#If you wanna hear more about the wraith for that post about mothers PLEASE let me know I have endless thoughts on her

[creekschaoscorner]

This theme is continued in the CoC games as well. You mentioned Roland and Amanda- we never see anything of Roland that portrays him as anything less than a loving father, but we see the cruelty that love pushes him to. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get her back, willing to blackmail and coerce and organize the death of an innocent woman. It’s through this he serves as a foil for Henry. Henry who loves his daughter more than anything else in the world, who considers her his moral compass, his guiding light. Henry who fails her frequently. He’s not there for Emily, gets swept up in his gambling and drinking. His debt puts her in danger. He’s willing to do anything to keep his little girl safe, but it’s his irresponsibleness that put her at risk in the first place. Roland is everything as a father Henry isn’t- a good relationship with Amanda’s mother, a stable job, a nice little house in the suburbs, meals on the table, a family pet- but he’s also everything Henry could be.

There’s also Antoine. We see first hand how much he loves the Stanczyk children. Children who might not be his, but who he loves like they are. He takes Erik in, he raises him like a son. He molds him like clay into a monster. Takes the distraught little boy killing another child in cold blood and tells him that cruelty is okay, that it’s expected, to release himself from inhibitions like morality and kindness. He is objectively a terrible father but he is never anything but a loving one. His revenge on the ones who kill his son is slow and calculated and serves a greater plan but it is still revenge. He tells Henry himself. “You know how much one will do for the ones they love”. And then- Anna. He says himself that she was like a daughter to him. Anna who he lays out on an alter, who he intends to sacrifice to be a host to a god and he calls it an honor. Don’t we all want to honor our children? Does Arthur not express the same desire? Antoine’s version of honor is warped and twisted and cruel and yet- and yet- it comes from love

Anna’s relationship with her biological father is no less complicated. Konrad starts as a family man and ends a raving lunatic. Anna watches as her father becomes dangerous, becomes a threat to her family, watches as he boards up her mother in her bedroom and leaves her to starve. Anna flees. Her father loses himself to forces outside of his control. Still in the depths of his madness he burns the remains of his infant son’s crib. Did some part of him know what he had lost?

(And when in CoC2 Nyarlathotep, in the guise of Konrad, starts a cult his followers call him Father)

We see fatherhood in many more forms than this in the CoC games. In Winslow’s doting on Petra, in Jarrett’s need for approval from Henry and Frank, even a twisted form in Senator Christian’s abuse of Mary Laval and the way he uses “fatherhood” as guise to keep her controlled

I’m not sure what my point here is aside from yeah. It’s very much a theme

It’s so fascinating to me about how much of Malevolent centers around bad or misguided fathers.

We spend ample amounts of time with Arthur’s grief and his faults, his fear of fatherhood, his failings of Faroe and the ensuing spiral afterwards. We hear of Bella’s strict upbringing, of Daniel’s controlling nature, the desire to shape his daughter into what he expected her to be, and even admitting to Arthur’s face that he intended to mold him as well, into what he thought his daughter’s husband should be. We learn of Larson’s betrayals, the sacrifices of his children: the monsters he made of those he should’ve loved, all in the pursuit of power and legacy. There’s an argument to be made even, of fragments and reflections and daughter and sons, that the King - that initial version of him now dead in all respects - was a sort of father, with John and Yellow as his residuals, his sons, his heirs, in a way. Finding their own identities now, free from the shadow of a predecessor, free to chose their own destinies, wether that is to separate themselves entirely, to scream defiantly of humanity and hope and self, or to try and reshape the visage of that dead malevolent god in desperate pursuit of love that wasn’t given, driven by a hate that was shared. What other analogy so seamlessly fits with the relationship between Arthur and Yellow than that of a neglectful father? The one who was supposed to be patient, be caring, be kind, the one who was supposed to teach this new being, this new child, about what life could be like? What love and kindness it could hold? But Arthur was too unsteady then. Too unstable to give Yellow the upbringing that he deserved. His nature was shared with John, and we’ve seen the depths of love he’s embraced. Yellow was simply nurtured wrong, encouraged down that spiral by a foster father who embraced and even venerated his rage. And similarly, in the basement in New York, we are reminded of nature and nurture, of animals and babes. Briefly, quick as a glance, we learn of the Butcher’s father, both a seething livewire and a subtle undercurrent in his motivations, manifested, perhaps, in his tumultuous relationship with failure, his self inflicted violence. Roland and Amanda receive less of the spotlight, but the foundations of everything are built upon their relationship. And now, with the Unclean, we know more of Arthur’s own father—who’s fate is known and the same as his mother’s—and his envy towards his friend, his childish jealousy and vindictive actions, of which he now condemns, having learned better, having known better. Every aspect of the narrative is seeped in fatherhood, in parenting, in children. Malam says as much by the fire: “They are our betters, our futures, our learned mistakes.” Malevolent is, at its core, about parents and children and hope.

And now, Arthur and John are on the run from a mother, on a mission given to them by a father, who’s daughter is largely a mystery, or perhaps, more familiar than we might think.