#final essay before new years. woohoo!

[techramonic]

The Freethinker: The Mass Shooter Archetype

INTRODUCTION

¹ Since the dawn of time, humans have been taught to believe the existing predispositions embedded within our society. Holding particular attitudes to a decree, we have created a confined space—a box in which we exist to follow what has existed and what has been predestined. German philosopher Martin Heidegger has explained this phenomena in a matter of words. Describing the concept as, “the individual human experience to exist as if thrown into the world and molded to follow it, not conquer.” He describes this as thrownness or Geworfenheit. This ideology believes in collectivity and denies the probability of individualistic existence. We are born into this world to not break pre-existing rails that are set and laid for us to ceaselessly follow. We as humans, have no right to be bewildered with worldly affairs, for the audacious queries we ask see no fit, because our world works in a manner that is fixed, and we are merely meant to live in that manner where it sees us fit. We are condemned to be so-called, “freethinkers”.

² But what is a free thinker? They are considered as a rebel to established normality. An individual who rejects notions and opinions and instead makes decisions based on independent thought. A nonconformist—not bounded and chained to the strict unbending regulations that society has imposed. Unwilling to be under the impression of adhering to an oppressive force that challenges their autonomy. A freethinker is “enlightened” in the way they are aware and hypersensitive to the extremely troubled workings in which society operates on, which humans have independently developed for themselves.

³ It is comparable to Plato's allegory of the cave, where a freethinker can be seen as a prisoner who is freed from the cave, only to find out that their perceived reality of the superficial shapes projected unto the walls made by shadows is far different from the higher level of reality where the real, tangible objects exist. The freethinker is described to bear the “truth”, aware of the distorted and shallow understanding of reality.

THE REJECTION OF COLLECTIVISM

⁴ The freethinker inherently unfavors collectivism, seeing it as the antithesis of personal autonomy for representing the  conformity that they despise. They see it as a danger; a suppression of their individual thought. Collectivism often demands an adherence to pre-existing structures, shared beliefs, and goals, which leaves minimal room for the questioning or challenging of established systems. This directly conflicts with the freethinker’s interests and core identity, which is someone who values independent reasoning, self-determination, and nonconformity. For the freethinker, collectivism imposes a restrictive framework, obscuring the truths in which they independently follow. Melding reality into one homogenized understanding. 

⁵ Rejecting collectivism allows the freethinker to revel in the liberation of personal pursuits and seeking mystery. It is the liberty to enjoy the exploration of perspectives that are deviant from normative behavior and disruptive of traditional canons. For a freethinker, collectivism is not only viewed as an obstacle to enlightenment, creativity, and genuine understanding of the real world; it is a direct threat to their understanding of reality itself.

THE  ILLUSION OF TRUTH

⁶ Often, the freethinker becomes the antagonist. This antagonism stems from a fundamental tension: collectivism prioritizes unity and shared purpose, while freethinking elevates individual insight and skepticism. In no means does this explanation entail that a freethinker directly becomes a braggart, however, it is a consequence for those who feel “enlightened” to place a high degree in their personal idealisms and beliefs—manifesting and creating an imaginary hierarchy. They feel a weighed burden on their shoulders from bearing the “truth”. 

⁷ However, the “truth” that the freethinker holds in palm is not objective or universal; it is merely an ideological construct, which is individually developed and therefore, cannot be universally defined due to the inherently subjective nature of human perception. The truth is an ideology developed in the mind; vast, fluid, and subjective.

⁸ Philosopher Slavoj Žižek has defined ideology to be something more than what is merely considered ideas—it constructs a tangible framework used to approach and interact with the world—becoming reality itself. The “truth” that a freethinker holds becomes their own personal perception of reality itself, bending the pre-existing reality they perceive as falsehood into a newly shaped mold of a higher reality which they view realer and in a truer state.

⁹ Freethinkers may claim to hold a higher degree of understanding, but this too is merely another constructed belief system, no more universal than the societal norms they reject. It is to note that no human has ever conjured a true original thought. While this does not negate individualistic creativity or ingenuity, relation is inherent in human thought rather than isolation. Originality does not lie in creating ex nihilo (from nothing) but in reinterpreting, recombining, or questioning the existing frameworks we have in order to produce something. 

VIOLENCE AND CONDEMNATION

¹⁰ Violence has long existed, where humanity has not evolved highly enough to achieve its exact opposite, which is stable peace. There is only condemnation, evolving as an extapation of human instinct rooted from rationality and mixed with emotion. Humans have ingrained within their minds that there are no means and measures to see violence fit. It is a practice looked down upon, often equated to be “barbaric”, “cruel”, “savage”, and “inhumane”.  This condemnation however, does not erase its presence; rather, it urges a tendency to vilify what is inherent while failing to eradicate it entirely and effectively.

¹¹ The general irony lies within the historical presence of humanity's dependence on violence, utilizing it as a tool before the heightened  sense of guilt because of it even came to be part of the equation. Often rationalized as necessary for achieving specific goals, it is as if almost innate, for humans to use brute force and control for their own survival. 

¹² Contemporary society rejects the idea of violence; they institutionalize subtler forms, such as systemic oppression, economic exploitation, and political coercion. This contradiction reveals the hypocrisy of collectivism: societies condemn violence publicly while perpetuating it through their very structures. For the freethinker, violence is not merely physical but also systemic, embedded in the societal constructs, seeing them use force—whether overt or covert—to maintain order and suppress dissent. In this sense, violence becomes a tool pushing conformity, designed to protect the status quo. Thus, while society condemns violence as "inhumane," it also weaponizes it to silence those who question its authority.

¹³ The freethinker is in recognition of the fact that stable peace cannot be achieved through the means of suppression or condemnation alone. Instead, the underlying structures that breed violence are questioned for the hypocrisy of denouncing a brutality that is simultaneously depended on for survival; violence is not just an aberration but a reflection of humanity's failure to reconcile its instincts with its ideals.

THE FREE THINKER

¹⁴ In this sense, a clearer lens to understand the typical archetype of a mass shooter is provided. This is the philosophy of a “freethinker”. It is the rejection of societal predispositions in exchange of individualistic freedom. 

¹⁵ Mass shooters often adopt  "free thinking," distorting it to fit the ideology of exerting violence to rebel against societal constraints. They often reject the idea of collective moral standards, asserting their right to define their own rules and truths. In their view, violence becomes an instrument to assert individuality and challenge the rigid structure in which the world functions. Their rationale often hinges on the belief that societal predispositions—such as norms of civility and nonviolence—are arbitrary constructs that can be discarded if they are in conflict with personal grievances or desires. 

¹⁶ It is a distorted and destructive manifestation of the pursuit for autonomy, encapsulating the favor of an intensely personal and often nihilistic philosophy. For the mass shooter, violence becomes both not only a tool or mere instrument, it is a necessity, forged into a symbol—a means to reclaim their perceived lost power and rebel against structures they interpret as dehumanizing and have oppressed and further isolated them.

¹⁷ The freethinker often considers themself a  revolutionary. Rejecting the collective moral standard to condemn violence and fueling their ideology of acting upon violence to assert their existence and challenge the structures they believe deny their uniqueness and identity. This belief aligns with a warped interpretation where rebellion devolves into chaos and destruction.

¹⁸ The freethinker is in favor of chaos and destruction instead of stable peace because they perceive peace as a form of societal control, representing conformity that stifles independence. Chaos and destruction is the stark contrast, allowing the freethinker to dismantle structures they see as oppressive. By embracing chaos, the freethinker believes they are breaking free from a world that demands compliance, creating their own truth and therefore, becoming liberated. In their ideology, peace is not a path to freedom but a symbol of submission, making destruction and chaos a means to reclaim the autonomy they feel society has denied them.

CONCLUSION 

¹⁹ This pursuit of "freedom" is paradoxical. While the freethinker claims to reject the systemic oppression they face, their actions are rooted in the same mannerisms from the very systems they despise. Violence is a deeply ingrained human instinct. This means that their actions are not born from pure freedom but from a fundamental biological human instinct, as violence is an inherent, though suppressed, part of the human condition. By rationalizing violence as a means to disrupt societal norms, they inadvertently perpetuate cycles of harm and control, thus embodying the very dynamics of power they claim to oppose. For mass shooters, violence becomes a rationalized method to dismantle the structures they perceive as oppressive, ironically continuing the cycles they wish to overcome.

²⁰ This essay aims to highlight the dangerous interpretation of the philosophy of the freethinker. When distorted, it can provide a harmful justification for violence, which takes rejection and rebellion to its plain extremes, embracing chaos in the pursuit of freedom and liberty. Illustrating how individuals are able to exploit the concept to justify morally reprehensible actions. 

²¹ This pursuit of freedom is paradoxical, as it often results in the perpetuation of the same cycles of violence and oppression that the freethinker seeks to escape. Ultimately, the freethinker archetype reveals the fragile line between rebellion and destruction. There should be a fine distinction between challenging established systems and descending into chaos and harm. In the case of the freethinker, their rebellion is often born from a desire to break free from the constraints. Rebellion, in this sense, can be a legitimate response to injustice and a way of seeking change in an attempt to carve out personal freedom. 

²² However, the line thins when this rebellion shifts from merely challenging the system to actively destroying it. While the initial goal may be to free oneself from oppression, the means employed can inadvertently perpetuate the same same cycles one wishes to diminish. This is where the freethinker, in their pursuit of autonomy, can cross into destruction.

²³ Destruction here is not merely defined as dismantling societal norms, but it can involve the harming of others, disregarding ethical boundaries, and embracing chaos as a form of freedom. In such instances, the freethinker may justify extreme actions, such as mass shootings or other violent acts, as necessary for “breaking free”. This form of rebellion shows the delicate boundary between seeking autonomy and losing oneself in the pursuit of it, leading to harmful consequences rather than the desired liberation.

²⁴ In essence, the fragile line exists because, while rebellion has the potential to lead to positive change, when taken to extremes, can unravel into self-destructive acts, thus negating the original goal of freedom. The freethinker archetype highlights how the philosophy of rejecting societal norms can be distorted to justify heinous acts. By dismissing these norms without proposing an ethical alternative, the mass shooter transforms their rebellion against oppression into an oppressive act itself.

²⁵ Becoming what they have sworn to not become, or rather—what they have sworn to destory.

[gunsli-01]

Alright, let's get this set up in a somewhat digestible format. While also testing the waters. For people looking for more Mikoto info in particular this has some stuff on him within it but mostly gives a clearer idea on my experience with Milgram so far. Along with me being slightly unhinged. Soooo...woohoo...

Here's the set up. The next post will be the beginning of an in depth analysis of the two Celtic spreads found in MeMe. We will not only be analyzing them but delving into visual spin Mikoto put on the classic tarot cards with some insights his changes to them give us on his character.

There are two sets of ten cards. The first post on this will go over the first five cards in the first spread the second will finish off the first and give an overall interpretation of the reading. Then the same will be done with spread two. After we finish that then I’ll be attempting to break down the series of murders shown throughout MeMe.

Lastly, and my favorite part. We’ll finally be going over Mikoto’s character as a whole. Along with me just generally getting to talk about him without putting him beneath a microscope. Which I haven't gotten to do in weeks and still can't cause I'm stuck in tarot hell.

For those who don't read all of this and skip straight to the tarot I at least want to highlight and reiterate one part from here:

The point of Milgram is testing limits at any point these characters can do something that will make even their most devoted fans turn on them and I think the fandom should be open to having their opinions change and develop over the course of this.

So, here's post 1. I will link the beginning of the tarot interpretation here when it's up.

So, when I started writing what has to be the longest character analysis essay, I've ever written... I remember in December when I was like yeah I can crank out a few pages on Mikoto it won't be that difficult I can get this done by new years. I've already gone through the tarot once too what's a second time typed up gonna do? Maybe even before Mu's song.

I was wrong. But back when I was young, hopeful, well rested, and happier. I wrote something of a Preface. Just to explain all of my biases up front and let people form an opinion on if they wanted to take anything I said on this seriously or not. What comes after this part is that Preface.

Okay, so this is going to probably seem insane, but I might as well get it out of the way just to break in the new year putting my best foot forward. Yes, this is my best foot forward. Now Mikoto has a lot of diehard fans and detractors for some reason…How can such a normal guy be so controversial? Really unlucky… Honestly. Because of his popularity I’m a bit nervous to put out anything on him even though he is my favorite. Believe it or not I can get shy when talking about things I genuinely like a lot because I don’t know how it’ll be perceived, and I can get very, very critical when I like something.

It is not a normal like situation. It doesn’t go I like you; you could do anything, and I wouldn’t care. It goes OH, YOU UNLUCKY BASTARD! YOU’VE CAUGHT MY ATTENTION I SHALL NOW EXPOSE YOU TO THE WORLD! IF ANYTHING, BAD HAPPENS TO YOU IT IS LIABLE TO BE BY MY HAND! I well wade through the façade to find the truth I’m seeking knowledge, I’m seeking your identity, I want to dive deeper.

Don’t misunderstand- It’s just natural to want to know everything about the person you like and get all torn up inside because you never can. That’s just love isn’t it~ Ahh it’s an incredibly damning feeling that love, the idea of soulmates all that trite nonsense. Because when people aggrandize others, they usually end up wanting to pull them down to their level. That sort of sadistic thing is just as much a part of love. The adult world is so cruel that way.

As such I’m going to do my very best to tear this man to shreds lovingly, okay?

So, let’s start with some context did I love Mikoto immediately? Was I like innocent he just has to be? He’s just so good looking he can’t fail, lol. Okay, to be honest when I got here, I thought Kazui was so good-looking cause of his broad shoulders that when watching Undercover and seeing the flash throughs with Star I went that’s Kazui I know those shoulders anywhere. Got damn he looks like he gives good hugs those shoulders…

Also, I like sorry cowards my apologies for the disappointment but when I saw Mikoto in MeMe I willfully ignored him. I had a visceral response to his song telling Star I hated it and never wanted to see him or hear it again. While also going he clearly killed three people… in an obviously premeditated way as well. So, yeah guilty. Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just not interested I’ll leave that to the people who are.

I came in around Amane’s first trial… Soooo I very much could’ve voted on Mikoto, but I just did not want to look at him at all. Actually, I still don’t know why that was, but he made me uncomfortable and annoyed. Despite his video involving multiple things I very much love baths, tarot cards, clouds, water, records, baseball bats… Hell even his song was a genre of music I’m partial too. Like jeez in retrospect I really don’t know.

I just did not want to even think about him, so I didn’t. That changed when YouTube recommended me an English cover of his first song, and I was like now hold on… Those Sisters You Know really did a good job on that lyrics wise. Like it just hit different okay. I was listening to that cover every day having first job flashbacks and wondering huh why did I hate this guy again this is a complete mood actually.

After that I fell into an over analyzing loop for several months. Before I had pulled a nothing to see here and once we do that my brain just deletes the information since it’s been deemed irrelevant. Incredibly convenient skill to have. Yet, as it piqued my interest music wise, I was like well hold on…I have to know everything about this specifically now. Something that none of the Milgram characters had managed to achieve at that point.

To an extent I was pretty much like there’s nothing to see here at all when I was dragged into Milgram by Star. She showed me Mahiru’s first trial song like I really just want you to see this one and my immediate response was, “Are you trying to say something about me?!” We’ve been partners for years and this is what you lob at me what are you getting at? To which she had to dryly explain no I just think she’s neat and you love mystery things and putting together stuff so I wanted your opinion on what you think is going on here.

Then I got a rundown of the situation and was like ah okay. Then went through one through six giving all my thoughts on what they did and how I would’ve voted if I was there as she explained the results. I was surprised to hear from Star that none of the things I was saying to her had come up in the fandom as far as she saw.

As Star showed me Milgram my experience was basically

Weakness: Guilty. Committed murder for attention. Next.

Later down the line I asked Star about the reasoning behind Haruka’s trial one Innocent Verdict. It was after we watched Bring It On and she told me about Futa’s verdict. I needed to understand why Haruka was voted Innocent/Forgiven but Futa was not. Weirdly long before Futa asked us that same question in Back Draft. Why did Haruka of all people get a pass when we see him kill directly? That was the first thing that piqued my interest.

However, I was pretty disappointed by the answer Star provided and maybe to some people this will seem like a reduction of the actual reason behind prevailing consensus. Yet, what I gathered from her explanation was that he was voted innocent due to Autism. Particularly, people assuming he had a learning disability the most speculated one being Autism. Now, my response to this information was to go, um…that’s ableist right? Like, just because it’s helpful to him in this circumstance does not mean ableism isn’t present.

That’s just infantilizing and belittling his intelligence. Having a learning disability doesn’t suddenly exempt a person from knowing murder is wrong. It’s the same as using a person’s age as an excuse. Made even funnier that Haruka is treated more like a child than the literal child is. So…it’s not like that interpretation is that far off or difficult to get to. Plus, do people even critically engage with who benefits from these sorts of excuses and when they’re extended? 

 Because they aren’t applied indiscriminately. A perfect example of this in Japanese media in particular comes from something else Star and I were watching when she recommended Milgram. Higurashi Sotsu and the character Satoko a lot of people in that fandom got angry and found the concept that Satoko would become a villain all because she had a difficult time studying insane. Like she should have just studied harder ignoring everything else that occurred in Gou and Sotsu up until that point.

Even some going as far as creating a completely different reason for her actions. Because having trouble focusing, studying, and being ostracized in a new environment after being taken away from the people and things that brought you comfort weren’t good enough reasons. Ryukushi-07 also has a tendency to write about neurodivergent coded characters like Maria in Umineko and Satoko herself can be considered coded that way through sotsu and gou. The excuse extended to Haruka in trial one was definitely not extended to her by the Higurashi fandom.

So, it’s not surprising that same courtesy was retracted in trial 2. Sorry, to rain on your parade but disabled people of color from any minority group are not extended those same benefits of the doubt and rarely have their impairments or age taken into consideration if they even reach a trial. So, this is when I went oh well people are gonna people glad to see some things still haven’t changed. This is what Milgram’s bias looks like. It’s almost a perfect reflection of the performatively politically correct space we live under today and highlights the pervasive biases that continue to disenfranchise many that go overlooked.

All we’re missing is overt ableism, racism, and sexism disguised as feminism and we’d have everything that’s wrong with performative morality. (Star just informed me one of these things is just Yuno.) So, my interest was piqued around here but mostly from a sociological standpoint.

Yet, I was mostly ticked off. Media is supposed to be a form of escapism for many people and I found a lot of the issues that people usually use media to escape from pulled to the forefront in Milgram through its voting system. I came in and was like this series probably isn’t saying a damn thing special. Reluctantly after telling Star I wouldn’t watch it multiple times because well I was a mad at her and she kept asking. I had every reason to hate this series given what was going on around our relationship at the time she presented it to me and didn’t really think taking something lightly could end up saying a great deal about society as whole.

Umblical: Guilty. It was clear to me from the very first video that she attempted to entrap someone in a relationship through the use of a pregnancy then committed murder when that failed. Possibly multiple times.

Later, Star told me people assumed she got an abortion. Because the woman that was clearly in a sector of sex work knew nothing about contraception. That and she may have had family issues. I said oh so they thought she was stupid. That’s insulting and then people continued to think she was stupid. So, some things never change but my opinion of her did. She’s the only person here with a consistent character and seems to be incredibly considerate but not hesitant to go after the things she wants by any means necessary. I find that endearing and respectable and really wish she’d get a 50/50 since regardless of what she did I respect her want for us not to give our opinion on it.

It’s only polite to shut up and say nothing when no one asked you to speak. Yuno not only never asked us to speak but openly asked us not to. Her character description even states she dislikes being psychoanalyzed. She sort of reminds me of Kotono Kashiwaba from Caligula Effect but I can’t really figure out why yet. I haven’t finished the game at this point and right now we’re only up to Ike-P but I just get that feeling.

 Bring It On: Innocent due to lack of information. I haven’t seen a murder. I don’t know what happened here. Having a flop Twitter account and making callouts is not murder or a crime at all. So, innocent. Then Star tells me the actual outcome and the reasoning behind it and this is when I start to get a bit heated.

Basically, went what do you mean guilty on the grounds of his actions allegedly leading to someone taking their own life??? Because they were just involved in someone’s death. It doesn’t say they directly caused them to die which means indirect involvement is on the table. Ha, ha, oh my fucking god that’s rich considering the dude that clearly killed a dog and a child was given a pass. Did that with his whole chest but he’s good. Alright, alright… I literally went back and pointed out all the kills Haruka was directly responsible for in his first mv going but this was passable. At that point don’t even try to justify it just say you don’t like Futa that’s less insulting.

Like I discussed in the part on Weakness I found this way of thinking inherently unfair. The benefit of the doubt and consideration extended to Haruka was completely absent for Futa. A lot of people want to say this is because he didn’t appear sorry. But, what gives others the right to decide when someone is really sorry or not. Futa’s entire voice drama goes into how you can’t tell how someone is feeling or what they’re thinking based on how they behave outwardly alone and that’s all anyone did when it came to him.

Not many people extended that same courtesy or empathy. They didn’t attempt to look deeper because no one cared to and that’s sad. Start didn’t see anyone go hey that’s clearly a kid with anxiety who’s attempting to garner validation through social media possibly due to a lack of external validation in his actual life. Something tackled in the writer’s previous game Caligula Effect Overdose with the character Naruko Morita. Who does the same sort of things Futa does if not worse. Because she literally outs a trans person on social media, takes pictures of people without their knowledge, and looks up someone work application to then go oh they’re not as good looking in real life let’s tell their fans so they no longer like this musician.

Like these are things she does repeatedly throughout the game. She is a terrible person and in the game she’s your teammate. She has a social link and reasons for the way she behaves. She’s obnoxious, annoying, egotistic, inconsiderate, a snoop, has an aversion to criticism, low self-esteem, and is easily dissuaded from doing things she enjoys if it’s not immediately praised or faced with scrutiny.

She goes out to eat popular limited time items at shops just to post food reviews about it after one bite. She doesn’t even post her own opinion on it at times but instead goes by reviews others have left already while giving a little bit of a different perspective but not really. Then if you say no to her being on the team because she basically airs out your entire organization on social media for likes, so everyone now knows who you are, what you look like, your name and all of your teammates information you’re treated like the heartless asshole.

Hm, it’s like she doxed you and it has real life repercussions and makes your life harder. It continues to make the lives of everyone she does this to harder and in instances is retraumatizing for many of them. All I’m saying is if you play this game and end up liking her but still hate Futa then you don’t dislike doxing you just hate men. Point blank. At which point I hope you enjoy Ayana.

After Pain: Guilty, I didn’t and still do not believe she’s sorry. Plus, the person she killed was uninvolved. When Star told me she was voted Innocent. Well, I couldn’t really say I was surprised given certain universal truths but- When she explained it was because people were saying it’s because she’s clearly a lesbian and that person she stabbed told everyone she was which led to her bullying.

I kind of went well isn’t that sort of justifying someone getting murdered or in blunter terms just victim blaming. Even if the victim did do that which I’m doubtful of that does not justify murder. Like people really immediately went we trust Mu she’s a victim now what did this clearly evil girl do to deserve to get stabbed, huh?! I found that kind of odd, I wouldn’t want anyone thinking that about me or anyone I love if they were murdered. Plus, given the circumstances I grew up under it’s very common to see that sort of mindset pushed on specific types of victims of brutal crimes. Just saying; it’s really not interrogated often enough who the whole what did they do to deserve it mentality benefits and hurts.

Ultimately, I found the whole concept kind of cruel. However, I guess as we’ve learned Es is the sort of Guard that abhors a person doing something that may have inadvertently led to someone taking their own life more than very purposefully taking someone else’s life with your own two hands. Taking into consideration the response seen in the English speaking part of the fandom this mindset is showcased twice throughout the first trial with the only noticeable outlier being Kazui.

Throw Down: Guilty he asked to be voted that and I respected it. Also, he was organ harvesting from his patients. Like what? Innocent is this some reverse psychology nonsense well okay at least he already feels bad.

This is how to be in love with you: Innocent due to lack of information. I can’t punish someone for something I do not understand I genuinely don’t know what she did. I assume she poisoned someone since she works as a florist, cooks, and mentioned herbal remedies. However, I just knew too little at the time.

What do you mean they thought she was so clingy her partner committed suicide, so she was voted guilty? I’m sorry so what I’m understanding is stabbing a woman in cold blood is okay but indirectly causing someone to end their life through social error is a irredeemable sin? That last girl stabbed another one purposely and that first guy killed a dog and kid-

Half: Guilty but also- That dudes incredibly good looking and has nice broad shoulders that is certainly an impressive physical build look at him in that uniform- Hears the song oh my god he’s an emotionally unavailable and dishonest coward too just my type! Guilty I know in my heart what he did was fucked up but got damn I’m hoping it’s fucked up at this point- not me literally getting chills at the let’s make it victim and assailant line in Cat like boy howdy don’t say such things oh no. Is this how people feel when Yuno says Come Marco I’ll Polo?

It certainly doesn’t help that Kazui’s demeanor and communication habits remind me a lot of Star and I end up feeling a little bad for him but slightly want to watch him squirm as well. Truly, it’s the emotionally unavailable quiet ones you gotta be careful with. They have such intense emotions but they hold them back to the point they can’t express them and then the right person pushes and boom it’s like a pistol accidentally discharging. People who bottle up their emotions like that for as long as it seems he has well when they blow a gasket it’s like a volcano and I want to be in lava range.

Innocent I- well I’m fine with this you saw that up there you know why I'm fine with it we don't have to talk about it but like why??? Because they believe he’s gay and was in a very loveless and performative marriage while also assuming his actions just led to his partner committing suicide or an accidental death. Wait why is that okay here but with the other two it’s not… It’s cause he’s hot and seemingly pathetic ain’t it? Lol, that dude is not as weak as he presents but have fun with that when it comes up I suppose. Good liar my ass...

Magic: Guilty even asked Star to vote on it. So, I was made aware of how to vote at this time. This was not because I want her to be punished but I didn’t believe anything could be solved through agreeing with her and I honestly don’t think agreeing with her will solve anything now either, but it will maybe stop her from getting jumped. Maybe? Though I’m unsure about that because Kotoko has jumped people who were pardoned before sooo... That and Amane told us not to treat her like a child.

I believe it’s a bit unfair or shortsighted of her to ask us to respect her agency in her own life, that she chose to make these decisions, and yet at the same time ask to not be held accountable for them if we feel her behavior was wrong because she answers to a higher power. Her mindset on her killing and being considered a murderer highlight her immaturity to me. Those aren’t two separate things but childishly and stubbornly she attests that they are. Being an adult is recognizing that regardless of if you had a good reason, or a higher law you abide by other adults don’t need to care about those things when judging you they can just objectively judge the actions you took. It truly is that simple. To me it just seems like she didn’t really know what she was asking for when she said that. Like she equates being an adult with gaining respect but it's more than just that.

Amane’s situation really reminds me of that song by Maaya Sakamoto More than Words, particularly these lines, “Isn’t freedom painful? I’ve become an adult, haven’t I?” “Isn’t freedom painful? I’m now alone, aren’t I?” “Isn’t freedom painful? Endlessly so…” Because a lot about being an adult is being able to stand on your own by the decisions you choose. The respect you get from others is fickle at best and never really equates to understanding or empathy. In a way as we age, we become more and more emotionally isolated when it comes to social communication and consideration. Because the patience and consideration that is frequently extended to children is not given to adults since they’re meant to know better by then and not need that sort of care.

Adults have the freedom to make their own choices and have that agency recognized. However, many times that agency we yearned for so badly is weaponized against us in small and insidious ways. Causing adults to become more emotionally closed off, socially defensive, or calculating. An adult would never ask to have their choices looked at while taking into account that they chose to do those things they’d simply tell the person accusing them to figure out why they did it or take into consideration their circumstances. Not pull a don’t judge me and I won’t judge you. They would know that their main focus should be endearing themselves by any means necessary like Mu attempts to do or lean on their legal rights.

So, I really feel like Amane was her own worse advocate during trial one and it ended up biting her in the butt. Also, another song that I feel properly exemplifies that feeling of emotional isolation one faces with age but isn’t as somber I think is “Love I need” by The Living Tombstone.

MeMe: Abstained due to a vague sense of hatred. I literally told Star to never show this to me again and not to bring him up I don’t have an opinion, I don’t care, I’m glad that’s over was my immediate reaction to MeMe. [Star: She said that she didn’t like the song, him as a character, and it was obvious that he committed several murders. So, there was nothing left to look into.] Afterwards I promptly deleted the information from memory until finding that cover song.

Harrow: Guilty she literally did the same thing Futa did just in a more direct way. She also seemed to jump people who had already been put on trial and had a decision on their actions handed down. Even openly said apologizing meant nothing. I’d rather give a pass to the person who says just say sorry then the one who goes lol it doesn’t matter if you try to make amends now no second chances ever once a bad guy always a bad guy.

I put all this to show that even before I was actively posting Milgram stuff on here. I did have opinions on all this that have only developed over time. As much as I came out swinging in the oh I really like Mikoto camp. I really did not want to see this dudes face when I first saw him. Like I feel as though I’m being a bit of a broken record. I said the same with Haruka. Yet, with Mikoto there was a bit of hatred there. Like a knee-jerk reaction that I couldn’t even pinpoint and didn’t want to interact with. Something, I still don’t really have an explanation for.

Even still before this I was spending months talking to Star over the phone sifting through the music videos reading the conversations and literally burning out all my investigative skills on it. Something I believe she knew I’d do when she brought it to my attention and asked, “What do you think happened here?”

Now here I am trying to churn out an entire essay on the guy. Certain characters can grow on you. However, with Milgram there’s this feeling that such a fondness like that can be broken. The point is testing limits at any point these characters can do something that will make even their most devoted fans turn on them and I think the fandom should be open to have their opinions change and develop over the course of this.

I feel like being shut off, isolated or just stubborn about one’s own opinion is unfair to the social experiment aspect Milgram is trying to pursue. That’s just me personally. I really hope that by the end of this there is interesting data collected. We can vote any way we want at the end of the day. Not everyone has to take into consideration what the characters did or how bad it is objectively.

Yet, for people to trick themselves into believing the vote doesn’t matter, this is all in good fun, and no one will be held accountable for the outcome in any way is negligent and blatant denial. The verdicts have a direct impact on the sort of place Milgram is currently and could become. It's a direct reflection of the will of the fanbase. If we vote a certain way the creators take that into consideration. They seem to not just take the winning verdict into consideration but pay attention to responses from both sides overall. They’re paying attention. So, it’s incredibly short sighted to assume our collective judgement regardless of how you vote or if you chose not to doesn’t reflect on the entire fanbase in some way.

I’m not saying this to be a Debby Downer or go really interrogate why you’re voting this way. I’m saying all this to get one point across if you’re going to vote seeped in bias the least you can do is express what those biases are in your own unique way. That’s what will make this all the more fun for everyone. I don’t care if you choose to vote guilty, innocent, or abstain, but at least vocalize why that is. Especially for people choosing to abstain since that’s more difficult to gauge since it is just not an option and the closest thing to abstaining would be attempting to get a fifty/fifty.

I know not everyone is willing to be that out there with their feelings and that sort of thing isn’t fun for everyone. Though even just discussing it privately with friends, people you trust and feel comfortable around is enough. All I want personally is for people regardless of how or why they vote to look at these characters for what they are and give them the opportunity to surprise you outside of your personal opinions like with actual people. All these characters will probably disappoint someone at a point but I feel like if you keep a healthy sense of realism and treat them in an unidealized way that will help in not causing resentments towards the series or the people who work on it down the line.

Some of these resentments are already present in the fandom and being used to create a reflection of the writer that could be wholly inaccurate. Personally, I don’t find that sort of approach to be fun or fair. However, it very well could be to some. Yet, at times I find it incredibly disheartening to see. My hopes in writing all of this and thoroughly attempting to analyze my fluctuating feelings on Mikoto may tackle why that is in some way. Even if the problem isn’t firmly rooted within the interpretations around his character but extends to the entire cast.

Though it’s like Jackalope said he certainly did cause a bit of trouble.

I hope this has been a good prelude of what’s to come and helped whoever may have read this far better understand my personal perspective on Milgram. This post didn’t focus on Mikoto as heavily as I would have wished but served to properly build an understanding of what one may be getting into when it comes to my analysis of his character.

I hope by displaying my biases and feelings on all the characters that one can decide whether reading what comes after this is for them or not. Regardless of if you continue to read or go back to this post from the ones that precede it, I appreciate you reading my ramblings.

[special-agent-fiction]

White Knuckles and Deep Breaths

Pairing: I mean, it started off as a Modern AU for Athos and my OC (the fics are shit but I love them) but seeing as no names are actually mentioned I guess it could be anyone. Even a reader insert.

Summary: Two people meet, fall in love and then life happens.

Warnings: Death, Suicide, Drugs (I know these are biggies so I’ll put them in first), allusions to sex, smoking, drinking (mild alcoholism - remember I said this was supposed to be an Athos fic), swearing, etc

The flat was silent; totally and completely silent.

He found it ironic that this was the moment his body acclimatised to this damn city and he was finally able to block out the never-ending noise of cars shuttling forward on their 24-hour commute through the street their windows overlooked. He hated this city; hated the noise and the smells and how confined he felt despite every tourist brochure promising that the ancient streets with modern architecture would make you feel alive.

She still hadn’t said anything; hadn’t moved from her place at the sink where her knuckles were now slowly turning white as she gripped the counter-top and stared ahead at the tiled wall above their tap.

He wondered if she’d known it was coming; known what was going to leave his mouth before he’d had chance to say it. It was probably true. She was the only one who’d ever been able to read him clearly; everyone else had seen his family name first and made up their minds instantly but she’d powered on and actually gotten to know him and in return he’d been honoured to get to know her; her smile, her frown, her laugh and her sobs. They’d shared everything long before this tiny one-bed flat had been their home; they’d gotten to know each other in a place where he could actually breathe; a place where for the first time in his life he’d felt free.

Oxford was a lifetime ago now, even though the period of time since graduation could still probably be referred to in terms of months. Two years in this grey city had him suffocating again and the tense air between them in this moment was doing nothing to stop that itching sensation that crept over him whenever the silence became too deathly. He’d itched for years whenever he’d been rolling around that offensively big house all by himself and he thought that he’d never feel it again after the day he’d pulled the double doors of that place shut behind him, climbed into a car and set off to uni.

But the deathly silence was back, and he needed to leave again. He hoped she’d understand but judging by the fact that she was still yet to move, she was having a hard time processing it; processing what they’d become.

The days were quiet without her here and all he could hear was that damned traffic with engines growling impatiently at the traffic lights at the end of the street. Nothing could drown it out; not jazz, not football, not even the haze that so often clouded his mind after a few swigs of his favourite whiskey. He spent every day counting the hours until she’d step through the door whether it be with a smile or a frown as she blew a strand of rain-soaked hair from her face and collapsed onto the sofa beside him.

That probably was where the problems had started if he was honest; he was jealous that she got to leave here every morning and come back with stories to share and a love for the place that never died because she spent such little time here.

He’d realised too late that the booze wasn’t the problem he’d have to face if he was ever going to breathe again; it was her. He was irrevocably addicted to her and now it was poisoning him.

It hadn’t always been like this though, he reminded himself.

Once, not that long ago actually, things had been so different it was like they’d lived in a different world altogether. They had though, he supposed; that was the effect Oxford had on so many – it was everything and the world consisted of only those on campus. It was in that microcosm of society that they’d come together, and it was here; 90 minutes away from that heaven that it had all fallen apart.

Five Years Earlier

No one believed him when he said that it had nothing to do with honouring his family name; nothing to do with building the right connections for the future and nothing to do with his upper-class accent and ability to distinguish wine by a sniff.

He chose Oxford because it was the only place that simultaneously was the past and the future. Here, he could sit in the Bodleian Library surrounded by books dating back to the 17th century and still send an email to his professor. As stupid as it sounded; the place blew his mind.

And while he had chosen Oxford (truthfully his education could have taken him anywhere if simply getting away from home was the goal), it also felt like Oxford had chosen him. The corridors and rooms of his family estate were cavernous and provided more space than anyone could ever wish for, but here, with winding cobbled streets and small-ish rooms; he could finally breathe.

Here, no one knew that he was the last living member of his immediate family and was carrying the future of their good name on his shoulders. Or at least if they knew, they didn’t really care.

He’d heard all about the not-so-secret secret club made up of the elitist bloodlines only and had actively avoided the group of bawdy men in the dining hall. He had no intention of sitting at a long table in formal dress poking fun at people who took out loans to meet their tuition fees.

People like the girl sat right next to him.

He’d seen her a few times in the weeks since the term had started but this was the first time he’d actually had the opportunity to speak with her and it was all because his friend was trying to sleep with hers.

So far they’d been silent, both hesitantly sipping at their drinks while the pair opposite had a conversation of their own; their laughter pulling small smiles from him and her.

He blew out a light breath as the couple inched closer together; now fully lost in their own world, and decided to push every ounce of upper-class confidence into himself. “So, what are you studying?”

“Oh uhh, languages.” She told him, sliding her wine glass onto the table in front of them after a brief sip. “And history.”

“Sounds…fun?” He offered her a half-smile which she returned.

“Incredibly.” She agreed, playing with the glass’ stem. “But it sounds good, doesn’t it? Sounds impressive.”

“Very.”

“What about you?” She asked, angling herself in her chair to face him more. “What pretentious degree are you undertaking here?”

“Classics.”

“Now that is impressive.” She laughed. “So, what brings you to these hallowed halls?”

He’d let his hair grow out and was sporting not just a beard but a slight moustache too. He thought it made him look distinguished, despite the days old t-shirt he wore with an unidentifiable stain on it, and was a big fan of his ‘charming rouge of a pirate’ look – not his description, obviously.

His parents would throw a fit if they could see him now; not a trace of his Etonian schooling present as he fully embraced the lack of rules regarding how polished one had to be to venture out into the street, and tip-toed onto the sodden pavement barefoot with a bin bag between his fingers. God, he loved it here; the acceptance, the culture, Hell, he even enjoyed taking the bins out.

“Have you seen the notes I made yesterday?” She called out as her footsteps pounded across the ceiling above him.

“Not since last night.” Scooping up his abandoned glasses he slid them back onto his face and collected a steaming mug from the worktop as he made his way back to his half-written essay.

Living together had been a natural decision after a year of friendship spent avoiding their on-again off-again friends. Of course he was aware of the betting pool his mates had on them; was even tempted to put a few notes down himself, but honestly, just being her friend was enough for him. Because the thought of becoming more only for it end in a blaze of fire, was terrifying.

“You’re so helpful.” She sighed as she stomped down the stairs and appeared in the doorway of their kitchen.

“Have you checked your file?” He asked, not even glancing up from his own writing. “You know how obsessive you are about putting notes away in it.”

“I’ve already checked.” She told him, and he knew she was running a frustrated hand through her hair without even looking up. “Are you sure it’s not in here?”

“I just emptied the bin.” He nodded to the receptacle. “All that was on top was an empty wine bottle and a few teabags.”

“God we’re pathetic students.” She sighed, padding across the room to claim the seat opposite him at their small table. “A bottle of wine and some cups of tea; woohoo.”

He smirked at her comment, letting her pout a little longer over the whereabouts of her notes as he scratched away on the pad.

“Are you sure-”

He dropped the pen and took both of her hands in his, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I didn’t steal your notes.” He promised. “They aren’t in here.” He told her. “Go look in the living room.” He dropped her hands and retrieved his pen as she slid from the chair and left the room.

He wondered what she’d say if she ever found out about the betting pool. Wondered if she’d throw a fit and lock him out for not telling her or whether she’d laugh it off? Either way it would be the end of their friendship and he’d die if that happened.

He laughed softly as a victorious cheer sounded from the living room and glanced up from his sheet to catch a glimpse of her pressing a kiss to a handful of white sheets.

Besides, this whole living together thing would only get complicated if feelings suddenly got involved and he had no desire to start looking for a new roommate this far into their second year…despite how much he’d already fallen in love with her.

“Are we a cliché?” Her voice was soft in the small bedroom. “I mean…” She rolled onto her side; the raindrops sliding down the window behind her framing her face perfectly as he watched her. “…you’re my best friend and we live together and now…” She trailed off, falling off her elbow and back onto the pillow.

“It’s only a cliché if you regret it.” He told her, his eyes drifting from the window to her. “Do you?”

“Regret it?” She asked, meeting his eyes. “Of course not.” She blinked once. “Do you?”

“Well…” He sighed dramatically, turning his head on his own pillow to look away from her. “…I mean, there’s a part of me that feels a little taken advantage of but-” He cut himself off with a laugh as she half-heartedly slapped his chest. “But no…I don’t regret it.”

“Good.”

“Good?” He raised an eyebrow at her as she grinned up at him.

“Good.” She confirmed, laughing lightly as they laid side-by-side. “I wonder who collects the money?”

“Hmm?”

“The money.” She repeated. “From the betting pool. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about it?”

“Wait, you knew?” He asked with a frown.

“Of course I knew.” She laughed. “I’m me.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know everything.”

He watched as she sat up on the bed and let the flimsy sheet that was only half-covering them fall into her lap as she turned to the window, her blonde hair falling in soft but slightly matted waves down her bare back. He lifted a finger and let it trace the harsh outline of her spine, smiling to himself when she shivered as he strayed to a sensitive spot he’d found months earlier during an impromptu wrestle over the remote.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She turned her head, tendrils of her hair falling from her shoulder as she looked at him. “About what?” She asked. “The pool? I thought you’d be upset.” She told him. “I know how protective you can get, especially after everything that happened with your brother…so I figured we were just not going to talk about it; pretend it didn’t exist.”

He pushed himself up to sit beside her. “You’re a good person.” He told her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“A good person? I’m a great person.” He chuckled softly before leaning forward slightly and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. “Why last night?” She asked, their lips brushing against each other’s. “After so long; why last night?”

“That fucking dress.” He told her, watching as her eyes flitted to the scrap of material lying on the floor. “I had to do something or I’d regret it forever.”

Her eyes returned to his as they both pictured the moment that had led them here: her swaying in her too-high heels and using his shoulder to pry them from her feet before simultaneously sighing in bliss at the relief and frowning at the realisation she was barefoot on a dirty cobbled street. He’d thought nothing of sweeping her into his arms and bidding their friends at the bar a goodbye with her arms around his neck and her shoes dangling from her fingers as she lay in his arms, laughing.

It had been a chore to fish their keys from his pocket whilst holding her but they’d managed and just as a light downpour began to fall from the sky above, he’d deposited her onto their soft hall carpet. And then time had seemed to stop; she was staring at him and he was staring at her and then her fingers were splayed against his scalp as he held her as close as possible and they tumbled inside; the door kicked shut behind them.

“Do you want to know a secret?” She asked, leaning back slightly to look at him properly. “I only wore it because the girl you partnered with on that presentation was going to be there.”

There was a beat of silence between them as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth before he burst out into laughter. “Ninon?” He asked, his laugh intensifying as she scrunched her nose up at the pretentious name. “You’re jealous of Ninon?”

“Well if you’re going to be like that…” She huffed, pushing off him to place her feet on the floor. “I-”

He pulled her back to him, her legs moving to straddle his lap as their lips crushed together. “Don’t be jealous of her.” He murmured as she settled in his lap; their chests squashed together as he supported himself with one hand pressing behind him into the mattress and the other on the small of her back.

“Why not?” She asked, fingers playing with his hair as it brushed against his jaw. “She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s passable.” He corrected. “And boring and always critiquing things.” He said. “In short…” He let the arm holding them up buckle and they fell backwards with her squealing and him laughing. “…she’s not you.”

She smiled softly before letting her head rest atop his chest; her ear perfectly covering the spot where his heart thudded loudest as he toyed with the ends of her hair. “We’re such a cliché.” She sighed.

“I don’t care.”

He’s pretty sure that she’s never really understood where he comes from. When they met he thought she was being cute by not responding to his full name and it had made him open up to her more but now, all these years down the line, he’s realised that she didn’t react because she didn’t know the significance. At all.

So far, she’d simply laughed away any mention of his boarding school and family estate and he’d thought nothing of it; thought that she wasn’t talking about it because he so rarely mentioned it, but tonight had been when the penny dropped: she had no idea who the hell he was.

A charity mixer in honour of the work his deceased parents had done for orphaned children was not how he’d pictured his Friday night and when the invitation had dropped through their letterbox and onto the cheesy welcome mat he adored he’d had absolutely no intention of going to the party. The heavy cream envelope had been the first warning sign that this was something to be avoided and one glance at the loopy handwriting marking out his name and address had him tossing the entire thing onto the work surface without a second look. He was done with that life.

But then she’d picked it up and queried the ‘fanciness’ of it and he’d felt obliged to open it up and show her. She’d oohed and ahhed as he read out the pompous description of a charity gala for his parents’ favourite foundation and one look at the awe in her eyes at this peek into his world had found him caving and RSVP-ing yes.

And so there he was last night; watching her gaze around the room with wide-eyes as they occupied a small bar-height table in the opulent ballroom of Heythorp Park Resort.

“This is amazing.” She laughed again, her eyes returning to him as her fingers played with her champagne glass. “And they do this every year?”

“Every damn year.”

She laughed softly at his deepening frown before glancing back around the room. “I can’t believe you never told me about this I-”

“It’s so good to see you, My Lord.” The woman looked familiar to him, but he was struggling to place her as she suddenly appeared at their table. “After declining the invitation for so many years it was a pleasant surprise to receive your response.”

He recognised her now; recognised the way she held herself and the insincerity dripping from her words. Yes; she was one of his mother’s cronies. “I’ve been unforgivably busy.” He told her, hand tightening around his whiskey tumbler.

“And even more surprised to see your decision to invite a ‘plus one’.” She slid her glass onto the table and leaned closer – he remembered now why he hated these things so much; if they weren’t tripping over themselves to squeeze money out of you, they wanted to know if there was a chance their daughter could be married off. “Where is the lucky girl?”

He flashed her a tight smile despite the fact that she had knowingly ignored the woman he’d walked into this dammed place with an hour ago; the same woman who’d gained more than a few looks as she stepped in with his hand on her back.

“My girlfriend…” He told the woman as he gestured across the table and introduced the snobbish woman to the slightly uncomfortable one opposite him who was shooting him confused glances as she answered every question about her upbringing with unflinching honesty despite how much she was being judged for it.

A state comprehensive school to Oxford because of highly supportive parents who’d spent her entire childhood saving to ensure she had no limitations on her dreams, was not the average story told when a new girlfriend was introduced to this crowd. But she didn’t seem to care, didn’t care if they judged her, didn’t care that the gaggle of women now surrounding them frowned at the mention of them living together and merely smiled when an over-eager daughter was practically shoved into his face before introducing herself pleasantly.

In fact, the whole thing didn’t faze her at all, it was only when they got home that the night turned sour.

“Your tea, My Lord.” She teased as a steaming mug was pushed into his hands before she moved to sit beside him on their well-worn, bought on a student budget, sofa. “Can I get you a biscuit, my Lord?” He watched as she laughed to herself; tucking her legs under herself as her cocktail dress rose up her thighs.

“Why is that tickling you so much?” He asked.

“They were all so pretentious.” She laughed again before mimicking them: “It’s so good to see you, my Lord.’, ‘Your parents would be so proud, my Lord.’, ‘Have you been home lately, my Lord?’” She snorted taking a sip of her tea. “And the worst part was the look the waiter gave me when I said it to him.”

“You called the waiter ‘my Lord’?”

She frowned at his laugh. “I thought that was the theme?” She placed her mug on the floor and turned to face him. “Was it not like a 1920’s theme? I just figured because of all the jewels and the ballroom…” She trailed off. “Wait…if there wasn’t a theme…”

He too placed his mug on the carpet before holding out a hand to her. “The Right Honourable Earl of Beauchamp at your service.” The room was silent as he continued to hold his hand out to her, waiting for the penny to drop.

“The Right Honourable Earl of Beauchamp.” She repeated, her eyes on his outstretched hand. “Earl.” She lifted her gaze to his eyes. “You’re an Earl.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a half-smile. “You can call me ‘my Lord’ if it makes things easier.”

“You’re an Earl.” She breathed, one hand running through her hair. “I’m dating an Earl…a fucking Earl.” Her eyes flicked back to him as they began to harden. “You told me your parents were rich…you failed to mention they were nobility.”

“I assumed-”

“You assumed I knew who you were.” She finished for him with a humourless laugh. “Of course you did: you’re a fucking Earl, who wouldn’t know that from the off? Oh wait…” She pushed up from the sofa and stood glaring at him. “…I didn’t because I’m some poor comprehensive school girl who is only being kept around until you have to marry some princess to preserve the royal bloodline.”

“I-”

“How could I not have known?” She muttered to herself as she began to pace the room. “Everybody knew who you were but I just…God I don’t even know why I didn’t question it.” She stopped and focused on him again. “You’re an Earl.” Her arms fell to her sides. “And you didn’t tell me.”

He too pushed off from the sofa and moved to stand in front of her, taking her hands into his own. “I genuinely thought you knew.”

“How would I know? My family don’t subscribe to the newsletter alerting the nation to new title inheritances.” He laughed softly as she tore her hands from his with a huff. “God, what are you even doing here?”

He frowned. “Oxford? I’m getting a degree in-”

She sighed, cutting across him. “Not here as in Oxford; here as in this house…with me.”

“Where else would I be?”

“With one of those girls I was half-heartedly introduced to tonight?” Eyes downcast, she crossed her arms over her chest. “God, they were all titled and all gorgeous; no wonder the mothers kept giving me the evil eye. They must think I’m such a gold digger and-”

He’d never really thought of himself as the cheesy type; the romantic hero who finds himself in the middle of a situation where he just has to grab the girl eh loves and kiss her senseless. But he guessed he was. Chalk it up to his noble ancestry or his tidal wave of feelings crashing down around this woman but there was nothing in this world that would have seen him allowing her to continue to doubt her worth.

One hand on her jaw and the other on the small of her back, fist curled in the black material he found there, he tried to tell her everything; how sorry he was for apparently deceiving her, how gorgeous she was – not just tonight in her cocktail dress and heels but always, even in his old shirt with bed-head, how happy he was to have found her that night and how distraught he was at the thought of losing her.

Their lips parted softly and he rested his forehead against hers as her own fists continued to cling to his open shirt and loose bow-tie. “Stop doubting yourself.” He murmured, her eyes flicking to glance up at him. “They’re the gold-diggers…not you.”

“Is that even possible if they’re rich?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Shut up.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back, turning to head upstairs to shed his tuxedo. “God, it’s like you don’t know how much I love you.”

Accentuating every vowel that left her lips, she softly let out a breath of; “Holy shit.” Her eyes remained fixed on what was being revealed as the Land Rover rolled further and further towards the approaching spectacle. “Is that a fucking moat?”

“It is.” He sighed, hands tightening on the wheel as he regretted ever mentioning Christmas at his family estate.

“Please tell me this bridge is really a drawbridge?”

Her enthusiasm managed to pull a small smile from him as she stuck her head out of the passenger window to glance down into the dark waters either side of the stone bridge. “Afraid not.” She pulled her head back in as the main entrance to the house approached. “If my father were at the wheel he’d be giving you a history lesson right now.”

He saw her turn to him as the car reached the stone archway. “Well, considering I know absolutely nothing about this place; feel free.”

He took a breath and met her eyes, feeling totally out of place as he tried to remember the way his father started this story every time someone new arrived. “It’s a house of many eras.” He said as they passed through the arch and into the main courtyard of the place. “Started as a hall in the 12th century and continued to grow until about the end of the 19th century.” He slowed the car to a stop. “Hence the contrast in styles.” He gestured out to the buildings around them and watched as her own eyes flittered from him to them.

Her seatbelt was unfastened and she was out of the car in a heartbeat. “Wow.” It was a simple sentiment and one that had been echoed a thousand times before as people laid eyes on Madresfield Court for the first time.

Sighing softly at the wonder in her eyes as she spun to take it all in, he too climbed from the car and stood on the ancient stone of the courtyard.

“It’s…” She trailed off, unable to find the right word for it all.

“Ostentatious? Exhausting? Headache inducing?”

She spun back to him, a small frown between her brows. “Beautiful.” She corrected. “Look at all of this.” She gestured around her. “This is literally history. These bricks have been here since when?”

“Mid-16th century.”

She laughed at his nonchalance. “And that’s not impressive to you?”

“You get used to it.”

“Impossible.”

He let her have her moment here; let her get as much of the awe out of her system before he took her inside because if a few red bricks and timber gabled windows impressed her, she’d never take a breath again inside.

“This place is stunning.”

It was the third time she’d said it since breakfast and that was a mere hour ago. But he understood; between the galleried courtyard where he’d found her tentatively touching the chocolate timbers and delicate tiles and the library where she’d insisted on not touching any of the pages of the tomes he brought out for her - this place could be a little overwhelming.

“Don’t you think so?” Her question shook him from his thoughts as he burrowed his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “Look at it.” She nodded to the house. “It’s magnificent.”

“Not if you grew up here.”

There was a beat of silence as they stood side-by-side at the edge of the moat. “Yeah.” She breathed softly. “I get that; it’s a museum.”

“And a mausoleum.” He felt her had on his arm as he continued to stare at the Court from their spot in the gardens. “This place holds very few happy memories for me.”

“Tell me.” She urged. “Talk to me about them; you’ve only ever said that you’re the last one left.”

He turned to her. “It’s a miserable story: hardly appropriate for the run-up to Christmas.”

“I don’t care.”

He nodded once and extended his elbow to her. “I don’t know where to start.” He told her as they turned to face the expanse of green belonging to the estate.

“Well…how big is this garden?”

“Sixty-nine acres.”

She barked a laugh at the stupidly high number before tightening her hold on his arm and forcing him a step forward. “Then we should have plenty of time; start at the beginning.”

He scoffed. “The beginning.” He let his breath mingle with the icy air around them for a moment before starting at what wasn’t the beginning of him but the beginning of how he became who he was now. “I went to prep school when I was three years old.” It seemed like a decent start. “It was twenty minutes down that road and I loved it there. My brother joined me a year later and continued to follow me until we left The Elms and boarded at Eton.” He flicked his eyes to her; watching as she nodded along slowly to his brief description of his schooling years. “My parents died when I was seventeen in a car crash on a bend ten miles that way.” He nodded to one of the rolling Malvern hills that surrounded them. “And I inherited everything…at seventeen I was suddenly in charge.”

“I’m so sor-”

“Don’t be.” He cut across her. “It’s hard to grieve for people you hardly knew; that’s the curse of boarding school.” They continued to wander through the perfectly manicured grass. “But grieving for my brother nearly killed me. I can still see him sometimes, when I close my eyes at night he’s there: eyes glassy and arm limp with a needle dangling from his fingertips.” He took a shuddering breath, realising that this was the first time he’d ever talked about it; ever felt safe enough to soften that stiff supper lip. “I still don’t know how he met the girl who introduced that poison into his life, or how long it had been rotting him before we were forced home for their funeral.”

“He died here?” She asked, voice almost lost in the December chill.

He nodded once. “In his bedroom: accidental overdose apparently.” Her hand once again tightened around his arm in a comforting squeeze. “The worst part of it all though?” He laughed sourly. “She turned up here on the morning of the funeral; the morning that had been pushed back a week so they could all be buried together. Said her name was Helen and she loved him.”

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing. I didn’t even know she was here.” He told her. “Andrew sent her away.”

“Andrew the butler?” She asked. “Wow.”

“He practically raised us; was more of a father than my own.” He smiled lightly at the mention of the aging man who had welcomed them yesterday. “Apparently he shut the door in her face.”

She laughed. “What a guy. I knew I liked him; anyone who greets me with a roaring fire and a hot chocolate is bound to be a good guy.” She nudged him lightly. “What happened after that?”

“I can’t remember the funeral.” He confessed. “I was black-out drunk and barely able to stand.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Is it?” He met her eyes and slowed them to a stop. “Because I’ve felt a crushing guilt over it ever since. I came home for two more years of mandatory holidays and then turned my back on this place as soon as I could because every room reminds me of him; of how he lived here and how he died and how I, his big brother, didn’t notice that he’d vanished a long time before that day in his room.”

She reached out to him and forced him to turn to him, her arm slipping from his. “You were a child.” She told him slowly. “And one who had lost everything in one fell swoop. I say you were more than entitled to leave here while your sanity was still intact.”

His hands came to rest on her waist. “You’ve seen me after the nightmares.” He reminded her. “How can you possibly think I’m sane?”

“I’ve also watched you frantically searching for your reading glasses when they were on top of your head the whole time.” She countered with a smile. “I’ve seen you test out at least four supermarket trolleys before finding one without a broken wheel because it irritates you.” She removed his hands from her waist and held them in her own. “And I’ve heard you tell me that you love me even when a million better options are presented.” She pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “If I can believe in your sanity after all of that…I think your childhood grief gets a pass.”

Christmas was a blur after that cold morning where he’d opened up and communicated everything he’d bottled up for six years. They’d walked back to the house in silence; the only sound being the crunching of frosted grass underfoot as he basked in the lightness now adorning his shoulders.

His eyes were never far from her after that; always watching her reaction to some new nook she discovered here or how the firelight cast a sheen over her skin as she reclined with a book between her hands; basking in the stories she’d loved for so long printed on antique pages.

Somehow the house managed to come alive in her presence. When he passed through the library now, he heard her squeal of excitement at finding a rare copy of some long forgotten romance novel that of course she somehow knew about, instead of the image of his father ordering five-year-old him out of they weren’t going to pay the antique collection the respect it deserved.

The garden wasn’t the place where his mother had once stood with tears in her eyes and only a scarf around her neck, it’s ends whipping around in the wind as his father packed for another business trip.

And most importantly, he didn’t feel like every path was one walked by ghosts when he took her by the hand and led her to his favourite places to hide as a child or the window that had the best view.

Somehow, he was reclaiming his home and he loved her for it with every fibre of his being.

“What’s the plan for today?” She asked, her cheek against his chest as they continued to absorb as much heat as possible on the coldest of the December mornings so far. “Are we getting out of bed? I feel like we should get out of bed.”

He hummed softly, his fingers happy playing with her hair.

“That’s not an answer.”

“We can do whatever we want.”

“You don’t have some village obligations to attend to? No church ceremony? No carol competition to judge?” He shook his head, a smile lingering on his lips as she propped herself up to meet his gaze. “Well period dramas have clearly been lying about the life of an Earl on Christmas morning then.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “What do you want to do?”

“Me?” She pondered the question once before a slow smile spread over her lips. “I want three things.”

“Only three?”

“One – I want my pyjamas.” He laughed at that one. “I’m being serious; I have no idea where they are and I’m not going anywhere in just your shirt from yesterday.” He mumbled a begrudging ‘fine’ into her forehead as he pressed a kiss there. “Two – I want to turn on the tree lights and let them make me feel warm and all that shit that only happens at Christmas.” He smiled at her. “And three – I want to call my parents.” She pouted. “I miss them.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to come here instead of spending Christmas with them.”

She huffed. “I can’t believe they sent me back to uni with a car full of presents for you.” He smirked as she rolled back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. “Apparently you need looking after and my mother is the one to do it.”

“And I’m very grateful for that.”

She laughed. “You won’t be when you see what she’s bought for you.”

“My mother had truckloads shipped up from London with a promise from a personal shopper that they contained everything two boys could ever wish for.” He told her. “I had empty Christmases that looked great in photographs but dismal in real life; my mother was in bed with a headache by three, my father drunk by four and my brother and I bored not soon after.” Her eyes met his. “Trust me when I say that a coat from your parents bought specifically because the Christmas before had seen me wholly unprepared for the temperature of snow, is one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

There was a beat of silence between them before she huffed again. “And that’s why they love you.”

“What?”

“You’re so damn charming.” She sighed. “I should never have brought you home first year; now I’ll never have a Christmas without my parents fawning all over you.”

“They could come here.” He offered. “We could all come here for Christmas so no one has to feel overburdened with work; Andrew lives for Christmas – he plans it all in February and spends the year just getting ready for it.”

She squinted at him as his words hung between them. “You do realise you just offered up this place for a huge family Christmas…every year…right?” She slid a leg over his to straddle his lap. “Because if you’re only just realising that then you are more than welcome to take it all back – I know how hard just being here with me has been for you.”

“I love you.” He told her, brushing back the hair that had fallen forward as she settled in his lap. “I love your parents and most importantly; I don’t think I can ever do Christmas here without you.” He paused. “I mean; Andrew would be devastated - I can’t drum the same level of enthusiasm as you for a string of lights.”

She laughed and pressed a kiss to his jaw as she mumbled. “I can’t believe you just promised to stick with me after graduation.”

“Stick with you?” He frowned at her. “You’d have to pry me away from you with a crowbar.”

Present

Turns out that sometimes time can be just as effective as a steel bar.

Graduation hit them like a freight train and then they were packing all they owned into a second-hand car and heading down the M40 to what they’d hoped would be a glittering future.

And for her, it had been. They’d moved to a tiny apartment on the outskirts of this sprawling city three days before she was scheduled to start her first graduate level job. Turns out that a Classics degree isn’t as applicable as Languages and History. She’d pretty much stepped straight into her translating role after a single interview and despite the bitterness in him now, he truly was proud of her.

They’d moved further into the heart of London fairly quickly with a promotion coming thick and fast to her and soon a two-hour commute on a series of broken down trains had been replaced with a quick cab ride. He was proud of her. achingly so. But he hated himself.

Hated how he spent his days in a window seat with a cigarette between his fingers and a glass in his hand. Hated how the noise was deafening even through their double-glazing. Hated how she was so damn independent and refused to let him pay more than half for anything.

Because when it came down to it, money was all he had; all he was.

So the Christmas presents got more extravagant and the weekend breaks further afield until she sat him down and asked if he was okay. Asked if there was something wrong. And that marked their first blowout row that ended with a slammed door echoing through the room.

It was while he was sat alone on their homely sofa that he realised the truth of it all; he was living through her and it was making them both miserable.

It wasn’t really a shock to him when the advert caught his eye: it was a path many people of his birth took, and he was beginning to understand why. Whether it was the promise of a camaraderie he hadn’t discovered even at uni or the fact that he knew he wouldn’t have time to let the darkness creep into his mind, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that this was the right path for him.

He just needed her to realise that.

He watched as her hands slowly uncurled from the cabinet edge and her head titled back slightly as a puff of a laugh escaped her lips.

“Say something.”

She laughed again, lightly this time as her head lowered. “What is there to say? You’ve clearly made your mind up.” She turned to him, one hand still on the cabinet top. “This is just courtesy right? You’re just letting me know so that I don’t come home one day and find all your stuff gone?”

“I-”

“Don’t.”

“I know-”

“I said; don’t.” She stepped away from the worksurface and ran both hands through her hair, bunching it all into her fists. “I know you hate it here but is this the only option?”

“I don’t hate it here.”

“No.” She agreed. “You hate it here.” She released her hair and walked to the strip of wooden floor that separated their kitchen from the living room rug. “You could have talked to me.”

“You love it here; love the city, love your job, love this place.” He gestured to the apartment around them as he watched her toe the edge of the rug as he continued to lean against his own counter-top in the small kitchen. “I could never ask you to leave.”

“So you’re going to go instead?”

“I have to.” He told her, and he watched as her shoulders slumped under the realisation that this was happening; that there was no stopping him. “Say something.”

“What’s there to say?” She turned her head to him, watching from just over her shoulder as she delivered the final truth of the situation. “You’ve joined the fucking army.”

[traviswsoul]

Day 5 Leo Carillo to Santa Barbara

The first night camping was enjoyable, it its going to take a while to get used to sleeping on the pad though. I feel like I adjust and rollover every hour when I sleep like that. What I would give to be able to sleep on my back for 8 hours, like a Vampire.  I wonder if animals that hibernate move around during that time? When I woke up my campmates were gone, except the squirls, the brave and determined animals that run that place!  One of them hauled off two bananas from the table and had one open and was eating before I looked up from packing away my tent and realized.  It’s hard to be too mad at squirrels but these sure push you to your limits. I got camp packed away quickly then had time for a quick yoga flow before I took off.  Breakfast consisted of a roll, some jerky, a granola bar and i didn’t make a protein shake because I didn’t know how far it would be to more drinking water, which was limited.  Riding out of the camp was pretty desolate, there was nothing for a while except more hill climbs followed by gorgeous views on the backsides.  Eventually I hit a T in the road and had to turn right under the highway after which I saw a Pacific Coast Trail sign right below the freeway entrance sign. Not what you expect; I peddled half way up it, realized I was getting on a major highway and then double backed because it felt so wrong.  It turned out not to be so I got on and rode on the shoulder of I-101 for one exit, not so bad.  Up the exit ramp, left turn over the highway and drop in on Hueneme rd that takes you into Oxnard. Here I had the highlight of the day, stealing strawberries at the berry fields. Miles and miles of strawberries, I was reminded of the essay I read in the Refer Madness book years ago about the migrant workers who pick the berries and make them available to fulfill our expectations in the grocery store.  I saw them working, hunched over picking berries, and considered so many aspects of our economy of labor, food supply, taking it for granted and the heart breaking lack of compassion and appreciation for the immigrant and migrant worker that makes our happy spoiled American life possible. I probably ate a pound of fresh strawberries as I rode down that road, it was at least enough to satiate my hunger for a while, and thirst, it’s really a nice trick on your senses to satisfy your thirst with all the water in fruit. At the end of the road as you get to Oxnard is the Naval Construction Battalion Center Port Hueneme. It had a couple jets, which is common, on display but also several missiles ranging in size and “effectiveness” I’m sure, a typical military show of force, or power, or machismo.  The little boy in me thinks “COOL” but the rest of me has very mixed feelings about glorifying our ability to create so much destruction. I stopped for the first time at a fast food joint, a Wendy’s, and had a burger and a chicken sandwich, It doesn’t feel as bad for me when I burn it all off immediately in the following few hours, not ideal but cheap and highly caloric. Then on to Ventura, Dulah and several other beaches that all seemed to welcome RV’s to park and spend the days there.  It was full of campers parallel parked for miles at a time.  This was the first day that I had to full head wind experience,  it was ruff at times.  In places I normally would have been traveling 17 mph it was hard to keep up 13.  They warned me this was the case traveling north, I knew it, I just hadn’t seen it yet, but now I know, woohoo!

There was a strong marine layer for most of the day giving me and my thighs a good break from the sun. It’s really great having the arm sleeves and gloves to protect from the sun, watching how dark the tops of my thighs are getting is telling of how important it is to have protection. I wish I had some three quarter link leggings.  That would be a valuable part of a touring kit. I never thought I’d say I wish I had some capri’s….. but putting on sunscreen makes so much road dirt stick to you.  It reminds me of how dirty your front wheels get driving a car, That’s your legs on bike over 60 miles. A few different times I started to notice the bike felt pretty wobbly, If I stood up I noticed so much sway in the back that I knew something was up.  I stopped in Carpinteria for a big salad to counter act the Wendy’s and inspect my bike.   I had a great local IPA as well, there’s something so delicious about a cold one during a bike ride, like you have really earned it!  It was the perfect refreshment for disassembling my gear and figuring out what was up.  It was the quick release axels, they had both loosened up, the rear one a lot, the wheel was wobbing so much back and forth it’s a miracle I stopped before anything went wrong.

Another 15 miles from there to Santa Barbara.  I rode up the main road called State St, full of shopping, it was a nice slight up hill to finish the day with.  I needed some inspiration for the final leg so I put on one of my favorite albums, Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn.  Such a blues classic and the high energy of those guitars kept me going.  My legs were shot,  it took a real effort to have them pedal like normal, the exhaustion of 5 days was really getting to me and they were simply not outputting like before.  When I made it to John and Jill’s beautiful new home my old friend, Bella the dog, who used to be Ella Blue’s best friend back in Brooklyn greeted me from the porch with her new partner in crime, Milo.  He looks like he could be here daughter, also a pit mix, he’s a soft tan brindle with the same sweet pale yellow eyes.  Bella and I had a long over due reunion and I believe she remembered me, it was sweet and made me feel good, and miss my puppy of course.  Mia and Bodie were babies when I saw them last and now they are full on people, little ones, yes, but each full of personality and things to say, and each so beautiful!   As with all good friends it was like no time had passed at all, even though so much has and there is very little in my life that’s the same as it was last we saw each other.  Jill and John seem happier than ever being out here, close to family and the beach and having enough space for being a family.  Mia is excited about the garden and the dogs have a huge back yard, I’m so happy for my friends to be living life so right! Their friend Kate came over to help Jill with things for her photo shoot the following day for Apartementtherapy.com and we all ended up hanging out.  She happens to be a massage therapist, was really into my adventure and wanted to help so she offered her craft and gave me a much needed short Thai massage, my trail angel for sure!  Maintaining these legs during all this work is quite a high task, they literally fell swollen, they are.  Kate did a bunch of foot message too which was amazing because I could feel the work she was doing there resonate through out all of my legs and back. I had a beer with John then hit the sack.  This morning there was a lot to do to get ready for the photo shoot of the house, Jill is and was an interior designer. They bought this house gutted, so it was designed and built inside from scratch,  It’s so amazing. After my yoga this morning I saw her sweeping the porch, knew she had better things to do so I grabbed  the broom and didn’t stop helping clean for a couple hours, the giant windows in the living room are spotless too, it was a meditation, and allowed me to procrastinate getting back on the bike.  I am glad that I did because I realized how much I needed rest and after speaking with John, who is the most advanced personal trainer and body guru that I know, decided to actually take a days rest.  Better now than when it’s too late.  Another friend, Jenny, that was here this morning helping connected me with Michelle in Orcutt, CA because my warmshowers.com host had to cancel on me last minute.  So had I not stayed and served I would have been riding north right now, going too hard on my legs with no place in mind to stay.  Instead, because of the wonderful people I keep seeing on my journey I have a safe plan, a new friend to meet that will host me for a night and an opportunity to give back to those I love when they were in need. Life sure does know how to work itself out!

[aurimeanswind]

Back on the Saddle—Sunday Chats (12-10-17)

Woohoo! Let’s get back on it!

Hey I Stopped Writing

So, as intended, I stopped writing on Wednesday, and I’ve taken a few days off. I think I’ll continue to take some much needed time off, but it’s been an exceptionally weird few days since then.

If you missed it, I wrote this very person feature, finally taking my more personal writings to IrrationalPassions.com, about what the experience for writing 1000 days has been. Check it out here:

http://irrationalpassions.com/feature-learned-lost-pained-in-1000-days-of-writing/

I have been holding off on writing since then and I’ll say, it’s been exceptionally weird. Not writing on Sunday was actually the weirdest thing I think I have done in a really long time. I had that itch, and that craving, and it hasn’t gone away. Making this thing I’ve been doing habitual was always the goal, but to take the time off actually puts it in perspective and lets me appreciate it. That itch to make, and create, and do is still there all these days later, and it’s become a part of me. I don’t see it ever going away.

But also there is so much less stress about. Fighting my procrastinating has always been a struggle for me in all the seven years I’ve been making stuff on the internet, and now I feel like I am in an era after it. But I thought the same with writing, and it resulted in bad habits like not releasing things, not editing things, and not finishing things, so we’ll see if it really pays off. But I’m hopeful. 

I’m also significantly less stressed than I was. There was this pressure to make and do things and be a part of that creation every day, and even with Sunday Chats now, I don’t have to feel that overwhelming pressure anymore, and it’s kind of great. This was the right decision, and I’m really happy to be in a new era of creation for myself.

Thank you to everyone who took a little bit of time out of their day to congratulate me for hitting 1000 days of writing. You all have no idea how much that means to me. To think people are following along this saga with me and watching me create and do things. It honestly moves me to my core. That piece I wrote was very real, very true, and very honest, and it’s one of my proudest writings that has been out there. Thank you all. For reading.

Always.

What I’ve Been Working On

It’s been a minute for a check in with this! So I wanted to give everyone a little preview of the new year. I’m sure I’ll touch on this stuff again soon, but to give you a preview:

I have finished writing a book. The book is entirely about a specific video game from this year, and it’s a collection of essay/article-style writings. I need to find an artist to help me make a cover for it and get it edited, but I’m hoping it’ll be out in early 2018!

I am working on a brand new podcast that I actually want to start. I’ll likely announce it in January as opposed to actually start it then. I’ve had this idea for a very, very long time, but it’s time to put it into action. Once I am cleared of GOTY content, I will be announcing it, and I intend for the first episode to release in February.

Video has been on my mind a lot lately, and I’m excited to get back into it. What exactly I’ll be doing... Well, more Alex Talks, that’s for sure. But I want to change things up. And I want to make it more consumable. I always want to do real, strict video essays, and that’s going to be a new endeavor going forward. We’ll see how it turns out.

There is a TON of great Game of the Year content coming from Irrational Passions, from the written word, to our content, to guest content, and the team has all been exceptional with helping me put this together. It’ll start rolling out at the end of this month, and I can’t wait for you all to see it!

What’s on Tap

There are honestly too many games to talk about, so I’ll just focus on the one I played today, which is Pyre. 

I talked about my other games on Friday’s podcast, so listen to that for my full thoughts on things like Wolfenstein 2 and Death of the Outsider. 

Pyre seems very good. I have pretty much just played the content I saw when I played it initially at PAX East 2016, and previewed it there. It was limitlessly impressive then, and continues to impress now. Its blend of visual novel-esque gameplay and weird, sporty-action is awesome, and so unlike anything else out there. As far as games that do new things, it is a standout in a year that is full of things like that. 

I like the characters, I love the art, and I love the world, I’m really stoked to play more!

I’m also probably going to play some of that Monster Hunter World Beta tonight so god wish me luck.

Questions

I’ve been playing some goddamn video games!

It’s been surreal and I’ve wanted to stop and write and I’ve honestly had to force myself not to. I know that may seem counterintuitive to some, but It’s been really helpful to get some distance from this boot-camp style creation process.

But I finished a couple of things last week and I’m excited to continue going through games and finishing them in preparation for GOTY.

WE AER CONFIRMED FOR PHILLY!

The BrO-C is having a holiday get together and y’all should be excited.

I think I have and I haven’t. I think I fall into a lucky category that a wide swath of genres hit with me and resonate with me in a big way. I can sit down and really appreciate the five hour Call of Duty campaigns, but I can also play a Cuphead and get lost in it, and dig into Hearthstone for a few weeks, or lose myself to Animal Crossing Pocket Camp for a week or two on top of that. I love a multitude of genres, but this year has specifically hit with me as two sequels to my two favorite franchises in games were released: Persona and Zelda.

I think there is always a difficulty with representations in games to players. Like, I am also a white dude, and there are a ton of games trying to get to me, but I’m happy to say that this year definitely felt different, and many of my favorite games starred not white dudes. And that’s great! So I think your feelings of games not hitting with you is not alone.

But I think in those circumstance I try and challenge myself to new things even more. Things outside of my comfort zone. For me, the biggest one this year was Doki Doki Literature Club, which made me very uncomfortable, but paid off a lot, and also Wolfenstein 2, which going into I thought I wouldn’t like, and ultimately it didn’t work for me, but I’m glad I tried it.

Lean into your niches for the comfort food, and explore out of them for something that will (hopefully) surprise you. But don’t write of games that you haven’t played just because you didn’t like previous entries. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. Time to look and see!

I mean for me it’s still the jump from SD to HD. But also the jump from 2D and 3D. I want to believe some HDR shit will change my life, but the more I hear about it the more it turns me off, honestly? Like I’m not surrounded by 4K HDR TVs and I don’t want the more placid experience to be “ruined” for me or anything.

OOOOH! 

I love Christmas. Winter is my favorite season.

OMG.

Okay, so like definitely go on a cute walk through a lights-of-some-kind-celebration, so we have the Festival of Lights here in Maryland. Get some scarves and hot cocoa and go nuts!

Fireside cuddling, for sure.

And Gingerbread lattes from starbucks because they’ll make you fat and holiday ready and also taste like Christmas.

More enthusiastic, honestly! I think the biggest thing I took away from my 1000th day of writing was that it... well, it just felt like all the other days, ya know? There was nothing special about the act that day, aside from all the congratulations. The day after, where I didn’t write, that was the weird one. The special one.

Since my hunger for writing has been building a while, I’m excited to do this. To make this tentpole remain so. And I love Sunday Chats so much, so it’s definitely a big boon to it.

I’ve talked a lot about this on shows, but the Game Awards was excellent. A great show all around.

PSX was fine. It was not a press conference, and was more of a panel, what they had said it would be, so I think it was definitely more fun for the folks there. 

The big stickers with me are HD MediEvil, which I am SUPER stoked for. Loved the game from before, and I hope they bring up the second one too since I love it even more, and that new Campo Santo game looks great. From Software can make whatever at this point and I am probably on board. It’s probably Tenchu, apparently, but I’m still in.

I’ve touched on it already, but it’s definitely been a bit of a shock to the system. I love all the questions about it! Makes me think folks really care ;)

JAPAN.

MAKE AND ASSASSIN’S CREED IN NINJA JAPAN.

PLEASE.

But for real probably 1800s London. I didn’t even play that one but it sounds awesome.

Well, I mean I don’t know. I have partially convinced myself that I definitely dont inspire others, even if there is evidence to the contrary, because I mean... it’s just too crazy for me to believe otherwise. Humbling? I guess?

And I have not realized that. I think I touched on this in my 1000 days piece. I think if that was your takeaway, you missed the point. Even when it feels like nothing is impossible, factors come in that will change that perspective. And holding onto that humility will keep you strong in your weakest moments. And somedays, the most impossible will feel so until it isn’t, and the possible will be very much so until it’s suddenly impossible.

Remember that. Because it hurts when that rug is pulled from under you.

47.

YES. VERY EXCITED FOR THIS QUESTION.

Spoilers, we’ve talked extensively about this, but I’m excited to share my answers here.

So.

Here we go.

With some wiggle room.

Earth Kingdom - Ravenclaw

There is this know-it-all cockiness that I think fits across both of them, and I think there is also this tried and true brilliance as well. There is an established empire of the Earth Kingdom, and it lines up with what Ravenclaw’s ideals would have been. There is also a rigidness to their way of movement, and I think it lines up with the rigidness of Rowena’s belief in knowledge. 

Fire Nation - Slytherin

I think this could EASILY be Griffindor as well, I want to say that up front. 

The two have this kind of strength from within that they draw from, that breath that the fire comes from. And I think the kind of natural jealous of the Fire Lord to the Avatar is similar to Salazar’s jealousy of Godric that brought about that divide, and brought about the Fire Nation that we see in The Last Airbender. There is also a great cunning and brilliant there too, and that can’t be undersold. But there is this feeling of inclusiveness that I can’t shake.

Water Nation - Gryffindor

In a similar way, there is this ego and overconfidence that the Northern Water Tribe holds that puts them in this camp. I could see this swapped with the Fire Nation, like before, as I think Gryffindor/Slytherin are the most similar of all the houses. But there is this idiocy and bravery beautifully melded together there, and a fluidity of response to the water bender’s movement that lines up with the bold and headstrong Gryffindors. 

Air Nation - Hufflepuff

The crowd pleasers. The people-loves. The pacifists. It lines up with the feelings I think are true to what Helena had in mind, but there is a self-loyalty there too. This idea of trying to deflect conflict down really resonates with Air Benders I think, and a loyalty to their own ideals. They were monks who rigidly followed that, and I see that very deeply.

Jazz I LOVE this question so damn much. Folks should tweet at her your thoughts too!

I know this was a bit briefer a Sunday Chats, but I have a ton of stuff I still need to do and get done tonight, but thank you so much for reading.

I will keep trucking along and keep making cool things, but please, keep reading, and letting me know what you think.

I’ll keep writing, but beyond that, I’ll keep talking, and podcasting, and tweeting, and making video, and making an argument for games, because really, it’s all I know how to do.

All I ask you to do, is

keep it real.

(And please Buy Okami HD)