#Wayfarer Archetype

[thisaintascenereviews]

Best Of 2023

Well, it’s that time, guys, gals, and non-binary pals — it’s the end of the year (well, it’s already the beginning of the new year now). My buddy Jake and I collaborated on a piece that talks about our favorites of the year, but I wanted to write a bit of a companion piece, in case you didn’t want to look at that, and just wanted to know what my favorites in order were, or if you wanted more detail on what I think of these albums. I won’t waste time, let’s dig into the honorable mentions first, and I’m only going to write maybe a sentence or two on these albums, since I don’t want this to be super long. The honorable mentions are in no particular order, either, I don’t rank those, but the top ten will obviously be just that — a top ten.

Spencer Sutherland - In His Mania

This is the newest album on the list, or at least newest that I found, and Spencer Sutherland is what I call a traditional and old fashioned pop artist with modern production, and that’s what his debut album sounds like. It’s incredibly catchy, fun, and grandiose, but also sounds timeless, and he has a killer voice.

Nita Strauss - The Call Of The Void

Guitarist Nita Strauss came out with her second album, and instead of it being purely instrumental, she included a lot of guests in terms of some of the biggest names in hard rock and metal, and this album kicks a lot of ass.

Thy Art Is Murder - Godlike

Controversy aside, the new album from Thy Art Is Murder is an album that sounds like the way I remember deathcore sounding. Not to sound like an old man, but these days, a lot of the genre is about how heavy and brutal you can get, whereas a lot of what I listened to back about 15 years ago is more about just having sick riffs, solos, and killer vocals. This record reminds me of that, and their new vocalist is pretty damn good.

Honey Revenge - Retrovision

This past year was a theme for catchy and fun albums that got my attention, and one of the first ones I found was Honey Revenge’s debut, Retrovision. These guys take 00s pop-rock and add their own flair to it. I really enjoy this album and I’m excited to see where they go from here.

Broadside - Hotel Bleu

Speaking of which, Broadside had a good year with their new album, and second album with Sharptone, but they took their sound into a mixture of pop-rock, 80s pop, and pop-punk. The album is pretty damn good, and has some of my favorite cuts of the year, but it does lose me a bit with how off the wall it can get. It doesn’t flow as well as it should, but the styles they utilize here are pretty good.

Blackbraid - Blackbraid II

I’ll be honest, folks — I haven’t gotten that metal for the majority of 2023. It’s not that it was bad, and like I said in my piece with Jake, I just didn’t find enough that I really connected with. There were a few exceptions, including Thy Art Is Murder’s latest, but Blackbraid’s second album, aptly titled Blackbraid II is a great mix of black metal, indigenous music, and even some hints of thrash and traditional heavy metal.

Wayfarer - American Gothic

My other favorite black metal album of this year is the new Wayfarer album, American Gothic, and if you wanted an album that takes country, Americana, and black metal, as well as lyricism about the Wild West and the realistic history of the time and region, you’ll love this.

Boys Like Girls - Sunday At Foxwoods

Boys Like Girls are back with their first album in 11 years, give or take, and it’s a good 80s-inspired album that has some slick hooks and reflects a lot more of lead vocalist and songwriter Martin Johnson’s project The Night Game. If you enjoyed that project, you’re sure to enjoy this one.

The Electric Mayhem - S/T

The Muppets had a pretty good year in 2023, especially with The Muppets Mayhem on Disney+, but the band released their debut “album” injunction with the show, and it’s a good little covers album (with a few originals in the mix) performed by the Electric Mayhem, and what’s great about this album is that it feels as though it’s performed by the actual band and not the performers of the characters along with session musicians. This album is just a bunch of fun all around.

Aesop Rock - Integrated Tech Solutions

I hadn’t listened to hip-hop much of 2023, but if there’s one album that I wanted to hear, it’s Aesop Rock’s Integrated Tech Solutions. This is a record that shows that Aes has nothing left to prove, as he’s got a relaxed and melodic flow, lyrics that are both insightful and observational, and a concept that doesn’t make much sense on the surface, but if you dig into it, the concept works a lot better.

Spiritbox - The Fear Of Fear

Spiritbox are back after two years, at least if you don’t count their Rotoscope EP from last year, but they put out a new EP entitled The Fear Of Fear. It’s a great EP that takes elements of their previous projects and combines it all together to make for a relatively short but engaging experience that is sure to leave fans wanting more.

Archetypes Collide - S/T

Archetypes Collide is a metalcore band that has a lot in common with bands like Linkin Park, Bring Me The Horizon, and other metalcore / alt-metal bands, especially ones with a pop sensibility like, because they have elements from a lot of different styles and put it all into a blender. This record is a ton of fun, despite not having much of a unique identity. If anything, hopefully their next album throws some more unique ideas into the mix.

Wind Walkers - What If I Break?

Wind Walkers is a band that Jake showed me, actually, and these guys follow in the same footsteps, although their new album (and first in five years) What If I Break is a generic record that does what it does well, and that’s kind of about it, although it does sound really nice and fans of this style should enjoy this quite a bit.

Cannibal Corpse - Chaos Horrific

Cannibal Corpse released a new album this year, and it was a hell of a good time. Chaos Horrific is the name of it, and this record is more or less what we’ve gotten before, but this record has a lot of passion, fury, and fire in it that I can’t help but enjoy quite a lot. Cannibal Corpse is one of the first metal bands I ever got into, and it feels fitting to put it onto my list, even if it’s the honorable mentions.

Caskets - Reflections

The last honorable mention I’ve got is from another band in the post-hardcore vein that has a pop sensibility, and their second album, Reflections, sort of dials down on the R&B elements of their sound, but the pop elements are still there in full force and they rule.

That’s all the honorable mentions I got, so let’s get into the meat of the list. I don’t want to go into too much detail, because I already did in Jake and I’s piece, but I still wanted to talk about these albums in one way or another.

10: Tyler Childers - Rustin’ In The Rain

Country has a bit of theme on my list this year, and the first album on my list is Tyler Childers’ Rustin’ In The Rain. This record is a nice nostalgic-sounding album that reminds me of a lot of the 1950s and the 1960s. Childers himself even said that this album was his idea of him auditioning for Elvis Presley, and it works quite well. I came back to this record quite a lot, because of how catchy and nostalgic it was.

9: Paramore - This Is Why

Paramore came back after a six-year hiatus, and they changed their style yet again by turning into a post-punk band and it sounds great. A few songs don’t do as much for me compared to the rest, hence why it’s lower, but the stuff that’s great is truly fantastic. If there’s one band that can pull off reinvention, it’s Paramore.

8: The Maine - S/T

The Maine dropping a really solid album wasn’t on my bingo card in 2023, but here we are. Their self-titled album from last year was a slick and catchy slice of 80s pop-rock that worked wonders for me. This record is my favorite of the bunch with this similar sound, including the new Honey Revenge, Broadside, and Boys Like Girls albums.

7: Seth MacFarlane & Liz Gillies - We Wish You The Merriest

A Christmas album in my top ten of the year? Say it isn’t so, but indeed, it is. I really enjoyed this record when it dropped in November, but I’ve been enjoying it quite a bit the last couple months. I’ve been playing a bit of Christmas music, and this is the album on the rotation. I wrote a full length review of this, so if you want to see what I thought of that album in more detail, check that out, but I do really enjoy this album, nonetheless.

6: Colter Wall - Little Songs

One of my other favorite country albums this year was the new Colter Wall record, Little Songs. Another nostalgic sounding album, this one worked more so for me, because of its lyrical content and Wall’s deep baritone. I absolutely love the sound of his voice, and how unique it is, but this record feels like it came right out of 1955 in all the best ways.

5: Beartooth - The Surface

Alright, top five time, and in that spot is Beartooth’s The Surfqce. An album that is both heavy and optimistic, I love this album and how it came out. I’ve been a fan of Beartooth for the last few years, and their last couple of albums where they’ve gone into more hard rock and pop sensibilities have worked wonders for me. This record is no exception, as it’s heavy and catchy. Hardy makes an appearance, too, and for as much flack as his last album got from a lot of online critics (the album, The Mockingbird & The Crow, isn’t thaaaaaat bad, but it’s fine), he does great here. This record is a whole lot of fun, though, and I’ve been playing it quite a lot throughout the year.

4: Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit - Weathervanes

Jason Isbell’s latest record is a behemoth of a record, as its lyricism is some of the best I’ve heard all year. Isbell’s vocals are the some of the best I’ve heard all year, too, but this record is some of the best Americana, country, and heartland-rock I’ve heard all year, too. This record gives every band member a chance to breathe, but every song is potentially the best song on the record. This album isn’t as higher, only because the top three on my list are more so personal for me, whereas this isn’t a personal one for me, although a lot of stuff on this record is very poignant and insightful. A lot of very relevant topics are brought up here, including addiction, abortion, school shootings, and racism, but it’s done so in an interesting way.

3: Zach Bryan - S/T

My top three this year were no contest. Zach Bryan’s self-titled is an album that caught me by surprise; this record is such a personal yet insightful look at someone’s mental and emotional state, but this record is wonderful. It’s a bit long, clocking in at around an hour, and a few songs feel like filler, but for the most part, this record is gorgeous. Bryan’s voice is utterly fantastic, and his lyricism is unmatched. These songs are some of the best of his career, too, and I’m so glad that a few of these songs were hits, even if they ended up being minor hits.

2: Metallica - 72 Seasons

For my top two albums of the year, these are albums that mean a lot to me, because of the bands that put them out and what they represent. The first one is Metallica’s new album, and their first in seven years, 72 Seasons, but this record is important to me because Metallica is the first metal band I ever got into a decade ago this year. I’ve been able to experience two Metallica albums live since they came out, this being one of them, and I’m also a lot older now. This is a great example of album where the band can do whatever they want, and they really do that by taking on multiple styles in this record. Metallica is the biggest metal band, if not the biggest band period, in the world, so they can truly do whatever they want.

1: Fall Out Boy - So Much (For) Stardust

This was a no-brainer — my album of the year is Fall Out Boy’s latest. They’re not only my favorite band, but they really hold a special place in my heart. This record is a long time coming, too; this is their first album in five years, and they went back to basics with So Much (For) Stardust, ultimately looking back to the past but also thinking forward. I don’t want to talk about this record too much, as I wrote extensively about it when it came out, and since then, but this record is a monumental one. It’s good to have Fall Out Boy back, especially with this new album.

Cheers to 2023, folks, let’s see what 2024 brings.

[endpaperfaire]

Harold James. Metamorphosis - Aminata, 2021

Harold James Makeup

[radiocmyk]

⩝

This isn't just an essay about my archetrope identity; it's also the explanation for what it even is.

I've tried to narrow it down, I've tried to separate it, and I've tried to find convenient ways to define it. I explained it as having multiple distinct archetrope identities that were closely related—"wanderer," "mimic," "opportunist" "shapechanger"—but they aren't distinct. Most archetropes will say their archetypes are things like knight, or unreliable narrator—I don't think mine is inherently different or more internally complicated in any way, but the problem is that most archetypes and concepts have words that mean them. Everyone knows what a knight is. No matter where and how long I pored over the dictionary and Etymonline, I couldn’t find one single word that explains what I am. I had to realize that it's the very fact of what it is that makes an existing word or phrase impossible. So I made my own.

I call it Wayvariance. It's a portmanteau of sorts, between the words "wayfar" and "variant." A wayfarer is obviously a traveller or explorer, but the etymology of way (to mean the course by which something occurs) and fare (to mean to wander, to be/exist, or even simply just to go) implies a connotation of someone who doesn't just travel, but who's defined by it. Variance originally meant only the act of undergoing change. Its meaning of diversity, difference, came later; a result of inevitable change. The way evolution is a constant course of change, meaning inherently that it's also existence in infinities.

Wayvariance is being a wanderer. Not because I travel a lot, but ontologically. I always leave. I leave both physically and existentially. The wanderer grows bored with home, with comfort and familiarity. Not just bored. Sick. Sick to its stomach. Being in one place for too long creates a miasma. I could find something to hate about anywhere I end up. I've lived in enough places in a short enough amount of time to feel that anywhere I go next is implicitly not a place I'll stay for very long, and to feel like even just three years is a crazy long amount of time for me to spend living somewhere. A new city to become part of is my version of someone else’s return to a cozy childhood bedroom. But I never really am a part of them, I know by now. The homebody is a river carving canyons over eons. The traveller is always the fish.

"I would tell you about the ocean if I had a moment to stay and chat. But those other places call again and we will never see each other after this. I seem to be the only one who recognizes this. You say ‘keep in touch’ like I have hands and not fins."

I go where I go. It’s a matter of perspective whether it's freedom or being towed by an invisible rope to unknowable destinations, I guess. I choose to appreciate it, but only because I couldn't ever choose to stop it. To drift through existence. The word “plankton” etymologically traces back to the Greek for “wandering.” Plankton are defined as any creature which does not swim purposefully, but rather is carried by ocean currents. Am I purposeless? Rootless? Is this why so many people think their roots are their purpose? I never knew what it was like to have either. No wonder I'm anti-zionist as a Jew. Doikayt doesn’t just mean hereness to me, it means anywhereness. There is no soil or stone with my names already carved. There are no waters that whisper for me, only to. You get it.

Which is all to say: the difference between a wanderer and someone who is lost is only a matter of deciding that what you are is a conscious choice rather than being haplessly dragged along by the universe. Either way, there is no end and no source. I don’t even know what to say when people ask where I'm from. Whatever works, who’s asking?

Wayvariance is being a shapeshifter. One who changes. Not just their shape, too, but their whole self. Recreates the self. In fact, it’s my only constant. The one thing that will never change about me is that I will always change. I know that I'm trans because I seek radical physiological transformation more than any other reason. I cannot live a whole life without knowing what it feels like to be so drastically modified; not even out of a frenzied sense of curiosity, but out of an unavoidable instinct. I crave change, and I need it. The wanderer grows bored with home, with self, body, mind. It needs to leave. Stagnation kills me, like mosquitoes breed eggs in the still waters of my life. My name isn’t the same as it was 3 years ago and it won’t be the same three years from now. Even the way I write or draw is inconsistent. Even the way I type. An example: it wasn't a mistake to switch from digit to word when writing the same number just now. I felt like it—but I can't explain why.

Shapeshifter transforms the body and the mind remains intact. Wayvariant, on the other hand, becomes. Embodies. Change does not even have to be from the inside out. When I put something on myself—a name, an answer, an image, a character, a preference—it seeps into my epidermis like the ink of a tattoo until the only way to remove it is with the regular moulting of my feathers. I can't relate to stories of fictional shapeshifters because I can’t imagine turning into something physically but not becoming it in my entirety. What do the words mind, heart, body and soul mean? They are all equally mutable and impermanent. I have identified as otherkin for nearly eight years and I don’t have the same kintypes I did when I first realized, not because I was wrong about being a fox, but because I became a badger instead. Not even the same kintypes I did half that time ago, not because I was wrong about being a badger, but because I became a cladotherian instead. Queer, but never wanting to call myself “against labels” or “still questioning” just because I was aroace femme-presenting nonbinary and now I'm a butch bi man. You get it.

I used to relate to the phoenix. But there's no dramatic blaze of fire or victorious rising up from the embers for me. I don't need to burn to exist in the ashes of everything I used to be. Maybe someday a sapling will grow from them instead of a bird. If there was such thing as consistency, I would consistently be changing. But there isn’t. So when I grow into a tree, I certainly won’t be a bird anymore.

Wayvariance is adaptation, and by extension, survival. Sometimes Wayvariating is like being the last survivor of an apocalypse because you refused to die more like a cockroach than a hero, but that’s OK, you’re used to the loneliness. Sometimes it’s change that’s evolution at such a rapid pace it doesn’t need generations, only you and a certain willpower. Was there a reason the bird needed to suddenly be a tree in the first place? Sometimes Wayvariating is like chewing your leg off to get out of the trap. Backed into a corner snapping and hissing, it’s not very heroic either but I’ve always been more like a wild animal than that particular archetype allows for.

That also means Wayvariance is mimicry, inherently. Mimicry is survival. An adaptation. Some creatures will mimic a coloration of a poisonous species to deter predators. Some creatures will mimic the beats of a human interaction, perfectly memorized and choreographed to avoid being noticed. Some won’t even realize they are the only one in the room who’s having to pretend to be human. For a lifetime. They just know that snapping and hissing don’t protect them as well as dancing and laughing do. So I learned how to dance and laugh, but not because it's funny.

A terrifying concept for humans to think someone in the room might not be the same as them, but somehow smiles and speaks like them all the same. Like it has learned their behaviors, their patterns. A horror movie monster. One you don't notice right away, even speaking to it. What is it scheming? A great evil? To hunt, kill, devour? To make innocent humanity its victim?

Why would an animal have to pretend to be poisonous if it was the one who was bloodthirsty?

Wayvariance is opportunism. That’s also an adaptation. A Wayvariant is an animal that can survive on any diet, in any biome, because it takes what it can get while it can get it. That’s being a generalist. For a wild animal, at least. A sapient person's version I guess would be called eclecticism. My preferences are wide enough that I may as well not have any. Being a generalist means I say I “don’t play favorites” and I say I “have no taste” in things because I never know what to say when someone asks me my favorite type of movie, or game, favorite genre of music, what’s your dream job… where would you like to live? No answer, for me. Every answer. I could find something to love about anywhere I end up.

I also endeavor to diversify the self, too. Not just my options. It’s not just about differences. It’s about encompassments. It is difficult for me to make my self small because it naturally desires so many things. Therian, but struggling to whittle myself down to as socially acceptable a polytherianthropy as I can muster even if some people can only imagine I'm struggling to “maintain so many conflicting identities.” Autistic, and having special interests in topics some people find so impossibly broad like “art” that I have genuinely, not joking, had my disability fakeclaimed over it. Archetrope and having a 'type so conceptual and expansive as this that I need to make my own word for it. You get it.

Which means Wayvariance is to contain multitudes. It is not a contradiction for me to contradict myself. It comes easily because I'm not just OK with being confused or confusing, I embrace it. I don’t understand how others would find being "your own opposite" hard to wrap the mind around. Asymmetry? A walking paradox? Maybe in the eyes of others. Multitude eyes see those variating evolutionary infinities behind themselves. You can be both the desert and ocean. You can be snow and fire. You can be the desert and the ocean but not both at once. You can be snow and fire, but neither snow nor fire. This is so normal to me that it’s tricky to explain. When I write or do art, a million projects open at once that I chip away at over time across the board works better for me than putting all focus into one; if I'm playing three games, or watching three shows or reading three books at once, I finish all three before I would have finished just one if it was the only one. Something about the variety keeps my attention better than hyperfocus ever could, even with the autism/adhd combo. I liked having a million thousand nested links on my blog because there’s something about labyrinthinely navigated lists that makes more sense to me, and something about having different sideblogs for different topics that doesn’t. And I'm plural. No need to expound upon that one. Plural in more than one way, even. Plural in different ways that don't stay consistent. If I expound anyway, it's because I can't help it. You get it.

Wayvariance is ambiguity. I revel in it. I love those stupid link labyrinths, but I also like having nothing in terms of information that's accessible at all, even difficultly, because obscurity is my nest, where I feel safe. Vague isn’t uncomfortable for me, if anything, it’s familiar. Uncertainty is like a lullaby and a confident answer to a question is like waking with a start from the sensation of falling; you know the feeling—jarring, sudden. I'm not insecure when things don't make sense, though I know others sometimes see it that way if I'm nonsensical too often. I never feel more secure than when things don’t make sense. If there was such thing as home, mine would be the strange and ephemeral, and the antichronology of dreams, and enigmas. But there isn’t. So I am always waking up somewhere time exists, and you know the feeling, jarring and sudden. Making myself understood sometimes is like a fool’s errand, especially because way too many people think being esoteric is always a choice. I make an entire new word to describe my archetrope identity and then write an entire essay trying to explain it, because (as the modern adage explains) “human language is like trying to nail down the ocean” and unlike some, I am not human, I am the fish called to seas and from river to river, never with the privilege of walking back onto dry land where words lie.

G-d, why the hell was I an English major.

Wayvariants are outsiders, foreigners wherever they go, from across oceans to their home towns to the inside of their own heads. I am, after all, a wanderer, and I always leave. I leave both physically and existentially. Because I always leave, I also always arrive. I am a stranger wherever I arrive. Both physically and existentially. And a journey inevitably always changes the traveller. If I ever were to come back home, I'd be a stranger there too.

But like I said. There is no such thing as home.

[connorsnothereeither]

Welcome to Connor assigns all his characters a version of the song “Poor Wayfaring Stranger” because I realised it was a funny thing I could do:

Ulysses = Poor Man’s Poison

Like most of PMP’s music it’s got that slightly sinister, really heavy quality to it. But the song itself if still inherently somewhat hopeful and ethereal, and I think it really fits the weight of Ulysses life, and the way he things moving on, and moving home feels.

Daniel Thorns = Johnny Cash

There’s something about Dan that just strikes me as a Johnny Cash vibe. The lone wandering man archetype. The low, almost spoken lyrics accompanied by the guitar, with the very earthy feel, it’s just very Dan.

Leopold = Ashley Johnson & Troy Baker (The Last of Us Part II)

…I don’t know how much I can say or how much I even need to say. The version feels so much more personal and somber, and feels like a contemplation of death far more than the others, and it just… really fits.

Virgil = Andreas Scholl

The strings? The vocalization? The almost operatic and contemplative nature of the piece? Absolutely. It’s such a different departure from the other characters but so is Virgil, in a lot of ways. When I picture these songs I picture them to like, cinematic scenes or AMVs and I can just so clearly picture Virgil playing his violin to this, intercut with shots of him doing things.

[idrellegames]

Not an ask. But thank you so much for the aspec representation in Wayfarer. It's so refreshing to see an alloaro character like Veyer that is canonically alloaro and isn't the character archetype that sleeps around a lot and you just hope that they are around but then they eventually gets "fixed" by love. Anyways thanks for being awesome.

I so very rarely see alloaro characters handled with respect in fiction since it's so easy to boil their traits down to "noncomittal person who sleeps around until the right person comes around and fixes them". It's the flip same of the same coin as romantic asexuals, where the character gets boiled down to "inexperienced person who has never had sex until the right person comes around and fixes them."

Sexual attraction and romantic attraction are so often tied together as a single experience. And it is this way for many people, but not for everyone. Just speaking generally as an ace person, my experience is that aromanticism and asexuality are more palatable for non-acespec folks when they're treated as something that goes hand in hand. But being aroace isn't the only way to be aromantic or asexual - there's a huge variety of way people experience attraction and calling treating romantic and sexual attraction as the same thing is a disservice to everyone (even for allosexuals whose sexual orientation may not match up with their romantic one!).

Within the context of storytelling - at least in western writing - there's a narrative demand to meet certain expectations otherwise the trajectory may fall flat and be seen as unfulfilling. A committed relationship that includes both romance and sex is typically the desired end goal with fictional relationships (look at any romantic comedy, even going back to Shakespeare - Shakespearen comedies always end with a wedding). You can also look to the prevalence of the OTP in fandom - there's a desire to see your favourite characters get together in a specific way and to have that relationship come to fruition. And it is quite fun! I don't mean this as a knock against it - I enjoy OTPs myself, I love romance in fiction so much. I love a satisfying romance arc. Most of my OCs for video games have relationships and its a focal part of their character development.

But this does mean that aromantic and asexual people often sit on the sidelines because they don't fit perfectly into that type of story structure. So it can be very difficult to include them. They blur the lines of the format. They make it a little messy. They don't match the expectation.

I think with aromantic characters, too, both writers and audiences don't know what to do with them. There's always this lingering sense of disappointment that romance is off the table, that their arc isn't going to culminate in a committed relationship. Even in the world of IF and gaming, we don't have terminology to classify aromantic characters who can have some kind of relationship with the player character because the terminology is Romance Option (RO) or Love Interest (LI). Wayfarer's character roster is evidence of how much of a stumbling block this is - Aeran and Veyer are included on it as "romances", even though they aren't in the traditional sense (Aeran falls into the "conditional" label, Veyer is in the "tryst" one, but neither of them are technically "romances" in the traditional sense).

As for Veyer themself, they aren't interested in romance. They are in their 60s, they've been around the block a few times, they know what they do and do not want. They know what their life is like and what they can and cannot commit to due to outside factors. They may be smitten with people they find interesting or intriguing, but romance or long-term commitment isn't a part of that.

This doesn't mean that they can't be compassionate or genuinely care about their partners or enjoy their company, they're just going about it in a different way.

[avisafterall]

Valerie Coronado 🌊

first attempt at a character collage! which im doing instead of writing! yippee! anyway, it’s garish because im not an artist and certainly not a collage-er (?), but it’s so fun so who cares

Valerie is one of my favorite archetypes in fiction - a trickster, mask bearer, just a straight up liar sometimes. In the years that I've had these characters, Valerie, like all the others, has kind of shifted across different personality types/roles, but what's always remained constant is that she's wickedly smart and likes to keep the scope of her observations to herself, tucked away until she can use them to her advantage. She's a strategist above all else, and the most fun thing about her character, for me, is that those strategies aren't always used to win. Sometimes the aim of the game is just to prove a point.

A part of writing I really enjoy is researching the cultures or backgrounds that my characters originate from (twofold - their ethnicity/nationality and which part of the story's main setting they grew up in/are coming from, since they're all there at the start of the book). For Wayfarers, this is a teeny bit complicated to implement because the world is fictionalized, but still very doable and very fun! Valerie is Brazilian but mostly grew up on the equivalent of the US East Coast, which has been an interesting contrast to reconcile - the tropical, industrial São Paulo vs. quiet, sometimes frigid northeast Maine. One of my favorite things I've found while researching Brazilian culture(s) is the tradition of giving the first slice of cake to a guest of honor/loved one on your birthday! So sweet, and connects to a detail I love about Valerie - she's very reserved and a bit rusty with displays of affection, so her fondness for her friends (whether she calls them that or not) tends to peek out through little actions and gifts. Nothing loud, nothing showy, but always personal and meaningful.

Valerie is quite enigmatic and first glance would suggest she much prefers solitude and familiarity, but underneath her carefully withdrawn exterior, she's wildly ambitious and curious. She's been in one place for a while now, but she's mulled over the idea of traveling somewhere new (and preferably sunny) for a long while. (Lolha's recruitment offer, then, is very convenient.)

Some songs that I think suit her:

Metaphor - The Crane Wives

Ouroboros - Charming Disaster

Show You a Body - Haley Heynderickx

November - Sparkbird

Too Sweet - Hozier

[akashasananda]

TwinRay on Mystical Activations and the Evolution of Consciousness - A Transformational Journey

Set sail on a remarkable journey of self-realization under the guidance of TwinRay. Traverse the intricate pathways of mystical activations, revealing the sacred connections that intricately intertwine in the tapestry of your life. Amidst the spectrum of spiritual exploration, you find yourself at the heart of a transformative voyage—one that calls upon you to rise above the ordinary and ascend towards the luminescent realms of awakened humanity.

In the realm of mysticism, the concept of mystical activations serves as the catalyst for your metamorphosis, a cosmic dance with the energies that swirl around you. These activations are the whispers of the divine essence, urging you to unravel the layers of your being and step into the fullness of your spiritual embodiment and mastery. As you delve into the recesses of your soul, the vibrational frequencies of the universe harmonize with your essence, aligning you with the eternal truths that have echoed through the ages.

Picture the process as alchemy—the ancient art of transmutation, where the base elements of your consciousness are refined into the gold of spiritual wisdom. Each moment of introspection and contemplation acts as a crucible, catalyzing the fusion of disparate elements into a harmonious whole. This alchemical dance is the key to unlocking the gates of divine union, a sacred marriage of your earthly self with the higher realms.

Guided by spiritual teachers who embody the archetype of master healers, you traverse the landscapes of your inner world. These luminous beings, like celestial wayfarers, illuminate the path to ascension with their profound wisdom and unwavering love. Their presence becomes a beacon, guiding you through the labyrinth of challenges and initiations that mark your journey towards higher consciousness.

In the course of this transformative journey, initiation serves as a milestone—a metaphysical turning point where old layers are shed and new facets of your being are unveiled. With the help of TwinRay the process becomes a rebirth, propelling you into an elevated plane of existence. Free from the constraints of the past, your spirit soars, embodying the universal drive that fuels the constant progression of the cosmos.

The evolution of consciousness is not a linear trajectory but a spiral dance, where each step forward is a return to the essence that lies at the core of your being. Universal love, the cosmic glue that binds all of creation, becomes the guiding force in this dance of awakening. Love, not in the limited human sense, but as a radiant force that transcends time and space—a force that unites all beings in the tapestry of existence.

As you traverse the landscapes of your soul, you come to understand that the divine paths are myriad, each unique and yet interconnected. The labyrinth of existence is a tapestry woven with the golden threads of synchronicity, where every encounter, every experience, is a note in the symphony of your awakening. The universe speaks to you in symbols and signs, inviting you to decode the language of the cosmos and align with the flow of divine energy.

Your journey becomes a sacred pilgrimage, a quest for the elusive grail of self-realization. The terrain is not without its challenges, for the path of the mystic is often a solitary one. Yet, in the solitude, you discover the richness of your inner landscape, and in the silence, you hear the whispers of the divine.

Under the spiritual auspices of TwinRay, you begin to perceive eternal truths that unfold like ancient manuscripts, speaking the language of the heart. These truths are lived - not learned - and can be known in the tranquil moments of divine union. The illusions fade, and your soul's vision becomes clear, acknowledging the interconnected synergy of all existence.

In this sacred dance of evolution, you become a vessel of light, a channel for the energies of higher consciousness to flow through. The boundaries between self and other blur as you realize that the enlightened humanity you seek to manifest is not a distant utopia but a living potential within you.

As your journey unfolds with the assistance of TwinRay, you'll learn that spiritual transformation involves daring to step into your own shadows. This process mirrors the moon's phases, alternating between periods of illumination and darkness. Embracing these shadows becomes an essential aspect of your mystical activations, serving as fertile grounds for profound personal growth. Guided by experienced spiritual teachers, you traverse the challenging terrains of your inner world, learning to confront dormant aspects of yourself with kindness and acceptance. This dance with your shadows paints a picture of continuous evolution rather than a completed masterpiece, signifying the endless unfolding of your spiritual journey.

In the tapestry of spiritual exploration, the concept of divine union takes on a multidimensional aspect. It transcends the union of self with the higher realms; it extends to the interconnected web of all life. The realization dawns that every sentient being is a unique thread in the cosmic fabric, contributing to the symphony of existence. This expanded awareness brings with it a profound sense of responsibility—a recognition that your journey is intertwined with the collective evolution of humanity. The enlightened humanity you seek is not a solitary endeavor but a collaborative dance where each soul contributes its unique notes to the cosmic melody.

Under the tutelage of TwinRay, your spiritual journey unfolds like a blooming lotus, each petal symbolizing a stage of mystical activation and consciousness evolution. As a beacon of light, your transformation radiates high-frequency vibrations, influencing not just your own existence but the collective consciousness of our planet. This symbiotic dance of awakening, where personal transformation impacts the cosmic tapestry, signifies your generous contribution to the world around you.

[earthling-wolf]

Pe: Mythology

Humor: Sanguine

Historically, the moral character of the Pe type was best encapsulated by Humorism as the Sanguine temperament. Such a temperament was classified as enthusiastic, optimistic, playful, and jovial but also imprudent, impulsive, and indulgent. Moreover, while this does not capture the essence of Pe's metabolism, it certainly describes the emotional states evoked by it when it is felt in excess. This temperament was believed to originate from having healthy and thick "blood," which, if we exercise some imagination to account for the medical ignorance of the age, represented youthfulness, vibrancy, vitality, animation, and a ruddiness of the skin and cheeks. The sanguine temperament was affiliated with springtime, fertility, and rebirth, corresponding with Pe's generative ability. As a character, it was often depicted as a man playing a flute or instrument and, at other times, as a dancer or lover wooing a woman. In terms of chronological age, it was affiliated with Infancy, which corresponds to this function's archetype of the Eternal Child.

Archetype: Puer/Puella

In mythology, the explorer function is symbolically represented as the Puer/Puella archetype, a wayfaring eternal god-child carrying no shackles or life responsibilities. The Puer roams the world freely, always on the move and looking for new subjects to dally with. Because of this nomadic nature, contacting this god is always a chance encounter and can signal good fortune or the beginning of chaos. One example of the Puer can be seen in the story of Peter Pan, whose arrival foreshadows great adventures filled with magic and wonder. Another example of the Puer can be found in Pan, a half-goat Greek god of fertility and sex who roams the fields while playing music on his pipe and who incites crowds into mirth and dance. Pan depicts the Trickster, who also appears as a crafty and mischievous fox/coyote playing tricks on others simply for amusement. Unlike other gods who boast temples of worship and carry great power, the Puer is a different kind of deity that is easily underestimated. While not physically strong, he relies on cleverness to upend things and get his way. The Puer represents the chaos the world needs to function and exists as an eternal challenge to the King's order.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

favorite books of 2021

in chronological order because there's simply no other way to sort them

The Death of Vivek Oji (Akwaeke Emezi) - a novel as much about life as it is about death, as a Nigerian family tries to make sense of their enigmatic child's death. Vivek Oji was somehow even more tender, gutting, and mystifying than Emezi's debut novel, Freshwater, and firmly cemented them as one of my new favorite writers.

Tampa (Alissa Nutting) - a prickly, nauseating novel detailing a chillingly remorseless middle school teacher's sexual abuse of one of her male students. an acerbic and excellently crafted modern Lolita that turns a sharp eye on the double standard often afforded to female abusers - especially those who, like the novel's subject, are attractive, white, and married to police officers.

Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Workers' Rights (Molly Smith and Juno Mac) - hands down my favorite nonfiction of the year, written by two sex workers from an explicitly socialist, anti-work perspective. if you're confused about the difference between legalization and decriminalization, wondering whether anti-sex work legislation actually helps survivors of trafficking, or a generally looking to be a more educated ally to sex workers worldwide, start here.

The Daevabad Trilogy (S.A. Chakraborty) - a series of doorstopper fantasies set in 19th century Egypt and drawing heavily on Arab and Islamic mythology to create a sweeping story of magic-fueled political intrigue. but despite its incredible scope, what really sold Chakraborty's epic series for me was the deft handling of her three lead characters - an savvy urchin turned princess, a naive and noble prince, and an ancient, tormented warrior - that turned them from familiar archetypes into fully realized creations whose stories were resolved with breathtaking perfection.

Red at the Bone (Jacqueline Woodson) - a little gem of a novel that dives deep into two families brought together by an unexpected pregnancy, exploring the grief, economic strife, and generational trauma that complicate their lives. as always, Woodson's writing is simultaneously deep and delicate, incisive and insightful.

The Galaxy, and the Ground Within (Becky Chambers) - a bittersweet and beautiful send-off to Chambers' Wayfarers series, and arguably the best one yet. five strangers of different species are caught together at an outer space truck stop after a technological accident, and - as if so often the case in Chambers' stories - a heartfelt conversation about the nature of life, compassion, and celebrating difference as much as similarities ensues.

Living a Feminist Life (Sara Ahmed) - I first read Sara Ahmed's concept of being a "feminist killjoy" somewhere in the middle of undergrad and was gripped immediately by her crystal clear articulation of the struggle to stand steadfastly by one's principles even in instances where it would be much more simple and pleasant not to. having finally found my way to this book, I found so much healing in her unflinching anger and resolve, and especially resonated with the chapter describing the thankless and frequently infuriating nature of doing "diversity work" in higher education. I'm greatly looking forward to reading Ahmed's 2021 release Complaint! that details her decision to leave that line of work behind altogether.

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir (Akwaeke Emezi) - Emezi once again establishing themself as masterful in everything they set out to write with a blazing bruise of a book that delves into the epic depths of their struggles with depression, embodiment, and sudden literary stardom. it's also very much a writer's memoir, exploring Emezi's profoundly spiritual drive to make a life as a storyteller in spite of every obstacle. a confrontational gem of a memoir.

The Chosen and the Beautiful (Nghi Vo) - I read three books by Vo this year and all of them were dazzling, but this queer, magic-infused reimagining of The Great Gatsby truly knocked me on my ass. told from the perspective of Vietnamese adoptee Jordan Baker, this novel is packed full of furtive glamour and fiendish charm, told with a style that perfectly captures the smothering heat of one strange, sexually-charged summer.

The Monster of Elendhaven (Jennifer Giesbrecht) - an absolutely perfect little black pearl of a story, following a scheming sorcerer and the monster who desires him through a tale of power, revenge, devotion, and depravity.

Superman Smashes the Klan (Gene Luen Yang) - a great graphic novel from my best frenemy Detective Comics Comics, revitalizing an old Superman adventure through a smart modern lens. I liked this story so much that it made me start seriously thinking about devoting some time to keeping up with comics again in 2022, and that is NOT a small feat.

The Girl Who Kept Winter (Giao Chi) - an unexpected delight recently translated into English after being released over a decade ago in Vietnam! I anticipated a straightforward fantasy romance, but what I got was even better: a world filled with master martial artists and convoluted family drama, populated by a vivid cast of characters who swing wildly from star-crossed romance to slapstick comedy at a moment's notice. it's difficult to describe how reading this novel made me feel except to say that I was never not having fun.

Milk Fed (Melissa Broder) - I inhaled this sumptuous novel in a single afternoon, unable to pry myself away from Broder's story of insecurity, desire, and appetite. truly this was the year I fell in love with contemporary fiction, and Milk Fed made for a sumptuous dessert.

Iron Widow (Xiran Jay Zhao) - if you haven't heard about this book you must be living under a rock. I was afraid it wouldn't live up to the hype, but it was impossible not to fall instantly in love. our protagonist Zetian is absolutely electric - furious, bloodthirsty, utterly pragmatic and out for revenge. there's nothing she won't stoop to - including becoming an influencer!!! - to get what she wants, and I can't remember the last time finishing a YA novel left me so excited to see what will happen next.

[lailoken]

I'm sorry if this has been asked before but could you possibly name some common symbols/signs of the witch father and deities related ? animals, plants, things that could represent him ? ive been having dreams about the devil, with black wolves and odal runes and I'm trying to figure it out. thank you in advance! :^)

When you say Witch Father, I assume you mean that where the Man in Black is concerned? Just because there are multiple entities that one could call “Witch Father,” and not all of them are necessarily that intimately related to one another. Though, I believe many share the title of Man in Black.

Where the syncretic, archetypal Witch Father of Traditional Witchcraft is concerned (Horned Lord, Faerie King, and Master of the Wild Hunt,) there is certainly abundant overlap.

Several examples of omens and signs that are traditionally associated with the Witch Father, as Dark Wayfarer, include:

Serpents,

Corvids,

Hounds,

All manner of horned beast (Stag, Ram, Bull, etc,)

Pretty much any black animal,

Bones,

Doorways,

Crossroads,

Brambles.

& Dreams of death and/or physical transmutation.

[drowningmoonstudios]

Our Inaugural Post

Hello friends! We have fled Twitter for the safety of this blog. If you like tabletop roleplaying games, especially indie ttrpgs, then you're in luck. Drowning Moon Studios is a small press, tabletop roleplaying game publisher with a mission to make tabletop roleplaying games friendlier and more accessible to new players.

You might have seen some of our games, but just in case you haven't, here are three of our most popular titles:

Follow Me Down is a tabletop roleplaying game for two players, inspired by the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, and the mythology of the Greek underworld. It uses the Powered by the Apocalypse rules engine and is designed to be GMless, with each player portraying two roles during the course of the game; their character, based on the archetype of Orpheus or Eurydice, and the Fates, directing the action from afar (in what would normally be the GM role).

You can purchase a digital copy of Follow Me Down. A print version will be available in January 2023!

A tongue-in-cheek, d6 tabletop roleplaying game about magical maintenance workers in a sprawling, technomagical city. One part The IT Crowd + one part Ghostbusters, the Municipal Order of Technomantic Engineers (MOTE) battle high-stress and low wages to make sure their city never sleeps.

Have you tried turning your summoning circle off and on again?

Mage to Order is available in both print and digital versions!

Wayfaring Strange is an original diceless tabletop roleplaying game that explores the concepts of hidden highways, urban legends, folk magic and survival in liminal America. Players portray Wayfarers, people existing on the fringes of society doing their best to survive, or even thrive in a shadowy, dangerous underworld ripe with unknowable power.

Wayfaring Strange is coming to Kickstarter in February 2023, but for now, you can download the free ashcan here.

If any of these games sound interesting, feel free to visit the Drowning Moon Studios website, or join our mailing list for more information!

[ganymedesclock]

Something I think is really interesting in especially as storied and archetype-laden a genre as classical fantasy is the oddity created by ostensibly counterpart archetypes that are not handled the same way. That’s a bit of a heavy statement so let me explain.

Imagine Prince Charming. We know this character so well we usually make fun of him. But briefly, discard all irony and return to the core of the character: gleaming and debonair, elegantly mannered but of fiery passion, duelist and romantic and impeccably dressed. If possessed of a vice, may be arrogant, but come on, if you’re Prince Charming, you know you’re hot stuff.

Prince Charming is usually presented as the male equivalent to the female Noble Princess- but the truth is, these characters are not the same. They may have qualities in common, but they are handled and utilized differently in stories. 

This may have a frustrating root- because of assumptions made about men and women, what a woman should be and what a man ought to aspire to- but it need not be only taken as a frustrating bug in the system. Archetypes, after all, only exist meaningfully in fiction as ingredients on the chef’s table. Some of them might nauseate, but others are perfectly good, if you just trim off some bits and mix them up with new friends.

Imagine, with no jokes or subversions, a female prince charming. Gleaming smile, court mannerisms, gold brocade and tailored historical suits with a fencing rapier and a wit just as quick, impeccable hair and understated jewelry, possibly dressing ‘down’ as a conspicuously stylish hunter or wayfarer to get some adventuring on but she’ll do just a nicely in her fancy doublet and white gloves.

And likewise, imagine without mockery, a male princess; soft-spoken, sheltered but wise, compassionate and mystical, beloved by his people, earnest and profound in his desire to help. Precious, vulnerable, and yet compelled with the bravery to move mountains and challenge boundaries, wrapped in airy and shimmering layers that give him an ethereal or ghostly sort of presence, bare or slipper-shod feet that grace the earth untarnished.

Because if the truth is we think different things about ‘a king’ as opposed to ‘a queen’, if the Empress and Emperor in tarot have different meanings, and we take that together with the truth that men and women can be, and are, anything within the bounds of human capability and even beyond that in the land of fiction- then you can get a lot of intrigue out of tropes you might think are too tired to play straight merely by reminding yourself that an evil wizard and a wicked witch are not the same archetype... and nobody said a wicked witch HAS to be a woman.

(Now, this is a lot of fun, but it is also worth being careful about! You may have to rethink stuff while mixing up your character archetypes like this- it can’t necessarily be a total cut-and-paste job. Always make sure when rehoming your tropes that you are careful they play nicely with your character’s other qualities- or, play badly in a way that is significant and done on purpose.)

[dwellordream]

“Legend has it that the erotic historical sprang, full-grown and kicking, out of the head of Kathleen Woodiwiss and stormed brazenly onto the romance novel scene. Between 1972 and 1974 romance sales were down, publishers were looking for a new formula, and Nancy Coffey of Avon books discovered Woodiwiss’s The Flame and the Flower (1972) from a stack of unsolicited manuscripts. Longer than other romances then on the market, its sexual encounters were more graphic and violent and there was a grandness of design, involving extensive travel and high adventure, heretofore unseen. The sweeping popularity of this new formula electrified the whole market; hundreds of thousands of romance lovers became burningly obsessed.

Soon after Woodiwiss’s resounding success Avon came out with Rosemary Rogers’s Sweet Savage Love (1974), giving the new formula one of its names: the “sweet savage” romance. What was it about the “bodice-ripper” that caused such a historical break, a radical shift in romance formulas thereafter? Their essential charm stems from their erotic dangerousness, their near-pornographic sexual violence, and their eroticization of travel, of the world and all its exhilarating experiences. In fact, experience itself becomes erotically dangerous, a sublime reaching toward transcendence, or a final movement toward a heroic and ecstatic death. 

The formula hinges on the elusive and cryptic hero who gestures toward the endless possibility of erotic darkness. Brandon, the hero of The Flame and the Flower, emanates ominous blackness: hair that is “raven black,” skin that is “darkly tanned”; he “sweeps” the heroine “with a bold gaze from top to toe” (31). His desires turn on cruel mastery and imprisonment of the heroine; his evil actions set him apart from earlier mass-market formulas as a character singularly unredeemable: “He had the look of a pirate about him, or even Satan himself” (31). “Tall and powerful he stood, garmented regally in black velvet and flawless white. He was Satan to her. Handsome. Ruthless. Evil. He could draw her soul from her body and never feel remorse” (92). 

The erotic fantasy of being subjugated—terrified and trembling—by such an archetypal enemy figure hinges, once again, on his subjugation at the end of the novel by his love for the heroine. He tumbles from masterful demon lover to having a body that is pale, that trembles, mirroring her physical terror upon first meeting him. “The breath caught in Brandon’s throat. He went pale and suddenly began to shake. He cursed himself for letting a mere girl affect him this way. She played havoc with his insides. He felt as if he were again a virgin, about to experience his first woman. He was hot and sweating one moment, cold and shaking another” (152).

Tossed from one passionate, self-decimating extreme to another, the hero of the erotic historical embodies a grandness of contradiction distinct from other romance formulas, particularly earlier ones, and his dramatic transformation from distant, cold villain to burning lover whose world resides in the heroine is more violently exaggerated than in any other romance genre. It is this excessiveness that pulls the erotic historical toward the genre of pornography.

 Both genres tend to repeat again and again the point of supersaturation of meaning—with pornography this point is penetration, and with the erotic historical it is the passionate frisson between the hero and heroine. Steve Morgan, the hero of Sweet Savage Love, cynical gunfighter, ever-wandering killer, is so full of dark experience and secret doings that his past is never finally told and resolved. Steve’s life as a homeless fighter does not change with his final transformation into a lover; he takes the heroine along with him on his travels, and she herself becomes a vagabond and fugitive. 

In the erotic historical, distinct from other contemporary mass-markets, the lovers remain outside, wayfarers on the margins of society. In all the heroes of this genre, we find something of Rhett Butler from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind (1936) (itself an early classic of the erotic historical genre). A perennial influence on enemy lovers everywhere, Rhett introduces us to the cynical libertine who hides an interior of deep disappointment. He self-destructively gestures again and again to his fallenness, goading society to cast him out more and more: “Suppose I don’t want to redeem myself?” Rhett asks. “Why should I fight to uphold the system that cast me out? I shall take pleasure in seeing it smashed” (240). 

A ruined idealist, he has before him a world void of real truth, of strong principle and moral rectitude; thus he tumbles into the abyss with an unimaginable grace and charm. Rhett presents us with that common twist on the erotic outcast character: the dandy. He wears “the clothes of a dandy on a body that was powerful and latently dangerous in its lazy grace” (179). We often encounter the dandified dangerous lover, as we see with Oscar Wilde’s characters (and Wilde himself and his fellow Aesthetes), the Byronic hero in the popular imagination (and Byron himself), and many characters from contemporary romances (particularly the erotic historical and the regency genres). 

This performance of eccentricity, showiness, and bold statement expresses a sense of mastery over social codes and gestures—a mastery to the point of deconstructing them. Exaggerating such social expressions performs an ironic disenchantment and, to reference stock Romantic ideas, a sense of self so singular that, even visibly, he “stands out.” To “stand out,” though, asks for witnesses to self-exile; the dangerous lover “confesses” his disappointment in a world too shallow for him; his only recourse is to parody this lack of soul. To be superficial on the surface is to point to and, at the same time, hide an interior. 

Confession is eroticized with dangerous subjectivity: the secret depth of the soul is unveiled to the beloved and the beloved only, and when it’s exposed the fact that it can’t be represented is uncovered. Such is the paradox; the lover says: “Here is the depth of my pain, see how it can never be understood.” Yet the dangerous lover’s infinite subjectivity is infinite only insofar as it is confessed and witnessed—its very presentation guarantees its unrepresentability. As Barthes affirms of the lover: “ . . . passion is in essence made to be seen: the hiding must be seen: I want you to know that I am hiding something from you, that is the active paradox I must resolve: at one and the same time it must be known and not known” (Lover’s Discourse, 42). 

What the dandy expresses with his style is that his style can never represent him. While Rhett is a rascal, when he loves he is the best of men, but he must hide this because, more than any other man, he feels he has failed on a grand scale. Maintaining complete indifference for the world and in the world is essential, otherwise his hell will cut deeper, his lacerated interiority will be exposed to further wounding. The world mirrors his subjectivity: a lost cause. Only the heroine witnesses his depths of strength and hence also the depths of his final despair. All others see only his reckless, insolent façade. 

With Rhett we are reminded of the self emptied or the absence of being—his eroticism sets before us our own death, our own darkness. Scarlett describes her first encounter with this erotic: “He was like death, carrying her away in arms that hurt. . . . She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness and his lips upon hers. . . . Suddenly she had a wild thrill like she had never known; joy, fear, madness, excitement” (940). Barthes writes of this craving to be engulfed or annihilated as part of the lover’s discourse. It is a dying without the pains of dying, “the gentleness of the abyss” (11) where responsibility no longer holds one in its clutches. 

The beauty of erotic death is replayed in another classic dangerous lover narrative, as well as an early and influential erotic historical—Edith M. Hull’s The Sheik (1921), considered by some to be the first romance of the twentieth century. The sheik of the title kidnaps, rapes, and holds captive an aristocratic English girl. Again the inexorable divide: the mysterious, ruthless leader of a roving band of Arabs and the subjugated, enslaved English girl. The sheik has “the handsomest and cruelest face that she had ever seen. . . . He was looking at her with fierce burning eyes that swept her until she felt that the boyish clothes that covered her slender limbs were stripped from her” (56–57). 

She observes that “ . . . his face was the face of a devil” (141). His subjectivity has the hiddenness of danger: “The man himself was a mystery. . . . She could not reconcile him and . . . [the] dozen incongruities that she had noticed during the day crowded into her recollection until her head reeled”(79). He has exiled himself from his aristocratic English origins; he wanders the desert incessantly. Redemption from self-inflicted loneliness comes finally through true love. His only escape must be from outside, through a transcendence which he can’t possibly see beforehand because it is so exterior to any kind of solution he could find for himself. 

The lover brings the caesura, the utter surprise of an interruption of restless being. As an outsider love narrative, The Sheik ends with the declaration of love signifying a pact to wander together as homeless voyagers. The Sheik makes fast the chain that links the erotic historical with pornography (and we will see everywhere these links between the dangerous lover romance and pornography, particularly in the nineteenth century). Even though Hull’s story is not sexually explicit—in fact, on the page we only read about kisses—she rewrites and romanticizes a popular nineteenth-century pornographic narrative.

The darling of nineteenth-century pornographers, the story of an exotic foreigner—a Turk, a sheik, a pirate, a brigand—enslaving and raping a pale and supplicant English virgin provided the ultimate titillation for the English gentleman reader. The anonymous The Lustful Turk: Scenes in the Harem of an Eastern Potentate, published around 1828, provides us with a famous example of a pornographic version of The Sheik. The narrative of The Lustful Turk, up until the all-important ending, is essentially the same as the sheik romance.

 Of course, with the romance the ending is everything: in The Sheik, the transcendent sphere of love “redeems” the brutality of the hero, casting a rosy glow of forever back on all sadistic acts. The pornographic version merely repeats, unrelentingly, the act of penetration, of possession. No transcendence here: meaning flattens out into a repetition which could sustain itself forever.”

- Deborah Lutz, “The Erotics of Ontology: The Mass-Market Erotic Historical Romance and Heideggerian Failed Presence.” in The Dangerous Lover: Gothic Villains, Byronism, and the Nineteenth-Century Seduction Narrative

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 21 of 26

Title: The Galaxy, and the Ground Within (Wayfarers #4) (2021)

Author: Becky Chambers

Genre/Tags: Science Fiction, Third-Person, Female Protagonists

Rating: 9/10

Date Began: 8/15/2021

Date Finished: 8/22/2021

Gora is an unremarkable planet. It has no natural life and few resources to speak of. In fact, its only use is its proximity to more interesting places. Over the years, it’s become a waystation, notable only as a temporary stop for travelers as they wait for their spot in the wormhole queue. 

The Five-Hop One-Stop is a small, family-owned rest stop on Gora. Three travelers— a marginalized nomad, a military contractor, and an exiled artist-- lay over at the Five-Hop awaiting the next stage of their journeys. But everything goes horribly wrong when repair work on an orbital satellite causes a cascade event, destroying the planet’s communications. Now stranded on Gora with debris raining down from the sky, the travelers and hosts must live with each other while cut off from the rest of the galaxy. As they learn more about one another, each is forced to confront their personal struggles… and challenge their perspective on life.

Speaker had a word for how she felt right then: errekere. A moment of vulnerable understanding between strangers. It did not translate into Klip, but it was a feeling she knew well from gatherings among her people. There was no need being expressed here, no barter or haggling or problems that required the assistance of a Speaker, but errekere was what she felt all the same. She’d never felt it with an alien before. She embraced the new experience.

Content warnings and spoilers below the cut.  

Content warnings for the book: Non-graphic sexual content, child endangerment, ableism (if you squint; it’s not malicious), references to warfare, discussions of intergenerational trauma re: colonization (not the scifi kind), prejudice and xenophobia, recreational drug use. 

I’ve had a mixed experience with Wayfarers, which is unusual for me. I can’t remember the last series I read that fluctuated so much in terms of personal enjoyment and (in my opinion) quality. People as a whole seem to enjoy this series more than me, hence the multitude of awards and glowing reviews. I liked book two, A Closed and Common Orbit, because of the focused narrative and dedicated development of two lead characters. But the first and third books suffered from an overly large cast and reliance on generic archetypes. When a series is built on character development and plot is a secondary concern at best, those characters have to be outstanding. And to me, they usually weren’t.

But in this fourth and final book, I felt that Chambers finally hit her stride. On a surface level, The Galaxy, and the Ground Within has striking similarity to book three, Record of a Spaceborn Few. Both are virtually plotless novels which do deep dives into a cast of characters. What sets The Galaxy apart is its execution. All three leads have unique and compelling personal conflicts. An underutilized strength of the series is its creative aliens; something Chambers takes advantage of here with a fully alien cast. Finally, this book hinges upon interaction between the three leads, something sorely missing from the previous book. 

In these reviews I often seem critical of ensemble casts. But when done well, I actually prefer them to singular narratives. The main hurdle is having consistently interesting characters across the board. When there’s one or two characters I prefer over the others, I usually struggle with the novel. There’s an inherent sense of disappointment when leaving a favored character’s POV. For me this affects my overall enjoyment of the story. But when I like all of the characters or they all have something interesting going on, ensemble casts are great. The Galaxy, and the Ground Within is successful in this regard because I thoroughly enjoyed all three perspective characters. In no particular order…

Speaker is an Akarak, a birdlike scavenger species introduced as sympathetic antagonists in the first book. Going in, we know their home planet was colonized by the Harmagians, which has caused irreparable harm to their culture. Robbed of their homeworld and forced into the margins of GC society, the Akarak are nomadic, and many of them rely on banditry in order to survive. We have seen very little of them besides that. The Galaxy expands their lore a lot; their short lifespans, their incompatible biology with other sapients, and the resulting generational trauma from centuries of colonial exploitation. Speaker’s arc in particular is about dealing with the prejudice she encounters daily, adjusting to acceptance after being othered for so long, seeing things from a new perspective, and persistent worry for her twin sister Tracker, who she’s been separated from due to the events on Gora. 

The Aeluon Pei is actually a recurring character; she’s Ashby’s love interest from the first book. Here we get a more intimate view of her as a person. In particular, she struggles with living a double life. She works a prestigious yet dangerous job among her people, running cargo into critical warzones. But her affair with Ashby (a Human) is a huge cultural taboo among the Aeluons. If her colleagues discovered her romantic relationship, her life as a cargo runner would be over. The double life is wearing on her, because she loves both aspects of her life, but knows that it can’t go on like this forever. To make matters worse, she goes into “shimmer”, a once-in-a-lifetime fertility period, during the events on Gora. This adds a layer to her struggle; does she do her duty to her species and produce a child, or does she pursue what she really wants? 

Finally, there’s Roveg, a Quelin. Like the Akarak, Quelin haven’t received a whole lot of development in the series. In the first book, they’re portrayed as a xenophobic insectoid race, and their role is unambiguously antagonistic. Roveg is the polar opposite of that. He’s something of a renaissance man; an appreciator of fine art and dining, who designs artistic sims by profession. He delights in meeting aliens, befriending them, and learning everything there is to know about them. His arc centers around his exile from Quelin society and all the hidden pains associated with that. Chief among these is a mysterious meeting he has to make— which the Gora disaster obviously complicates. 

Complementing the three leads are the Five-Hop’s hosts; a Laru mother and child named Ouloo and Tupo. Similar to the Akarak and Quelin, we haven’t seen many of the Laru (who I always picture as fuzzy dog-giraffe hybrids). Ouloo struggles to be a kind and accommodating host in the wake of disaster. She’s also forced to confront her own prejudices, especially regarding Speaker, the first Akarak she’s ever met. The two initially have a lot of tension, but grow to be great friends over the course of the novel. Her child Tupo is a nonbinary character using xe/xyr pronouns throughout the novel. Xe’s basically a Laru teenager, and super endearing. I love xyr natural curiosity and naiveté. Definitely the “heart” of the group. 

Interaction between these characters is the bread and butter of this novel. There’s very little action; instead it focuses on their differing perspectives and life experiences. It’s a gradual build as the characters grow more familiar with one another. The epilogue is brilliant, because we see the long-term effect of these characters meeting. Despite interpersonal conflict in the story, Speaker inspires Pei to make a specific decision. From this decision, Pei realizes she can help Roveg with his meeting. As a result of this, Roveg is inspired to help Speaker based on one of their earlier conversations. His help fundamentally alters Speaker’s perspective on life— and there’s an implication it will reach beyond that, to the Akarak as a whole. It’s a cascade effect, but rather than the disastrous version that happened on Gora, it’s a positive social change for the leads. That’s the kind of literary parallel that really fires me up. 

I do have a few criticisms of this novel, minor and otherwise. The first is, I wish the tension between Speaker and Pei was more strongly built throughout. While I’m glad the novel isn’t all sunshine and rainbows when it comes to the character interactions, their conflict goes from an idea in the back of one’s mind to an explosive event. This is something of a nitpick because it’s otherwise well executed. I especially like that despite their interpersonal problems, they work together in the climactic events of the novel without sacrificing their respective principles. 

My other criticism is a series-wide observation. Wayfarers is optimistic to a fault. As such, it’s pretty rare that we see true evil or even bad behavior in this series. On one hand, it’s nice to read something where the characters are people who want the best for everyone. But there’s a lot of dissonance here, because there are MASSIVE social problems with the GC at large. For example, we see the effects of xenophobia, war, slavery, and colonialism, but the ones who perpetuate these issues are faceless. If Chambers wants to portray good characters, that’s fine, but it strikes me as odd to build complex social issues into your society, yet exclusively portray groups of morally good people. Why would a society full of such nice, helpful groups also marginalize the Akarak, or create an entire caste of slave clones to sort through their junk? This approach comes off as a desire for nuance without committing to it. 

This trend continues through the final book. The Galaxy, and the Ground Within is clearly a COVID-19 response novel (“we’re all in this together”!)— but everyone is blameless, and the government response is reasonable and timely. That’s just not how it worked in real life. So many people were (and still are!) selfish in response to COVID, often outright endangering others. Practically every government botched their response for the sake of money, leading to mass death worldwide. If Wayfarers has similar social issues to the real world, why would the response to a disaster be any different? It’s an ongoing contradiction; the Wayfarers society is simultaneously utopian and flawed, and it’s hard for me to suspend my disbelief. 

As an individual novel, though, I really enjoyed The Galaxy, and the Ground Within. Like all the other books in the Wayfarers series, it’s a standalone and can be read on its own. My experience with this series has been up and down; I recommend the second and fourth books, but I’d skip one and three if I ever do a reread. There are things to like about Wayfarers in terms of worldbuilding and the creative ideas behind all the different aliens. Characterization is hit or miss, but the hits are great, and this book in particular knocked it out of the park. Chambers’ prose improves a lot over the series, and it’s nice to see how she develops as a writer. As I’ve mentioned, Wayfarers has gotten lots of positive feedback, so it’s possible you will enjoy it more than I did. But I’m looking forward to reading something new.

[coldshrugs]

20 First Lines Meme!

No one tagged me but I saw @cassandra-pentughasst and @red-hot-chili-tiefling do this and it looked fun so I’m pretending I was tagged.

The challenge is to list the first lines of your 20 latest fanfics.

Since I mostly write short fic, my first lines work overtime in establishing setting or mood, imo.

I’ll tag @apostatetabris @lavampira @impossible-rat-babies if y’all feel like it 💗

Untitled UB Goes Camping Fic that I just started today

"Did we bring a map?" "Yep." "Compass?" "It's with the map." "Tents? Sleeping bags?" "Yes." "What about swimsuits?"

WIP that I may never finish of Mason doing some roof pining

Mason tried not to smoke this week. He really did.

Prompt fill: Alone, Finally

The walk from the station to Alma's apartment is an unusually talkative one considering her partner in conversation is Mason, and there's a rush to their steps that she's not sure which of them initiated. It doesn't really matter.

Prompt fill: Sea Change

Alma sits alone on the dock of the lake, and for once- for just a moment- she’s well and truly alone.

Prompt fill: Harsh Whisper

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Aeran asks from Ephyra’s side, the words coming out so quietly she almost thinks she imagined them and starts to get annoyed with herself over them. “There’s an exit on the west side of the building if you can’t get back through this way and I’ll be-”

Negative Phototaxis | Alma Greene/Mason | 625 words

He wouldn’t even look at me. Alma sighs under the weight of her conflicted heart and grabs the fresh pot of coffee to refill her cup.

Prompt fill: Something About [Her]

Ephyra’s heard the story so many times she’s bored with it: during her first week of life, her mother attempted to soothe her crying with a hand gently warmed by magic and the spell broke upon her skin.

Prompt fill

Life at sea isn’t so bad, Effie thinks as she leans against the railing of the main deck, relishing the fine, salty mist in her face. As long as she doesn’t have to walk too far, and when she’s not receiving glares from the crew for stumbling into their work formations. ...And now that her wounds are healed enough for the bumps into the walls and rails to only kind of, sort of sting.

Prompt fill: How Dare You?

“Are you gonna finish that?” Aeran eyes Effie’s last roll. They’re tucked into one of the quieter corners of the Spire’s dining hall, having lunch before they split for training.

Prompt fill

The rural farming community of Gralle is a fucking mess. The formerly well-worn dirt paths are ripped up as if some wayward farmer started sleepwalking while tilling the fields; milk jugs are overturned, leaving rancid clots in the door of one of the barns; a brood of hens and their chicks lay dead outside their hutch, bodies a little mangled but uneaten.

WIP of the BG3 crew

“If I never see a goblin again, it’ll be too fucking soon.” Ulysse groaned as they made for the ruin’s exit on weary legs.

Blood, entrails, and pungent homebrew squelched underfoot, already taking on the stench of rot in the hot afternoon sun. The party couldn’t bother with being disgusted - they were already covered in the stuff. 

Prompt fill: A Kiss on the Temple

Julian Devorak is going to die.

Cleo knows this.

Boats and Birds | Cleo Espree/Julian Devorak | 1.7k words

Cleo's eyes blink open to a thick canopy of tropical-looking leaves, shimmering pink-gold light winking through here and there. The air is thick with magic, but there's no real hostility here.

Prompt fill: Drastic/How Dare You?

Cleo came to the market for vegetables, milk, and, if she's lucky, that delicious spice mix from Firent that elevated her stews from "pretty good" to "Cleo, what is this recipe?" She did not come to the market to run into Julian Devorak yet again, but that seems to be a hobby for her lately.

Prompt fill: Crave

Pixies make for decent company, to be sure, but like the rest of the fae folk, they adhere to stiff archetypes. Conversation, though entertaining at times, is predictable but it's all Urianger manages these days since his friends are busy or... reasonably displeased with him.

Prompt fill: Sunbathing

Astarion smiles more in the daylight, Ulysse notices, marble-white skin creasing into lines around his mouth.

Starving | Ulysse/Astarion | 800 words

“You didn’t do it,” Ulysse whispered, fingers combing through recently-mussed curls. Astarion lay on her chest, a novel experience but not an unwelcome one.

Saccharine | Ulysse/Astarion | 250 words

“If you promise not to kill me,” she pulled back with a smirk, hips pressing into his, “you may drink from my neck. I know you want to.”

If his heart still beat, it would’ve skipped at the invitation.

Wayfarer WIP that’s not been entirely posted to tumblr

The tavern is crowded for such a small town, as if every person in a ten-mile radius of this backwater decided they craved cheap ale and the sound of the off-key bard in the corner.

WIP in which Julian moves in with Cleo

"Are you sure you want to do this? I can-" Julian pauses to reposition the precarious stack of boxes in his grip, "I can make other arrangements. Mazelinka really doesn't mind having me around, no matter what she says. Or I'm sure Pasha could make space. And I do have my own place back in South End, you know!"

"Mm, is that so? The landlord just let you skip out on rent for three years?"

[aion-rsa]

How Science Fiction’s Ensemble Stories Humanize Space

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

A close-knit crew of wildly different people ride around on a spaceship having adventures. If you’re a sci-fi fan, there are very good odds that this synopsis describes one of your hooks into the genre. That crew might be a dysfunctional band of space criminals and revolutionaries, or a clean cut team of scientists, diplomats and soldiers serving a galactic Space UN, but there is a core appeal to this set up across the genre.

“Ensemble crews are one of the quickest and most powerful ways to forge a found family.  A foundational example for me was Blake’s 7,” says Paul Cornell, who has written stories for the Star Trek: Year Five comic series among his many speculative fiction credits. “They haven’t been recruited, they have relative degrees of distance from the cause, they’ve been flung together.  The most important thing is that they’re all very different people.”

These Are the Voyages…

It’s a formula that has been repeated over and over for about as long as there has been science fiction on television—starting with the likes of Star Trek and Blake’s 7, through the boom in “planet of the week” style TV in the 90s and 00s with Farscape and Firefly, to more recent stories like Dark Matter, The Expanse, Killjoys, and the Guardians of the Galaxy films. Most recently Sky’s Intergalactic, and the Korean movie Space Sweepers have been carrying the standard, while last month saw people diving back into the world of Mass Effect with Mass Effect Legendary Edition. While Commander Sheppard is ostensibly the protagonist of the video game trilogy, few would argue that it’s anything other than the ensemble of the Normandy crew that keeps people coming back.

As science fiction author Charlie Jane Anders points out, it’s not hard to see the appeal of a family of likeable characters, kept in close quarters by the confines of their ship, and sent into stories of adventure.

“I love how fun this particular strand of space opera is, and how much warmth and humour the characters tend to have,” Anders says. “These stories have in common a kind of swashbuckling adventure spirit and a love of problem-solving and resourcefulness. And I think the ‘found family’ element is a big part of it, since these characters are always cooped up on a tiny ship together and having to rely on each other.”

Over the years the Star Wars franchise has delivered a number of mismatched spaceship crews, from various ensembles to have crewed the Millennium Falcon, to the band of rebels in Rogue One, to the crew of the Ghost in Star Wars: Rebels.

That energy was one of the inspirations for Laura Lam and Elizabeth May, the writers behind Seven Devils and its upcoming sequel, Seven Mercies. In Seven Devils, a team of very different women come together aboard a starship stolen from an oppressive, galaxy-spanning empire, clashing with each other as much as the regime they are fighting. 

“So many of these stories are what we grew up with, and they were definitely influences. The scrappy people trying to make a living or rebel against a higher power, or the slick luxury communism of Star Trek,” says Lam. “What’s great and terrible about space is how you are often stuck on a ship with people, for better or worse. That isolation can breed really interesting character conflict and deep bonds. You have to have your crew’s back, otherwise space or alien plants are too large or dangerous [to survive].”

While the “Seven” duology is very much inspired by this genre of space adventure, it also brings these stories’ underlying political themes to the surface.

“What I enjoy most about space operas is taking contemporary socio-cultural and political issues and exploring them through a different lens,” says May. “I love to think of them in terms of exploration, analogous to ships navigating the vastness of a sea. And on journeys that long, with only the ocean and saltwater (space) around you, things become fraught. Yes, these are tales of survival, but they’re also tales of what it means to question the world around you. Aside from the cultural questions that [premise] raises, it opens possibilities for conflict, character bonding, and worldbuilding.”

In Yudhanjaya Wijeratne’s novel, The Salvage Crew, his ensemble don’t spend long on their ship. In the opening scene, they are plummeting through the atmosphere of an alien planet in a drop-pod piloted by an AI who is also the book’s narrator. But the book shares that sense of characters who need to stick close together in the face of a large and dangerous universe.

“What did I like about [space team stories]? Well, always the sense of wonder that the scale brought me: the feeling that Earth, and all our bickering, was just a tiny speck of dust – what Sagan called ‘the pale blue dot’ – and out there was an entire universe waiting to be explored,” Wijeratne says. “I treasured the darkness, as well: the darkness of the void, the tragedy of people in confined spaces, and a terror of the deep that only the deep sea brings me. It wasn’t the family attitude: it was more the constraints and the clever plays within terrifyingly close constraints. There’s a kind of grim, lunatic nihilism you need for those situations, and I loved seeing that.”

When asked for their favourite examples of the genre, one name kept coming up. Wijeratne, Anders, Lam, and May all recommended the Wayfarers books by Becky Chambers. The first in the series, A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, concerns the crew not of an elite space naval vessel, or a renegade crew of space criminals, but of a ship that lays hyperspace tunnels for other, more glamorous ships to travel through. This job of space road-laying is one that I can only recall seeing once before, much more catastrophically, in the Vogon Constructor Fleet of Hitchhiker’s Guide the Galaxy. A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet is a very different tale, however.

May tells us, “It’s a quieter space tale, a novel that feels very much like a warm hug. I love it with all my heart.”

Chambers doesn’t hold back when describing the impact this genre had on her growing up.

“I can’t remember life without these stories,” she says. “TNG first aired when I was three years old, and I watched Trek every week with my family until Voyager wrapped when I was sixteen. I can recite most of the original Star Wars trilogy word for word while I’m watching the movies, and I binged Farscape like my life depended on it when I was in college. This storytelling tradition is so much a part of my fabric that I have a hard time articulating what it is I like about it so much. It’s just a part of me, at this point. These stories are fun, full stop. They’re exciting. They can break your heart and crack you up in equal measure. They’re about small little clusters of people doing extraordinary things within an impossibly vast and beautiful universe. Everything about my work is rooted here. I can’t imagine who I’d be without these stories.”

The Unchosen Ones

Perhaps a big part of the appeal of these stories is that they are about an ensemble of people, each with their own stories and goals and perspectives. It can be refreshing where science fiction and fantasy frequently centre stories of “the Chosen One”, be it a slayer, boy wizard, or Jedi who is the person the narrative happens to. While Chosen One stories will frequently have a wide supporting cast, the emphasis for those other characters is frequently on the “supporting”.

“I very intentionally wanted to do something other than a ‘chosen one’ story with Wayfarers. I’m not sure I can speak to any broader trend in this regard, but with my own work, I really wanted to make it clear that the universe belongs to everybody in equal measure,” Chambers says. “Space opera is so often the realm of heroes and royalty, and I love those stories, but there’s a parallel there to how we think about space in the real world. Astronauts are and have always been an exceptional few. I wanted to shift the narrative and make it clear that we all have a place out there, and that even the most everyday people have stories worth telling.”

It’s an increasingly popular perspective. Perhaps it’s telling that one of the most recent Star Trek spin-offs, Lower Decks, focuses not on the super-heroic bridge crew, but the underlings and red shirts that do their dirty work, and that in turn echoes the ultra-meta John Scalzi novel, Redshirts.

Charlie Jane Anders’ recently released young adult novel, Victories Greater Than Death is a story that starts off with an almost archetypical “Chosen One” premise. The story’s protagonist, Tina, is an ordinary teenage girl, but is also the hidden clone of the hero of a terrible alien war. But as the story progresses, it evolves into something much more like an ensemble space adventure.

“I was definitely thinking about that a lot in this book in particular,” Anders says. “Tina keeps thinking of the other earth kids as a distraction from her heroic destiny or as people she needs to protect. Her friend Rachael is the one who keeps pushing for them to become a family and finally gets through to Tina.”

Seven Devils (and its upcoming sequel, Seven Mercies) is also a story that tries to focus on the exact people who would never be considered “chosen” or who have wilfully turned away from their destiny.

“I do like that most of them [the characters] are those the Tholosians wrote off as unimportant–people to be used for their bodies, and not encouraged to use their minds,” Lam says. “And Eris’s journey turning away from the life chosen for her and choosing her own, but having to wrangle with what she still did for the Empire before she did, makes her a very interesting character to write. In many ways, she was complicit, and she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to atone.”

Wijeratne also argues that an ensemble story is in many ways more true to life.

“Rarely in life do you find this Randian John Galt type, this solo hero that changes the world by themselves; more often you find a group of people with similar interests, covering for each other, propping each other up,” he says. “It’s how we humans, as a species, have evolved. Our strength is not in our individual prowess, but in the fact that three people working together can take down a mammoth, and a thousand people working together can raise a monument to eternity.”

While there are certainly themes and kinds of story that are more suited to ensemble storytelling, May points out that there is plenty of room for both kinds of story.

“Having written books that explore both, I find that Chosen One narratives are often stories of duty, obligation, and self-discovery,” she says. “Ensemble narratives often involve themes of acceptance and friendship bonds. To me, these serve different narrative functions and ask separate questions.”

A Space of Their Own

The spaceship-crews-on-adventures subgenre is one of the major pillars of science fiction as a whole, with the trope codifier, Star Trek, being likely one of the first names that comes to mind when you think of the genre. This means that the writers working within the subgenre are not only heavily influenced by what came before, they are also in conversation, and sometimes argument with it.

Paul Cornell is a huge Star Trek fan, and has written for the characters before. His upcoming novella, Rosebud, features the quite Star Trek-ish scenario of a crew of AIs, some formerly humans, some not, investigating an anomaly. It’s a story that very much intersects with the ideals of Star Trek.

“Rosebud is about a crew who are meant to believe in something, but no longer really do,” Cornell says. “They’re a bunch of digital beings with varying origins, some of whom were once human, some of whom weren’t.  There’s a conflict under the surface that nobody’s talking about, and when they encounter, in a very Trek way, an anomalous object, it’s actually a catalyst for their lives changing enormously.  I’m a huge fan of the Trek ethos.  I like good law, good civilisation, civil structures that do actually allow everyone to live their best lives, and Rosebud is about how far we’ve got from that, and a passion for getting back to that path.”

Other stories more explicitly react against the more dated or normative conventions in the genre. Seven Devils, for instance, both calls out and subverts the very male demographics of a lot of these stories.

“For a lot of ensemble casts, you get the token woman (Guardians of the Galaxy, for example) and until recently, things were fairly heteronormative,” Lam says. “So we basically wanted to turn things around and have a gang of mostly queer women being the ones to save the universe. We also went hard on critiquing imperialism and monarchies with too much power.”

Indeed, the “space exploration” that is the cornerstone of much of the genre, is an idea deeply rooted in a colonialist, and often racist tradition.

I’ve written my own space ensemble story, an ongoing series of four “planet of the week” style novellas, Fermi’s Progress. One of my concerns with the genre is how often the hero spaceship will turn up at a “primitive” planet, then overthrow a dictator, or teach the women about this human concept called “love”, or otherwise solve the local’s century’s old, deeply rooted societal problems in half-an-hour and change in a way that felt extremely “white colonialists going out and fixing the universe”.

My solution was simple. In Fermi’s Progress, the crew’s prototype spaceship has an experimental FTL drive that unfortunately vaporises every planet they visit as they fly away. It’s a device that riffs off the “overturn a planet’s government then never mention them again” trope of planet-of-the-week stories, keeps the ship and crew moving, and leaves the reader in no doubt as to whether or not these “explorers” are beneficial to the places they visit.

Of course, not every effort to engage with these issues needs to be so dramatic.

“Since I tend to view space operas in terms of uncharted exploration, it’s crucial that the text addresses or confronts power issues in its various forms: who has it, who suffers from it, how is it wielded?” May says. “And sometimes those questions have extraordinarily messy and complicated answers in ways that do not fit neatly with ‘good team overthrows evil empire.’ One of the things I wanted to address was this idea of ‘rebels are the good guys.’ Who gets to be a good person? Who else pays the price for morality? In Seven Devils, the character of Eris ends up doing the dirty, violent work of the rebellion so the others can sleep at night–so that they can feel they’ve made moral and ethical choices. And for that same work, she’s also judged more harshly by those in the rebellion who get to have clear consciences because of her actions.”

“I had particular beef with the homogeneity,” says Wijeratne. “An entire planet where x race was of an identical sentiment? Pfft. At the same time, this naive optimism, that people can work together on a planetary scale to set up institutions and megastructures without enormous amounts of politics and clashes. I was most frustrated with this in Clarke’s work. [Rendezvous with] Rama in particular: it just didn’t compute with what I knew of people.”

As a consequence of the genre’s colonialist roots—not to mention the nature of most real spaceflight programmes—space in these stories can feel like an extremely militarised space. Even a gang of misfits, fugitives and renegades like the Farscape cast features at least a couple of trained soldiers at any one time.

“I didn’t want my characters to be just redshirts or ensigns, who get ordered around and seldom get to take much initiative,” Anders points out. “And I was interested in exploring the notion that a space force organized by non-humans might have very different ideas about hierarchy and might not have concepts like ‘chain of command’. I tried not to fall unthinkingly into the military tropes that Trek, in particular, is prone to.”

Chambers was also driven by a desire to show people who were working in space without wearing a uniform.

“I wanted to tell space stories that weren’t about war or military politics,” she explains. “These things exist in the Wayfarers universe, and I personally love watching a space battle as much as anybody, but I think it’s sad if the only stories we tell about the future are those that focus on new and inventive ways of killing each other.  Human experience is so much broader than that, and we are allowed to imagine more.”

Getting the Band Together

Writing a story built around an ensemble, rather than a single main character, brings its own challenges with it. In many ways, creating a central protagonist is easy. The story has to happen to somebody. Creating an ensemble can be tricker. Each character needs to feel like they’re the protagonist of their own story, but also the cast is in many ways a tool box for the writer to bring different perspectives and methods to bear on the issue at the centre of their story. Different writers take very different approaches to how they put that toolbox together.

“I had some types I wanted to play with, and I was consciously allowing myself to go a little wild, so they get to push against the walls of my own comfort zone,” Cornell says of the AI crew in Rosebud.  “I created a group of very different people, tried them against each other, and edited them toward the most interesting conflicts that suited my theme.”

Anders also went through various iterations in assembling her cast of characters for Victories Greater Than Death.

“I went through a huge process of trial and error, figuring out exactly how many Earth characters I wanted in the book and how to introduce them,” she says. “I wanted characters who had their own reason for being there and who would either challenge Tina or represent a different viewpoint somehow. I think that’s usually how you get an interesting ensemble, by trying to have different viewpoints in the mix.”

In writing Fermi’s Progress, I very much tried to cut the crew from whole cloth, thinking of them primarily as a flying argument. Thinking about the original Star Trek crew, most of the stories are driven by the ongoing debate between Spock’s pragmatism, McCoy’s emotions, and Kirk’s sense of duty, and so the Fermi’s crew was written to have a number of perspectives that would be able to argue interestingly about the different things they would encounter.

Others, however, focus strongly on the individual characters before looking at how they fit together.

“I gravitate much more toward writing multiple POVs than sticking with just one. Character dynamics are catnip to me, and I love to play with them from all angles. But building each character is a very individual sort of process,” Chambers says. “I want each of them to feel like a whole person, and I’m struggling to think of any I’ve created to complete another. I just spend some time with a character all on their own, then start making them talk to each other — first in pairs, then in larger groups. I shuffle those combinations around until everybody comes alive.”

In writing Seven Devils, May and Lam began with a core pair of characters, then built outwards.

“El [Lam] and I each started with a single character we wanted to explore,” May recalls. “For me, it was Eris, who also had the benefit of being an exploration of thorny issues of morality. Eris’ natural foil was Clo–conceived of by El–who believes in the goodness of the rebellion. From there, our cast expanded as different aspects of imperial oppression that we wanted to address: colonial expansion via the military, brainwashing, the use of artificial intelligence. Each character provides a unique perspective of how the Empire in Seven Devils functions and how it crushes autonomy and self-determination.”

“We started with Eris and Clo,” Lam agrees. “Eris is sort of like Princess Leia if she and Luke had been raised by Darth Vader but she realised the Empire was evil and faked her own death to join the rebellion. Clo has elements of Luke in that she grew up on a backwater planet where things go wrong, but it was overpopulated versus wide open desert with a few moons. She also just has a lot more fury and rage that doesn’t always go in the right direction. Then we created the other three women they meet later in the narrative, and did a combination of using archetypes as jumping off points (courtesan, mercenary, genius hacker) but taking great care crafting their backstories and motivations and how they all related to each other.”

Ensuring that every character has their own story to be the protagonist of is something you can trace right back through the genre- particularly with series like Farscape, Firefly, and the more recent Intergalactic, where the crews often feels thrown together by circumstance and the characters are very much pursuing their own goals.

Balancing all of these different perspectives and voices is the real trick, especially if you want to avoid slipping back into the set-up of a star protagonist and their backing singers.

“This was a bit of a struggle, especially in a book with a single pov,” Anders says. “In the end all I could do was give each character their own goals and ideals that aren’t just an extension of Tina’s. It really helps if people have agendas that aren’t just related to the main plot.”

“We have five point of view characters and seven in the sequel, and it was definitely a challenge,” Lam admits. “For the first book, we started with just Eris and Clo until the reader was situated, and then added in the other three. We gave each character their own arc and problem to solve, and essentially asked ourselves ‘if [X] was the protagonist, what would they journey be?’ Which is useful to ask of any character, especially the villains!”

Chambers has a surprisingly practical solution to the problem: colour-coded post-it notes.

“Some characters will naturally have more weight in the story than others, but I do try to balance it out,” Chambers says. “One of the practical tricks I find helpful is colour-coding post-it notes by POV character, then mapping out all the chapters in the book on the wall. That makes it very easy to see who the dominant voices are, and I can adjust from there as needed.”

A Ship with Character

One cast member these stories all have in common is the ship they travel in. Sometimes the ship is a literal character in itself, such as the organic ship Moya in Farscape, but even when not actually sentient, the ship will help set the tone for the entire story, whether it’s the sweeping lines and luxurious interiors of the Enterprise D, or the cosy, hand-painted communal kitchen of Serenity. When describing the Fermi in my own story, I made it a mix of real and hypothetical space technology, and pure nonsense, in a way that felt like the story’s mission statement.

Seven Devils’ stolen imperial ship, “Zelus”, likewise reflected the themes of the book.

“Our ship is called Zelus, and it begins as a symbol of Empire but gradually becomes a home,” Lam says. “They took it back for themselves, which I think mirrors a lot of what the characters are trying to do.” 

The same was true of the “Indomitable”, the ship Tina would inherit in Victories Greater Than Death.

“The main thing I needed from the Indomitable was to be a slightly run down ship on its own, far from any backup,” Anders says. “I did have a lot of fun coming up with all the ways the ship’s systems work. In the second book I introduce a starship that is a little more idiosyncratic, let’s say.”

For Cornell, the spaceship at the heart of Rosebud was an extension of the characters themselves, almost literally.

“It’s a kind of magical space, in that the interior is largely digital, and reflects the personalities of the crew,” he says. “There’s an interesting gap between the ship’s interior and the real world, and to go explore the artefact, our crew have to pick physical bodies to do it in.  Their choices of physical body again tell us something about who they are.”

“My background is in theater, so I am always thinking about what kind of ‘set’ I’m working with,” Chambers tells us. “Colour, lighting, props, and stage layout are very important to me. I want these to feel like real, lived-in environments, but they also communicate a lot to the reader about who the people within these spaces are. Kizzy’s workspace tells a completely different story than, say, Roveg’s shuttle, or Pepper’s house. I spend a lot of time mulling over what sorts of comforts each character likes to keep around them, what food they like to have on hand, and so on. These kinds of details are crucial for painting a full picture.”

Stellar Dynamics

When he was writing the cast of The Salvage Crew, Wijeratne fleshed out his characters by focusing on how they relate to one another.

“My cast tends to be more of ‘what’s the most interesting mix I can bring to this situation, where’s the tragedy, and where’s the comedy?’ I go through a bit of an iterative process –  I come up with one stand-out attribute for the character that makes sense given the world I’m about to throw them into,” he says. “Then the question is: what’s a secondary quirk, or part of their nature, that makes them work well with the others, or is somehow critical? What’s a tertiary facet to them that really rubs the others the wrong way?

“Then I take those quirks and go back to the other characters, and ask why do they respond to these things? What about their backstory makes them sympathize with one thing and want to pummel the other into dust? By the time this back-and-forth is complete, I’ve got enough that the characters feel like they really do have shit to get done in this world, and really do have some beef with each other.  They have backstory and things they react to really badly and situations they’re going to thrive in.”

In The Salvage Crew, this included Simon a geologist who crew up plugged into a PVP MMORPG and who hasn’t really adjusted to the real world, Anna, a wartime medic who has PTSD around blood, and Milo, who is a decent all-arounder, but has problems with authority, particular women in authority.

In the best-loved stories of this sub-genre, it’s not just the strong characters, but the relationships between those characters that people love. Spock and McCoy, Geordi and Data, Jayne and Book working out together in Firefly. Even in the protagonist-heavy Mass Effect, some of the best character moments don’t involve Shepard, but are the character interactions you eavesdrop or walk in on while wandering around the Normandy.

“I think we’ve all experienced being flung together with a group of workmates, and nobody asking us if we like everyone there,” Cornell says. “And how the smallest quirks of personality can come to mean everything over several centuries.”

Getting those relationships to feel organic and natural is the real trick, and it can take endless writing and rewriting to get there. 

“For me, it’s usually a lot of gold-farming,” Anders says. “I will write a dozen scenes of characters hanging out or dealing with stuff, and then pick two or three of them to include in the book. I can’t write relationships unless I’ve spent a lot of time with them.”

Often it’s a question of balancing conflict and camaraderie among the group.

“It’s easy to want to go straight to banter between characters, which is a massive benefit of ensemble casts. But I also think it’s essential that they have moments of conflict,” says May. “Not just drama for drama’s sake, but in any friendship group, boundaries often have to be established and re-established. Sometimes those boundaries come from past traumas, and taking moments to explore those not only adds dimensionality, but shows how the character unit itself functions.”

For May and Lam it helped that their ensemble cast was being written by an ensemble itself.

“Having both of us work on them really helped them come to life,” Lam says. “Their voices were easier to differentiate because we’d often take the lead on a certain character. So if I wrote a Clo chapter, I didn’t always know how exactly Eris might react in her next chapter, or Elizabeth might change Eris’s dialogue in that initial Clo scene to better fit what was coming up. As co-writers, we were in conversation with each other as much as the characters, and that’s quite fun. We tend to work at different times of the day, so I’d load up the manuscript in the morning and wonder what’s happened next to our crew during the night and read to find out. We also did a lot of work on everyone’s past, so we knew what they wanted, what they feared, what lies about themselves they believed, how they might change and grow through the story as a result of meeting each other, and therefore the characters tended to develop more organically on the page.”

For Wijeratne, the thing that really brings the characters’ relationships into focus is a crisis, and it’s true. Across these stories, more often than not you want your space team to be working together against a common challenge, not obsessed with in-fighting among themselves.

“The skeleton of what you saw was the output of an algorithm. A series of Markov chains generating events, playing on the fact that humans are extraordinarily good at seeing patterns in random noise,” Wijeratne says. “But the skeleton needs skin and muscle, and that’s more or less drawn from the kind of high-stress situations that I’ve been a part of: flood relief efforts, factchecking and investigating in the face of terrorism and bombings, even minor stuff like being in Interact projects with people I really didn’t want to be working with. I find that there are make-or-break moments in how people respond to adversity: either they draw together, and realize they can get over their minor differences, or they cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war.”

Found Family

Whether we’re talking about Starfleet officers, browncoats, rebel scum or galaxy guardians, these crews are rarely just colleagues or even teammates. They are family.

“I think it goes back to many space operas ultimately being survival tales: whether that’s surviving in the vastness of space or against an imperial oppressor,” May says. “These stories bring unrelated characters closer together in a way that goes beyond the bonds of blood. ‘Found family’ is a powerful bond predicated on acceptance and respect rather than duty.”

It’s a topic at the heart of Seven Devils, set in a galaxy where the regime in power has done all it can to eliminate the concept of “Family”, but Lam also believes the found family is something extremely important to marginalised groups.

“In ours, the Tholosians have done their best to erase the concept of family entirely–most people are grown in vats and assigned their jobs from birth. You might feel some sort of sibling bond with your soldier cohort, perhaps, but most people don’t have parents,” Lam says. “Rebellion is incredibly difficult, as your very mind has been coded to be obedient and obey. So those who have managed to overcome that did so with incredible difficulty, and found each other and bonded among what they had in common. You see it in our world as well of course–the marginalised tend to be drawn to each other for support they might not find elsewhere, and the bonds are just as deep or deeper than family you’re related to by blood (just look at drag families, where you have a drag mother or daughter, for example).”

“Found family is definitely a strong narrative thread,” Wijeratne agrees. “I think it stems from an incredibly persistent process in our lives – in human lives: we grow up, we outgrow the people we are born among, and we go out into the world to find our tribe, so to speak. And this is a critical part of maturity, of striking out on out own, of becoming comfortable with who we are and realizing who we’ll be happy to battle alongside and who we’d rather kick in the meat and potatoes.

“Space, of course, is such a perfect physical representation of this process. What greater ‘going out’ is there than in leaving aside the stale-but-certain comfort of the space station or planet and striking out for the depths? What better idea of finding a family than settling in with a crew? And what better embodiment of freedom than a void where only light can touch you, but even then after years?”

Of course, the “Found Family” isn’t exclusive to spaceship crews. It’s a theme that we see everywhere from superhero movies to sitcoms, reflecting some of the bigger social shifts happening in the real world. As Cornell points out, one of the very first spaceship ensembles shows, Lost in Space, was based around a far more traditional family.

“I think one of the big, central parameters of change in the modern world is the move from biological family being the most important thing to found family being the most important, the result of a series of generation gaps caused by technological, ecological and societal change happening so fast that generations now get left behind,” Cornell says. “So all our stories now have found family in them, and we can’t imagine taking old family into space.  The new Lost in Space, for example, had to consciously wrestle with that.  And even in the original, there’s a reason the found family of Billy and Dr. Smith is the most interesting relationship.  It’s the only one where we don’t immediately know what the rules are meant to be.” 

To make a huge generalisation, that sense of “not immediately knowing what the rules are meant to be” might be the key to the genre’s appeal. After all, if your space exploration is closer to the ideals of the Star Trek model than they are to Eddie Izzard’s “Flag” sketch, then it’s about entering an alien environment where you don’t know the rules. If there are aliens, your space heroes will be trying to reach out and understand them. But for the writer, whether those aliens are humanoids with funny foreheads or jellyfish that only talk in the third person, the aliens will still be, behind however many layers of disguise, human. We really struggle to imagine what it’s like to be anything else. Perhaps our spaceship crew’s efforts in communicating with and understanding those aliens is reflected in their efforts to understand each other.

Seven Devils, by Elizabeth May and Laura Lam, is out now, as is The Salvage Crew by Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Victories Greater Than Death by Charlie Jane Anders, and A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers. Rosebud, by Paul Cornell, will be out in April 2022.

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The first two parts of Chris Farnell’s serial, Fermi’s Progress, Dyson’s Fear and Descartesmageddon, are also out now, or the season pass for all four novellas is for sale at Scarlet Ferret.

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