#but leave ME out of your hatred for Sonic Forces' writing

[idw-sonic-fan-blog]

The Mandates

Just wanted to share my thoughts on the pro-ported mandates because they cast a shadow on this comic.

“Game characters cannot have relatives unless they were estabilished in the game canon, i.e. Cream and her mother.”

This one is understandable and you can blame Penders for this. Mind you that most licensed comics of gaming franchises don’t actually delve too much in personal family relationships or expand on them. So this is expected and honestly Sega should have put the screws on Archie decades ago about this.

“Game characters can not die. There are workarounds for this, such as being Mistaken for Dying or "Mistaken For Dead”

Again. Yes. Not a big deal.

“Game characters cannot have wardrobe changes unless approved. Chao Races and Badnik Bases has some characters (mainly the female game characters) wear different clothes for extreme conditions. Male characters remain the same.”

This is a useless rule but whatever. I mean Sega, you are the ones putting bad wardrobe choices on the characters so again it’s whatever.

“Sonic can't be shown getting too emotional (i.e;cry)”

This is one that it complained about because it really wouldn’t matter unless it is called attention to. A lot of superheroes don’t cry. But that doesn’t prohibit them from expressing themselves. IDW Sonic has been sad. He has been pissed. He has been furious.

Is this not too emotional?

Is he not expressing himself appropriately?

I don’t even know why this is brought up. When in this comic has Sonic not been expressive or displaying the appropriate amount of emotion? When did Sonic needing to cry be necessary?

“Game characters cannot enter in a relationship.”

Oh GOD YES. Don’t threaten me with a good time.

“All major Character Development must be approved by SEGA.”

Yeah, of course. Let me remind you that Penders and Archie ruined any strand of trust Sega could have in comic media. They played loose at first and all of the sudden, they are involved in a lawsuit about characters in a Sonic comic that they didn’t even know about. They probably lost a video game business relationship because of it. If they want to be involved in the comics, fine. That means that they are now forced to World Build. They have to invest in it now and not just be like Lucas Films and let anybody do anything with their flagship title.

“Much like the post-reboot of the Archie comic, the words "Mobius" is banned—the planet is simply called "Sonic's World". Unlike the Post-Boot, which allowed the names "Mobian" and "Mobini", anything related to Mobius is banned in this comic.”

…Of course but how about you throw the writer’s a bone and I don’t know, name the fucking planet. If it is not Earth, give it a name.

“Sonic must always win at the end. Even if he and his friends are at the losing end in an overarching story (the Metal Virus arc, for example), they must come out on top when it concludes.”

I don’t even get this rule and the knee jerk hatred for it. Why even have it? Why even share the existence of this rule? Archie Sonic didn’t really lose too bad. It’s more on how you frame a victory. The fact of the matter is that Eggman is still actively trying to conquer the planet. Sonic stops him but Eggman still has control of land and has military installations all over.

This rule is offset by this. While Sonic can’t lose, Sonic can’t completely win.

“Characters and material from other licensed properties (Sonic the Comic, Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comics), Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM)', Sonic Underground, the OVA, Sonic X and the Paramount films cannot be used. This rule extends to characters and redesigns done by the current writers. The only exception is Sticks from Sonic Boom, and that's because she was created by SEGA themselves and showed up in non-Boom media, but any ideas regarding her use still need to be okayed by SEGA.”

First off I am glad that Sticks was spared by this rule and I look forward to her eventual inclusion. Second, again, this is not much of a big deal as it was expected. Sorry Freedom Fighter fans but honestly deal.

“Male characters, sans Eggman, can't wear pants, which was also a thing in the Post-Reboot, albeit never explicitly stated. The inverse is also true; female characters have to have some form of lower clothing.”

Okay this is a pedantic rule. It is so weird with how precise it is. Like…huh?

“Classic characters such as Mighty, Ray, Nack/Fang, Bean, and Bark won't appear in non-Classic issues, as Sega doesn't want Classic and Modern Sonic to mix.”

One of the most bullshit mandates fueled by the nostalgia boner fans created. Like this is stupid because Archie Modern Sonic has added more character and depth to all of these mentioned characters than any of the Sega Sonic games they appeared in which only amounts to 1 or 2 at most. Why neuter your own potential stories with this stupid limitation?

“According to Ian Flynn, a specific incident involving Shadow's characterization when he's exposed to the Zombot infection was written in a specific way because of Sega mandating that he be written as an "overconfident asshole rival" character, similar to Vegeta. He later followed up with an explanation that out of every character, Shadow has the most mandates and notes attached to how he's portrayed. According to the podcast, Sega says that Team Dark is no longer a thing. The three members are not a team and they have never worked for G.U.N.; Shadow also doesn't even consider them friends.”

This is my opinion is the worst rule. First it’s contradictory to the character Sega introduced us to. Stop trying to be like Dragon Ball for once and actually be your own thing. It’s one thing if we are changing it because Shadow was unpopular because of his personality. But no one likes this Shadow. People miss the somber but reserved Hedgehog that continued to fight in spite of the world betraying him. Hothead Shadow is a cheap Knuckles. And I don’t even understand why Shadow even has so many mandates when he wasn’t the most egregious offender. Knuckles was.

Also, Team Dark aren’t a thing and Shadow doesn’t even consider them to be his friends. First off that doesn’t even fly in your own games. Who outside of Sonic does Shadow interact the most? Rouge. They have teamed up and were a packaged duo since their inception. When Shadow appeared, Rouge appeared right next to him. If Rouge was in a game, so was Shadow.

Team Dark or just Rouge has fought alongside Shadow in every game they appeared in. Who else does Shadow talk to if not Rouge?

“Sega has stated to Flynn that only male hedgehogs are allowed to go Super with the Chaos Emeralds.”

Except in Sonic Mania.

“Ian isn't allowed to directly reference a game, since the comic is supposed to be its own thing.”

Okay. Not only is this rule stupid. But it’s untrue.

This references the end of Sonic Forces.

The first page of comic.

It has referenced Sonic Adventure, SA2, Sonic Generations , and Sonic Unleashed.

This referencing Shadow the Hedgehog.

I don’t believe this rule exists and even if it did, it is dumbest rule since the whole point of this comic is to base it off the games more. The dumbest rule.

“Knuckles is not allowed to leave Angel Island unless he has a very good reason to.”

For decades, people have complained that Knuckles routinely leaves the island. For decades. Now does this mean Sega is going to 1. Use Knuckles and 2. Amplify the importance of Angel Island and the Master Emerald? No. Again, this criticism should be levied at Sega because they often conveniently forget Knuckles purpose and just hand wave it instead of giving Knuckles more to do on the island like I don’t know, have other entities invested in attacking him.

In summary, here is what I think is going on. Do I think most of these mandates are real? Yes. Given what happened to Archie, I do think Sega is doing some brand alignment. I think they got the clamps on.

But what I think is going on is a Japanese cultural thing called Power Harassment. It is normalized abuse of power. Sega of Japan is normally laxxed about their brands. They don’t mind blatant rip-offs of their mascot nor do they get stiff about fandom creations or mods. The comic division, however, is getting tough love because not only did it cost them a publishing deal, but ruined a relationship with a high end developer. So the IDW writers and staff are being subjected to intentionally hypocritical rules and strict mandates that they know don’t make sense until they’ve shown to be obedient.

A lot of the mandates aren’t strict. But some are so asinine that I don’t think they aren’t aware with how stupid they sound imposing those rules. Like Shadow is the most narratively complete Sonic character and yet, Sega puts this tight mandate as if Archie Shadow was the most egregious thing. Archie Shadow was overpowered. He wasn’t out of character like Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails were. They can’t be that stupid or be that intentionally dense. So they want to see if the writing crew can follow orders. That’s it.

But that’s just my take.

[twin-books]

Fanfic ask game 😭😜🏅☀️

Thank you for the ask! 😭 Have you ever made yourself cry writing a fic? Yes, actually. It was when I was younger and still writing Sonic fan fiction, however. I'm not proud of all my old writing but I still thank it for where it brought me to today so I'm fine talking about it. I really liked Scourge the Hedgehog when I was younger (evil green Sonic from Archie, not the one from IDW) and I actually hadn't read the comic about how he got the 2 scars on his chest so I thought it didn't have an origin like a fool. XD So I was going to write a whole story of how he got them and it was called Behind the Scars. It was also to explain why he hated Sonic so much. It was basically giving him siblings like the Sonic from Sonic Underground (my favorite Sonic show at the time) and it was a very sad, depressing origin story. It made me cry writing chapter 2 when his mom died because I was a very depressed kid and I decided to write this very depressing fic which I immediately regretted so I never continued. It's honestly a bit of a sore spot for me and even though I got a positive reception and desperately wanted to force myself to continue for that... I'm glad I didn't. That got a bit depressing. I'm sorry. XD I'm not really proud of the story anymore so I won't be linking it but if anyone is curious about it, my fanfictionnet account is Twin-books, though I hardly post there anymore. The site really is pretty much dead. XD TW: Mentions of death, hints at self-hatred and possible self-harm. Please do not attempt to find or read it if this makes you uncomfortable as it does me now. 😜 Describe a current WIP without using character names. (Points if your followers guess who the fic is for.) Oh boy, here we go... um... Local superhero refuses to ask for help or change things to fit them in their new role. Purely based on the past. This leads to the overwhelming catastrophe of their partner losing their identity in order to protect them and the consequences that follow as the few who know their secret rush to help. Hope that's good. XD Somehow I feel it is still obvious what it is. 🏅 What is the fic you’re most proud of? Um... wow... that's a bit hard. But I think I know. Here, I'll link it because I'm actually proud of it. Just an Umbrella. It's still not perfect, mind you... but this one makes me happy to read almost every time. And I think it's a good thing to be able to read your work over and over again without cringing. XD It's a Miraculous Ladybug oneshot based on @edorazzi's Mentor AU. I highly recommend checking her work out but the thing you need to know to understand the fic; The mentor AU is the idea of the PV versions of Marinette and Adrien (Bridgette and Felix) were originally ladybug and cat miraculous holders before they grew up and gave them back to Master Fu. They soon become mentors to Chat Noir and then later, Ladybug (after Master Fu basically leaves). My oneshot is written before season 4 so it's a tad dated but it was wonderful to write from Marinette's perspective for once and it actually made me very excited to write more stories from her POV (since I had mostly kept myself locked in a bubble of Adrien with some Felix, Chloe, and Bridgette on the side). The story was actually inspired by a conversation I had in the PV server with edorazzi and a few other friends where he came up with the funny idea that Bridgette would just collect umbrellas. I had previously written a fic for edorazzi's Mentor AU before but that was for Felix and Adrien and that was back before Marinette even got a mentor herself because we all previously thought Fu would remain her mentor. I had been wanting to write something about her newest addition of Bridgette being Ladybug's mentor. I really enjoyed it. It's completely fun and wholesome. ^^ But what is the story truly about? It's a story about giving up an umbrella. It's just an umbrella after all. : )

☀️ Has anyone ever left you a comment that made your day? What did it say? Hm... it's been a while I'll need to think. I can think of 2 that really made my day. First, edorazzi's comment on my fic was amazing. If you don't know, she does amazing, hilarious liveblogs on miraculous in the PV server. For the Felix episodes she always does them on her Tumblr. (I highly recommend them, they're hilarious). She doesn't liveblog every episode but it's always a pleasure to see whatever she liveblogs next.

I mention this because she made a liveblog for Just an Umbrella and I was completely surprised. I would share it but that would be spoilers. ;P But it was just as funny and as fun as her episode liveblogs. And she was super nice. I was so shocked and it truly did make my day. Second... okay, this one may make me cry. I haven't heard from them in years but I had a friend that went by the username Thunder Croft on fanfictionnet. They had a completely unique style to how they wrote their mystery fics. I adored those. I would leave them absurdly long comments just live reacting to everything. And when I say long...

I mean long. So long I couldn't even take an entire screenshot of the comment. The reason why it has sections of "1967", "1994", and "2013" was simply because of that aforementioned unique way of writing a mystery they had. The entire story was spread out between 3 stories in entirely different time periods that all connected into one big mystery and the goal was to try and connect every clue from the different eras to solve the mystery. They also left little riddles and stuff like that to even figure out. They were a Sonic fanfiction writer and they had written a previous story like it that was actually finished (this one sadly hasn't been) called Timelock House. The story this comment is referring to is called The Children of Lilliwell. I could not recommend these fanfics more, purely for their unique experience. But enough about that, I'm getting a tad off-topic. I'm very good at that. The reason I bring this up is because of the fact I left such long comments they always told me it made their day and we started becoming friends. So when I wrote my fic Behind the Scars (heh, it all circles back), a story I was very proud of at them time, they left wonderful comments on it that I still treasure despite I don't care for that story anymore.

Not only were they my friend but they were a writer I very much respected and I still respect. If I read their writing now it may seem a tad dated but I think I would still love that unique style they had. I'm sure there are others that have had a similar style but theirs was the first and only time I encountered it so it was very special to me. I cannot thank Thunder Croft enough for helping shape me as the writer I am now. I hope they are doing wonderful now and are still writing. They have a gift and I would hate to see them give up on it. But, of course, I was never mad when they stopped producing chapters for The Children of Lilliwell. Or when they stopped talking to me. Life happens, kids grow up, people move on... It's a bit disappointing but the facts of life. The important thing is to treasure what I got and I got to know an awesome writer and become their friend for a decent few years or so and that... that's what matters. Sorry to be all sappy and/or depressing. Thank you for the ask anon! Feel free to ask more if you want! I'm always happy to interact with anyone. I hope you're having a wonderful day, afternoon, evening, night, or whatever time it is where you are. <3 Fanfic Asks Here

[darksiders-scenarios]

Your blog is fantastic and my inspiration in pursuing this fandom :D As a request, how would the Horsemen and others of your choosing react to some of the rarer human disorders/diseases, like the inability to feel pain, produce adrenaline, or feel fear? Humans are weak, but under the right circumstances, I imagine being physically unable to feel fear or pain would be rather terrifying if that human chooses to fight... ;>>

I’m really sorry for the embarrassingly long wait and thank you again for your understanding when we messaged! I’ve only focussed on the HM, and may write a separate post for the others (sorry again for using the scenario format instead of a reaction!). Also, thank you so much for your kind words

(sorry that I got a bit carried away with the violence)

-

War

The fuse to the keg comes in the form of stupid words. ‘If you want it dog, then come and fetch it.’

Predictably, War does not react to the timeless insult and keeps walking away. You do not walk away.

Your anger ignites courage and in a blur of movement, as though time itself has bent to your will, you are onto the Watcher. You can hear Samael’s howl of delight somewhere nearby as the second fist blow to the face causes black blood to spray.

‘How dare you?’ you roar as the next blow elicits a satisfying crack. The plating of the Watcher’s accursed face is as tough as clayware, breaking your knuckles upon the fourth impact.

‘Tis but a scratch’, you had joked in the past before laughing at War’s dumbfounded shock.

No one is laughing now as the Watcher recovers from his initial shock, spluttering curses, and his clawed fingers trap your arms in a tight, locked grip, digging hard and bursting your veins. You can hear brutish snarls and they come from your own throat. In the time it takes to blink, you rear your head back, fleetingly glimpsing something red, and crash your head against the Watcher’s face.

All six of his wretched eyes are screwed shut. Three of them are bulging swollen in bleeding sockets, oozing repulsive dark gore. Not enough. Not enough. Your own eyes are smeared in a thick sheet of blood. One eye open yet unseeing. Blind. What inconvenience. You can only imagine the state of your own face, a delightful canvas of mashed nose and swollen lips.

‘How dare you!’ your head crashes into his face again, thrice more, unyielding, giving no ground.

Fresh curses choke out of him. ‘What in the nine hells are you?’ the Watcher manages through depleting strength as he struggles to hold you back.

You respond by striking him again and again and again. Absence of pain forces more powerful blows than its predecessors. And you strike and strike and strike and there is nothing el-

Metal gauntlets drag you back, separating you from the Watcher. Through your near-ruined vision, you see the Watcher floating behind one of the statues before collapsing on the hard ground, cradling his bleeding head, screaming his hatred and promising death at you though the shake in his voice dampens the effect. Your fingers twitch. The unremorseful bastard-  

The gauntlets squeeze your shoulders. You do not realise you are shaking. You wipe your eyes, resulting in more smeared blood. You see your friend. You see War supporting you, his panicked eyes roaming the ruination of your face.  

You grin through bleeding gums and missing teeth. ‘That bad, eh?’  

Death

It comes without warning. Death yells at you to stay back, to flee, to hide damn you. You are not ready for this kind of fight. Then he vanishes from the Crystal Spire with a sonic boom, blasting into the rushing air, colliding against floating rock debris and crashing onto a distant platform, where he still clashes with the Archon in battle.  

That was ten minutes ago. Now you are being strangled by the merciless fingers of the Corrupted Archon after teleporting you to the platform, clutching you high in the air, the Rod of Arafel in the other hand. He turns to a raging Death who is pinned down by decayed-festered tentacles trapping his limbs against the rubble.

‘Witness Pale Rider, the prize of yet another failure on your damnable soul.’

The metres-long rod punches through your stomach, thrusting from your back. You heave grunts of exertion against the savage intrusion, forcing fractured breaths out of your ruined lungs.

Pain is nothing to you. This is true, even now on the brink of exsanguination. But the scream that is wrenched out of Death’s throat, raw anguish never heard before, as you are lifted several feet in the air, perhaps comes closest to it that day.

Nerveless legs swing wildly like heavy sacks against the gravity, useless from the waist down. With shivering fingers, you grip the rod that impaled you with one hand, the other long amputated to halt the spread of disease. ‘It is futile to try to escape,’ the Archon whispers, mocking in its gentleness. You clench your teeth and exhale a growl. The Archon raises his brows.

You pull, hearing a few pops and cracks. You slide closer to the Archon, gasping against the barrier that is your shattered ribcage. Behind the Archon, you see Death frantically tearing the tentacles, ripping and clawing at them in desperation.

You cough. Blood hisses as it evaporates on the energy-fielded staff. Strength is fleeing you, along with your mortality. The Archon’s attention is pinned on you. That is… good… very good.

You clutch and pull a second time, feeling more cracks inside you. Finally, your strength gives and you drop your head against the haft of the rod, feeling the ethereal thrum through your forehead. You do not know if you passed out until you hear the Archon whisper in breathless awe. 'What are you, child?’  

With a last grunt, you force your head up, meeting the sick reverence in his eyes.

You use your last breath as your reply. 'A hindrance.’  

Deathgrip wraps around the Archon’s waist, causing him to release the Rod of Arafel as he is pulled back. You fall.

You never see the outcome of the fight.

Fury

'Pain… pain is nothing to me,’ you sneer through sliced lips, raising your head at last. 'Do you hear me? Nothing.’

'Everyone breaks. It’s just a matter of adapting to your needs.’ Your captor smiles and you hear chuckles joining in.

And then the knife drives through your remaining eye.

*

She should have known.

The signs were there in the quiver of your fingers, the wildness in your eyes, the hyper stiffness of your spine - the silent plea that was louder than the storm. But she stepped through the portal leading to her 'homerealm’ anyway. Humanity was restored to its vitality. She was no longer needed as a 'protector’. You did not need her anymore.  

She should have known the peace would be a myth. She should have known you would be an easy mark for mercenaries and assassins with your connection with one of the Four. The greed and hunt for superficial glory and false promises repulse her.

'It’s been a while, has it not?’ Fury greets your captor amiably.

They stiffen. 'Y-You.’

Fury chuckles. 'Amazing how the past reaches the present with such clarity.’

Their face flushes. 'I- You don’t understand.’

'What I understand,’ Fury says patiently, 'is that you are in possession of someone who you have no claim to.’

'We…’ their eyes dart around as though looking for something, expecting something, or someone. 'We… we can talk about this.’

'We are talking now, are we not?’

Sweat trails down their face like rivulets as they stumble for the right words, attempting to stall time, constantly looking around for whatever they’re expecting, now panicking when they realise the futility of it. The stink of fear almost makes Fury’s lip curl.

At last they break. 'I’ll show you where they are. Take them and leave!’

Fury bows her head. 'What an intelligent human you are, you’ve come a long way from the pitiful toad I found in the gutters of the catacombs. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude.’

She tosses something from behind her back and it rolls to your captor’s feet. The severed head of their comrade looks at your captor in eyeless accusation.

Realisation dawns on their idiotic features. Fury smiles, and it is by far the most unnerving sight your captor has ever seen.

*

Little remains of the friend she loves. You are nothing more than a battered husk, laying slack against your restraints. She kneels before you. Your eyes were taken during the torture.  

Fury calls softly, 'Y/N? Can you hear me? It’s Fury.’  

You stir weakly, head swiveling in her direction. You open your mouth as though to speak but no sounds emerge from your tongueless mouth. Fury’s heart clenches painfully when you lean on her slightly, as though comforted by her presence.

'I shall take you to the shamans,’ Fury croaks, not concealing the emotion from her voice. Your shoulders shake in silent laughter, and tensing when the Horseman tries to free you as though you… as though you…

Fury stops, stares at your mutilated body, and then asks the heaviest question that ever left her tongue. 'Do you wish to live?’

Your head stirs again, and you give her your answer.

Strife

It happens during a Council mission. The 'ally’ that you have been assigned reveals their true colours at last, catching both of you off guard. The last moment has Strife shove you out of the way before the energy blast hit you, taking the full brunt of the damage himself. Now he lies paralysed on his front, muscles bunched as he fights to regain control of his limbs.

The dark mage points the staff at the prone figure, the tip crackling with generating energy. Too slow to reach them, you tear the helmet from your head and hurl it at the traitor, causing the staff to slip from their fist upon impact. You always hated the blasted thing.  

Distracted, the traitor decides to 'toy’ with you, deciding to indulge you as you decide to indulge them in turn. Besides Strife and his siblings, no one else is aware of your rare autosomal recessive disorder. The mage chants something and the air suddenly ripples in a heat haze. Without your helmet, your flesh is vulnerable to the intolerable temperature rise.

Without your helmet, the heat never bothered you.

You race through the chamber, steeling your heart against Strife’s broken screams for you to flee, crash through the fire barrier and launch yourself at the traitor. The minute shocked confusion registers on their face before your fist shatters their nose. You manage to bite off their ear, hearing the crunch of their dislocated bone before you are hurled viciously onto the melting floor.

The distraction throws the mage’s concentration off, allowing Strife to regain some control over his body and he is already clawing his way to you. But he is too slow.

Strengthless arms would not move. Nerveless legs would not jerk. Blinding light steals your sight forever and thunderclap shakes your hearing. Blinded and deafened, you never know whether Strife is still screaming and you never see the sight of his tears. You are helpless when you are levitated in the air, never hearing the shrill chime of the spear that lances through the air before piercing your chest.  

And then blissful nothingness.

*

You never know the fate of your murderer, the hammering of Strife’s pistols in vengeful hatred as he chases your murderer and rips them to shreds.

His siblings never find Strife.

[conversationswithrobots]

Like butter

The following is edited together from a series of ChatGPT requests: “write a 100 word Pitchfork music review that include so much jargon that it doesn't make any sense; the subject is a death metal band from Peru,” “write a scene in which the Abysmal Depths go on Jimmy Fallon and murder him,” etc.

Peruvian death metal titans The Abysmal Depths deliver an aural assault on their latest release, "Cthulhu Rises". Combining elements of technical death metal and slam, the band creates a sonic landscape that is both ferocious and haunting. The guttural vocals and complex guitar work are a feast for fans of extreme metal, while the eerie atmospheric interludes provide a respite from the relentless barrage of blast beats. This is a must-hear for fans of the genre, and a testament to the band's unique style and proficiency in the art of sonic devastation.

The Abysmal Depths took to the stage on Jimmy Fallon, ready to unleash their unique brand of Peruvian death metal on the unsuspecting audience. As they began to play, the sound of their brutal riffs and guttural vocals filled the studio, drowning out the cheers of the crowd.

But as they continued to perform, something strange began to happen. The band members' eyes turned black, and their faces contorted into snarls of rage. They started to move with a newfound ferocity, their instruments becoming weapons as they attacked the helpless Fallon.

The audience looked on in horror as the band members tore into the host, their razor-sharp guitars slicing through his flesh like butter. Fallon tried to fight back, but it was no use. The Abysmal Depths were too powerful, and within minutes, they had reduced him to a bloody mess.

The band members stood over Fallon's lifeless body, their instruments still dripping with his blood. After their brutal attack, the members of The Abysmal Depths fled the scene, leaving behind a trail of destruction and chaos. They quickly made their way to their tour bus, eager to put as much distance between themselves and the scene of the crime as possible.

As they drove through the streets of New York, they could hear the sirens of the police cars behind them. But they knew that they had planned their escape well, and they were confident that they would be able to outrun their pursuers.

The band members sat in silence on the bus, each lost in their own thoughts. They were still in shock from what they had just done, and they could not believe that they had been capable of such savagery.

But they also knew that they had no choice. They had been possessed by dark forces, and they were unable to control their actions. All they could do now was run and hope that they could find a way to free themselves from the darkness that had consumed them.

As the members of The Abysmal Depths sat on the tour bus, trying to come to terms with what they had done, they suddenly realized that something was very wrong. The bus was moving at an impossible speed, careening around corners and dodging traffic with a skill that no human driver could possess.

Panicked, the band members looked at each other, fear in their eyes. They knew that they were not alone on the bus, and that some kind of evil presence was controlling their vehicle.

Suddenly, the satanic spirit of Jimmy Fallon appeared before them, his ghostly form hovering in the air. The band members could see the anger and hatred in his eyes, and they knew that they were doomed.

"You thought you could escape me?" Fallon's ghostly voice boomed. "I am the master of this bus, and you will pay for what you have done. You will suffer for eternity, trapped on this vehicle with me as your tormentor."

The band members screamed in terror as the ghost of Jimmy Fallon drove the bus into the abyss, their fate sealed.

[missyslittlepet]

*Well this is a lot longer than I thought it would be and I don't really know where I was going with it but I just had to write a Missy x Reader. (Pic not mine) 💜* "A human? What the hell do you let me become?!" His eyes were ablaze with anger. She remembered those eyes. How could she forget? She had always loved when she was him. Younger then and mad, completely and utterly mad. She allowed her eyes to trail over the familiar face seeing it like this brought back a lot of old feelings. "She's important to me. To us... You will one day, dear, come to realise that." Even now the words seemed foreign to her. When had she let herself become so sentimental. She knew the answer of course. She had known the second she had set eyes on you. A tiny, irrelevant human, wandering around earth with no idea of the wonders the universe held. She knew you weren't important and yet she had to keep you, like a force was dragging her unwillingly to your side. "Important?" The Master raised his eyebrow. He prayed that she wasn't implying what he thought. "A human is important to us?" Missy placed her hands on her waist and pouted dramatically. "Oh, come on man. Don't give me that look. I invented that look." Her Scottish accent was thick and patronising as she stared him down. "Disgusting. Only The Doctor has companions and I will never become like him!" The Master grunted. He looked past Missy and allowed his eyes to fall onto you. You were rocking back and fourth slightly as you watch the two Time Lords from a far. You seemed... ordinary. Nothing special. Why had she- no, they, chosen you? A moment of madness? Now that would be understandable and, oh so, ironic. Missy turned and followed his gaze. She tried to ignore the pull in her hearts as you smiled at her. You hadn't taken a liking to her past regeneration, nor had her past regeneration taken a liking to you. It was understandable. She wasn't what she used to be. She smirked and turned back to The Master. "She is important." Her voice remained strong. She was being purposely vague not wanting to give too much away or give him any other reason to hurt you and she knew you being a human was reason enough. She turned her back to him and walked to you. Her long purple skirt dragging across the grass as she went. He watched as she walked away, arm linked with your's. An overwhelming sense of bitter hatred crawling up his spine. He ground his teeth harshly before composing himself and trailing closely behind. The Doctor, although busy on working out a plan, couldn't help but notice the way Missy placed herself between you and her past regeneration. The way her eyes darted to look at you when you weren't looking and the small smiles she tried to hide. He never would have placed Missy with a companion let alone you, a human. You were young and sweet. Someone who would place themselves in danger in order to keep someone else safe. You would die if Missy asked you to, and she would, The Doctor was certain of it. Yet maybe that was why the two of you had come together. The universe restoring it's natural balance. After all, the light will always banish the dark; even if just for a short while. You kept Missy grounded. Stopped her when she took things too far with a simple touch of the hand or a worried glance. No-one had ever had that affect on her before, not even The Doctor. He had never witnessed his friend care for anyone other than his or herself. They had known each other longer than the span of most civilisations. He had never considered it possible, and yet, as he watched on, he understood. He understood the way she protected you, the small smiles she gave you, the way she looked at you. He understood because it was the way he used to act around Rose... His brows furrowed as he tried to ignore the rhythmic pounding in his chest. His hands dropped to his sides. How long had it been since he said goodbye to her? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had work to be doing. There was time for that later. Opening his eyes again he gave the three silhouettes one last glance before returning to the task at hand. He only hoped Missy knew what she was doing and that you wouldn't get caught in the cross fire. When they had denied his proposal to fight together against the Cybermen, however, The Doctor knew he had hoped in vein. She had followed her old self. Quite symbolic, really. She was still the same. She would always be the same. With great difficulty you had followed Missy. You knew it was wrong. You should have helped but your loyalty was with her. It had always been with her. You apologised and wished them luck. Again, he understood. When you finally reached the elevators you stood back and allowed Missy to say goodbye. She held him in a close embrace and put her lips close to his ear. "I loved being you. Every second of it. Oh, the way you burned like the sun." A small smile graced her lips. "A whole screaming world on fire. I remember that feeling. I always will... And I will alwayd miss it." The Master staggered back slightly and you watched on as Missy slid the knife from his body. The shock was evident on your face but even more so on his. "Now that...was really... very nicely done." He smirked. Missy smiled a little more and took a step backwards, standing in line with you. "Thank you." She smiled. "It's good to know I haven't lost my touch." The Master winced and lowered himself down to the elevator floor. "You deserve my best." She lets out a breath and looks at you. Just the sight of you gives her the strength to keep the smile on her face. It was almost criminal to destroy that version of herself - he was a masterpiece after all - but she knew it had to be done. "How long do I have?" He asked, pulling her from her thoughts. "Oh, I was precise. You'll be able to make it back to your TARDIS, maybe even get a cuppa. Although you might leak a little." She smirked. "And then regenerate... into you?" He looked repulsed by the idea. "Welcome to the Sisterhood." She grabbed your hand and held it tight. You smiled at her and squeezed her hand in return. "Missy, seriously... why?" "Oh... because he's right. Because it's time to stand with him. It's where we've always been going, and it's happening, now, today. It's time to stand with The Doctor." Pride. You felt so much pride to be stood by her side. After all this time... She really had changed. Your smile grew wider and you let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding. "No. Never. That human, she has made you weak." Missy rolled her eyes and started to lead you away. The Master grew frantic. "She has made us weak! Missy! I will never stand with The Doctor!" "Yes, my Dear." Missy paused keeping her back to him. "You will." Missy's memory was hazy, yes, but she remembered this. Remembers watching on as the pain climbed through every nerve in the woman's body, remembered how she crumpled and clung to the woman by her side for support. Every second more memories floated to the surface and she hated it. Hated that this could have been prevented if only she wasn't so self destructive. You slowly lead her to the floor, panic setting in. You knew she was capable of fixing herself. She would change but she would be alive and that's all that mattered to you. Maybe that's why The Master's following sentence hurt you so badly. "Don't bother trying to regenerate. You got the full blast." The Master said through gritted teeth, tucking his Sonic Screwdriver into his jacket pocket. He clutched his bleeding side and leant further into the metal elevator. Missy laughed hysterically in disbelief. "You see, Missy, this is where we've always been going. This is our perfect ending. We shoot ourselves in the back." He pushed the elevator button and the doors closed, allowing him his escape. Missy whimpered as you lay her down. She struggled to catch her breath. "You could have stopped this! You must have remembered this would happen!" You cradled her in your arms. "I did but it was too late. Time can not be rewritten, my dear." Missy smiled as a small tear slipped down her cheek. It hurt to laugh yet she couldn't help it. Deep down in her fragmented memories she had always known that she would be her own undoing. "It's my perfect ending." You hated the fact that she was laughing. You failed to see the funny side of it. Traveling with Missy has made you colder so why did you feel the sharp sting of tears. Your fear of her leaving you was far more terrifying than any creature you had faced. Far more terrifying because you needed her; you loved her. "Don't do this." You begged. "Don't you dare do this." You didn't try to stop the tears that fell. You didn't want to. You were tired of holding back your emotions around her, scared that she might see you as weak or pathetic. "I'm afraid I don't have a choice (f/n)... It had to be done. I've lived too long, killed so many. I'm only sorry that I didn't meet you sooner... Maybe things would have been different that way." Missy placed her hand on your cheek, catching the tears with her thumb. "You helped like no one else ever has. You've shown me what I can be. I will forever be greatful for that. Greatful that you stayed by my side." Missy's eyes glistened with fresh tears but she didn't allow them to fall this time. She tilted her head and whispered three simple words into your ear. Three words that she never thought she would utter. Your breath caught in your throat. Had you of heard those words in any other situation you would have been the happiest woman in the world but right now your heart was breaking. Missy tilted your head down just enough to place a soft kiss to your lips. It was bittersweet and full of promises that would never be fulfilled. Why had she waited so long to do that? When she pulled away she knew her time was coming to an end. She could feel every fibre of her being burning as if set a flame by an invisible match. Her eyes began to close and with her last remains of strength she asked one more thing from you. "...Say something nice?" Her smile wavered and another tear escaped, slowly gliding across her skin. "I love you too. I think I always have." You whispered, gently stroking her cheek with your thumb. Missy smiled again. "Thank you..." She whispered before her body went still and her last remaining breath was pulled from her lungs.

[jinxplosions]

character development, day 1

1.) Describe your character’s relationship with their mother or their father, or both. Was it good? Bad? Were they spoiled rotten, ignored? Do they still get along now, or no?

(I actually decided that instead of just answering the question, I’d write a one-shot, because I have an in-depth head canon for JInx’s parentage. 2k, implied suicide at the end and implied child abuse!)

Jinx doesn’t remember her birth name. It died with her father thirteen years ago.

She had never met her mother. The gossip surrounding her parents throughout her childhood was enough: Jinx’s mother was Piltoverian nobility, her father, a scientist led astray by love. The rumors stated that her father had been working on genetic enhancements in humans, and that he met her mother through his work.

Johnathan Klein Williams was a budding scientist, studying the effects of chemicals on the genetic makeup of humans. His ultimate goal was to cure the people of Zaun, a people who had been mutated and sickened by the waste pumped into their environment. He wanted to use his research to help people, to cure them of sickness, never to enable harm. But Cecilia Morticco wanted something different. Johnathan, despite his personal ethics, found her proposal fascinating. And so he began meeting her once every two weeks to discuss it.

Poor Johnathan fell hard. She was charming: beautiful, charismatic, and incredibly wealthy. And she loved him in return. His unfortunately low status — the son of Zaunite factory workers — despite his climb from the dark chasm, meant that they could never be together. Not when tied by the titanium binds of Piltoverian high society.

And God, he loved her. She was his Sun — everything amazing in the world was personified in his Cecilia. The smell of an open-air fruit market, the industrial beauty of Piltoverian architecture, golden overheard arches, the warmth of the sunlight on his Zaunite-pale skin. Everything, it seemed to him, revolved around Cecilia. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Eventually, through his love and desire for her happiness, he agreed to begin proper research on her proposal. He began in his lab in Piltover, working on it after his normal workday, here and there, in bits and pieces. He would update Cecilia on his progress every time he saw her, informing her of advancements and setbacks, enjoying the way he could entrance her when he spoke about it, the look on her face that was otherwise near impossible to keep.

After only a quarter of a year of his life being lived like this, happy with the woman he loved, his world was rocked to the core. Cecilia, a beautiful young woman of a noble house and seemingly available, became the focus of Piltoverian society. What suitor would catch her eye, marry her, and take over the Morticco household after the death of her father? Her parents began inviting every suitor over in turn, and Cecilia was eventually engaged and subsequently married to a man of another noble household.

Johnathan flew into a rage after this discovery. He fled back to Zaun, setting up a lab there and devoting all his time to research on Cecilia’s proposal, hoping that enough work would win him her hand. After a few weeks, Cecilia located him, traveling down to his lab in Zaun for visits, calming her distraught lover. 

Then came the fateful day.

—————————————————————————————————

“Johnathan?”

Cecilia gently pushed open the ajar lab door with her well-manicured hand. The inside of the lab was currently dimly lit, papers strewn across the steel tables, a single green lamp in the corner flickering. The cold lab had rock walls, as it was inset into the craggy cliffs of Zaun.

She stepped inside, shut the door behind her, leaving her in silence besides the soft hum of the centrifuge in the corner. She removed the hood of her roughly-woven cloak, her long blond hair reflecting the dim green lantern. There was a beam of bright, white light peeking out from behind the second door, and she slowly crept towards it. “Johnathan,” she called once more, a quaver in her voice this time.

She rapped on the door —one, two, three times— the clang of the metal echoing like thunder in the eerily silent room. She hesitated for a few moments before pushing it open as well.

Her eyes were blinded by the brightness of the lights, the white overheads blaring in contrast to the darkness of the room before. She scanned the room, left to right. An empty chair at a stark white desk, file cabinets upon file cabinets. And finally, in the corner, she spotted him. At the sight of his dark brown hair and sleeping face, all worry in her heart faded, and she was left with a smile on her face as she moved over to his resting chair.

“Johnathan, darling,” she called softly, bending over his sleeping form, caressing his cheek as she gently roused him from his dreams. “Johnathan, it’s your Cecilia, wake up love,” she said, as his eyes slowly blinked open. He looked at her, confused from the awakening. “Cecilia?” he questioned, rubbing his eyes from their drowsy state. 

Suddenly, his demeanor changed. “Cecilia!” he exclaimed, jumping out of his chair. Cecilia startled, shocked by the quick transition.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Oh God Cecilia, nothing’s wrong, everything, in fact, is right for once, this is perfect, you’re going to be so excited,” he said, moving erratically between tables, searching his papers and charts. Cecilia stood deathly still, worried to the high heavens about his mental state, “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” she said timidly, observing his jerky movements. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure — oh, here it is — come — look!” he exclaimed, holding up a stack of papers as he moved towards her, a manic smile on his face. He moved to her side, flipping through the papers at sonic speeds. “I found it — the right combination, the right procedures — its possible, I did it, we can do it Cecile, we can make it happen,” he spluttered, setting the papers down on the table. He grabbed her by her shoulders. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“…are you saying what I think you are?” she replied slowly, hands gripping his pale wrists.

He looked her in her eyes, with the determined gleam she adored. “Yes, Cecilia. That’s exactly what I’m saying. We can do it. We can make your child — our child — superhuman. We can do it. I figured it out.”

Cecilia’s heart swelled with joy. She felt her eyes welling up, overcome with emotion. Her slender hands fell from Johnathan’s wrists, grabbing his jaw with unsuspected strength, her mouth meeting his in a forceful kiss, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Johnathan grasped the steel table for support, eyes wide open in surprise before falling closed, kissing the love of his life with equal passion.

They fell down into the chair he was sleeping in just minutes ago, the short, slender blonde straddling his lap. She quickly unbuttoned her cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground behind her, revealing and she bent back down, kissing his stubbly jaw while undoing the buttons on his lab coat, and then, his shirt. Johnathan inhaled, regaining his words, “Cecilia? What are you —“ she came up and kissed him on the mouth before going back down to his clavicle, “— what are you doing?”

She bent back again, undoing the buttons on the back of her velvet dress. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“But this is — this is our —“

“— Our first time together. I know.” She let her dress fall around her waist, and Johnathan lost all words.

That fateful night was the night Jinx was conceived.

————————————————————————————————

After that night, the treatment began. Every other week, she travelled down to Zaun, spread out on a table in her lover’s lab for the injections into the amniotic sac of their child. 

“He’s convinced it’s his, don’t worry,” she’d say, telling Johnathan of her new husband’s ignorance. He smiled at her, but burned with hatred and jealousy in his heart. But he kept it inside, administering her treatments without word of objection.

Towards the end of her pregnancy, on the day of the very last injection, Cecilia was unknowingly followed to the lab in Zaun. Her husband had grown suspicious, wondering with grim curiosity where his young, pregnant wife was disappearing to every two weeks. He donned an unsuspecting cloak and followed after her, through a Piltoverian market, into a hidden tunnel, down hundreds of stairs, and onto a five-foot wide ledge set away from the main city of Zaun. He followed the path, careful to avoid slipping and falling into the toxic water a hundred feet below. 

At the end of the dark path lied a single metal door set into the wall of rock. He opened the door as quietly as possible, and entered the room. Inside, was his wife, shutting her legs and turning to get off the table, helped by a man too close for his comfort.

The situation swiftly escalated. Cecilia was put on house arrest, and finally gave in to the growing love for her new husband and agreed to leave the child — a girl — with her father in Zaun. Johnathan was forbidden from entering Piltover, and suddenly found himself a single father, trapped in the slums of Zaun, unable to see the love of his life ever again.

—————————————————————————————————

“Papa?” A single fluorescent pink eye peeked into the lab. After a few seconds without an answer, a slip of a girl entered. She was small even for her young age of five, long blue hair in a single braid falling down her back. 

“Papa? It’s me,” she said quietly, walking over to the figure hunched over the desk. She tugged on his sleeve, and suddenly, her drastically aged father turned to her. It was rare that she came out to the lab to see him, even though it was their home. She never was home, not as long as she could help it.

But that night, the Piltover police were searching Zaun for a wanted criminal, and she was frightened into returning to her residence. 

“You,” her father sneered, his eyes red and breath reeking. She cringed and took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“The police are in Zaun right now Papa… Ekko told me that I should go home,” she said quietly.

Johnathan snorted. “Ekko this, Ekko that… that boy is all you ever talk about.”

He extended a hand and the little girl flinched back, expecting worse than the hard poke to the chest he gave her. It made her stumble further backwards.

“You’re a little jinx, that’s what you are. All you bring is bad luck. Bad luck… misfortune… everything you love will leave you eventually. That Ekko boy too. Little jinx,” he murmured, laying his head down on his desk, “little jinx…”

She went into the back room for the night.

—————————————————————————————————

The blue-haired little girl’s father died just the next day. At dusk she had brought him bread she’d managed to steal from a market, but instead found him in the same place she had left him that morning, a puddle of corrosive chemicals eating away at his body on the floor. She had screamed, the image burning into her mind the same as the chemical stench burning her lungs. She dropped the bread and ran from the lab, slamming the door behind her.

She never returned to the lab after that day. She ran as far as she could before she fell over exhausted in an alleyway, lungs screaming at her from the effort it took to run so far and so fast. A jinx, he had called her, a jinx — and that became her mantra. She swore revenge against the mother that abandoned her and ruined her father, she swore that if her destiny was to bring bad luck everywhere she went, she’d do it good. She would be the beacon of chaos, she’d rain hell on the city that had cursed her from her conception.

She renamed herself, reclaiming her father’s cruel nickname. Her name was Jinx. And wreaking havoc was her game.

[robotnik-mun]

Robotnik Retrospective Part Four: All the Little People

And here we are, once again, to take time out of your life to discuss an outmoded variation of villain from a series of children’s video games! Are you lucky or what?

Heh, but I digress. Welcome to the fourth installment of the retrospective! Last time around we finally stopped beating around the bush to take an in-depth look at the doctor himself, analyzing his actions and observing his demonstrated personality and traits, taking a deeper look into what makes him tick. One thing though that was missing from that analysis was arguably one of the biggest parts of his character- Sonic the Hedgehog himself.

Well, I can safely say to you that that was a deliberate ommission- given how goddamn enormous that post already was, I felt it best to make this a separate section entirely, covering not only his relationship with Sonic the Hedgehog but with the other Freedom Fighters and taking a look at how that not only enhances his character, but their’s as well.

Let’s get rolling.

One of the great truths of fiction is that every great hero needs a great villain. Great villains provide a challenge to overcome, a threat to be beaten, a danger to address- they’re the great facilitators of change and growth within a story, plus, they help to keep things interesting. How they go about this is as myriad as the stories that they appear in- some threats are obvious and direct, some are insidious and hidden. At the end of the day though, all of them are part of what makes a hero (or if you want to be more flexible, a protagonist) great and what helps make their stories so compelling.

In short? Great heroes need great villains, and that’s what helps to make them great. What a lot of people don’t consider though is that the opposite is just as true. Stories are often just as much about the villains as they are the heroes, showing them as they try their damndest to defeat the hero and make their own ambitions come together, and what makes them impressive in turn is their ability to continually challenge the heroes as they do. A story where the villain always wins effortlessly is every bit as boring and unreadable as a story where the hero always effortlessly manages to win, with an extra dosage of unbearable given that villains have a tendency to do awful awful things to boot. Villains are every bit as enhanced by their heroes as heroes are by their villains.

It is with that conceit that I move onto this aspect of Robotnik and his being, which is probably the one that I love most of all- his relationship with the other characters, and what his presence brings out in them and compels them to do because of it.

Naturally, first and foremost among all that is Sonic the Hedgehog.

Sonic and Eggman’s rivalry is one of the most iconic of video games, and with good reason. Both thematically and visually the two are stark opposites- Sonic is a young, athletic, short blue hedgehog who prefers to settle problems with his own physical abilities and has many friends, while Eggman is a tall, fat old man dressed in red who eschews friendship and uses his brains to do things, expressed through the endless machines that he builds. Sonic lives and fights for freedom, whether it is his own or the freedom of others, while Eggman cheerfully enslaves others to power his machines and seeks to rebuild the world in his own image. Sufficed to say there’s a reason why those two are such an iconic pair- even in the classic era before either of them had a voice or detailed mannerisms to express, they’re able to play off each other in such a fundamental way that even just relying on visuals and pantomime there is something about them that just resonates so well.

As with everything else in this setting, SatAM takes the pre-existing conflict and spins it in a different direction to what was presented in the games or in the early Adventures series. Whereas in the games Robotnik was an obstacle to overcome and in Adventures Robotnik was a nemesis to harangue, harass and humiliate ala Looney Tunes, in SaTAM Robotnik was a deadly threat and menace that needed to be thwarted for the good of everyone and everything. In my opinion it was a fitting dynamic- Sonic is said to personify freedom as a character after all, and who better to oppose a champion of freedom than a corrupt, tyrannical authority figure striving to *destroy* freedom once and for all?

Naturally, this meant that Sonic was still the same daring, cocky, reckless but ultimately brave and heroic individual that he had been in the last iteration of things, but here there was a slight difference- uniquely for any Sonic series out there, there was a new dimension to the conflict here, an element that had never been present in any of the past depictions of Sonic and his fight with Robotnik. For here it is established that for all the jokes and insults that Sonic saw fit to hurl time and again at Robotnik, beneath it all... Sonic is very, very much afraid of Robotnik and what will happen if he should ever fail.

Despite what his attitude might suggest, Sonic in this series is very, very much aware of what’s at stake and what will become of his friends and family would Robotnik ever manage to defeat him once and for all and uncover Knothole. In “Sonic’s Nightmare” we get a glimpse of what terrifies Sonic the most- it is a devastating scene of his innermost fears, his speed being robbed from him while Robotnik manages to capture Sally. He is unable to reach her and is forced to watch as she is roboticized before his very eyes, haunted by her last words as she demands to know where he was when the brains were handed out. This dream haunts him deeply throughout the subsequent episode as events from the dream seem to leave the impression that the dream was in fact a premonition, and Sonic has to actively fight through the panic and overcome the terror to save his friends and ensure that this vision does not come to pass.

Naturally he succeeds with flying colors, but the fact remains that, no matter how reckless he gets and no matter how lightly he seems to take the doctor, everything he does to fight the guy is tinged by this fear. In fact, it would be pretty safe to say that one of the reasons he displays such constant confidence and defiance is not unlike the same reason Spider-Man does- it helps to cover for the very real, very abiding fear and doubt that Sonic feels and helps him to carry through against Robotnik, which in turn helps others by showing them to not be scared enough to fight.

It helps that we are shown precisely why Sonic fears Robotnik and hates him so. Sonic didn’t just lose his only family to the Roboticizer- he personally witnessed it happened and very nearly wound up suffering the same fate, and over the course of the series we are treated to more than one occurrence of other Freedom Fighters who never made it back- Cat in “Sonic Boom” is taken away and never seen again. A pair of Freedom Fighters in the opening of Blast to the Past are immediately captured and Roboticized and in ‘Game Guy’ he fails to rescue Ari from the Void. Then of course there is Bunnie, a constant reminder of what will happen to everything he cares about if he should fail, to say nothing of the pain that her condition causes her. One of the great writing conceits of this show is that few victories are ever utterly complete- in Sonic Racer, Sonic doesn’t get to win the race even as the side mission being pulled while Robotnik’s attention is on him goes off. In Sonic Boom, information about King Acorn is acquired, but Cat is lost. Sonic twice restores his Uncle Chuck to free will, but in both occasions has to lose him- first to when the liberation wears off, and secondly when Chuck is forced to live away and do spy work in Robotropolis, something he must continue to do even after his cover is blown in “Spy-Hog”. As well as the fact that at the end of the day, Sonic cannot really avenge everyone who is victimized by the doctor, nor can he always have a clean victory, particularly since no matter what, at the end of the day Robotnik still manages to rule the world. It’s a daunting thing to face day in and day out, yet still, Sonic gets up, goes out, and gives his all to push back Robotnik’s conquest, even if it is only by centimeters. It makes Sonic all the more admirable that even as the dread of what might be picks at him, he continues to soldier on and do his best, despite the danger and despite the odds being against him.

It is what helps me to truly appreciate this particular iteration of Sonic, which in turn helps feed into my love of Sonic in general- things are not easy for him, nor is he totally un-phased by what he’s up against. He’s been put through a lot thanks to the doctor, owing every terrible thing that has happened to him in his life thanks to the guy. His lost home, his lost family, friends lost or mutilated by the doctor’s actions, it is safe to say that Sonic is decidedly *not* fond of Robotnik. Several times over the course of the series he expresses happiness at the idea of Robotnik being dead and disappointment over Robotnik’s continued survival. When not joking about the guy, he has nothing but scorn and contempt for Robotnik, and he has plenty of reason for both. His playfulness in encounters with Robotnik take on a harsher tinge, done deliberately to piss off and undermine the aura of menace and control the doctor projects, because he is keenly aware that Robotnik is the biggest, baddest guy on the planet... and because of that, he knows the best way to get at the guy is by refusing to acknowledge that fact when fighting him, reducing him to a subject of laughs rather than terror.

For all this? Robotnik hates Sonic right back, and fittingly, he allows that hatred to consume him utterly, and this in turn is how Sonic manages to enhance Robotnik’s character- by giving him a very, very palpable weakness.

One of the great defining characteristics of Robotnik is his hatred. Hatred of others, hatred of the world around him, but more so than anything else, Robotnik is driven and controlled by his utter and complete hatred of Sonic and Sonic alone. This makes a great deal of sense when you consider where he is coming from- for ten years Robotnik has managed to reign supreme over the world, and any opposition that he encountered before Sonic and company was clearly not enough to stop him. Then comes along Sonic- a mouthy little teenager who, despite everything, is able not only halt Robotnik’s operations, but escape punishment time and again. Robotnik is a scientific genius, a former military leader who managed to win a war and who later managed to conquer an entire planet. Yet no matter what Robotnik does... no matter how close he gets, no matter what he does, Sonic always seems to slip through his otherwise ironclad grip.

Worse than that, Sonic is eventually revealed to have been the one to cost him his arm. This creates a parallel to the famous, destructive hatred that Captain Ahab reserved for Moby Dick, having lost ships and his leg to the great White Whale. Whereas Ahab had the White Whale, Robotnik has a Blue Hedgehog, and his pursuit of his prey over the course of the series fittingly leads to his own inevitable defeat. Over the course of the 2nd Season of SatAM, Robotnik’s hatred for Sonic reaches such an extent that it begins to spiral out of his control- this is the season where Robotnik doesn’t just want to kill or roboticize Sonic, but to utterly and completely humiliate him in the process, to break him in order to avenge his wounded ego. Some criticize this season for overplaying his hatred of Sonic and making him fall into the ‘BondVillain’ pitfall (as ‘Game Guy’ so illustrated), but I would counter that this is a very natural development for Robotnik as the continued victories of the Freedom Fighters and Sonic in particular begins to take a toll on his sanity. In particular, his focus on Sonic to the exclusion of everything else makes it clear that for as much as Sonic is legitimately involved in dismantling his plans, Robotnik has turned Sonic into a scapegoat for *all* of his failures, bringing his hateful obsession to murderous new heights.

Even before the second season though it was pretty clear that Robotnik’s hatred for Sonic went above and beyond ordinary. Each time he spoke of ‘the hedgehog’ he did so with a very potent amount of venom, and one incident in particular makes it clear that when it comes to Sonic, Robotnik’s hatred has always been self-destructive. There’s a spectacular scene in “Sonic’s Nightmare” towards the end- Robotnik and Snively are in his ship, in stealth mode, having narrowly escaped the destruction of a blimp designed to induce acid rain- don’t laugh, it’s a perfectly valid tactic for a man whose enemies live in the forest and who desires a lifeless world of machines. Sonic and Co cannot see them, but they are in a perfect position to attack. Robotnik readies a missile, but is then informed by Snively that the damage they’ve taken is too much, and if he fires the weapon there’s a good chance that they’ll go down too.

Faced with the decision between killing Sonic once and for all or saving his own life, Robotnik is given pause.

His finger hovers over the button, his hand shaking. It’s not a rash decision he’s making, but one where he clearly is weighing the pro’s and cons. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he pushes the button. Thankfully for Sonic (and probably Robotnik and Snively), the circuits fuse, and the window of opportunity closes, forcing them both to return to Robotropolis, but the fact remains that Robotnik hates Sonic so much that he would willingly risk his own death if it meant Sonic were to die as well. He would *gleefully* shoot himself in the foot, provided that the bullet came out the other end and killed Sonic as well. It’s a beautiful and terrifying demonstration of the depths that he’ll go to kill Sonic, as well as a convincing display of how Sonic truly is his greatest weakness, more than setting his downward spiral during Season 2 as his desire for vengeance begins to go out of control.

In this, Robotnik is strengthened as a character, because he is given a very identifiable weakness that drives him to commit believable mistakes, and by the same token, Sonic’s own character is better off for it due to the very personal nature of his conflict with Robotnik and the struggle that Robotnik has made out of his life. Struggle drives conflict, and it makes Sonic’s victories all the better for it.

Ah, but it is not Sonic alone who ‘benefits’ from Robotnik’s presence! Others in the cast are similarly impacted, and for the better.

Enter Princess Sally.

Sally’s entire situation in life is incredibly tragic once you sit down and think about it. She was born a princess and destined for an easy life with a loving father... and in a flash, it was all taken away from her. Her home, her father, her future, all of it stolen by a man her father trusted- who she trusted. Forced to live in hiding while the madman who betrayed her father and stole her life turned the world into an industrial hellhole, Sally was able to rise against the circumstances and lead her friends in a nearly hopeless guerilla war against a seemingly unstoppable foe. She may be called a ‘princess’, but she is aware of how little meaning her title has- she is not a leader because of her blood but because of her actions. She leads missions into the city- a city her family founded and ruled for centuries, now twisted and corrupted into a blighted, lifeless mechanism designed to create endless robots and consume everything. She does this in person, risking life and limb along with her friends, whom she has known since childhood, fellow survivors all of them, time and again going into that nightmarish place for the sake of her people. For the sake of the kingdom that no longer exists.

She’s not even eighteen years old, and it wears on her something awful. Losing her kingdom, losing her father, having to watch out not only for her friends lives but the lives of everyone in Knothole, constantly planning and strategizing and hoping that this time isn’t the time where it all goes wrong. All the while having to be strong, and cool and calm and collected for the sake of her people, because she is their leader and alongside Sonic, she is a symbol of hope- of a possible return to better days. Leadership is her privilege and her burden, and it’s all she can do to not buckle under it on those days when things go wrong- and they happen. In ‘Blast to the Past Part 1‘ we open with such a failure, and her reaction afterward. The kind of stress this girl has been put under is unimaginable. She’s only sixteen.

And what of Bunnie?

Bunnie is a walking reminder of what will happen if the Freedom Fighters fail. Generally she is a cheerful and upbeat person, but even that doesn’t stop her from hating what she has become... what Robotnik nearly turned her into. Every time she looks in a mirror she gets to remember what Robotnik did to her and the fact that her chances at a normal life were dashed some time ago. At the same time she has not given into the despair despite how much she hates what she has become- she has instead learned to empower herself, taking what Robotnik did to her and turning it against him, using her abilities to fight his empire and make him pay for what he did to her and to everyone else.

So it goes with all the other Freedom Fighters- Tails is an orphan, a child being raised by children forced to take on the role of adults and who do their best to give him a normal childhood in the most horrible of times imaginable. Rotor must try his hardest to be there for his friends as an inventor and as someone to talk to when they need it. Dulcy hasn’t seen another of her kind in years. Antoine lives in terror because he can never felt safe again. Even in the minor characters it shows- everyone is in hiding, everyone has lost something or something to lose. Everything the heroes have been through has been because of Robotnik. Because of what he did... because of what he is doing.

Every life stolen...

Every moment of despair...

Every family torn apart..

Every child orphaned...

Every dream broken...

Every natural wonder desecrated...

Every civilization destroyed...

Every scar inflicted...

...all of it leads back to one man. To Robotnik. His deeds and the consequences of those actions reverberate throughout the entire series and at every level. He is an enemy who is everywhere, who controls virtually everything around the heroes. The world is dying by inches as he consumes more and more of it. The heroes do not have access to the same resources as he- everything they have is scrounged from his leftovers, and they must do everything they can to maintain their hiding places. Knothole is shown to have parts that break down, and Lower Mobius lives in constant dread of its energy source burning out. This is what Robotnik has done to the heroes. This is the position he has put them all in.

This is what makes their triumphs so amazing.

For against those odds, against everything that Robotnik has ever done to them, the heroes collectively continue to go out time and again to fight against Robotnik. To show that that will not simply lay down and wait for him to take them to the Roboticizer or for his SwatBots to exterminate them. They will rise up against the tyrant, rise up against him despite how badly the odds skew against them, and each time they will make him pay a little more for what he has done as they reclaim their lives, inch by inch and yard by yard. They maintain hope against him, against everything they maintain hope. The heroes of this show are collectively made all the more impressive for it, all the more heroic, for the simple fact that they fight back as hard as they do. Even Antoine is stronger for this- for as clumsy and constantly terrified as he is, he still goes back into Robotropolis over and over again to do his part. Even with everything that is flawed and imperfect about him, he is still brave enough to set foot in that horrible. Can any of you say you would do the same?

Robotnik is what makes Sonic and the others so great as heroes, because he takes so much from them and takes so much *out* of them when trying to fight back, that it makes their victories all the more meaningful even if they are not always as straightforward as we might like- and that’s perhaps what I like most about this iteration of Robotnik, because he helps so much in making me like Sonic and Sally and everyone else.

It isn’t just his interactions with the heroes though that make Robotnik more whole. There is of course the matter of the OTHER evildoers in this series.

Snively’s relationship is one that fascinates me most because of how much is implied in it. Snively initially debuted as a fairly typical Evil Lackey, though one marked by a fair amount of abuse from his employer. What gave him distinction though was what was revealed about his precise relationship with Robotnik- that he was the man’s nephew and that once upon a time, Snively admired and trusted him. The idea that Robotnik would so callously manipulate, use and abuse someone who once adored him is easily one of the most personally despicable things that Robotnik has done, and at once it makes you hate him more and pity Snively on an entirely new level, beyond what even his wretched status as Robotnik’s assistant/stress ball would make you feel.

Robotnik’s interactions with Snively are fascinating for the fact that while Robotnik enjoys belittling, insulting and hurting him... he does not treat Snively with absolute content. He entrusts his nephew to oversee important tasks and on occasion even listens to him. This would seem to indicate that for all the open contempt he has for Snively, he is at least aware that Snively is not an idiot (much as he enjoys calling him that). Snively in the meantime is shown to resent his position more and more, becoming defiant and catty in the second season. It makes sense given Robotnik’s own deterioration in that season, and the simple fact that Snively is surely aware that he is living on borrowed time. The world that Robotnik is creating would have no room for Snively, and if Robotnik were to ever win it would mean the end of Snively eventually. In time Robotnik would get bored of his screams and Roboticize him as well. Robotnik is able to grant Snivley his greatest moment in the series- surviving Doomsday despite being left to die, and emerging from the rubble to claim his seemingly fallen Uncle’s empire.

Cluck is another relationship I rather like, because of how typical it seems until you consider the implications.

It’s a real shame Cluck was chucked for the second season, as I really did enjoy her. At first glance she would seem to be the only thing in creation that Robotnik actually cares about, for he treats her with far greater affection than he does his own nephew. That impression only lasts until you realize why he’s so affectionate- she’s ultimately just another projection for his bloated egomania. Her entire existence is basically Robotnik going ‘Oh hey, nature? That thing you made? I made it better. So there!’. Robotnik doesn’t love Cluck because of anything genuine, he loves her because she is just another thing he can look at and admire himself for the brilliance he displayed in creating her. That’s how I see it anyway. Again, it’s a real shame she wasn’ kept around, but oh well. Point of order, I see Cluck was a brilliant testament to the raging ocean of self-centered narcissism that is Robotnik, and I love her for it.

You know what? I even like his relationship with Naugus.

Bet you weren’t expecting that, eh? Bet you were expecting me to rail against the fact that there’s something that utterly breaks down Robotnik’s aura and demeanor of unshakable and utter evil. Well I got news for you- I do in fact enjoy the fact that Robotnik is *petrified* of Naugus. He has every reason to be, having endured the sorcerer’s tortures back in the old days when he was assisting him with his experiments within the Void. It provides a humanizing element to Robotnik- a reminder that for all the evil he does and all the terror he inflicts, Robotnik is still a man, and like most men there is something he is afraid of. I appreciate that quality because it implies a limitation to eventually be overcome and conquered. It represents a chance to grow and develop into something more, and it helps to establish that Robotnik is not invincible. These are important things for a character to have, I feel, and so I actually enjoy that Naugus can bring such start and total fright to the Big Round Guy. Characters who are totally without fear tend to come off as boring, irritating or just plain stupid, to say nothing of suspense-breaking.

And with that, I conclude this portion of the analysis. Sufficed to say, while I like Robotnik on his own terms, the thing that really makes him shine in my eyes is not him and him alone, but rather what he does to others and what he brings out in the other characters. It’s a symbiotic relationship in my mind, the way that Robotnik is able to enhance them and how they do the same for him, and it’s a big part of what made this show so compelling to begin with. I love a good villain- even more than that, I love when a good villain has an even better hero to challenge and thwart him, especially when things are made difficult for the hero because of the villain.

Next time around, we will take a look at the others who were made in the image of SatAM Robotnik... and in doing so, tackle a rather sizeable elephant in the room. See you next time, boys and girls!

[taco-bellphegor]

Albums of the Decade

I'll apologize in advance for how rough my writing is. Unfortunately this didn't leave draft form and I had a few situations come up that forced me to put writing on the back burner. I wanted to post what I had done because it would have been a waste to keep it offline.

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Looking back, the 10s were rather personally tumultuous.  I went through a major mental growth spurt right at the beginning, and started the process of leaving multiple abusive interpersonal relationships that I had kept for all the wrong reasons (predominantly self-flagellation and the personal insistence that I didn't deserve better).  I gained the strength to leave them all behind, and in doing so I ended up growing so much as a person. I went from living in the shadows of others who insisted that I wasn't worth much and didn't contribute anything to being my own person. I learned that my thoughts and feelings truly did matter and that success was a measurement best left to myself and not to those who were setting unrealistic expectations.  I started on my personal journey to un-learn traits that abusers forced upon me and started to truly come into my own. I would love to say that my beautiful partner was my starting catalyst, but that isn't 100% true. The spark of desire to change and improve came from within myself, and my partner came at the peak moment in my journey and became not only my best friend and soulmate, but a true support that has helped me stay the course of my developing personhood. That little growth spark was there throughout my entire life, even though I didn't have the "kick" to go about acting on those thoughts and feelings.   I started off similarly to a plant that outgrew their pot and was looking for a larger space to grow in and I found a person who was willing to transplant me so that I could continue growing. She helped me to release my inhibitions and become truly free. I'm sure this was a monumental task for her to undertake, but the fact that she did is something I'm eternally grateful and thankful for.

 One of the easiest ways for me to fully delve into my escapism was to indulge fully in hobbies that allowed for escapism: the arts.  I found myself watching movies and fully immersing myself into someone else's life and problems, just so I could experience having problems that were solvable for a change, unlike several situations in my life.  When I had the chance, I loved to become one with the characters in books, putting myself into their shoes and experiencing that happily ever after for myself. Video games were the pinacle of these two art forms for me, as they had a level of physical immersion that enveloped a few more senses, causing my escapism to revel.  Music, however, was different for me. Music has held this specific sway over me that I have a difficult time even describing. It was a medium where I could allow myself to feel without the fear of others judging me and telling me that what I felt was wrong or weird. Music had a way of coursing itself through my body in a way of freeing me from what was causing me to be tied down.  I had even found ways to incorporate music into my own occult-like practices, pinning it into my meditation and lucid dreaming rituals. It became integral to my escapism, as the sound scapes caused vivid visualization. Music was how I bonded strongly with my soulmate. Despite how trite this may sound, music literally became my escape.  

I want to take some time to share the art that ultimately came around and helped shaped myself during a time of extreme growth and introspection.  The music that was a soundtrack to my becoming who I am today. The games that served as a pleasant intermission to the horrific drama that was my life.  The movies that I watched to indulge in fantasies to dark or grandiose for reality. Though I am only going to do a more in depth written look at my music for the decade, I hope that in sharing this with you all, you can understand me just a bit more as a person. That maybe the things that helped to shape me as a person will perhaps have an impact on you as well.

Albums of the Decade

1. Mastodon - The Hunter (2011)

This is the ultimate soundtrack for my decade.  This whole sound and mood was me from 2011 onwards.  This was the sound of my packing and leaving a state I lived in at the tag end of a prior decade and moving to one I'd end up having my family in. The sound of my leaving abusers and moving forward.  The sound of putting on my well worn jeans, flannels, comfy shoes and beanie and heading off to work. My go to for road trips with a very close friend as we took every scenic route imaginable. My workout tunes for when I was pushing myself physically to sweat out my misery.  Yes, it is a sound that is ultimately a tribute to all of the music I listened to during my years in high school, yet it's remixed. New. It is the sound of my shedding all of my adolescent awkwardness and finally coming into my own. It helped me to look back and see where I came from, then look forward and see where I was going.  It came out during a time when I needed songs for hitting the old dusty trail. I didn't expect it to grow on me as much as it has, but dammit it's just me through and through.

2. Lingua Ignota - All Bitches Die (2017)

Lingua Ignota was a surprise hit for me.  I generally can't listen to a huge amount of noise music as the higher registers of sounds that artists love to use causes severe pain and discomfort to me. Yes, I understand conceptually that is the point, however it's so bad that it's unenjoyable.  Despite this, Lingua Ignota fully captures a very specific feeling for a time in my life when I couldn't escape from my abusers. For when I was constantly kept down by them, and whenever I did find a way out, they found new and improved ways to keep me trapped.  It encapsulates the anger and pain and hatred and disgust I felt when my family forced me into homelessness. The anger of being abused, the pain from having to take it because there was nothing I could do, the disgust of knowing that this cycle was going to keep perpetuating itself because there were people in my life who insisted on having the upper hand and the hatred of not knowing what to do next.  If I could have taken this album and took it to the me that was homeless, throwing up constantly because I had no clue what tomorrow was going to drop on me, going through withdrawals, I would have handed myself this. It was the catharsis I desperately craved when everything around me was spiraling out of control. Though this wasn't a thing when I needed it, I'm glad it exists and I can feel comfort from it because there's another person out there that felt the way I did.

3.  Korn - The Serenity of Suffering (2016)

It was a shock to find a Korn album well outside of high school that resonated so strongly with me, but here I am and here it is.  Even in high school, Korn didn't necessarily ring true with me on a lyrical level. Mostly a sound aesthetic level. This album does both.  I have always found a love/hate relationship with my depression. There were times when my own personal misery would drive harmful people away, proving it as being an effective shield. I enjoyed my solitude when I wasn't forced to be around people who didn't understand me, nor tried to.  Whenever I had breaks from my depressive state, I felt awkward. Like happiness wasn't meant for me, and it fit like a shrunken shirt. It was a temporary thing, and I knew it. That my happiness was always on the cusp of being taken, and unfortunately the majority of the time it was. To this day, I still have fears of my partner getting so tired of my shit that she just packs up and leaves.  That my son will grow to resent me because I'm terrible. Frankly, I don't think it'd come as a shock. This album felt like it was finding comfort and solace in your deepest moments of despair. That my depression was always going to lurk just around the corner, and that was just fine. It was oddly comforting knowing that someone out there was doing their best to turn their misery into a motivation.  For now, this remains my "sad album".

4.  Author and Punisher - Ursus Americanus (2012)

This album is important because it served as a bonding experience.  It is the sound of all of the loneliness I went through. The few times when I was miserable when I was alone because I had to listen to my thoughts.  The machines in this album are the sonic equivalent to the times after I had bottled my emotions up so much that I had to let it out and explode. That numbness that would follow my emotional explosion is this sound.  The echoing dullness and loneliness as I had to sit and be an emotional void, starting to fill my bottle back up again until the next time I melted down and exploded and had to start the never ending cycle all over again. My partner sent this album to me as a recommendation, and it came at a time when I needed to hear it.  My bottle was overflowing and I was being kept down by people who would blame me whenever anything went wrong, when my ex would have gaming sessions with all of my friends and invite me just to talk to me like I was beneath him. When family members were insisting that they knew best for me and that I was just inevitably going to end up back on the street again.  My friends were all associating with my abusers, bringing them into my private spaces and allowing them to force me to say I was the one in the wrong, that I was deserving of their treatment, that I had to "apologize or else" and I was trapped in my bedroom until I apologized for a wrong doing that I had nothing to do with. I had to break the bottle before it shattered and hurt me.  The sound of that void of emotions and energy is still relevant at times even now, despite my wanting to not admit it. Much like my escapism, my emotional bottle is a part of me that will never go away.

5. Holly Herndon - Proto

I have a lot of issues with dysmorphia and dysphoria, as well as extreme amounts of self-loathing.  I really truly don't like myself. There are times where I wish I was just a free-floating consciousness that interacted with people, but for the most part just observed everyone else as they went about their daily lives.  I can't stand seeing myself in a mirror, but honestly have no way to truly fix this. When I found my wife, I found the one person who didn't really see me as a physical body. She saw my soul. It was the first time I ever found someone who didn't pay attention to my looks.  She never made disparaging remarks on my physical body, or demanded I look one way or another. She saw me as me. She truly saw me as that free-floating consciousness, and that moved me quite deeply. She has been working with me on seeing myself as she sees me. It's a difficult journey as my brain just can't comprehend anyone seeing me as anything other than what my inner voice says.  When she says I'm beautiful, I believe her. I know that was she says is true because I feel it down in the depth of my core. Though the days are unfortunately few and far between when my brain images matches what my eyes see and it aligns with when my wife says I'm beautiful, I have these fleeting moments of feeling and seeing that outer beauty. This album is that ethereal and fleeting feeling of being beautiful.  Even if it was there only momentarily, it was just within my grasp long enough to provide a respite from the continuous onslaught of negativity and horrific characature of my body and face that my brain loves to manifest. It's beautiful and slightly cold and distant. The solemn sound of feminity. The mechanical feeling of going through the motions of hearing "you look great" and then when the music swells, you actually FEEL that "looking great."  I truly hope that this beautiful ethereal electronic music is going to become the sound of the oasis of hope in our dystopian future.

6. Queens of the Stone Age - ...Like Clockwork 

 I have an extremely complicated relationship with my mother.  She's close to me, yet I keep her at arm's length. She's supportive of me, yet I'm always afraid to let her know what's going on in my life for fear that I'll have repurcussions of her reactions at any given moment.  Her hospitalizations affected me in so many ways, both directly and indirectly. Though there are so many admirable traits that my mom possesses, I also had fears of becoming like her. This album feels like that complication.  It is full of moments of "yeah, I understand how my mom feels" with lyrics and musical motifs that ring through with her lowest of lows. There are times when it feels and sounds like the house parties she both threw and attended with low lifes, and I was stuck listening to everything through a locked door.  There's the grimey vibe of "I just left the bar after spending the last of rent money paying off my tab so I can keep coming back, fuck the landlord!". There's also this sound that even though this all keeps happening, it will eventually have to come to an end because everything does. It's the soundtrack of all of the times when I made life choices eerily close to the ones my mother made and I was made to stand back and watch it all play out, counting all the ways that I was on the course of my own self destruction while the echoes of her own path resounded over mine.

7.  Lorn - Ask the Dust 

I promise I'm not entirely miserable and forcefully introspective.  I have other moods besides being a miserable bastard, I swear! I will go ahead and just give a quick nerd alert here. I had read someone describe this album as a lost Silent Hill OST and they couldn't have been more accurate.  It deserves to be the soundtrack of the nightmare rendition of the mall that Heather is traipsing through. It's the album Pyramid Head blasts on his airpods while he's rip roaring and sword dragging throughout the abandoned foggy town.  It's a great chill album that has atmospheric creepiness to it that I can't get enough of. It's catchy, dark and moody and I wish there was more of this style out there to listen to. If this album had existed back when I was a freshman in college, it would have been the one I put on during night time drives that ended up with my friend and I getting an Icee before we headed back to our dorms. As it stands, it serves as a great reminder of the memories I have of late nights with friends.

8. Diablo Swing Orchestra - Pandora's Pinata 

I didn't necessarily enjoy high school, but I did enjoy hanging out with friends and theater.  Yes, I was a theater nerd (and still technically am). Though I wasn't one of the kids who was screaming things up and down the hallways, I was mostly the silent and depressed background tech, the make up artist that made sure to correct any accidental smudging during costume changes, the props master that did their best to make sure scenes flowed with minimal hitches, the lighting and sound tech that made sure no one was blinded by stage lights and there were no screeches or muffled voices, and the set designer that worked to design scenery that was incredibly minimal and light yet provided enough imagery for the minds of audience members to fill in the gaps. I didn't mind that I was never a main character and was a supporting role.  It was easier for me to watch the more popular kids fulfill those roles and for me to immerse myself into the more technical side. That isn't to say I didn't enjoy acting. I loved being able to shed my own life and take on someone else's for a while. I desperately wanted problems that were as easily solvable as the ones that came from a screenwriter's mind. That said, Pandora's Pinata is the sound of garish and grandiose stage performance. There's a wide range of emotion from the frantically high highs and the deep lowest of lows. It encapsulates my experience as a theater nerd, and the intensity of the passion I have for both theater and music. Though I'm not active in theater now, and I generally don't talk about my love of theater because of the stereotypes associated with it, I'm glad to have an album that helps me with my theatrical feels.

9. The Ocean - Pelagial (instrumental)

I had spent a great deal of my life in land locked areas.  I didn't really get to go on those much lauded "family summer vacations" where you would travel to a new and exciting place to escape the boredom and rut of your home life.  I didn't get to see the ocean or go to a beach until the tag end of the 00's decade, but I did get to experience Venice Beach for myself in this decade (a trip to LA sounds amazing right about now). I spent a lot of time escaping a lot of my troubles by taking regular trips to Earthquake Park (a beach park in Alaska).  I loved walking up and down the coast, finding the objects that washed up from the namesake earthquake (one time the frame of an old VW Beetle was on the shore) and interesting rocks and shells. Mostly, I just loved to sit out there, burying my toes in the black sand and watching the sun set while listening to the waves.  It was one of the few precious moments when I could recharge, even though I inevitably had people with me on these trips. I felt alone and at peace while watching the sky grow darker. This album perfectly captures the ocean and all of its depths. I didn't think I'd ever encounter something that made me feel my ocean escapes until I heard this.  It has it's moments of harsh loudness, but then it comes back down and goes into deep melodic throes of the cold pressure of the ocean. Whenever I used this album to meditate, I couldn't help but see the various ways of how the sea is absolutely stunning. The earlier tracks are the tide pools and sun light bouncing off of the water. It's such a light start and just gets deeper and heavier as it goes.  Though I personally found the vocalist version of this album as distracting, the instrumental speaks volumes without needing words.

10. mus.hiba - White Girl

I started off my decade in Alaska.  It was an opportunity to start my life over again, as well as to find myself as an adult. I started off with a lot of the same world views that I had in high school, a lot of which was unnecessarily toxic.  After many years of reflection and healing, I was able to shed my worse thoughts and fears and habits and become the person I am today. That whole journey started in Alaska, and it's a place that though I have several bad memories of, I have several good ones that I can't ignore.  My love of nature really grew here. I finally lived somewhere that seasons actually brought drastic change! The springtime with "breakup" (when the snow melted and the ground thawed), construction, and days where it's cool yet tolerable. The short lived though highly appreciated summer, with it's long days, mild heat, long walks in the neighboorhood after work, kayaking on small lakes, and the desperate attempts to avoid the extremely large mosquitos that could practically whisk you away to bug bite paradise. The falls where the leaves are all different colors, and seeing those colors paint the mountainsides was breathtaking, where hiking trails took on a new challenge as you had to avoid wildlife that was passing through on its own terms, the slight chill in the air that meant you only needed maybe one or two extra layers that didn't hamper your mobility.  And the winters. Winters that were filled with long dark spans of time, where sleeping, eating and pub crawls brought immeasurable amounts of comfort and comraderie, where you learned the sound of heavy snow and could see all of the stars in the sky so clearly. This album has the feeling of those winter nights. The feeling of coming in from the bitter cold to warm yourself by the fire. The chilly walks in snow and ice to get from the bus stop to work. The sound of people navigating a harsh and beautiful environment yet finding many ways of experiencing joy and sharing it with others. Though this wasn't released while I was still in Alaska, I still love this because it feels so much like there. The dreamy nostalgia of times that I enjoyed and am glad that I experienced, yet knowing that they had their place and that reliving them would be a pointless endeavor that would bring little new enrichment in my life as I know it now.

These are the top albums of my decade.  Though my writing is a bit rough and scattershot, I wanted to present how these albums felt to me, since the feelings they provided were most certainly important to me.  They are the sound equivalent of my thoughts and feeilngs and experiences, and my hope is that if you do decide to check into these albums, you'll maybe think of me and share a little of what I feel as well.  

Honorable Mentions

These are albums that also resonated highly with me throughout the decade.  Though I won't provide an in-depth review of them, I hope that you will also consider checking these out as well.  They're all amazing albums in their own right, and I would feel bad for not including them as highly reccomended albums.

Sigh - Insomniphobia: This is another album that appeals to the theater kid in me.  It's technically brilliant, has so much melodramatic flair and some of the best compositions that it's hard for me to not feel it as a love letter to musical theater.

Ghost  - Meliora : If I had to reccommend only one album that shows the pinnacle of this group, this is the ultimate Ghost album. It's highly indicative of their sound, is lyrically fascinating, and makes hailing Satan pretty awesome.  This felt like to me like the sound of sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle with the devil as your sidekick.

Priest - New Flesh :  This is cyber noir and I love it.  Moody androids singing throaty ballads over catchy darkwave made me wish I was walking in the rain, smoking a cigarette while on my way to use my cybercredits to buy groceries at a corner store for the week.  

Father John Misty - I Love You, Honeybear:  I love this album as it is the lead singer laid bare.  He knows he's a walking, talking human trash fire, but he doesn't shy away from it.  He says that he's insufferable and terrible, and honestly aren't we all? It gave me the feeling that everyone is terrible in one way or another and that it's okay to indulge in your awfulness every once in a while.

Tobacco - Ultima II Massage:  This was extremely 90s for me.  It feels like the times when I had recorded my favorite top pop hits from the radio, rushing to hit the "stop" button to avoid recording radio adverts, and my listening to the recordings, erasing the recordings for the next flavor of the week, and eventually having a tape so warped it was barely functional.  This was those summers of laying in a hammock, lazily listening to music while struggling to find something to do yet being too apathetic to do anything about the boredom.

Video Game OSTs

I started off my college career as a Game Design major.  Though I abandoned my major because of a drastic lack of support (financial and emotional) and because my classmates were so unbearably toxic that I couldn't stand to subject myself to them even in my moments of extreme depression, I still find enjoyment in playing games.  I played them a lot as a child to get away from my parents and their poor life decisions that would lead to a lot of pain for them and myself. I played them when I just needed that intermission from life so that I could feel something other than overwhelmed for a brief time.  I played them with friends after school, all of us cramming together around a small TV screen to demolish each other in whatever competitive multiplayer we could find. Though I don't consume games at nearly the same rate as I used to, I do still get a lot of enjoyment from them when I do.  It's grown into a fond way for me to share a hobby with my son, as we both play together on Minecraft and talk about what we're thinking about or feeling or just using it as a backdrop for us to talk about how life is making us feel and making big plans together. Here are some video games and their OSTs that struck a chord with me.

Video Game OSTs of the Decade

1. Toby Fox - Undertale OST

2. Widdly 2 Diddly - LISA OST

3. Keiichi Okabe & Keigo Hoashi - NieR: Automata OST

4. DJ Cutman - WiiU Grooves

5. Theophany - Time's End: Majora's Mask Remixed

Video Game OST Honorable Mentions

1. Jim Guthrie - Sword and Sworcery OST

2. Daron Korb - Bastion OST

3. Shoji Meguro - Persona 5 OST

And finally, here are some albums that even though they didn't cause me some drastic feels, I enjoyed them and listened to them so often that it would be a shame to not include them somewhere.  Feel free to check into these albums when you get a chance! Who knows? Maybe these will find a way into your playlist that gets shuffled and you'll have some new tunes to move and groove to.

Yeasayer - Odd Blood (2010)

Shooter Jennings and Hierophant - Black Ribbons (2010)

Flying Lotus - Cosmogramma (2010)

Death Grips - Exmilitary (2011) & The Money Store (2012)

Mustard Pimp - No Title or Purpose (2011)

Diplo - Express Yourself (2012)

Santigold - Master of My Make-Believe (2012)

Slime Girls - Vacation Wasteland (2012)

Deftones - Koi no Yokan (2012)

Lady Gaga - ARTPOP (2013)

Major Lazer - Free The Universe (2013)

Run the Jewels - Run the Jewels 2 (2014)

FKA Twigs - M3ll155x (2015)

SOPHIE - Product (2015)

Charli XCX - Vroom Vroom (2016)

Ghost - Prequelle (2018)

Devin Townsend - Empath (2019)

BABYMETAL - Metal Galaxy (2019)

Rammstein - Rammstein (2019)

Priest - Obey (2019)

-----------------------------------

Thank you very much for reading through my writing. I appreciate it a great deal.

[comfsy]

Reflecting on Two Years in China

By Tony Inglis

As someone who likes to write, it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to express my opinions, thoughts and experiences as words. In fact, it should be near embarrassing if I find such a task so challenging as to render me useless.

But, this is exactly how I find myself upon returning to Glasgow after two years living in China. Condensing this thing that I did into a few hundred words now seems pointless and impossible. If you can’t answer the question “So, how was China?” with anything other than some fumbling and a meaningless sentence like “oh, really great…”, that kind of non-response you give to a question so utterly gigantic and encompassing that you might as well have been asked the meaning of life, then how are you supposed to boil that time in your life down to a pithy blog post? The fact is there is no way to comprehend a solution to this problem – you just have to do it, to at least try and convey even that speechlessness, to put into words the reason why you can’t talk about it in a detailed and articulate way, if not describe the actual experience itself. What a lengthy tome it would be to even type out the events, activities, thoughts, feelings, disappointments and achievements in list form of two years living in any place, never mind somewhere as truly bewildering as China.

By pure coincidence, and the fact that niche music memoirs are extremely hard to come by in the sprawling city of Wuhan, I have been reading a couple of books that have helped me figure out what I want to say about this period in my life. One of these is Girl in a Band, written by Sonic Youth member, the endlessly inspirational and cool, Kim Gordon. Around forty-five pages in, I discovered that, due to her father’s work, she too lived for a period in east Asia, specifically Hong Kong, a mere five hours and a metro ride away from the place I called home in China. Her first impressions of the city are vivid and familiar to me:

“The air was so hot and humid it was like stepping inside a kiln, and you had to gasp to catch your breath. The smells and sounds were overpowering. My first night there, I remember knocking into people on the street, and crying, which fogged and blurred the city’s yellow lights even more. I felt so overwhelmed by Hong Kong’s heat, chaos, clamour, and odours that I was convinced I would never—never—survive there a year.”

That last sentence has resonated with me. When I arrived in Wuhan, I also had a strong feeling of helplessness, questioning my decision to go there, wondering if I would make it through my time there. Just as Gordon felt, it was almost unthinkable to consider that I would survive there. But I survived, and I lived, and adapted, and thrived, and even excelled.

The similarity of our first impressions are where the comparisons between mine and Gordon’s experiences end. She was ten years younger, not there through choice, and even the place is strikingly different. (Despite Hong Kong’s geographical proximity to mainland China, because of its culture and politics it remains wildly contrasting to its communist neighbour. Even though Gordon moved there in the mid-60s when it was less developed and prosperous than it is now, I have no doubt that it was a different transition than moving to the mainland).

China is a country where everything is different. Picking yourself up and deciding that there’s nothing that motivates you in your home to then move thousands of miles across the earth to a place where not a single thing feels familiar is quite a drastic choice to make. Food, people, weather, buildings, customs, manners, working life, relationships; ways in which you interact with the world are utterly changed as soon as you step off the plane. It’s no surprise to me, especially as a Scot, that Gordon is immediately hit by the temperature there. In the summer months, it’s unlike any kind of heat or humidity you come by in the UK and, while I often complained about how that heat and humidity was so heavy it seemed to regularly hold you down and punch you repeatedly in the face, now that I am back in Scotland and seem to have swapped the relentlessly hot for the relentlessly miserable, I have weirdly fond memories of requiring multiple showers and shirt changes each day.

Curiously, there’s a part of arriving and living in China that I didn’t really appreciate until I returned home. Coming back here, to the UK, is strange; to a country irrevocably changed by circumstances that I have felt apart from, outside of, in the years I have been away. In this time of Brexit, nationalist tensions and political and economic turmoil, it feels weird to be welcomed back with such open arms when many other people arrive here to blunt feelings of disdain and intolerance. The UK has become a claustrophobic place filled with ill feeling and superiority complexes that all stem from the complete intolerance of people different from the norm and an unwillingness to see those people live alongside you as an equal.

This was a feeling I never, ever felt in China. Two caveats: I am a white, heterosexual male and so I am completely shielded from intolerance no matter where I go; and I realise that Chinese people perhaps don’t show the same warmth to all other peoples, even to ethnic minorities that reside permanently in China. Despite this, a few things that people direct hatred towards in the UK applied to me, and my foreign friends and colleagues, as I entered China. I was leaving a country in which, at the time, I felt I couldn’t prosper. OK, it wasn’t war torn, I wasn’t forced to leave, but I felt, at that moment, that I could do better elsewhere. Again, there are caveats to this description which you might be able to garner from my writings and recordings on actually being a foreign English teacher in China (I recorded a podcast called Wuhan Weekly). But the point remains: there was no jealousy, no unfriendliness. There was only respect and total hospitality. I’m not, by any means, trying to compare this situation to a Syrian refugee who has been forced from their destroyed home; or an expert in their field who leaves a country that is ravaged economically to do a job they are completely overqualified to do; or a woman who leaves a conservative society in order to be able to live her life freely; or an elderly man who is rejected disability benefit and forced to work because he isn’t of retirement age yet and his two heart attacks don’t disqualify him from being able to job seek in the eyes of the state. I am so much more fortunate than these people, and stepping into another culture and society as an outsider has made me thankful for being that fortunate and made clear how entitled people in the UK can be and have been in the time I’ve been away.

This feeling of being an outsider is something that Kim Gordon, and Carrie Brownstein in her memoir Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl, talks about a lot. I’m not sure I even deserve to call myself an outsider. But it is as an outsider I return to my home. Most of my friends no longer live in Glasgow; they have moved to London or further afield. A lot of my friends are about to become fully qualified solicitors. I’m twenty-four and essentially unemployed, though I am back at university. And I’ve just come back from China having chosen to do something quite a lot different to my peers but that was, in my opinion, no less worthwhile. It has changed me, and only for the better, and even if it has meant that I feel a little apart at the moment, I know that I’m not the only one. So now I’m sitting in my kitchen listening to Joanna Newsom looking out the window and even though it’s clear blue skies I’m daydreaming at rather than clouds of pollution, I miss China so much. The other day I listened to Courtney Barnett’s ‘An illustration of Loneliness’ – a song where the narrator, displaced from her partner, wonders where and what that partner is doing – and I am ashamed to admit I felt myself welling up. It’s not even a particularly sad song. But I too find myself wondering what is happening in a far, distant land, what the people I know are doing, envious of those I know are returning. I may not be able to sum up all the incidents, good and bad, of my time in China, but I know that I feel utterly enriched by having lived there.

Visit Tony’s blog to read more of his writing from China and beyond.

The post Reflecting on Two Years in China appeared first on roam.

Reflecting on Two Years in China published first on http://ift.tt/2vmoAQU

[outsidespaceblog]

Reflecting on Two Years in China

By Tony Inglis

As someone who likes to write, it shouldn’t be too difficult for me to express my opinions, thoughts and experiences as words. In fact, it should be near embarrassing if I find such a task so challenging as to render me useless.

But, this is exactly how I find myself upon returning to Glasgow after two years living in China. Condensing this thing that I did into a few hundred words now seems pointless and impossible. If you can’t answer the question “So, how was China?” with anything other than some fumbling and a meaningless sentence like “oh, really great…”, that kind of non-response you give to a question so utterly gigantic and encompassing that you might as well have been asked the meaning of life, then how are you supposed to boil that time in your life down to a pithy blog post? The fact is there is no way to comprehend a solution to this problem – you just have to do it, to at least try and convey even that speechlessness, to put into words the reason why you can’t talk about it in a detailed and articulate way, if not describe the actual experience itself. What a lengthy tome it would be to even type out the events, activities, thoughts, feelings, disappointments and achievements in list form of two years living in any place, never mind somewhere as truly bewildering as China.

By pure coincidence, and the fact that niche music memoirs are extremely hard to come by in the sprawling city of Wuhan, I have been reading a couple of books that have helped me figure out what I want to say about this period in my life. One of these is Girl in a Band, written by Sonic Youth member, the endlessly inspirational and cool, Kim Gordon. Around forty-five pages in, I discovered that, due to her father’s work, she too lived for a period in east Asia, specifically Hong Kong, a mere five hours and a metro ride away from the place I called home in China. Her first impressions of the city are vivid and familiar to me:

“The air was so hot and humid it was like stepping inside a kiln, and you had to gasp to catch your breath. The smells and sounds were overpowering. My first night there, I remember knocking into people on the street, and crying, which fogged and blurred the city’s yellow lights even more. I felt so overwhelmed by Hong Kong’s heat, chaos, clamour, and odours that I was convinced I would never—never—survive there a year.”

That last sentence has resonated with me. When I arrived in Wuhan, I also had a strong feeling of helplessness, questioning my decision to go there, wondering if I would make it through my time there. Just as Gordon felt, it was almost unthinkable to consider that I would survive there. But I survived, and I lived, and adapted, and thrived, and even excelled.

The similarity of our first impressions are where the comparisons between mine and Gordon’s experiences end. She was ten years younger, not there through choice, and even the place is strikingly different. (Despite Hong Kong’s geographical proximity to mainland China, because of its culture and politics it remains wildly contrasting to its communist neighbour. Even though Gordon moved there in the mid-60s when it was less developed and prosperous than it is now, I have no doubt that it was a different transition than moving to the mainland).

China is a country where everything is different. Picking yourself up and deciding that there’s nothing that motivates you in your home to then move thousands of miles across the earth to a place where not a single thing feels familiar is quite a drastic choice to make. Food, people, weather, buildings, customs, manners, working life, relationships; ways in which you interact with the world are utterly changed as soon as you step off the plane. It’s no surprise to me, especially as a Scot, that Gordon is immediately hit by the temperature there. In the summer months, it’s unlike any kind of heat or humidity you come by in the UK and, while I often complained about how that heat and humidity was so heavy it seemed to regularly hold you down and punch you repeatedly in the face, now that I am back in Scotland and seem to have swapped the relentlessly hot for the relentlessly miserable, I have weirdly fond memories of requiring multiple showers and shirt changes each day.

Curiously, there’s a part of arriving and living in China that I didn’t really appreciate until I returned home. Coming back here, to the UK, is strange; to a country irrevocably changed by circumstances that I have felt apart from, outside of, in the years I have been away. In this time of Brexit, nationalist tensions and political and economic turmoil, it feels weird to be welcomed back with such open arms when many other people arrive here to blunt feelings of disdain and intolerance. The UK has become a claustrophobic place filled with ill feeling and superiority complexes that all stem from the complete intolerance of people different from the norm and an unwillingness to see those people live alongside you as an equal.

This was a feeling I never, ever felt in China. Two caveats: I am a white, heterosexual male and so I am completely shielded from intolerance no matter where I go; and I realise that Chinese people perhaps don’t show the same warmth to all other peoples, even to ethnic minorities that reside permanently in China. Despite this, a few things that people direct hatred towards in the UK applied to me, and my foreign friends and colleagues, as I entered China. I was leaving a country in which, at the time, I felt I couldn’t prosper. OK, it wasn’t war torn, I wasn’t forced to leave, but I felt, at that moment, that I could do better elsewhere. Again, there are caveats to this description which you might be able to garner from my writings and recordings on actually being a foreign English teacher in China (I recorded a podcast called Wuhan Weekly). But the point remains: there was no jealousy, no unfriendliness. There was only respect and total hospitality. I’m not, by any means, trying to compare this situation to a Syrian refugee who has been forced from their destroyed home; or an expert in their field who leaves a country that is ravaged economically to do a job they are completely overqualified to do; or a woman who leaves a conservative society in order to be able to live her life freely; or an elderly man who is rejected disability benefit and forced to work because he isn’t of retirement age yet and his two heart attacks don’t disqualify him from being able to job seek in the eyes of the state. I am so much more fortunate than these people, and stepping into another culture and society as an outsider has made me thankful for being that fortunate and made clear how entitled people in the UK can be and have been in the time I’ve been away.

This feeling of being an outsider is something that Kim Gordon, and Carrie Brownstein in her memoir Hunger Makes Me A Modern Girl, talks about a lot. I’m not sure I even deserve to call myself an outsider. But it is as an outsider I return to my home. Most of my friends no longer live in Glasgow; they have moved to London or further afield. A lot of my friends are about to become fully qualified solicitors. I’m twenty-four and essentially unemployed, though I am back at university. And I’ve just come back from China having chosen to do something quite a lot different to my peers but that was, in my opinion, no less worthwhile. It has changed me, and only for the better, and even if it has meant that I feel a little apart at the moment, I know that I’m not the only one. So now I’m sitting in my kitchen listening to Joanna Newsom looking out the window and even though it’s clear blue skies I’m daydreaming at rather than clouds of pollution, I miss China so much. The other day I listened to Courtney Barnett’s ‘An illustration of Loneliness’ – a song where the narrator, displaced from her partner, wonders where and what that partner is doing – and I am ashamed to admit I felt myself welling up. It’s not even a particularly sad song. But I too find myself wondering what is happening in a far, distant land, what the people I know are doing, envious of those I know are returning. I may not be able to sum up all the incidents, good and bad, of my time in China, but I know that I feel utterly enriched by having lived there.

Visit Tony’s blog to read more of his writing from China and beyond.

The post Reflecting on Two Years in China appeared first on roam.

Reflecting on Two Years in China published first on http://ift.tt/2uo7aCb