if we linger on after death? What if our only chance of survival in the ongoing global apocalypse involves learning some really sick dance moves?
Join me for a tour of some of my favorite science fiction, fantasy, and horror K-pop music videos. We’ve got a little bit of everything here: post-apocalyptic dystopias, cyberpunk futures, ghosts and goblins and girls who murder, a few aliens, even a bit of gross bodily harm—all excellent fodder for the imagination.
“Halazia” by ATEEZ (2022)
The good news is if our only chance in the post-apocalyptic dystopia involves really sick dance moves, we’ll probably be okay. It’s always the end of the world in K-pop, and somebody is always dancing, but this is my favorite example. We’ve got a city in ruins, a hooded crowd worshipping a creepy masked scarecrow figure, a giant floating orb looming over the wreckage of a shopping mall, and just enough hint of a narrative arc that I know there is a story.
But I don’t know what the story is, and I don’t want to know. It’s that floating orb that really does it for me. Amidst all the familiar post-apocalyptic imagery, this single element of unexplained weirdness is the one that makes me want to fill in the missing pieces. I’m not saying I want somebody else to give me the answers; I want to do the daydreaming myself, because it is often the things left unexplained or unanswered that fuel the most exciting flights of imagination.
See also: We can’t talk about dystopian concepts in K-pop without mentioning “Sixth Sense” by Brown Eyed Girls (2011). And “Day by Day” and “Sexy Love” by T-ara (2012), which aren’t so much music videos as a pair of complete short films.
“Error” by VIXX (2014)
But sometimes it is fun to get the whole story, especially when a video manages to fit an entire science fiction tragedy about love, defiance, and cyborgs into just over five minutes. I’m sure serious scholars of pop culture have spilled much ink on the topic of why everybody is always turning women into cyborgs or robots, but the reasons in this video are clear enough: it’s about love and loss and the desperate desire to beat death.
It’s the most science fictional premise imaginable, addressing some big themes much beloved by the genre, with a human core of yearning and grief at the center. It’s a good reminder that stories are never only about what happens, but also why. Even the most futuristic technological concepts still need that bloody beating heart.
See also: “Come Back Home” by 2NE1 (2014) is a cyberpunk tale about the anxieties around humanity getting lost in technology.
“Chase Me” and “Good Night” by Dreamcatcher (2017)
It’s not all bleak futures and techno-trauma around here. There are plenty of good old-fashioned supernatural and paranormal tropes as well. Art has always been interested in the question of what happens after we die: Do we linger on after death? Are we still part of the world? What if our entire purpose in the afterlife is to drive men mad just for the hell of it?
I love a ghost story. Spooky houses, flickering videos, dark forests, hooded figures, hands reaching out of the ground…give me these classics and I am along for the ride. But what I really love even more is thinking about how things look from the point of view of the things that go bump in the night. It’s a paranormal story premise I never get tired of, because I am endlessly fascinated by the question of what makes a monster a monster and how our definitions change depending on what we know about them.
See also: There are menacing supernatural creatures all over K-pop, but the nice young men of ENHYPEN have invited us to a party in “Drunk-Dazed” (2021). I’m sure it will be fine.
“Married to the Music” by SHINee (2015)
While we’re on the subject of perfectly normal parties hosted by perfectly normal characters, let me introduce you to this iconic video, one of my absolute favorites. It starts out vaguely trippy but otherwise unremarkable; they’re chilling, they’re vibing, they’re dancing, they’re… glowing? Then the meat cleaver comes out, and suddenly it’s very violent and very weird, rapidly spiraling into low-budget campy horror set to a bright electronic-disco-funk bop. It’s completely ridiculous in the best possible way.
I love this for so many reasons, but most of all I love the juxtaposition of the horrifying and the humorous. Horror and comedy are never very far apart, because both rely on the build-up to that moment when the expected gets turned on its head, that gasp of surprise that happens when a story shifts gears. Whether it lands on horror or humor (or both) depends on how that shift happens and the emotions it evokes when it does, and there are so many possibilities to explore in that space, that pivot point where the rules change and the unexpected takes over.
See also: Where there is campy horror, there is also mindfuck horror, such as “Dear. Rude” by JeA (2019), which is like being dumped into a grimy arthouse horror flick without any warning or explanation.
“Peek-A-Boo” by Red Velvet (2017)
We’re going to another party! This time it’s a nice pizza party at the home of some lovely young ladies, where we shall contemplate one of my favorite premises: What if girls got to do a little murder, as a treat?
Horror loves to both embrace familiar tropes and subvert them. It’s not a surprise anymore when a pretty young woman turns out to be predator rather than prey; we have plenty of examples of that in horror. But I like the reversal of the “house full of innocents” trope and how casually relentless it is in that escalation from anticipation to dread to terror. The video doesn’t tell us why these women have decided to hunt hapless pizza delivery men or how it might end or how the pizza places in town keep offering delivery with such rapid employee turnover, but it doesn’t matter. Horror can be so delightful when a clear, compact premise is surrounded by unanswered questions that let us imagine our own terrible answers.
See also: It was difficult to decide on a Red Velvet video about girls doing murder, so I will also share “Russian Roulette” (2016), which carries the impeccable vibe of Heathers by way of Wes Anderson.
“Oh my god” by (G)I-DLE (2020)
Art is perhaps humanity’s best way of exploring heady moral, ethical, and aesthetic topics, such as questioning what is right or wrong, exploring the forbidden and taboo, or challenging notions of what is desirable or detestable. So it’s no surprise that some of the world’s most powerful art comes from one of our most cherished philosophical contemplations: What if evil is really hot and wants to fuck me?
Look, I’m not saying that this is the only possible interpretation of this video. I’m just saying that “the devil is a hot lesbian and she seduces you and you like it” is a plausible interpretation that should be placed on the table for serious and respectful consideration. And while we are seriously and respectfully considering that, I am also thinking about all the toxic sapphic romances I want other people to write, and wondering how many of those ideas are being squashed before they even begin because of the current cultural discourse about whether art is portraying the right kind of romances, promising the right kind of futures, teaching the right lessons. Using art to capture facets of human experience is hard enough; it’s even harder when there are countless external voices saying, “Oh, no, you can’t make art about that, get that out of your imagination, that’s icky.” We surrender something that we can’t afford to lose when we dampen our own creativity because somebody else has decided art should be a tool for shame.
And if you think it’s inappropriate to draw all that from a music video that features hot women writhing around in mud, well, ask me if I care.
See also: Add to that “Want” by Taemin (2019) and “Blood Sweat & Tears” by BTS (2016) for a trifecta of perfect videos filled with mythic symbolism, religious imagery, and tantalizing beauty.
“Thunderous” by Stray Kids (2021)
But the world’s oldest and most enduring stories are not only about big questions of good and evil. Most of human life, and the folkore derived from it, has always been about just getting through the day in a world that doesn’t always make sense. From elves to yokai, fairies to fox spirits, folklore all around the world is always asking: What if things happen because there are some little guys making mischief?
What I like about this video, in which the group casts themselves as dokkaebi from Korean folklore, is the way it makes me think about how magic is portrayed in fantasy fiction. So much fantasy fiction has magic that is big and important—but also predictable, academic, systematic. I know all the reasons for that (limits, stakes, metaphors, blah blah), but it’s good for our imaginations to be reminded that magic can be a weird, wild, untamable thing. It doesn’t have to be rulebound and rational. It can be playful, full of attitude and swagger, disinterested in systems and schools. It can be whatever we want or need it to be.
See also: I am not making any libelous or actionable claims about any real persons but it is an entirely valid hypothesis that the members of Stray Kids actually are weird little goblins with mysterious powers and a penchant for mischief.
“Signal” by Twice (2017)
Aliens are a lot like magic: they can be anything we want or need them to be. One role they often play in science fiction is Just People, But Different, especially in stories that want to saying something about fear, violence, war, prejudice, or empathy, all wrapped up in commentary on human nature.
Watching this video for the first time, I kept expecting the men in black or armed soldiers to show up. Which makes no sense. I know it makes no sense. It’s a Twice video! About schoolgirls trying to flirt! There was never going to be a gritty dark turn. But part of my mind was expecting it anyway, because it’s so ingrained in how we tell alien encounter stories. This isn’t about what type of story is better or more effective or more valuable; it’s about letting ourselves question the assumptions that underlie the most familiar stories. If a genre staple defaults to human nature always being suspicious, why not explore curiosity instead? Or friendship (flirtation!) instead of fear?
See also: Also, if you’re nice to aliens they might save the world (“Alien” by Lee Suhyun (2020)) or hang around and chill for a while (“The Astronaut” by Jin (2022)).
“Frost” by Tomorrow x Together (2021)
This is basically a dark YA portal fantasy, and for me it’s teetering right on the line between “I want the entire novel” and “I don’t want to know anything else.” On the one hand, the mood is delightfully menacing, the imagery ominous and creepy, and the shift from wonder to dread quite effective, all of which make me want to spend more time in this story. Who is that hooded figure? What does it want? Where does it send them? Is that sweater made entirely of arm-holes or neck-holes? Is the dog okay?
On the other hand, there is a lot to be said about resisting the urge to require answers for every question a piece of art raises—both when experiencing other people’s art and when creating our own. There are, of course, plenty of times when art and storytelling require certainty; obviously not everything works if an artist refuses to commit. But are these decisions driven by a fear of doing something wrong or a desire to get something right? When we are in the midst of the creative process, it can be useful to examine where the impulse to explain everything—or not to explain anything—comes from.
See also: It’s not the same thing as a portal fantasy, but we all know that a wrong turn down the wrong alley might take us into an unsettling, otherworldly carnival, such as in “Midnight Circus” by SunnyHill (2011).
“Gasoline” by Key (2022)
Last but definitely not least, we have a video with no clear narrative, just a vivid setting and imagery, which makes it feel like we’re getting a glimpse into another universe. A desolate alien planet with physics-defying Ozymandias-esque ruins? Sure, why not. An insane multi-faceted god-figure who is sometimes chained up in a cage? Awesome. I have no idea what’s going on. I love it anyway. Is this what becomes of the unfortunate soul who gets decapitated by a meat cleaver at a party? I’ll accept that. Religions have been founded on less, and with considerably less style.
Much of what I’ve talked about in the above examples has been about things that are helpful to remember or explore when we’re in the middle of the creative process, brainstorming premises and figuring out details and turning familiar tropes around for our own purposes. But this one is a little different. Because sometimes none of that is the right approach. Sometimes your job as an artist is to show up in the biggest, boldest, most outrageous manner you can imagine, serve [censored] like you were born for it, and offer absolutely no apology or explanation.
Why? Because you can. The real world has limits, but our imaginations don’t have to. It’s okay to create something just because you think it’s really cool. To be big and loud and weird. To invent entire worlds spawned from nothing but attitude and vibes. To throw things into your art for no reason other than that you want to. Who’s going to stop you? Haters, maybe. Ignore them.
See more: Much like with Red Velvet above, I had trouble deciding which of Key’s retrofuturist sci-fi videos discuss. The other option was “Bad Love” (2021).
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I hope you have enjoyed this whirlwind tour of some of my favorite sci fi, fantasy, and horror K-pop music videos. Music fans are even better than SFF fans when it comes to the “I can’t believe you forgot about [this]!” game, so feel free to share any favorites, from any genre or style or type of music, that you find particularly inspiring.
Kali Wallace studied geology and earned a PhD in geophysics before she realized she enjoyed inventing imaginary worlds more than she liked researching the real one. She is the author of science fiction, fantasy, and horror novels for children, teens, and adults, including the 2022 Philip K. Dick Award winner Dead Space. Her short fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld, F&SF, Asimov’s, Tor.com, and other speculative fiction magazines. Find her newsletter at kaliwallace.substack.com.
