#I'd rather TMA stay in perpetual podcastitude then be put through the meat grinder like Archive 81 was

[see-arcane]

The Magnus Archives: The TV Show

Because it really is a cool idea in theory. (Though maybe not in practice, if Netflix’s letdown of Archive 81 is anything to go by. Condolences.) Some things to throw in the hypothetical pot if TMA ever did make the jump to a visual medium:

1.  Of course we keep that sweet, sweet analog aesthetic. Jon reading the written statements, reciting them into the recorder. Keep some of the classics—"Anglerfish,” “A Guest for Mr. Spider,” “Do Not Open,” etc, all the greatest hits—but throw in some alternate stories to make sure it isn’t an exact repetition of the podcast. And, doubly of course, we get to see the statements as they happen in the statement giver’s recollection.

2. Yes, the Web is at work, pulling its strings, Annabelle Cane weaving and crawling in the corners. But the Mother of Puppets isn’t alone this time. The fans going in would already be expecting the devious Ultimate Design waiting at the other end of the great big Fearpocalypse. Bring Fears to Earth, gnaw on it, dupe the puppets into letting them out into a wider multiverse, blah, blah. History repeats. 

3. But now there’s another player. One who’s extremely, excruciatingly Aware of the way the story plays out. Let’s call this character ‘the Author.’ Maybe Jon will mistake it for the same horror Gertrude thought she destroyed back in “Crusader,” another variant of an Archivist. All they really know is that it’s some other Eye-addled monstrosity keeping a close Watch on Jon and the others.

4. Much of the main arcs play out as expected. Rituals thwarted with pointless blood, puppet strings pulled, marks and scars collected. Except things turn slightly cockeyed towards the far end of the series. Why? Well, the funniest thing happens. Maybe before the big successful All-Fears-Included summoning. Maybe after. But at some point, despite the Web’s best efforts…

5. …Jonathan Sims starts stumbling upon these audio tapes. They look somewhat like his, they’re labeled with his handwriting. And when he plays them, the voice that reads the statements claims to belong to Jonathan Sims, the voices around that voice claim to belong to people Jon knows. But they aren’t. Similar, yes, but those people are all strangers. All the threats and conversations and arguments are so close as to nearly be perfectly parallel to the horrors going on in the TV show, but they have already happened.

6.  Somewhere Else, they have already happened. You can guess why.

7.  “It’s always the same, more or less,” says the Author in the warped voice of the first Jonathan Sims, mottled with eldritch Eyes, ancient as tragedy. (How long has he been here, on this Earth? Decades? Eons? Does it matter?) “The Web may be the only Fear with a concept of the future, but damn if it isn’t unoriginal. The same plot playing out. Cause pain. Cause terror. Corner the puppets into opening the door to consume more. If it has a brain, it isn’t the brain of a Spider. Just a tick. Eating, eating, eating, always wanting more, always assuming there will be more to conquer. Until there isn’t. …Until there wasn’t.”

8.  “What do you mean?” asks TV Jon, dreading the thought that he already Knows the answer. And he does. Jon the Author says it anyway:

9.  “The Fears have eaten their way through an entire multiverse, Jon. Every Earth but this one. The only world in all this screaming buffet with another crack in Hill Top Road it hopes to squeeze through. Whatever is at the other end, the Web will lead the Fears through to it, if only to hold off The End’s cannibalism for another minute. I have tried, Jon. On every world, I have tried to stop it. To prove to the Web’s puppets that the only way to end the cycle is with a sacrifice. Starvation.”

10.  “The End,” gulps TV Jon. “…The Extinction.”

11.  “Call it what you want. But the Web can’t win again, if you can even call it winning. It’s a rigged game, even for it. No matter how far it runs, how much it consumes, The End will conquer once there are no more human chattel left to use up.”

12.  Dramatic shit! Anyway, this being a cosmic horror tragedy, of course the Web is victorious in the end, rushing the Fears down Hill Top Road’s drain. But with two key differences.

-  The Author is left behind while TV Jon and Martin are sucked up during the detonation, as TV Jon had become that extension of the Eye’s Pupil. Yadda, yadda, tragic Pupil-Jon stabbing. Author Jon feels the power of the Eye flooding down and away, the only thing that had been keeping him alive. But he can still see what the Eye Beholds on the other side of this Hill Top Road. The big prize waiting for the Fears. Seeing it as he devolves/dissolves, all eyes and unspooled tape and the dying silhouette of a man, he laughs. Madly, giddily, hideously, he laughs. And then he Looks.

At the ‘heroes’ who chose to pass the Fears on, yet again.

At the screen.

At us. (?)

And as it fades to black in that Earth, only his unblinking eyes are visible. Author Jon’s voice recites, as if from mocking memory:

“If anyone’s listening, goodbye. I’m sorry and…good luck. Statement Ends.”

- His eyes are gone. The screen is full black. We almost think the show is over…

-  …and then, we hear that ominous, fatal sound.

[CLICK.] 

[INT. GEORGIE AND MELANIE’S APARTMENT]

[THE ADMIRAL IS PURRING, MELANIE IS COOING NONSENSE TO HIM.]

MELANIE

Alright, get off, I’ve got to finish the rest of this--,

[A RUSTLE OF PAPER IS INTERRUPTED BY THE JOSTLING OF THE TAPE RECORDER, PLASTIC UPON A COFFEE TABLE. MELANIE MAKES A SHUDDERING SOUND OF RECOGNITION. A PAUSE BEFORE SHE SIGHS, RELIEF AND IRRITATION MINGLED. THE COUCH SQUEAKS AS SHE RISES. THE TAPE RECORDER SCUFFS AGAINST THE TABLE AS SHE PICKS IT UP.] 

Georgie, this isn’t funny, why would you leave one of these laying around? Almost gave me a heart attack.

GEORGIE

(from another room, coming closer) What isn’t funny?

MELANIE

(playfully irate) This! Why would you leave one of these fucking things out? Oh, and it’s recording, cute. If this is to get back at me for the laundry, it’s a bit much.

[A DRAWN PAUSE, TAUT AS WIRE.]

…Georgie?

GEORGIE

(small, thin, Knowing) Oh my God.

[CLICK]

13. Ouroboros ending, baby!