#i also take the tale of the five as an actual creation myth and have ocs for those dragons

[luvsavos]

should i start posting abt my ocs' lore n stuff......

[creativerogues]

Using Myths to Create a Campaign Setting...

So while researching for this Mega-Post (which will probably become one part of many), I’ve found that myths, legends and folklore as a whole is really just a cool thing to read about.

There’s so much creativity and wonder in every myth, and it’s been super fun to find story elements that have persisted all the way to the modern day.

With that said, and wait for it: Making a D&D Setting can be really really tiring.

So, after rediscovering my love of mythology, I thought I’d take a new approach to all this: Using “Comparative Mythology”.

“Wait! What’s Comparative Mythology?” I hear you ask. Well Comparative Mythology is when you compare myths from different cultures and identify all the things they share.

So let’s start this Mega-Post by ending this long-winded intro and getting to the whole point of this: The Common Myths!

The Creation of Mankind from Clay

The creation of man from clay is a thing that recurs throughout a bunch of world religions and mythologies. In this Myth, Mankind is created from dust, clay or earth by a single deity.

In Greek Mythology, Prometheus molded men out of water and earth.

In Egyptian Mythology, one of the several ‘Creator Gods’, called Ptah, is a Potter who fashions the bodies of humans (and some Gods) from clay.

The Theft of Fire

The theft of fire for humanity is another that recurs in many world mythologies. Where a deity, sometimes the deity of earth, the forge, or the deity that actually created Mankind, steals a portion of the Sun or a Magical Heavenly Flame and gives it to humanity so they don’t freeze to death or starve because they can’t cook their food.

Probably the most famous version of this Myth comes from Greek Mythology, where the Titan Prometheus stole the heavenly fire of the gods and gave it to humanity, the thing he created from clay, so they could build their first civilisation.

The Great Flood

Cultures around the world tell stories about a great flood that leaves only one survivor or a group of survivors. Sometimes the Flood is meant to restart the world, defeat a great evil, or as a punishment to Mankind for some known or unknown thing.

In the Hebrew Bible, probably the most famous example of this, God sends down a global flood that wipes out humanity, with only one man surviving and saving the world’s species by taking them aboard a giant boat.

In Greek Mythology, a Myth says that Zeus, Head of the Gods, sent down a great storm to flood the world after people started trying to sacrifice humans to him, which was completely against the Greek Laws of Hospitality and a big ol’ no-no in the eyes of Zeus.

The Dying-And-Rising God

Many Myths feature a God or Goddess who dies somehow and returns to life thanks to the help of the other Gods.

In Egyptian Mythology, Osiris, who was slain by his brother Seth, was brought back to life by his sisters Isis and Nephtys. Osiris eventually became the ‘King of the Dead’ while his Son became ‘King of the Living’, which may have something to do with a Father-like Figure giving power to their Son, which is another theme that pops up in a few cultures…

In Greek Mythology, it’s Adonis, a beautiful man born from his Mother that just so happened to be turned into a tree. But after being left in a Forest by Aphrodite and told to avoid any wild Boars (also known as Ares in disguise), Adonis immediately decided to do the opposite and hunt down the wild Boar (also known as Ares, the God of War). The fight didn’t really go in Adonis’ favour, and after Aphrodite found out, she stormed into the Underworld and demanded her Boyfriend back, and eventually Zeus got involved, deciding to split the Year in two, the warmer months (summer and spring) where Adonis would be with Aphrodite, and the colder months (autumn and winter) where Adonis would go back into the Underworld. This is why Adonis is associated so much with spring, renewal and rebirth.

The Creative Sacrifice

Many cultures have stories about divine figures whose death creates a certain part of reality. 

These myths seem especially common among cultures that are farmers or have agriculture as a major part of their society.

In Norse Mythology, the First Giant, known as Ymir or ‘The Cosmic Giant’ was killed to create the World of Norse Myth.

In Aztec Myth, after Huitzilopochtli kills his sister Coyolxauhqui and his 400 brothers, Coyolxauhqui's severed head becomes the moon, and her 400 dead brothers become the stars in the night sky.

In Greek Mythology, when the many-eyed Giant Argus was slain by Hermes, Argus' eyes were transferred by Hera to the tail of the peacock, hence the beautiful tail feathers of a peacock!

The Seat of the World

The seat of the world is usually noted as a place that sits at the centre of the world and acts as a point of contact between different levels of the universe: Usually Heaven, Earth and the Underworld.

And as a small Sidenote, there’s a LOT of mythologies and world religions that use a giant ‘Cosmic Tree’ to represent the seat of the world, and they usually describe it as “a great tree joining heaven, earth, and the underworld”, with branches that reach the Heavens and whose roots that reach the Underworld.

In Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist Mythology, Mount Meru (also recognised as Sumeru, Sineru or Mahāmeru), is a sacred five-peaked mountain, and is considered to be the centre of all universes, both physical and spiritual.

In Norse Mythology, Yggdrasil is an immense mythical cosmic tree that connects the Nine Worlds of Norse Cosmology.

In Greek Mythology, the “Seat of the World�� was the City of Delphi, the literal centre of the Greek Mythological World. Delphi was almost always seen as “the belly-button of the world”, with many tales surrounding the famous Oracle of Delphi. You could also consider Mount Olympus to be a sort-of “Seat of the World” too, since that’s the famous place where only the Gods lived...

The Ideal God

This is usually referring to a King, Queen or some kind of Head of a Pantheon, a God to rule the Gods.

Even actual Official D&D Settings do this by having an ‘Overgod’.

In Norse Mythology, Odin is the Leader of the Gods.

In Greek Mythology, Zeus is Head of the Gods, though Hera (his Wife) also has some influence on the Pantheon.

In Roman Mythology, which is extremely similar to Greek Mythology, they have Jupiter as the Head of the Pantheon and King of the Gods.

In Egyptian Mythology, Ra is Head of the Pantheon, though some interpretations vary on his actual name.

And as a side-note, it seems most ‘Head of the Pantheon’ Gods are male with some sort of connection to the Sky, the Sun, or Storms, and are often extremely wise or extremely powerful, usually depicted as extremely ripped and wielding big ol’ stabby weapons...

And weirdly enough, most have some sort of connection to birds, I can’t really find out where that comes from, but it’s cool nonetheless.

The War with the Titans

This is usually the Myth that creates the “Official Pantheon” for a Place’s Religion. The Titans (or sometimes called Primordials, beings that represent chaotic and destructive elements like Fire and Lightning) fight the Gods, sometimes a few Gods die, but the Gods always win.

Again, the most famous version of this Myths is In Greek Mythology, where the Titanomachy was a ten-year series of battles consisting mostly of the Titans fighting the Olympian Gods and their allies. This event is also known as the War of the Titans, Battle of the Titans, Battle of the Gods, or just The Titan War, which is just a cool name in general...

Gargantuan Giants

By “Gargantuan Giants”, I mean Gargantuan compared to Humans, who in most cultures were less than 6 Feet Tall, so sometimes Giants were as short of 8 Feet, and others they are quite literally the size of the Universe…

In Greek Mythology, there’s the myth of Ourion (or more commonly known as ‘Orion’) the Giant, a Huntsman famous for being placed among the stars as the constellation of Orion. There’s also the Hecatonchires, also known as the Hundred-Handed Giants, as well as the Myth of the Cyclopes and a bunch of other Gods and Demigods who are described as “Giant” in size.

In Norse Mythology, there’s dozens of famous giants, also known as Jotuun in some texts. From Surtur, the fire giant that leads his kin into battle during Ragnarok, to the trickster giant Utgard-Loki, famous for annoying the Hel out of Thor and thoroughly embarrassing him in front of all the other giants.

Mythical Dragons and Serpents

Sometimes just large snakes and other times gigantic snakes, legendary snakes and serpent-like creatures appear in the folklore of a bunch of different cultures around the world. And speaking of Dragons, while they vary from region to region, they’re almost always depicted as gargantuan serpentine creatures with four-legs.

Mythical Serpents in Mythology

In Egyptian Mythology, Atum shaped the world thanks to four mythical serpents. Also in Egyptian Mythology is Apophis, a gargantuan mythical serpent that symbolises chaos, who tries to eat the sun every day as part of the Journey of Ra and his Sun-Barge/Sun-Boat.

In Greek Mythology, there’s the Lernaean Hydra, more often known simply as the Hydra, a multi-headed snake monster killed by Heracles as part of his Twelve Labours. There’s also Python, a big ol’ sea snake with the gift of prophecy, that was then promptly killed by a Baby Apollo...

In Aztec Mythology, there’s Quetzalcoatl, a giant feathered serpent (and sometimes a dragon!) characterised as the God of Wind, the Dawn, the Planet Venus, Arts and Crafts, Wisdom and Knowledge.

And another thing, it seems some Myths depict these giant snakes as pets or living weapons used by Kings, Queens or even the Gods to keep their subjects in check.

Dragons in Mythology

In Eastern Cultures and Mythologies, Dragons are usually depicted as wingless, four-legged, serpentine creatures with above-average intelligence and the ability to control rivers, the ocean, the wind and the weather.

In Western Cultures and Mythologies, Dragons are often depicted as savage, winged, horned, four-legged, and capable of breathing fire.

The Myth that founds a Custom

This myth is way more varied than the rest. Many cultures have myths describing the origin of their customs, with most societies often justifying their customs by claiming that the Gods or the Mythical Heroes of their Culture established those customs.

The Curse of Cannibalism 

Human cannibalism features in the myths, folklore, and legends of many cultures and is most often attributed to evil characters, with the idea that consuming human flesh is an evil act that usually transforms the person into a monster of some kind.

In Greek Mythology, there exists the Lamia, a woman who became a child-eating monster after her children were destroyed by Hera after Hera learnt of her husband Zeus’ little “escapades”.

In Native American Myth, there’s the famous Wendigo, a creature (or sometimes depicted as an evil spirit) from folklore, with some sources saying Wendigos are created when a human resorts to cannibalism to survive.

The Hero's Adventure to save their Lover

This is usually a story of three parts: Hero gains a Lover, Lover dies through unforeseen circumstances, and finally the Hero goes on an Adventure (most commonly going to the Underworld) to meet/save/resurrect their Lover.

This Myth can also be known as the “Hero goes to the Underworld to save their Lover” Myth, which is also super common when you look at all the different world cultures.

In an old Babylonian Myth, the Babylonian Goddess Ishtar (Goddess of Love, War and Fertility) gets trapped in the Underworld with the Queen of the Dead after trying to save her husband from the Underworld. But then Asushunamir, a gender-ambiguous individual constructed by Enki (a Babylonian Ocean God), is sent to the Underworld to save Ishtar, so I guess that’s two stories in one?

In Japanese Mythology, Japan has two Creator Deities: Izanagi and Izanami. But after the Birth of Kagi-Tsuchi (the Fire God), Izanami dies. So Izanagi decides to just go on down to the Underworld to get her back. But after lighting a torch in the Underworld when he’s specifically told not to, Izanami is understandably peeved and sends a bunch of monsters after Izanagi to chase him down until Izanagi decides to block the entrance to the Underworld with a giant rock so no monsters get out. Yay?

In Greek Mythology, Orpheus (one of Apollo’s kids) walks on down to the Greek Underworld to chat with Hades and maybe get his dead lover Eurydice back. Hades says “Yeah, sure bro! Just don’t look at her before you two get back to the World of the Living again, okay?” But Orpheus, like an idiot, decides to immediately do the opposite after thinking Hades is tricking him, and Eurydice is dragged back down in the Underworld to stay there forever...

The Sun gets eaten by a Giant Beast

This is usually what Cultures and World Religions use to explain celestial events such as an Eclipse.

In Aztec Mythology, they had a God called Huitzilopochtli (Yay! I spelt it right!) who was their Sun God and God of War and Human Sacrifice.  Huitzilopochtli also had 400 Brothers and one Sister: Coyolxauhqui. After murdering his sister, Coyolxauhqui’s severed head becomes the moon and several of Huitzilopochtli’s brothers become the stars. And now the sun is constantly at risk of being devoured by the night sky and to put this all short: Huitzilopochtli is constantly fighting off the severed head of his sister (The Moon) to stop her eating/murdering the sun and the earth. FUN!

In Norse Mythology, at some point during Ragnarok (the Norse “End of the World” Myth), the sun and moon are eaten, possibly by Fenrir, but definitely by Mythical Wolf of some variety, sources differ.

In Egyptian Mythology, the Egyptians would pray against Apophis (the giant snake in the Underworld) to squash his nightly attempts to eat the sun as it passed through the Underworld.

And as a side-note, this one doesn't have to be a Beast, sometimes the sun is stolen by a thief, or something happens and it's sealed away or just straight up nopes out and disappears for a few days...

Gods named after Planets

It’s right in the name, a lot of Gods are named after Planets, Stars, Constellations and other Celestial Objects.

In Egyptian Mythology, the Gods are actually named after the various Stars and Constellations that can be seen in Egypt’s night sky.

In Roman Mythology, examples include Jupiter, Head of the Pantheon, as well as Mars the God of War, Mercury the God of Merchants, and Venus the Goddess of Love and Beauty, as well as Neptune, Saturn and More!

The Beast to be Released and Kill the World

This is usually a Wolf, Snake, or other Giant Beast that, when the Apocalypse comes, is released from whatever bindings they have and wreak havoc on the Mortal World. Sometimes the Beast is chained away or trapped in the Underworld, but other times they’re just sleeping until the Apocalypse comes knocking…

In Egyptian Mythology, this Beast is known as Apophis, a Giant Snake trapped in the Underworld that tries every day to eat the Sun (and sometimes eat Ra too!) before Apophis is defeated by the powers of Gods and the apocalypse is stopped for another day.

In Norse Mythology, this Beast is Fenrir, a Giant Wolf and Son of the Trickster God Loki. Fenrir is bound by a series of heavy chains, and when Ragnarok (the Norse version of the Apocalypse) comes, Fenrir will break his chains and go on a big ol’ god-killin’ spree!

So there you go! I’m so sorry for having to cut quite a bit of content, since I didn’t want to make this Post a full-blown essay.

If I missed your favourite myth, or forgot to add a detail that you thought was important or cool, I apologise profusely.

The research for this Post was A LOT, and I just want to thank everyone in the Community who helped out and contributed to this thing.

I hope that when you’re building your own D&D Worlds, you can look back at this Post as inspiration for creating a pretty cool and realistic world for your Players to mess around in...

[eyelinerda3euro]

The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction

In the temperate and tropical regions where it appears that hominids evolved into human beings, the principal food of the species was vegetable. Sixty-five to eighty percent of what human beings ate in those regions in Paleolithic, Neolithic, and prehistoric times was gathered; only in the extreme Arctic was meat the staple food. The mammoth hunters spectacularly occupy the cave wall and the mind, but what we actually did to stay alive and fat was gather seeds, roots, sprouts, shoots, leaves, nuts, berries, fruits, and grains, adding bugs and mollusks and netting or snaring birds, fish, rats, rabbits, and other tuskless small fry to up the protein. And we didn’t even work hard at it — much less hard than peasants slaving in somebody else’s field after agriculture was invented, much less hard than paid workers since civilization was invented. The average prehistoric person could make a nice living in about a fifteen-hour work week.

Fifteen hours a week for subsistence leaves a lot of time for other things. So much time that maybe the restless ones who didn’t have a baby around to enliven their life, or skill in making or cooking or singing, or very interesting thoughts to think, decided to slope off and hunt mammoths. The skillful hunters would come staggering back with a load of meat, a lot of ivory, and a story. It wasn’t the meat that made the difference. It was the story.

It is hard to tell a really gripping tale of how I wrestled a wild-oat seed from its husk, and then another, and then another, and then another, and then another, and then I scratched my gnat bites, and Ool said something funny, and we went to the creek and got a drink and watched newts for a while, and then I found another patch of oats.... No, it does not compare, it cannot compete with how I thrust my spear deep into the titanic hairy flank while Oob, impaled on one huge sweeping tusk, writhed screaming, and blood sprouted everywhere in crimson torrents, and Boob was crushed to jelly when the mammoth fell on him as I shot my unerring arrow straight through eye to brain.

That story not only has Action, it has a Hero. Heroes are powerful. Before you know it, the men and women in the wild-oat patch and their kids and the skills of makers and the thoughts of the thoughtful and the songs of the singers are all part of it, have all been pressed into service in the tale of the Hero. But it isn’t their story. It’s his.

When she was planning the book that ended up as Three Guineas, Virginia Woolf wrote a heading in her notebook, “Glossary”; she had thought of reinventing English according to her new plan, in order to tell a different story. One of the entries in this glossary is heroism, defined as “botulism.” And hero, in Woolf’s dictionary, is “bottle.” The hero as bottle, a stringent reevaluation. I now propose the bottle as hero.

Not just the bottle of gin or wine, but bottle in its older sense of container in general, a thing that holds something else.

If you haven’t got something to put it in, food will escape you — even something as uncombative and unresourceful as an oat. You put as many as you can into your stomach while they are handy, that being the primary container; but what about tomorrow morning when you wake up and it’s cold and raining and wouldn’t it be good to have just a few handfuls of oats to chew on and give little Oom to make her shut up, but how do you get more than one stomachful and one handful home? So you get up and go to the damned soggy oat patch in the rain, and wouldn’t it be a good thing if you had something to put Baby Oo Oo in so that you could pick the oats with both hands? A leaf a gourd shell a net a bag a sling a sack a bottle a pot a box a container. A holder. A recipient.

The first cultural device was probably a recipient.... Many theorizers feel that the earliest cultural inventions must have been a container to hold gathered products and some kind of sling or net carrier.

So says Elizabeth Fisher in Women’s Creation (McGraw-Hill, 1975). But no, this cannot be. Where is that wonderful, big, long, hard thing, a bone, I believe, that the Ape Man first bashed somebody in the movie and then, grunting with ecstasy at having achieved the first proper murder, flung up into the sky, and whirling there it became a space ship thrusting its way into the cosmos to fertilize it and produce at the end of the movie a lovely fetus, a boy of course, drifting around the Milky Way without (oddly enough) any womb, any matrix at all? I don’t know. I don’t even care. I’m not telling that story. We’ve heard it, we’ve all heard about all the sticks and spears and swords, the things to bash and poke and hit with, the long, hard things, but we have not heard about the thing to put things in, the container for the thing contained. That is a new story. That is news.

And yet old. Before — once you think about it, surely long before �� the weapon, a late, luxurious, superfluous tool; long before the useful knife and ax; right along with the indispensable whacker, grinder, and digger — for what’s the use of digging up a lot of potatoes if you have nothing to lug the ones you can’t eat home in — with or before the tool that forces energy outward, we made the tool that brings energy home. It makes sense to me. I am an adherent of what Fisher calls the Carrier Bag Theory of human evolution.

This theory not only explains large areas of theoretical obscurity and avoids large areas of theoretical nonsense (inhabited largely by tigers, foxes, and other highly territorial mammals); it also grounds me, personally, in human culture in a way I never felt grounded before. So long as culture was explained as originating from and elaborating upon the use of long, hard objects for sticking, bashing, and killing, I never thought that I had, or wanted, any particular share in it. (“What Freud mistook for her lack of civilization is woman’s lack of loyalty to civilization,” Lillian Smith observed.) The society, the civilization they were talking about, these theoreticians, was evidently theirs; they owned it, they liked it; they were human, fully human, bashing, sticking, thrusting, killing. Wanting to be human too, I sought for evidence that I was; but if that’s what it took, to make a weapon and kill with it, then evidently I was either extremely defective as a human being, or not human at all.

That’s right, they said. What you are is a woman. Possibly not human at all, certainly defective. Now be quiet while we go on telling the Story of the Ascent of Man the Hero.

Go on, say I, wandering off towards the wild oats, with Oo Oo in the sling and little Oom carrying the basket. You just go on telling how the mammoth fell on Boob and how Cain fell on Abel and how the bomb fell on Nagasaki and how the burning jelly fell on the villagers and how the missiles will fall on the Evil Empire, and all the other steps in the Ascent of Man.

If it is a human thing to do to put something you want, because it’s useful, edible, or beautiful, into a bag, or a basket, or a bit of rolled bark or leaf, or a net woven of your own hair, or what have you, and then take it home with you, home being another, larger kind of pouch or bag, a container for people, and then later on you take it out and eat it or share it or store it up for winter in a solider container or put it in the medicine bundle or the shrine or the museum, the holy place, the area that contains what is sacred, and then next day you probably do much the same again — if to do that is human, if that’s what it takes, then I am a human being after all. Fully, freely, gladly, for the first time.

Not, let it be said at once, an unaggressive or uncombative human being. I am an aging, angry woman laying mightily about me with my handbag, fighting hoodlums off. However I don’t, nor does anybody else, consider myself heroic for doing so. It’s just one of those damned things you have to do in order to be able to go on gathering wild oats and telling stories.

It is the story that makes the difference. It is the story that hid my humanity from me, the story the mammoth hunters told about bashing, thrusting, raping, killing, about the Hero. The wonderful, poisonous story of Botulism. The killer story.

It sometimes seems that the story is approaching its end. Lest there be no more telling of stories at all, some of us out here in the wild oats, amid the alien corn, think we’d better start telling another one, which maybe people can go on with when the old one’s finished. Maybe. The trouble is, we’ve all let ourselves become part of the killer story, and so we may get finished along with it. Hence it is with a certain feeling of urgency that I seek the nature, subject, words of the other story, the untold one, the life story.

It’s unfamiliar, it doesn’t come easily, thoughtlessly, to the lips as the killer story does; but still, “untold” was an exaggeration. People have been telling the life story for ages, in all sorts of words and ways. Myths of creation and transformation, trickster stories, folktales, jokes, novels....

The novel is a fundamentally unheroic kind of story. Of course the Hero has frequently taken it over, that being his imperial nature and uncontrollable impulse, to take everything over and run it while making stern decrees and laws to control his uncontrollable impulse to kill it. So the Hero has decreed through his mouthpieces the Lawgivers, first, that the proper shape of the narrative is that of the arrow or spear, starting here and going straight there and THOK! hitting its mark (which drops dead); second, that the central concern of narrative, including the novel, is conflict; and third, that the story isn’t any good if he isn’t in it.

I differ with all of this. I would go so far as to say that the natural, proper, fitting shape of the novel might be that of a sack, a bag. A book holds words. Words hold things. They bear meanings. A novel is a medicine bundle, holding things in a particular, powerful relation to one another and to us.

One relationship among elements in the novel may well be that of conflict, but the reduction of narrative to conflict is absurd. (I have read a how-to-write manual that said, “A story should be seen as a battle,” and went on about strategies, attacks, victory, etc.) Conflict, competition, stress, struggle, etc., within the narrative conceived as carrier bag/belly/box/house/medicine bundle, may be seen as necessary elements of a whole which itself cannot be characterized either as conflict or as harmony, since its purpose is neither resolution nor stasis but continuing process.

Finally, it’s clear that the Hero does not look well in this bag. He needs a stage or a pedestal or a pinnacle. You put him in a bag and he looks like a rabbit, like a potato.

That is why I like novels: instead of heroes they have people in them.

So, when I came to write science-fiction novels, I came lugging this great heavy sack of stuff, my carrier bag full of wimps and klutzes, and tiny grains of things smaller than a mustard seed, and intricately woven nets which when laboriously unknotted are seen to contain one blue pebble, an imperturbably functioning chronometer telling the time on another world, and a mouse’s skull; full of beginnings without ends, of initiations, of losses, of transformations and translations, and far more tricks than conflicts, far fewer triumphs than snares and delusions; full of space ships that get stuck, missions that fail, and people who don’t understand. I said it was hard to make a gripping tale of how we wrested the wild oats from their husks, I didn’t say it was impossible. Who ever said writing a novel was easy?

If science fiction is the mythology of modern technology, then its myth is tragic. “Technology,” or “modern science” (using the words as they are usually used, in an unexamined shorthand standing for the “hard” sciences and high technology founded upon continuous economic growth), is a heroic undertaking, Herculean, Promethean, conceived as triumph, hence ultimately as tragedy. The fiction embodying this myth will be, and has been, triumphant (Man conquers earth, space, aliens, death, the future, etc.) and tragic (apocalypse, holocaust, then or now).

If, however, one avoids the linear, progressive, Time’s-(killing)-arrow mode of the Techno-Heroic, and redefines technology and science as primarily cultural carrier bag rather than weapon of domination, one pleasant side effect is that science fiction can be seen as a far less rigid, narrow field, not necessarily Promethean or apocalyptic at all, and in fact less a mythological genre than a realistic one.

It is a strange realism, but it is a strange reality.

Science fiction properly conceived, like all serious fiction, however funny, is a way of trying to describe what is in fact going on, what people actually do and feel, how people relate to everything else in this vast stack, this belly of the universe, this womb of things to be and tomb of things that were, this unending story. In it, as in all fiction, there is room enough to keep even Man where he belongs, in his place in the scheme of things; there is time enough to gather plenty of wild oats and sow them too, and sing to little Oom, and listen to Ool’s joke, and watch newts, and still the story isn’t over. Still there are seeds to be gathered, and room in the bag of stars. by Ursula K. Le Guin

[infinite-xerath]

Runeterra Retcons 2: Aatrox and the Darkin

I did another one. There’s one more character I have in mind to do, but then I’ll probably take a small break from these))

Aatrox is an interesting case; while I don’t necessarily believe his current lore is BAD per se, I think he’s more-so a case of missed opportunity and wasted potential. Aatrox, to me, reeks of a case where Riot gave zero forethought to the future of this character when they created him. To fully understand why I feel this way, we’re going to have to take a step back and analyze some of the history of League itself, as well as some characters connected to Aatrox. So, with that all said, let’s look back at the history of this angry red swords and see if we can make sense of the changes given to him over the years.

Aatrox was released into the game back in 2013, under the title “The Darkin Blade.” Now, what’s a Darkin, you ask? Well, at the time, we didn’t really know, and it kind of became obvious that Riot didn’t either. Let’s have a read of his original lore, shall we?

I was always a fan of Aatrox’s original lore: an ancient, mysterious figure who shows up to help you turn the tides of a war, but only after you’d effectively surrendered your own humanity for the sake of victory. The fact that there was an entire race just like him became the center of fan speculation of years, and countless theories cropped up as to who and what the Darkin even were. Some assumed that they were related to the Seven Deadly Sins, while others thought they might be akin to the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Some thought they might just be a dying race, and that some might actually be benevolent, unlike Aatrox.

Unfortunately, Riot wouldn’t give us an answer for quite some time. All we knew was that Aatrox was a Darkin and that he looked a lot like typical modern depictions of demons. That does raise the question though: why didn’t they just make Aatrox a demon? He helps turn the tides of conflict with no apparent goal beyond just prolonging the chaos and suffering brought about by war. A lot of his voice lines even painted him as a psychotic “artist” of sorts, prior even to Jhin, that viewed conflict and bloodshed as elegant. Well, to better understand the full picture here, we need to take a step back and examine the broader picture here.

Now, admittedly, we’re delving in some speculation territory here, as it’s impossible to really say what Riot’s original plans for the Darkin were, if any. That being said, the inclusion of something like a demon would have had a lot of implications back in the day, as the Runeterra as we knew it then didn’t really have a “Heaven” or “Hell.” Sure, we had “angels” with Kayle and Morgana, but they were treated more like how Asgardians are treated in Marvel: more like a race of super powerful aliens than actual divine entities (keep that in mind for later.) If anything, what little we knew of an “afterlife” in League came from Yorick’s old lore, in which he acted like a psychopomp similar to Charon from Greek myth.

It wasn’t until Tahm Kench came out in 2015 that Riot properly introduced demons as a concept in the lore, retconning several other champions like Evelynn and Nocturne into being demons. For a bit of context: in Runeterra, demons are effectively malevolent spirits from the spirit realm that feed on negativity: fear, pain, hatred, and so-forth. When other characters started getting turned into demons, a lot of people, myself included, thought that Aatrox would meet the same fate. After-all, they hadn’t actually DONE anything with the “Darkin” outside of Aatrox’s bio, and he functioned in a manner similar to them. Some even theorized that the Darkin would be made to represent a specific breed of demon, and this theory gained even more traction when Tahm Kench was given special voice lines for taunting near Aatrox.

Then, on July 12, 2017, we got Kayn, and with him: Rhaast. Rhaast is the second Darkin character added to the lore: a talking scythe with an eye that possess its host. Kayn is able to hold back Rhaast’s influence, keeping it to a single arm through the use of shadow magic, but depending on your actions in-game, you can see what happens if Rhaast manages to win their struggle and take over Kayn’s body completely. With Rhaast’s introduction, it pretty-much cemented that the Darkin were living weapons that took over the hosts of their wielders, which made sense given that Aatrox’s sword was always hinted to be alive and have a mind of its own. In fact, the idea of the Darkin being living weapons, or at least being bound to their weapons in some way, was one of many fan theories raised since Aatrox’s release all the way back in 2013.

Unfortunately, the new champion’s bio didn’t give us a lot to work with. Rhaast was the weapon, but Kayn himself is the Champion, so a lot of his bio tells us more about Kayn’s backstory: how he joined the Order of Shadows, how he acquired Rhaast in the first place, etc. While this isn’t exactly a problem, it gave us no further information on the Darkin; what they really were, where they came from, and why there are only five left in existence all remained mysteries for the fans to speculate about. It still wasn’t even clear if the Darkin were connected to demons, or if they were something else entirely.

Now, it’s around this time that another theory began to start blowing up in popularity; technically, this was another old fan theory, but now that we had a general idea of what the Darkin actually were, there was another Champion wielding a living weapon that fans started to speculate might be connected to them: Varus. Varus is an old character, and though we won’t be deep-diving into him too much into this video, allow me to give you a tldr of his original story.

Varus was an Ionian archer set to guard the Pit of Pallas, a giant hole where his people had long ago sealed some unexplained corrupting purple entity that seemed like it maybe should have related to the Void somehow but didn’t. Varus resisted the entity’s influence for years until Noxians one day showed up and started slaughtering his people, wanting to get their hands on Pallas so that they could use it as a weapon because of course they did. Varus was faced with a choice: stay and guard the temple built around the pit or go back to his village and help his people fight. Varus chose the former and was apparently SUCH a badass archer that he single-handed kept the invaders at pay with his arrows, though this choice came at a cost: when Varus returned to his village, everyone he knew and loved was dead, including his wife and son.

Enraged, Varus returned to the pit and struck a deal with Pallas: he would allow the entity to inhabit his body in return for vengeance against the Noxians. Varus proceeded to wander the world with a bow made from the entity’s own solidified essence in the hopes of finding and killing… Basically every Noxian he could. Yeah, Varus wanted nothing short of full-on genocide, starting with the surviving soldiers that attacked his village. There’s a lot to go into there, but you’ve probably figured out the relevance of this by now: Pallas turned itself into a bow for Varus to take his vengeance in exchange for possession over his body. Not too dissimilar a living sword and scythe who also possessed people and had an insatiable hunger for death and destruction, right?

Riot seemed to agree, and in 2017 they released a music video along with a comic and an entirely new bio for Varus. Together, these updates served to not only retcon Varus’s backstory (a topic for another episode) but finally give us an update as to who and what the Darkin were. In a word: they were aliens.

In short, the Darkin were a race from another planet/dimension drawn to Runeterra for its abundant use of magic. They tried to conquer the planet, causing the Great Darkin War, which ended only when the races of Runeterra figured out how to seal the Darkin in their own otherworldly weapons. Varus, Aatrox, Rhaast, and two others were trapped in their weapons, which an unnamed warrior queen (possibly an Aspect) used to drive back the other Darkin and seal the portal to their world. The five that were imprisoned in their weapons were then scattered and hidden across Runeterra.

This, at last, brings us back to Aatrox’s new bio:

“One of the ancient Darkin, Aatrox was once a peerless swordmaster who reveled in the bloody chaos of the battlefield. Trapped within his own blade by the magic of his foes, he waited out the millennia for a suitable host to wield him - this mortal warrior was corrupted and transformed by the living weapon, and Aatrox was reborn. Though tales of the darkin have now passed into legend, he remembers only too well the destruction of his race, and wreaks his vengeance one sword blow at a time.”

So Aatrox was made into a general for an alien race who sought to finish what his people started by having the Runeterrans fight and slaughter one another in a series of bloody conflicts… For a few months, at least. Literally the next year in 2018, Aatrox finally got his visual and gameplay update, turning him into the World Ender we know today. Along with this came entirely new lore for him, as well as the Darkin.

Insert lore here

So… The Darkin are no longer invading aliens, but Ascended who went nuts and were trapped inside their own weapons. In other words, the Darkin went from being a race to being more of a derogative term for fallen demigods. What’s more, Aatrox received a VERY substantial alteration his character and personality: he went from being a war-loving “artist” who causes conflict for the sake of it to being a tortured soul who wants to die so badly that he’ll end all of creation to do it.

Now, like I said before: I don’t think this backstory is bad. I don’t hate it. It does a lot to flesh out Shurima as a region, gives us more info on the Ascended, and it adds a bit more nuance to Aatrox as a character. Imagine being trapped inside a weapon, losing all access to your senses. Imagine that the only chance you get to move is when you take over someone else’s body, transforming it into a warped version of your own former glory, only to realize that you’re on a time limit and the only way you can continue to walk, talk, see, hear, or feel anything is by slaughter’s people and consuming their blood. Imagine spending CENTURIES trying to find a way out, only to repeatedly learn that any means to free or even kill yourself ends in failure. Imagine being SO desperate to rest that you’re willing to end all of existence just to find peace.

I like Aatrox’s new story. I do. Honestly, the only real complaint I have is that Aatrox doesn’t exactly have a PLAN for how he aims to end existence? Like, he calls himself a World Ender and a god-slayer, but we only know of one god he’s actually slain (Pantheon) and given that Runeterra is still around, it seems like his world-destroying count is still at zero. Honestly, if he wants to end all of existence, I feel like turning the Void, a reality-consuming threat that he has FOUGHT BEFORE would kind of be the obvious solution? Honestly, I imagine that just chucking the sword into the Void would be a good way for him to end his own existence, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

So, if I like Aatrox’s new lore, why am I rewriting it? Simple, really: even if I overall like his current lore state, I feel like the road we took to get here was… Kind of long and unnecessary. It seems kind of obvious looking back that Riot didn’t have a clear long-term plan for Aatrox or the Darkin, as years of unanswered questions followed by multiple retcons kind of entails. From being the last survivor of an ancient race, to MAYBE being a demon, to being an alien, to finally becoming a fallen demigod. Aatrox’s history is practically a whole story in-and-of-itself, and I’ve long wondered how things might have turned out if Riot had, you know, picked a direction and gone with it a bit sooner?

So, here’s the basis of my rewrite: I’m gonna try and incorporate elements from all of Aatrox’s various backstories into a single, coherent biography. Can I manage it? Well, I’ll leave that for you all to determine…

When the skies are blackened by the flames of war and the earth is dyed red with blood, Aatrox draws near. For as long as conflict has existed among the races of Runeterra, the Chaos Blade has manifested to those deemed worthy, turning the tides of battle in exchange for the flesh of whoever wields it.

The true origins of the Darkin have long been lost time. Some say that they are the first weapons ever forged, corrupted by the malice of those who have wielded them over ages. Others claim that the Darkin are a rare breed of demon, of whom only five remain. Only one thing is certain: the Darkin exist only to bring death and destruction, and none embrace this more than Aatrox himself.

Tales of a wicked blade manifesting amidst the heat of battle exists across all cultures, from the frigid north to the blistering south. The sword is said to appear before warriors on the cusp of defeat: those who would give anything, even their own lives, for the sake of victory. Those who wield the Chaos Blade are granted inhuman strength and endurance, often haled as heroes for turning the tides of battle. With every foe slain, however, the Chaos Blade grows stronger, consuming the mind of its wielder and warping their flesh. In time, the hero becomes a mindless vessel, slaughter all in its path until slain. When its host falls, the Chaos Blade returns from whence it came, waiting for the moment that another might heed the sword’s call.

For ages this cycle persisted, until the day the sword manifested before a warrior of Shurima’s Ascended Host. After the Fall of Icathia, the Sunborn were called to face the encroaching threat of the Void, wielding celestial might and magic great enough to crush a hundred mortal armies. Before the Void, however, even the mighty Ascended began to falter.

The horrors summoned by Icathia steadily pushed north, consuming everything in their path and twisting the earth into maddening shapes. As their numbers dwindled, many Sunborn called to retreat, hoping to regroup within the capital and think of a plan. As some fled, however, the Ascended general Aatrox stood his ground. Pushing his draconic form to its limits, Aatrox struck down one abomination after another. When his great blade, soaked in the Oasis of the Dawn itself, was wrenched from its grasp, Aatrox fought with tooth and claw. Even if he were to fall, Aatrox would do everything in his power to slay as many Voidspawn as possible, resigning himself to death so the other Sunborn might rally their forces.

It was then, amidst the sea of madness woven by the Void, that Aatrox saw a sword embedded into the twisted earth. The blade seemed to call out to him, and Aatrox took it without question. In an instant, the general was filled with unimaginable strength and fury, and his allies watched in amazement as Aatrox fought with strength of ten Ascended warriors. Inspired by his newfound fury, the Sunborn rallied, their fighting spirits renewed at last.

When the conflict against the Void drew to a close, Aatrox was haled as a hero among heroes, though many of his former allies became wary of him and the wicked sword he now carried. Some suggested that the blade should be destroyed, while others, such as Aatrox himself, argued that its power would be instrumental if the Void ever returned.

Resentment and suspicion began to grow amongst the Sunborn, and the cracks only grew larger as Aatrox aided the other Ascended in summoning weapons similar to his own. The warriors of the Ascended host began to distance themselves from one-another and the capital, taking up posts across Shurima’s vast empire. They remained united only in the shared goal of protecting their empire.

And then the Sun Disc fell.

Following Xerath’s Ascension and the death of Emperor Azir, years of growing tensions erupted across the desert. Some Ascended raced for the chance to fill the now-vacant seat of power for themselves, while others insisted on finding a means to restore the royal dynasty. Debate soon turned to bloodshed, and Shurima was engulfed in a war that lasted centuries. It wasn’t until the Aspects of Targon intervened that the war was finally brought to an end.

Those wielding Darkin weapons were bound to their armaments with powerful magic, in-turn trapping the wicked weapons in the physical realm. The Darkin were scattered across Runeterra, and yet the souls of the Ascended persisted, stripped of bodies and senses.

For ages, Aatrox stewed within the sword that had become his prison, his soul slowly being corrupted further and further by the Chaos Blade until the two had become a single being. Ages passed and the sword was slowly forgotten, until a band of thieves broke into the Darkin’s prison in search of ancient treasure. When the thieves’ leader touched the sword, his mind was overwhelmed in an instant, his body transformed into a twisted likeness of Aatrox’s Ascended form. The Darkin slew the other thieves in an instant, drawing strength from their blood before breaking free of his long confinement.

Aatrox emerged into a frozen landscape with but a single goal: to bring about a war so violent, so destructive, that it would be the end of all things. He would be the World Ender, herald of a conflict to end all others. With every foe he slays, with every swing of his sword, Aatrox sews the seeds for violence and carnage, drawing one step closer to his magnus opus.

So, what did you think? As stated before: my primary goal this time around was to try and combine Aatrox’s various origin stories into a single narrative. Admittedly, I could only manage to do this by adding an air of mystery to the actual origin of the Darkin; maybe they’re demons, maybe they’re aliens, maybe they’re something else entirely. I know that might seem like a bit of a cop-out, but a large part of what made the Darkin so interesting to the community in the first place was the air of mystery surrounding them, and the room it offered for speculation and theorizing.

Another main concern, though, was that I wanted to find a way to blend old Aatrox’s personality with his new one. The thing I miss most about the OG Aatrox was that, despite being obsessed with war and bloodshed, he wasn’t just another rage monster. He was calm and composed, and a lot of his lines hinted at a deeper philosophy toward the inevitability of conflict rather than just “I wanna kill everything because I’m angry!” League has way too many of those, in my honest opinion. I thought that, by combining his mind with a semi-sentient sword that brings about carnage because that’s simply its PURPOSE, a little but of that old Aatrox might shine through.

But, as always, this is all just my opinion; how I, personally, would have gone about reworking the character. If you prefer Aatrox as he currently is, or think my version of the story is inferior, that’s fine! Feel free to share your thoughts and comments, but please, let’s try to keep it civil. After-all…

The last thing we want is to start a war over this…

[kuramirocket]

Sharing the beauty of Mexican American culture through stories of shocking social injustices and steadfast hope, the 2021 recipients for the Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award reflect on the growing impact of their work.

The award is named after Tomás Rivera, Texas State's first Mexican American Distinguished Alumnus. Established in 1995 by the College of Education, the award seeks to celebrate authors and illustrators across the country who are dedicated to showcasing Mexican American values and culture.

Author and illustrator Duncan Tonatiuh won the award based on his latest book, "Feathered Serpent and the Five Suns: A Mesoamerican Creation Myth." The book was inspired by Mexico’s pre-Columbian myths and shares the legend of the Quetzalcóatl—the Feathered Serpent, a deity who embarks on the journey to create humankind.

By revealing the tales of pre-Columbian legends through his books, Tonatiuh says he hopes to educate Mexican American children on mythologies within their own culture, serving as a reflection of their identity and heritage.

“I think kids will be curious and want to learn,” Tonatiuh says. “I think we’re so used to hearing about the Greek heroes, the Greek gods and other mythologies. But also discovering that there are mythologies in other parts of the world and kind of maybe connecting to some of that.”

After moving to the U.S. from Mexico at 15, Tonatiuh relied on his love for writing and illustrating to find comfort when he missed his childhood home.

Now having written and illustrated 10 books and receiving numerous awards, Tonatiuh says he hopes his books provide a sense of familiarity and encourage children to embrace their culture.

“I think when students see themselves in books it just lets them know their experiences, voices [and] culture is important,” Tonatiuh says. “One thing I think is sometimes immigrants or minorities in the U.S. feel they need to assimilate to be a good American, but I think it’s quite the opposite. Rather, I think it shouldn’t be something kids or students should be ashamed of, I think it’s something that they should be proud of.”

For Sonia Gutiérrez, another 2021 recipient of the Tomás Rivera Award and author of "Dreaming with Mariposas," the award is a great honor. She views the prize as a way to increase awareness of Latino bigotry, Mexican immigration and social injustice.

"It gets me teary,” Gutiérrez says. “I’m so proud of all the hard work and Tomás Rivera’s spirit in my writing. It’s an honor, a humbling experience [and] it gives me great pride to represent a group of people that have been demonized and targeted by anti-immigration rhetoric

"Dreaming with Mariposas" delineates the story of the Martínez's family through the eyes of transboundary Sofía “Chofi” Martínez. Witnessing institutional racism, sexual harassment and colorism, Sofía learns to navigate her dreams as she discovers her superpower: The strength of her Mexican Indigenous heritage and the spirit world.

“I needed to create a character that could show the way and inspire young women,” Gutiérrez says. “I also juxtapose the generation of women that had to deal with domestic violence and being tied to the domestic sphere. Yes, this book is for young women, but I also wanted to show young men, young readers the toxicity of masculinity. The drinking [and] the violence against a woman's body, it's definitely a book that I created to speak to the next generations.”

Pouring their hearts into their books, the Tomás Rivera recipients say they are glad to see their efforts come full circle as they share the capability of the Mexican American community.

Social injustice activist and author of "The Spirit of Chicano Park/El espíritu del Parque Chicano," Beatrice Zamora was inspired to create her book just in time for the 50th anniversary of Chicano Park located in San Diego.

Zamora shares the story of Bettie and Bonky, new residents of the historical Barrio Logan, who discover the magical park. With the help of a mystical "señora," they travel through a historical journey, showing the community’s struggle to build a park and learn the true history of Chicano Park.

Inspired by the real community of Barrio Logan, San Diego's oldest Mexican American neighborhood, Zamora says the park is a testimony to Mexican American vigor.

“The park has become a symbol for self-determination and for cultural preservation,” Zamora says. “People come from all over the place just to see the park. In 2016, it was actually named a national historic landmark, and so I felt it was important to capture this history for children, especially. To understand that they matter and they have a voice, [so] they can take action to make their neighborhoods beautiful, to preserve their culture and to live in this country as full participants.”

In an effort to stay true to the history of Chicano Park, Zamora and her husband, Mario E. Aguilar, formed their own publication, Tolteca Press, to preserve Chicano cultural through bilingual books.

Zamora says bilingual books are important for Mexican American children, so they may see themselves reflected in the books they read, the history they study and the world they live in.

“I hope that children take from the book that they matter,” Zamora says. “That their voice matters, they are important to the world we live in and their culture is beautiful. I hope that parents realize that the education of their children is important and if they see something that brings them displeasure in their community that [they] should look into it, that they should take action."

"I would hope that educators understand that it's important to have diverse voices, to have a broader perspective on the fact that people of color matter in this country. It’s what this country was founded upon, so diversity is important.”

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Real Story Behind Suspiria (2018) And The 5 Other Paranormal Places You Need To Know About

It’s the classic Hollywood story:

Girl moves to a different country to pursue her dreams of stardom.

Girl auditions for dance academy.

Girl is selected as the new host for the head witch of a coven.

Oh and there’s some Nazis in there as well!

Okay, so maybe it doesn’t fit in the Netflix Rom-Com section…

But regardless - it is all based on a series of true stories. 

It was only last year that a remake of the 1977 art classic - Suspiria (2018) - hit Amazon Prime and a handful of theatres. And joined at its hip was a flurry of top-rated reviews that swooned over its artistic rehashing of the horror genre.

Well, I say top-rated...

For a horror movie it faced a standing ovation, but it was still on the receiving end of many a ‘meh’. 

Nevertheless, fit with an intricate plot and fleshed out with garish gore, this is undoubtedly one of the best horror films of this decade. 

(It it here that I realise that we are about to enter a new decade and I feel like lying face down on the floor and having an existential crisis.)

And it turns out that it’s twisted plot is actually set against a very real backdrop.

Yet despite the intricate set of stories providing the foundation to this tale, Suspiria rarely wears the ‘based on a true story’ label.

Sure, one of the writer’s own stories is often discussed when it comes to this film, but the reality actually goes much deeper and much further than this.

For the last week I’ve been attempting to keep us with the winding story, but it is little discussed, well, anywhere. 

Nevertheless, I’ve brought together everything I could uncover, and present to you this complete guide to the real story behind Suspiria!

Today’s post will cover the essay that served as the main inspiration, the tale it is directly based on, and the paranormal phenomena of magic triangles that support it, too.

Let’s get spooky.

First, Let’s Recap The Plot Of Suspiria

It’s the 1970s. We are in Germany, near the tripoint-border of Switzerland and France.

The main chick from 50 Shades of Grey rocks up to, like, the hottest dance academy to try her hand at being America’s next drag superstar the next big thing. 

Problem is, the academy is run by 3 matrons who worship the Three Mothers - a group of witches determined to bring tears, sighs and darkness to the world!

(mwahahaha)

When someone does call them out for being witches, they get tortured and killed.

Oh, and it all happens through the medium of dance!

No, seriously. 

All the big moments of the plot coincide with dance numbers.

It’s like the prom scene in films about high schools, or maybe the big game!

Anyway - this new kid gets voted as the host for the freshly elected head witch of the coven. And accurately, the other witch who wanted to be elected isn’t happy.

When one of the dancers gets kidnapped, a fellow student investigates, and finds clues in her journal which leads her to the witches’ inner sanctum.

This is where the witchy stuff goes down.

They #roadtrip it to the inner sanctum, and find the kidnapped student who is being used in a ritual.

And this all happens at the same time as the prom big dance! 

The ritual ends up being done incorrectly, and the new kid is possessed by the Jeremy Hunt of the witches.

The possessed new kid then avenges anyone who didn't vote for them. 

This witchy-posessy-death-fest ensues and features as a part of the big dance. 

Witchy control of the dance academy ensues. 

TL;DR - just watch an episode of Dance Moms.

Suspiria Is Originally Based Off The Essay Suspiria De Profundis

The film might be traced back to many paranormal phenomena, but the basis for the film starts here in 1845.

Thomas De Quincey, the author behind Suspiria De Profundis, wrote a collection of short essays which centre on psychological fantasy. 

It is even believed that he wrote these essays based on his own visual experience of Opium; this clearly births the artsy-fartsy nature of the film.

However, it was a screenwriter’s use of these essays to create the original 1970s Suspiria which tied all the strings this post will talk about together.

The inspiration from the essay centres on the three witches known as The Three Mothers. 

And even though this seems a small literature-based link to the film, Argento expands the focus on the Three Mothers to other paranormal phenomena that mirror this.

And this paranormal phenomena includes The Magical Triangle - a region in Europe where occult communities come together and paranormal events are amplified.

However, it turns out that there is not just one magic triangle.

There are five. 

But before we take a roadtrip round all these triangles, we have to discuss the story that directly influenced the film.

Nicologidi’s True Story That Inspired Suspiria

So, we know that Argento’s knowledge of paranormal phenomena directly influenced the film...

But it’s the other screenwriter - Nicolodi - which has a story which directly mirrors the events of the film.

Well, to an extent, that is. 

Nicolodi’s Grandmother went to a Piano school in the area Argento is so obsessed with, and the Grandmother claimed that at this school they practiced black magic.

Clearly this is a simple tale not dissimilar to the other films toting ‘based on a true story’.

However, it’s how Argento expanded this to include other paranormal phenomenon that rightly bestows upon it this classic - and often misused - tagline. 

Argento’s Magical Triangle

“There’s very little to joke about. It’s something that exists…”

Argento clearly based Suspiria on real paranormal phenomenon. 

And it starts here, with The Magical Triangle

It is claimed that the area where France, Germany and Switzerland meet has a history closely linked to the occult.

Whether it’s cursed cathedrals or the collection of occult communities, this triangle was one of the core pieces of inspiration for the flick.

And one of the factors contributing to the occult-focus of this triangle is the teachings of Rudolph Steiner.

(note - this is not steiner in this gif)

Steiner - a social reformer and occultist - created a anthrosophic community in this area. This includes the Waldorf School which was rumoured to have practiced both paganism and satanism, mirroring Nicolodi’s story and the film itself.

Unfortunately, I can find very little information on this triangle itself.

But the other magic triangles I have discovered have received their own fair share of attention.

The 4 Other Magical Triangles You Need To Know About

There are 2 other magic triangles in Europe, alone.

And both actually come together and meet in Turin - a city which is considered a hub of supernatural activity.

The first triangle of these triangles is the Black Magic Triangle:

This includes San Francisco, London, and Turin, and its history dates back to the Roman Era.

Said magic is believed to come from the energetic currents that flow through the cities, with Turin staking its claim as the most magical - and this is because Turin is supposedly suspended between good and evil.

The white magic triangle involves Turin, Lyon and Prague - and all I can find on it is this:

It is claimed that ‘those who know’ go to this area to pay homage to the ‘grand old man’ - make of that what you will..

This magical and mysterious area is further inferred by Turin’s position on the 45th parallel.

“Turin is the place where my nightmares are best.” - Argento.

Yes - that quote is from Argento, confirming the influence of multiple magical triangles in the creation of Suspiria!

And why wouldn’t his nightmares be best here?

This Italian city has witnessed its own history of paranormal events and phenomena, and is even believed to house the hidden gate to hell.

Take the Piazzo Statuto:

Not only has it seen a bloody battle back in the 18th century, it’s angel statue represents the dichotomy between the good and evil Turin allegedly contains.

The angel can also look like the devil, and even bears the mark of a 5 pointed star.

Turin also is claimed to have once housed alchemical labs underground with rumours of metal being converted to gold, a myth relating to the legend of the Philosopher’s stone which has its own paranormal associations.

Ghosts have also been said to roam the streets, such as that of Christine Marie who pushed past lovers into the river to drown.

#brutal

The final paranormal phenomena of Turin I want to discuss is that of Palazzo Trucchi di Levaldigi.

Fit with a hell-inspired door-knocker, this is yet another reminder on the mish mash of magic triangles spread across the world.

Indeed this building is the city’s tarot manufacturer. And the building number? It’s 15.

The tarot card with the no. 15 is the card of the Devil.

The 40,000 satanists rumoured to be lurking the streets of Turin and performing rituals in basements confirms its mysterious existence further.

Our next magical triangle is probably the most famous mystery in existence:

The Bermuda Triangle.

This triangle deserves it’s own post given the sheer volume of evidence, debunking and discussion given to its name. Nevertheless, it further reinforces the reality behind Suspiria.

Also known as the Devil’s Triangle, this is an area from which travellers who sail or fly through often go missing.

The recorded occurrences began in 1950 with the loss of Flight 19.

Whether it’s the claims of UFOs, or the lost city of Atlantis’ technology, this triangle be a spooky one. 

Our final triangle is a little less international, and resides in the state of Massachusetts in the US of A:

It’s the Bridgewater Triangle.

Named by paranormal investigator Loren Coleman, this 200 square mile triangle has been a home to many a creature in its time.

From a huge black dog back in 1976, to tall, winged creatures, and even Bigfoot, this is a hub for paranormal sightings.

Weirder occurrences such as mutilated cattle have also been discovered, confirming that Suspiria’s story goes much deeper - and further - than we would like…

The True Story Behind The Three Witches

The last piece of paranormal phenomena we have to discuss is that of the Three Witches. And no, Suspiria isn’t the first piece of pop culture to make note of witches coming in threes.

Sure, Shakespeare beat Thomas to the chase with the Weird Sisters in Macbeth, but three is actually a very spiritual number. 

Clearly the most obvious claim to this is the Holy Trinity: God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost. 

But mirroring this is the stages of the moon; the concept of Mind, Body and Spirit; and Mother, Maiden, and Crone.

The last trinity points to pagan beliefs regarding the seasons, but also relies closely on their perspective of witches, particularly in British folk religions. Witches were often believed to come in threes, and contained a mother, a maiden, and a crone.

And thus, as triangles have 3 corners and 3 sides, we see how a link is forged between the 3 witches in Suspiria, and the magical triangles already explained in this post.

This is especially true given the importance of a triangle as a symbol in paganism.

Whether its derived from paranormal theory, or sought from the tales of terror lurking around the world, Suspiria isn’t just based on 19th century literature. 

Indeed, it has pointed us to a paranormal phenomenon - that of magic triangles - little discussed among us mere mortals.

So - what’s your verdict?

Do you think Turin is haunted by the clash between good and evil?

And who else wants to roadtrip round the triangles with me?

[childoftimeandmagic]

Burning for You

Klaroline AU Week 2019 is here, catch me sneaking this in under the wire. Thank you @itsnotacrimetoloveyou for getting my author juices flowing again. 

Read on AO3 

               Growing up when giants walked the earth Caroline often felt older than she truly was. That being said being reborn often made her feel exactly her age. Stranding slowly, her head fuzzy with the details, she glanced around her store and groaned. The scorched tile and ashes of where her store had been made sense. Feeling her chest, she felt the healing wound on her chest. Bullet wound, wood by the fact she’d rebirthed so quickly. Humans had the most entertaining toys to play with, holding out her hand she absorbed the residual flames and heat back into her body. If anyone had been around to notice it, they would have seen the briefest glimpse of fiery wings rising behind the naked blonde.

           Taking a deep breath, she started moving through the rubble of her jewelry store for anything of value to take with her. Since she’d most likely be considered dead from a mysterious fire, it was time to leave Mystic Falls. After recovering a hundred pieces of gold and silver gemstone encrusted pieces, she took a deep breath and in a swirl of blue fire disappeared from the rubble, just as sirens started to pour in.

           Unbeknownst to Caroline someone had been watching her stumble through her former store. Someone who had been looking for the being that couldn’t be killed by a weapon of man nor flame of the gods. A man who was bent on controlling or killing the powerful beings in creation. Someone who believed himself to be the most powerful creature to walk the earth. Klaus Mikaelson stalked from the shadows across the Mystic Falls square his suspicion confirmed.

           People had murmured his entire immortal life of the powers of rejuvenation and destruction a Phenix controlled. A nice bedtime story for those who needed a miracle or a plea of vengeance. Then the alters had started popping up, about six hundred years ago or so. Whispers saying that if one left a vibrant gemstone, or something of equal beauty the Auroral Phenix would answer their prayer. Klaus had dismissed it as the blithering tales of human’s hell bent on praying for anyone to save them or protect them.

           Then his minions had started pouring in stories of villages being burned down the day after an opal or precious stone had been left at one of these alters in the woods. Soon more stories came in of the sick miraculously healing. Abusers of women and children, catching fire spontaneously while walking through the town after a doll from a little girl or toy cart from a little boy had been left with pleas for help. Yet no one saw anything but a burst pretty petite blonde near the location of every occurrence. Soon his interest was piqued, Rebekah and Elijah had amused his curiosity to an extent.

           Caroline reappeared five thousand miles away in her villa ruins of Despotiko. While she could have reappeared anywhere, her family home was were her body always pulled following a rebirth, over the last two thousand years she’d given up on resisting the pull. Despotiko was protected and a national archaeological site for the Greeks. Whether or not they’d ever actually owned it or not was of little matter at this point, the ancient history of man and nymphs lost to time. Once islands across the Mediterranean had been known to be sanctuaries for the children of the gods. Walking through the broken pillars to where she could look out over the bay, she closed her eyes.

           Lots of mythos surrounded her people but, in the end, she was the last one left. Shapeshifting hadn’t protected them as much as Helios and Hephaestus had hoped. Man was a cruel race willing to destroy anything it didn’t feel it could control or conquer adequately. Rolling her shoulders, she walked over to her mother’s chest, that she had here masked by magic and careful misdirection. There were sentimental things, like her mother’s molting plumage which never faded, an aquamarine pendent in the shape of a tear, as well as practical things like clothes and weapons. Grabbing her gear, she got dressed quickly. Placing the gems and jewelry she’d recovered from the remnants of Rising Jewelers ashes into the box she placed her hands on the chest and said a prayer to her father to protect her from whatever was chasing her.

She like her mother, was child of an air nymph and the sun god Helios. Nymphs who bore a Phenix didn’t survive the birth, so most Phenix’s lived with an older member of the flock until maturity which was between six hundred and eight hundred years old. While they rarely stayed in human forms, their avian forms in the end had been their undoing.

As humans had realized that they were demi-gods or the grandchildren of a titan and a being of Gia, the desire to control grew. Phenix’s could neither be controlled or tamed, they also couldn’t be recreated through interbreeding. Then the age of iron had come, and with-it man’s weapons grew stronger. Unbeknownst to her flock or her father, to prevent them from growing too strong, Zeus had cursed his cousin’s children to be burned by the touch of iron. As such they could only be killed by iron through the heart or brain.

While man had destroyed her culture 1200 years ago, her god father had spirited her away from the blood bath and placed her with cousin Hephaestus in the volcanic chasms underground until she’d reached maturity of six hundred years old. Carolina as she’d been known then had trained as a jewel smith under her god cousin, who was amazed at her ability to focus and her attention to details.

The old gods slumbered now though, their worshipers far and in-between, not enough to keep them awake. Caroline drifted through the world of man taking time to help innocents here and there. Caroline missed her flock often especially after a traumatic rebirth, but life moved on and with time so did she. Man was impressionable though and with a few well-placed whispers and alters popping up on every continent she thrived.

 She pulled a replacement phone from the chest and plugged in the password to unlock it. Walking around the ruins of her old life, she ran a security check on her various properties across the globe. Everything was fine except her store front in New Orleans. Rolling her eyes, she zoomed in on who was sitting on her counter. Niklaus Mikaelson. He had been sniffing after her tail feathers for six centuries. Still her deal with Kol Mikaelson not to engage with his older brother was the reason; why his overzealous murder happy brother wasn’t a crispy critter her to consume.

Growling low in her throat, she felt the fire rise within her. Taking multiple deep breaths didn’t keep her phantom flame wings from unfurling behind her, scorching the points of her shirt where her real wings would have come out of her back. Spinning on her heel she walked back to the chest and grabbed her favorite leather jacket. If Klaus Mikaelson wanted to fuck with her, he was about to find out that getting too close to an open flame got you eaten by the last daughter of the sun.

  Klaus was hoping that his minion wasn’t wrong otherwise he was sitting in gorgeous jewelry store that had been closed for five years. In fact, the store according to his minion had closed the day after he and his siblings had returned home. Klaus looked around the store from his spot on the counter impressed with the amount of gold and gems left just sitting on display. Was this woman really so powerful that she felt comfortable leaving such expensive things behind in her absence.

“You know getting ass sweat off of glass is a lot harder than people assume,” a crystal voice startled him out of his thoughts, “get off the furniture hybrid.”

Spinning he looked for the source of the voice, standing behind him was the slight blonde beauty who’d burned and the reformed in the rubble of a small-town jewelry store four nights previous. “So, you aren’t a myth?”

“No very much real now if you want to continue to terrorize your section of the supernatural realm, I suggest you leave now,” the blonde replied, barely looking at him. In fact, it looked almost like she was bored. Snarling he flashed forward only to meet heat and smoke. Turning on his heel he froze as he felt a burning pain on his back. “I told you to leave Mikaelson.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he breathed through the pain trying to ignore the searing pain that burst forth from her hand on his back.

“You have hmmm, I don’t remember you calling me up or sending me a message on twitter,” she pushed more heat through her hand feeling the flesh start to burn under her hand, the shirt long gone.

“I didn’t think you’d take me call.” he wheezed flashing away finally giving up all pretense that it didn’t hurt to feel her touch.

“Oh, but breaking into one of my stores seemed much smarter,” Caroline was growing impatient. The predator in her wanted to eat him in one gulp, people forgot that some birds weren’t herbivores. She felt the fire from her hand itch to come out and play.

“I wanted to know if the stories were true, if you were the Auroral Phenix incarnate,” he said, shifting his shirt off to look at the scorch marks her hand had left. Only the marking looked more claw than fingered.

“So why not just ask, one apex predator to another?” she asked, looking around her store, and Klaus paused.

Up close he was amazed there weren’t more stories of how beautiful this blonde woman was. Eyes that made him feel he was staring into the deepest pools of water, and hair that could only be described as spun gold. “I never heard tale of a Phenix’s kill, or destruction until you started burning whole villages down as you pleased.”

“It’s not my fault man built their homes out of such flammable material, if they couldn’t handle a little heat then they shouldn’t beat their wives or children,” Caroline stated, as though the thought of not burning down a tinder box of a wooden home hadn’t occurred to her. She was working ridiculously hard at focusing on his ches-no eyes. God why did immortality tend to happen to the only physically gifted individuals of the world.

“So you only ever burned down villages of people who deserved it?” Klaus asked, stepping closer.

“Sometimes a rebirth went wrong, or my heart too heavy to contain my flame,” Caroline sighed, she was growing bored.

“It’s true though, all the stories about your kind though?” he asked, pushing closer when she made no move to stop him.

“Depends on what you’ve heard, though I doubt any of it was actually correct.”

“You don’t cry healing tears, nor journey to the ends of the world to die and be reborn?”

“Maybe yes, but maybe no,” Caroline answered, moving around her store looking to check if he’d stolen anything, always keeping one eye on the man in her store.

“Don’t play games girl,” he growled.

“Girl, that’s rich, I was in my first thousand years when your people hadn’t yet learned how to make swords.” Caroline spun on him so quick he felt off kilter. In a thousand years he’d never met anything or one who made him feel weak. Her hair glowing an almost auburn kind of gold, the color of molten metal. “Either tell me what the great Hybrid wants with me or be gone!”

“Madam,” he cleared his throat. “I merely thought that us powerful creatures should get to know one another better.”

“Bullshit, those words might work with the witches, and fae queens you’re used to dealing with, but my magic is older than the magic of man and far less forgiving Niklaus Mikaelson,” Caroline felt her body aching to change and devour the abomination before her. Stealing the monster inside herself she remembered the teachings of her mother and her people.

“It’s actually my sister Rebekah, she’s been poisoned by something and withers away day by day, I was looking for you because Kol told us that only you could save her,” he relented, stepping back.

“You came to ask a favor, or did you think you could force my hand Niklaus Mikaelson?” she said, eyebrow arched as flame wings glinted behind her reflecting off the gold and silver pieces hanging around the store.

Klaus was at a loss for words, if this was her half transformed, with wings of flame, it belied a beautiful creature in her natural form. He could see shades of reds, blues, and yellows, rippling over her hair and through the flames behind her. “I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“Bring me the thing you value most and I’ll give you the gift to save your sister,” she said, stalking forward and holding her hand out to him. Taking it, he hissed as the heat seared his palm. Pulling away he saw a scar on his palm in the shape of swirling smoke.

When he looked up, he was alone on the roof top of One Shell Square, alone. Spinning around he saw a faint sparkle of something flying off into the night sky a thousand yards away from him. Growling he flashed home to see how Rebekah was faring in his absence.

 Two days passed and Klaus had not come back to her shop. She was calmer now, the heat of the rebirth finally worn off. Sighing she turned back to her styling and sculpting of the vial that she would use to hold her tears. A phenix’s tears gained their healing ability from the lost souls that they cried for. Crying allowed them to protect and preserve themselves and their flock outside of rebirth. Even if Klaus didn’t come back, she would leave the vial on Rebekah’s bedside. She need only drink the tears and all curses, maladies, and pain would leave her body.

Standing she walked to the garden outside her workroom, she knelt down and placed the vial at the center of the sundial design in the tile. Finally, she allowed herself to shift into her natural form. Deep red and yellow plumage spilled out as her bones thinned and shifted to become her real self. Shaking out her tail feathers, she let out a low mournful call, which startled every bird within a half mile out of their nests and into the sky.

Crying drops the color of molten gold, she angled her head so as the tears dripped down her face, they rolled off her beak and filled the vial below. She cried for all the women lost to anger, the children dead in the name of greed, and the loss of her family a millennium twice past. When the vial was full, and her heart felt as light as her bones she shook out her plumage and looked up into the sun which was highest in the sky.

“Thank you, father,” she silently prayed.

“Caroline?” he was here, curious she turned her head 180 degrees to look at him. Standing in the doorway of her work room was the hybrid empty handed. Cooing she looked at him eyes wide. Shifting back into her sun-dressed human form she shook off the few feathers that clung through the transformation. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a fairy princess transforming in a gust of wind and flame?”

“I tend to eat most beings who see me transform, so no,” Caroline said softly, looking up at him as she knelt to stopper the vial. “I believe the deal was what you value most, in exchange for your sisters cure.”

“I thought about this for two whole days Nix, and I couldn’t come up with anything,” he said slowly, “my sister actually figured it out first, you want me to give myself to you in exchange for her.”

“I wanted the offer, but I’ve never left a woman to suffer,” Caroline laughed, and tossed the vial to him.

“Dinner on the gulf?” he offered, snatching it deftly out of the air.

“Our pact is fulfilled,” she answered, walking over and leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly. “Don’t be late.”

[shielddrake]

The Monomyth in Video Games (AKA My Longest Rambling Ever)

Tell me if this sounds familiar:

 A person who comes from humble beginnings is called to go on an adventure to accomplish something great. He (it’s usually he) may either jump at the call or initially refuse it, but finally goes with the help of a mentor figure. He meets various amazing people and faces a myriad of challenges to achieve his ultimate goal. He confronts the main obstacle, overcomes it, and is rewarded for it. He returns to his home a wiser person, and bestows upon his fellow people the lessons he has learned, to the benefit of all. The End.

 Anyone know this? Anyone? Yup, that is a short, short, very short and simplified version of the monomyth, also known as The Hero’s Journey, a narrative device observed by many people but popularized by Joseph Campbell.  It has been studied and used by storytellers of various media, ranging from oral tales to books to movies to, yes, video games.

 It is one of the most common narrative devices out there, if not possibly the most common, at least historically. I’m sure a lot of us were exposed to Greek myths such as The Odyssey in school (at least, in America we are). JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings has many of the steps in the early parts of the story, before drifting in other directions once the fellowship separates. Each individual Harry Potter book has its own cycle of The Hero’s Journey. Every. Single. One. Star Wars is still a popular franchise (the more recent criticisms aside) and George Lucas has admitted repeatedly he used the monomyth as inspiration while he was writing the scripts for the original trilogy. So even if you are not intimately familiar with The Hero’s Journey in detail, high chances are you’ve been exposed to it simply through consuming various media.

 That’s not to say that using this narrative device is always intentional. I would find it incredibly surprising if Hiromu Arakawa or Hajime Isayama were purposely trying to include monomyth steps in their creation of Fullmetal Alchemist and Attack on Titan, respectfully, or that the creators of the 2019 anime version of Dororo meant to put Hyakkimaru through the paces of The Hero’s Journey, but sure enough, all these have some aspects of the monomyth in them!

 Does this mean a story, whether it’s a novel, TV show, movie or video game, has to possess all these steps in order to be considered using the monomyth?  No, definitely not.  On the contrary, it would actually be a good thing for stories to not require use of all these steps.  Telling a story by just crossing items off from a list is bound to create a rather stale experience. What I’m saying is simply that stories will borrow aspects of The Hero’s Journey to make the story compelling. The same goes for order and magnitude. The monomyth is usually presented in seventeen steps, but I don’t feel like they necessarily have to show up in the story in the listed order, nor do the steps have to take up equal amounts of the story-telling experience. Steps four through ten usually are the longest, while the last five or so tend to be rather short.

 So, in my apparently endless determination to apply the same techniques used in literary theory and film theory to video games, I would like to go over a couple of video games and how they do or do not apply the various steps of the monomyth.  I will go over four video games, noting whether each step is present, how much it adds to the story by its presence or absence, and how well the game represents the step.

 I’ve decided to review Final Fantasy VII (because its remake it coming out relatively soon), Dragon Age Inquisition (for another RPG, but not made in Japan), Bioshock (to show this isn’t just an RPG thing), and Psychonauts (because I’ve still got Psychonauts on the mind from my last post). I will also be comparing this to the monomyth found in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone, The Lord of the Rings, and the Star Wars Original Trilogy.

 There will be spoilers for these movies and games, on the off chance that anyone who hasn’t seen or played them doesn’t want them ruined. Do I need to keep putting spoiler warnings on older games? Or for the books/movies? Although I’m also kind of writing this with the idea that you have at least a passing knowledge of these movies, books and games…Oh well, just to be safe: Spoilers Ahead!

 This is a really, really long one, so beware. Readers may want to take this in phases.

  Let us begin.

 1.) The Call to Adventure

 First, there needs to be a little backstory established. The hero’s journey usually begins in the home of the main protagonist, more often than not showing the protagonist’s life in its everyday normalcy, which is often put in a negative light, ranging from boring to outright dangerous.

 The hero will generally come from rather small beginnings, which is probably why orphans are a common origin story. Luke is an orphan who lives with his aunt and uncle, oblivious to the fact that his father is Darth Vader. Harry Potter is very much the same, living with a borderline abusive family who force him to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. Frodo is also an orphan taken in by Bilbo, his second cousin (hobbit family trees are confusing). Please note that this does not preclude a hero from learning a parent is alive later in the story (looking at you, Luke).

 In addition to this, the hero is rarely someone with much power, authority or money. Being a moisture farmer on Tatooine is apparently not the most noble of professions (though on a desert planet I’m a bit surprised by this), and the Dursleys appear to be middle class at best. Bilbo and Frodo are wealthy by hobbit standards and seem to be higher on the social hierarchy in The Shire, but remember that hobbits mostly reside in the Shire and immediately surrounding areas, so they aren’t considered to be important players in the world of men or elves. They are small both in stature and in society.

 For our chosen video games, it’s a little bit up to interpretation of the word “orphan” and what the player decides, but the humble beginnings idea still applies. Cloud from Final Fantasy VII (FFVII) is half-orphaned at a young age when his father dies, but doesn’t become a full orphan until he’s a teenager, when his mother dies during the Nibelheim Incident. We only see this in a flashback, and adult Cloud is a full orphan by the start of the game. By this point, Cloud has fallen from a SOLDIER First Class to a mercenary. So he’s rebelling against the more powerful people in Midgar, or at least is being paid to do so.

 The Inquisitor of Dragon Age Inquisition (DAI) may or may not have living parents, depending on origin and player choice. A human Inquisitor probably has living parents, but it’s a bit debatable if an elf, dwarf or Qunari Inquisitor does. At the beginning of the game the Inquisitor loses any prestige they may or may not have had (especially the human noble), and a Carta dwarf, Dalish elf, and Vashoth Qunari don’t have much in terms of power or rank in Thedas anyway. Whatever the case, the Inquisitor ends up being just a simple prisoner for the early prologue part of the story, before being raised up to the Herald of Andraste and eventually to Inquisitor.

 Jack from Bioshock is an interesting case. He’s sold by his biological mother, “raised” by Dr. Suchong and Brigid Tenenbaum, and later smuggled out of Rapture to live with adoptive “parents.” He is also an outsider in that he is kind of an unknown factor, given his upbringing, so by the time Jack arrives in Rapture at the start of the game, he is basically nothing but another body that happens to be there. Without Atlas directing him, it is very possible he could have just become another splicer, the crazed and deformed human remnants of Rapture’s human population. Either way, he doesn’t have much in terms of money, power or authority by the start of the game.

 Raz from Psychonauts doesn’t fit the orphan archetype, as he clearly has a rather large family, but he is estranged from his father at the very least. We don’t know his relationship with the rest of his family, but perhaps we’ll see more of that in the sequel. Raz definitely fits the humble beginnings archetype though, seeing as a circus performer profession is looked down upon, especially if you ask Kitty or Franke.

 The Call to Adventure itself can come in many forms, either through circumstance, a person begging for help, the hero learning about their origin they previously didn’t know, the hero’s own desire for a better life, and so forth. “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” Yeah, that one is pretty clear. Harry Potter gets his letter to Hogwarts delivered by Hagrid, and Gandalf says that Frodo must deliver The One Ring to Rivendell (although in the book Frodo takes a few months just thinking about it before actually leaving the Shire).

 For Cloud, the call really comes from both Barret and Tifa, with Barret paying him to help destroy the Mako Reactors, and Tifa pretty much calling in the promise Cloud apparently made to protect her during their childhood. The Inquisitor is basically blackmailed into working with Cassandra and Leliana to rebuild the Inquisition to close the Breach, which the player can either go along with willingly or unwillingly.

 Jack…doesn’t exactly have a call to adventure so much as he’s thrown into the adventure by way of mental conditioning and circumstance. The player doesn’t really get how the plane he’s riding crashed and why he ended up in Rapture until later in the game, but he’s basically told by Atlas/Fontaine what to do to help him save his (Atlas’) family. And things just go from there. For Raz, he receives a pamphlet for Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp, and being a psychic himself Raz decides to run away from the circus (in an inversion of the normal run away to the circus trope) to attend the camp. I would still like to know who it was that gave Raz that pamphlet to begin with. I’ve heard a lot of different theories. What do you guys think?

 2.) The Refusal of the Call

 When the hero receives the Call to Adventure, in whatever form it comes in, the hero often refuses the call, saying he or she is not cut out for whatever the adventure calls for or they have something else more important to do.  This can be saying you have to help your uncle on the moisture farm, saying you can’t possibly be a wizard, or trying to give The One Ring to the wizard who reveals the danger you’re in. The Refusal is of course short-lived and the hero goes along with the call anyway, otherwise there would ultimately be no plot, or at least a very, very boring one.

 Cloud’s Refusal of the Call is short-lived but repeated. He tells Barret that Shinra sucking Mako from the planet isn’t his problem, tells Biggs he’s gone once the job is over, proclaims to the entire AVALANCHE group that he doesn’t care about the planet, and tells Tifa he’s going to let AVALANCHE deal with Shinra and that he’s no hero. It isn’t until Tifa reminds him of a promise he made to her that he actually sticks around the group. All this occurs in roughly the first half hour of the game.

 In DAI, a Refusal of the Call is optional based on player choice. The Inquisitor can reject being the Herald of Andraste basically from the word go, with repeated rejections scattered about the entire game. Later, the player can refuse the idea of leading the Inquisition, including for race or religious reasons.  All this doesn’t matter, however, as the game continues on with the player’s character being referred to as the Herald/Inquisitor anyway, so the refusal is kind of a moot point.

 Bioshock and Psychonauts don’t really have any Refusals of the Call. Raz actually jumps at the chance of going on an adventure, away from the circus, away from his family, who he thinks doesn’t understand him.  If anything, the refusal comes from his father, Augustus, who destroys the pamphlet for the camp and forces Raz to practice acrobatics instead. But Jack’s story is the most interesting to me in terms of the refusal, and anyone who has played through Bioshock knows why. Not only does Jack not refuse the call, but also he also literally cannot refuse it. His “Would You Kindly” mental conditioning keeps him from doing so, and I love that it is buried in the gameplay in a way that the player doesn’t even realize the mental conditioning is there until much later. Story and gameplay integrated!

 3.) Supernatural Aid/Meeting the Mentor

 I’ve seen this step be called alternatively both Supernatural Aid and Meeting the Mentor, depending on who is describing The Hero’s Journey. Campbell called it the former, while the more recent Christopher Vogel calls it the latter. Personally I think these should be separate steps, but they often have to do with one another in some way, so I guess they can go together.

 The term “supernatural” is just vague enough that it can mean many things.  It can mean magic, divine intervention, magic, genetic manipulation, magic, psychic abilities, magic, aliens, or Force magic, to name a few. Harry Potter and Fellowship of the Rings all have some form of magic (of course), while Star Wars has the Force. FFVII has magic, the ancient spiritual race of the Cetra, and, strangely enough, the alien invader Jenova. Psychonauts has psychics (again, of course).  DAI has presumed divine intervention from the Jesus-like figure of Andraste, at least until the Inquisitor enters the Fade and learns it was actually Divine Justinia, who is basically the Dragon Age version of the Pope. The Plasmids that Jack uses throughout Bioshock is more scientific than magical, but it still serves the same function.

 As for mentors, some of those are pretty obvious for the books/movies. Luke has Obi-Wan, Frodo has Gandalf, and Harry has Dumbledore. For our chosen video games, it’s a bit less clear.  Cloud’s “mentors” might actually be his love interests Aerith and Tifa, depending on how far in the game the player is. Jack has both Atlas/Fontaine and Tenenbaum, for better or worse. Raz actually has several, which is no surprise considering summer camps have to have several camp counselors, but the two major ones are Sasha Nein and Ford Cruller, since those are the ones he spends the most time with and Raz clearly looks up to Sasha as his hero.

 For the Inquisitor, that’s where it gets a bit muddy. It would seem like Cassandra starts as a mentor figure, giving the Herald advice and trying to direct them, but quickly takes a backseat once the player character becomes the Inquisitor proper. She doesn’t even show up at the war table anymore, whereas in Haven she does. Is Leliana a mentor? Kind of, but only in the sense that she acts as an advisor, roles that are also played by Cullen and Josephine.  Solas? Well, he would like to think so, and you even get minor boosts in approval if you listen to him. Or you could ignore him entirely and piss him off.  Andraste? Sure, if your Inquisitor is devout. It’s more up to the interpretation and choices of the player.

 4.) Crossing the First Threshold

 This is the step where the protagonist basically goes, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” (Yes, MGM’s Wizard of Oz also has its own Hero’s Journey!) It is the point of no return, where the hero finally decides to go with the Call to Adventure.  It is also in this step that the hero first encounters some of the real world outside of his or her comfort zone. So, this is another step that is kind of more like two steps.

 Our movies certainly have this two-part step. Luke decides to go with Obi-Wan to Alderaan after his aunt and uncle are killed by Imperial soldiers, and the cantina scene is his first real interaction with the tougher people that exist in the galaxy, including the skeptical Han Solo. Frodo (eventually) decides to take the One Ring to Rivendell, and The Prancing Pony in Bree exposes the hobbits to full-sized people for the first time, other than Gandalf. Harry Potter also has two, once at the Leaky Cauldron (pubs and inns seem to be a trend) leading to Diagon Alley and again on the Hogwarts Express.

 Psychonauts has an obvious Crossing of the First Threshold: Raz enters Coach Oleander’s mind, the Basic Braining level, the first mind Raz ever enters…presumably. It’s possible he entered another mind before then, but it’s not likely.

 Jack’s first sight of Rapture kind of acts as a first threshold, for both Jack as a character and for the player, but I also kind of like to think of it as the scene where Jack first sees a Big Daddy defend a Little Sister from a splicer. It gives a bit of foreshadowing that nothing is what it looks like down here, and Jack (and by extension, the player) should be careful about who he trusts.  A Little Sister is not a small, innocent creature after all, because there is always a dangerous, hulking Big Daddy somewhere nearby. Atlas is not who he appears to be, and ultimately Jack isn’t either. Instead, they are both people wearing masks, one intentionally and the other completely obviously.

 The first attempt at closing the Breach in DAI is a clear crossing, because it is from there that the Inquisition is reborn and the main character becomes the Herald of Andraste. Nothing is the same for the player’s character from that point on. The same goes for Cloud and the gang after the pillar holding up the upper plate over the Sector 7 slums collapses. Most of AVALANCHE’s members are killed and Aerith is captured. It’s not about saving the planet by this point. It’s about saving Aerith and getting revenge. Things just domino on from there.

 5.) Belly of the Whale

 This step coincides with the previous one. It is the final separation from everything the hero knows and moving into the unknown. Oftentimes it overlaps with a step called Loss of the Mentor, but it doesn’t have to. Consumption by a whale is optional, though use of a metaphorical whale is the more common approach.

 Speaking of metaphorical whales, what’s a bigger one than the Death Star? The same place where Obi-Wan dies, leaving the last connection to anything Luke had to his previous life and the one who would help him step into the future. He’s aboard the Millennium Falcon with two other people, two droids and a Wookie, but in reality he’s completely alone.

 Another such whale is Moria, the underground kingdom previously ruled by dwarves, but by the time of The Fellowship of the Ring, it is overrun by goblins, orcs, and the Balrog. The fellowship is swallowed by the earth and needs to get out. The price of that, however, is losing Gandalf. Another mentor lost. An even bigger whale is seen later in the books once Frodo and Sam reach Mordor itself, and they have to face even more challenges to get the One Ring to Mount Doom.

 For Harry, the whale could be a couple of things. It could be Hogwarts itself, the Forbidden Forest, the Hogwarts Express, the forbidden room on the third floor, or perhaps the trapdoor under Fluffy and the passage underneath…Lots of options here.  Now, the mentor figure for this book, Dumbledore, doesn’t leave Hogwarts until near the end of the story, and thankfully he doesn’t die, unlike the previous mentors who happen to be old, bearded, wizard men. He waits until book six to do that.

 FFVII kind of has an opposite whale. On one hand, it could be argued that the Shinra, Inc. building could be the whale, and although it certainly could be, I think a more poignant one would be the greater world itself. Once Cloud and the gang escape from Shinra, they leave Midgar and head out into the world, and they don’t return to Midgar until the end of the game. This could also be considered a Crossing the First Threshold.

 Again, DAI is about choice, but there are two events that are pretty big whales. The first is trying to recruit either the mages or the Templars to the Inquisition to close the Breach. Whether the player ends up facing Alexius in a dystopian future or fighting an Envy Demon for control in the Herald’s own mind, the main character ends up delving deep into a dangerous situation they have to climb out of. The second time is during the quest line to fight the possessed Gray Wardens and the Inquisitor ends up falling into the Fade. Quite a whale there, the Fade. A giant world that is only supposed to be accessible either to mages or in dreams. This is even more intense of an experience for a dwarf Inquisitor, since dwarves do not dream and cannot be mages in this universe.

 Bioshock…well, besides the idea of Rapture itself being a whale (during the game’s opening scenes, we even see a whale swim between Rapture’s towers), I would consider the most likely place to be Rapture Central Control. It’s here that some of the most important game events happen, after all. Jack kills Andrew Ryan, there’s the reveal of Jack’s “Would You Kindly” mental conditioning, and Jack learns he’s actually Ryan’s illegitimate son. Not to mention learning that Atlas, who has been guiding Jack and the player throughout the game thus far, is actually Frank Fontaine, the big bad. He has actually been using Jack this whole time just to one-up Andrew Ryan in their little power struggle. And then Fontaine betrays Jack and sends security bots to kill him, leading to yet another loss of a mentor. That’s a lot to take in during such a short time.

 Psychonauts doesn’t have a whale, but it does have a Hideous Hulking Lungfish. Raz has to do battle with her beneath Lake Oblongata, and then enter her mind so Raz can release her from Kochamara’s control. By then, Sasha and Milla have already been kidnapped, under the ruse of “Official Psychonauts Business,” and Ford Cruller is forced to remain in his underground lair near the psitanium so he doesn’t fall into one of his many personalities. So much for help there.

 6.) The Road of Trials

 The Road of Trials is the meat and potatoes of the story. It’s all the challenges the hero must overcome in order to reach the ultimate goal, whether it’s a big or little one. The challenges themselves may also be large or small, and according to Campbell often occur in groups of three. These challenges prepare the hero for the final encounter at the end of the story.

 …Do I really need to go over these in detail for each movie and game I’m reviewing here?  It’s basically the plot all the characters go through during the course of the story, ranging from battles, dungeons, travel, magic classes, camp activities, puzzles, and so forth. I’m not going to list each one here. This post is long enough as it is.

 7.) The Meeting with the Goddess

 This step involves the hero meeting with another character who helps them in some way, whether it’s as part of the hero’s group, by giving an item that is helpful, or just giving good advice. More often than not, this character is one of high ranking: an actual goddess, a princess, a queen, or something of that sort. She may or may not be a love interest, and more modernly she may not be a “she” at all…our examples here though do happen to be female, but I’m just saying this doesn’t have to be the case.

 Star Wars is obvious. Luke meets Leia, the Princess of Alderaan who hides the plans to destroy the Death Star in R2D2, first in her hologram and then in person aboard the Death Star itself. Frodo meets Galadriel in Lothlorien, where she allows him (and Sam, in the books) to glimpse into the Mirror of Galadriel to see the possible future of the Shire should his quest fail. She also provides him the phial containing the light of Earendil’s star, which is vital to fighting off Shelob later on. I wouldn’t exactly say Harry Potter has a goddess to meet, but I like to think it’s supposed to be Hermione, since she knows so much and often is the only one who actually knows what’s going on.

 Let’s see. FFVII has Aerith, whose big “gift” to the story is giving her life while she prays for Holy to stop Sephiroth’s Meteor. Bioshock has Brigid Tenenbaum, who assists Jack throughout the game if he spares the Little Sisters, and removes part of his mental conditioning so Jack can resist Fontaine. Milla is one of Raz’s teachers at Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp, teaching him the Levitation ability, which is arguably the most useful ability in the game.

 As for DAI, there are plenty of characters that can play the role of the goddess, but I would argue the most important one might be Morrigan. She tells the Inquisitor about the eluvians and theorizes Corypheus is searching for one as a means to reach the Fade. Although she ends up being wrong, Morrigan also is a candidate for drinking from the Well of Sorrows, and if she does she helps the Inquisitor by fighting the red lyrium dragon during the final battle with Corypheus.

 8.) Woman as Temptress

 Here’s another misleading title. The Woman as Temptress originates back from Campbell’s research of Greek myths, where the hero is enticed by a female figure: Circe, Calypso, the Sirens, and so on. Today, the “woman” is really just anything that tries to drive the hero away from the path of his journey. This can be power, money, promises, or threats, for some other examples. It can still be a person, but lately that hasn’t been the case.

 There is always the temptation of the Dark Side of the Force, although Luke doesn’t really encounter this in full force until The Empire Strikes Back. The One Ring is the temptation itself, and it actually does succeed, since Frodo doesn’t throw the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom. It isn’t destroyed until Gollum bites off Frodo’s finger, reclaims the Ring, and falls into the Crack of Doom while doing a happy jig. Voldemort tries (very briefly) to get Harry to join him and hand over the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone at the end of the book (it’s a bit longer in the movie) but that doesn’t last very long.

 There’s not exactly a temptation in FFVII, although I guess Jenova manipulating Cloud into bringing the Black Material to Sephiroth at the North Crater is the closest thing. I feel that goes more into the manipulation category than temptation though, but it still functions in a similar way. Bioshock has the temptation of harvesting the Little Sisters to receive more ADAM from them, and thus allowing Jack to obtain more abilities. This can be really appealing from a gameplay perspective, and results in the bad ending of the game if you kill every Little Sister. Alternatively, Tenenbaum compensates you if you spare the Little Sisters, so it’s not the end of the world to resist the temptation.

 …Raz doesn’t have a temptation to stop trying to become a Psychonaut. At all. Oleander never convinces him, Loboto doesn’t convince him (their interaction is actually incredibly small in the main game), none of the other campers dissuade him, and he faces all the obstacles in all the different minds with determination. The closest thing I can think of is Lili, who really just tries to give him a realistic view that the Psychonauts are not as important as they once were. I guess the “making out” scene kind of fits here, since Raz is clearing distracted by the idea of kissing Lili and doesn’t pay any attention to what she’s saying immediately after. Linda interrupting them puts an end to that though.

 As for DAI…yeah, I have trouble with this one.  There really isn’t anything that tempts the Inquisitor in a way that distracts them from the danger at hand. Romance doesn’t do it, power doesn’t do it, money doesn’t do it, blood magic doesn’t do it, demons don’t do it…Yeah, I’ve got nothing. Readers, please help me with this, if possible!

 9.) Atonement with the Father

 This is the step most people know even if they don’t know the concept of the Hero’s Journey itself, because it is such a common trope used in all kinds of story telling. This can be a father or father figure, and honestly it’s not unusual for this to be replaced by a brother in video games, and less commonly with another relative. This step may or may not be related to the next step, Apotheosis, depending on if the “father” is the source of the main conflict, but it is still one of the major obstacles the hero must overcome. Another thing to note that this step does not have to involve the death of the “father” either.

 Let’s face it: Star Wars is one of those films that normalized the father-son conflict dynamic in movies. Sure, it existed before then, but it became a huge thing after the iconic scene between Luke and Vader in The Empire Strikes Back. The conflict doesn’t come to a head until The Return of the Jedi, when Vader finally redeems himself by killing Palpatine and saving Luke’s life, giving his own in the process.

 That being said, it’s interesting that the other two movies we’re looking at have more distant aspects of the Atonement with the Father step. It’s not Frodo who has to deal with his father’s displeasure, but Faramir. Is there anything worse than hearing your father admit that he wishes you had died and your older brother had lived? Denethor doesn’t appear to care about Faramir until he appears to have died. This is less apparent in the book, but it’s still there.

 Harry Potter has the same thing. Obviously since Harry doesn’t have a living father, it’s kind of hard for him to have a conflict with him. I guess there’s kind of atonement with Severus Snape in the last book, but you have to really, really squint to make it that relationship one of a father-figure and son. …No, that doesn’t work for our purposes. There are issues with fathers with other characters, like Ron, Neville and Draco, but those relationships aren’t really elaborated on until later in the series.

 Video games often follow a similar pattern. Conflict with a father or father figure is incredibly common. Raz and Jack both have big issues with their dads, although Raz’s resolution is obviously more positive than Jack’s. Raz actually does atone with his dad, right before the final battle with a giant two-headed father monster in Raz and Oleander’s combined mental world. (If you don’t know Psychonauts, it makes sense in context, I promise.) Jack meanwhile…kills his biological father, although perhaps not willingly considering his mental conditioning. Andrew Ryan is a pretty terrible human being though, so maybe Jack/the player would have wanted to kill him anyway. Maybe.

 It should also be no surprise that the father issue doesn’t have to surround the main character, especially since being an orphan is a common backstory, as mentioned in the Call to Adventure step above.  The Inquisitor doesn’t really have issues with his/her father, presuming the player thinks the father is still alive, but Dorian certainly takes umbrage with his father trying to use blood magic to change his sexuality. It’s up to the player to either encourage or discourage Dorian from reconciling with his father, so this step is up in the air in that regard.

 Another similar conflict that occurs in DAI that isn’t with a father is between Morrigan and Flemeth, although I would hesitate to consider it”atonement,” especially if Morrigan is the one who drinks from the Well of Sorrows, thus tying her to Flemeth’s command. Of course, with Flemeth out of the picture and Solas taking over, I wonder how that connection stands now.

 The father conflict is also not related to the main character in FFVII. Red XIII, aka Nanaki, has issues with believing his father, Seto, abandoned his mother and his tribe during an attack by the Gi tribe. In truth, Seto actually sacrificed himself to prevent a backdoor invasion, turning to stone after being hit by several petrifying arrows. Once Red learns the truth about this, he proclaims that his father was a hero and he will protect his home, Cosmo Canyon, just like he did.

 And that’s not even getting into all the father issues present in the other Final Fantasy games, plus others in FFVII. Maybe I’ll do another post about that topic another time.

 10.) Apotheosis

 This is the point the quest has been leading up to. The final challenge. The final battle. The final countdown. The hero takes all they have learned over the course of their journey and applies it to this final challenge. If there’s a main villain of the story, this is the time where the hero confronts them.

 This is pretty self-explanatory. Luke Skywalker trusts in the Force, which allows him to blow up the Death Star. Harry Potter decides he wants to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone, but not use it, and that’s what allows him to receive it from the Mirror of Erised. And Frodo has to throw the One Ring into the Crack of Doom to defeat Sauron. That last one is interesting in that Frodo technically fails to do this final task, which is not something we historically see in Hero’s Journeys, but such a failure is becoming more common.

 Applying this step to video games feels a bit like cheating considering that a large majority of them have a final boss battle of some kind, and our four games are no exception. Most of the resolution of the main character’s stories coincides with the defeat of the final boss. Jack’s story ends when he is able to reverse his mental conditioning (with Tenenbaum’s help) and he defeats Fontaine, and the Inquisitor’s conflict with Corypheus ends, of course, with Corypheus’ death. The Trespasser DLC for DAI adds more conflict involving what happens after and what the Inquisitor is going to do about their Mark that is slowly killing them, but I feel that’s another story, so it’s beyond The Hero’s Journey of the main game.

 However, despite having final boss battles, I feel that Psychonauts and FFVII also have an Apotheosis step in terms of the characters themselves. Raz has to defeat the two-headed mental amalgamation of his and Oleander’s fathers, but he is able to do so because his real father breaks into his mental world and lends Raz his power so he can fight the monster. That reconciliation is more important to Raz’s story than beating the monster. Honestly, Raz probably wouldn’t have agreed to use his father’s strength if they hadn’t reconciled literally just prior to the final fight.

 Cloud’s Apotheosis really has to do with coming to terms with his false memories. He never actually joined SOLDIER, instead becoming a grunt in the Midgar army. He was experimented on after the Nibelheim Incident, escaped with Zack, and basically imprinted Zack’s life, experiences, mannerisms and skills after Zack was killed right in front of him. Cloud and Tifa have to sift through Cloud’s memories to figure out what really happened during the Nibelheim Incident, thus returning Cloud to his normal self. Essentially, Cloud has to realize that he is not as strong of a person as he previously believed, and that there’s nothing wrong with being weak. What you have to be is true to yourself. That’s more important than being strong.

 11.) The Ultimate Boon

 So if the Apotheosis is the final challenge of the journey, then the Ultimate Boon is the reward for overcoming it. This can be material or not, and likewise may or may not be what the hero initially set out to receive or accomplish. The boon can be large (such as saving the world) or small (earning a medal), and it can be public (again, saving the world) or personal (winning a love interest’s heart).

 Harry and Frodo both set out to accomplish a task, preventing the Philosopher’s Stone being stolen and destroying the One Ring, respectively, although Harry’s realization that he must do this thing is later on in the story compared to Frodo. They both succeed and are both rewarded. Harry and his friends are basically handed the House Cup at the end of the school year for thwarting Voldemort’s plan, and Frodo and the fellowship save the world, and more importantly for Frodo, save the Shire.

 However, Frodo does end up having to leave the Shire and go into the east due to the wounds he acquired throughout the journey as well as the strain of carrying the Ring. In a way, he is rewarded for his journey, but also punished because he didn’t actually accomplish the task he set out to do. He ends up leaving the Shire, his home, which he wanted to save to begin with.

 Luke is kind of the same way. He doesn’t set out necessarily to find his father and bring him back to the light. His Call to Adventure had to do with going to Alderaan with Obi-Wan to help Leia, and he is rewarded with a medal at the end of A New Hope for destroying the Death Star. However, his boon really has to do with reconciling with Vader, a conflict that doesn’t begin until The Empire Strikes back, later in his Hero’s Journey. However, this is just a good example of how the boon does not necessarily have to relate to the call.

 The boons for both FFVII and DAI are saving the world. It’s good for the world to not be destroyed, after all. Raz’s boon is a bit more personal: He is allowed to join the Psychonauts, which he set out to do, but his relationship with his father is also significantly improved now that the two of them understand one another better.

 For Jack, he saves Rapture…sort of. If the events of Bioshock 2 indicate anything, it’s that things really haven’t gotten better for Rapture following Fontaine’s defeat. However, presuming that the player spared the Little Sisters and gets the good ending of the game, Jack returns to the surface world with the cured Little Sisters, who essentially become his daughters. In the words of Brigid Tenenbaum, “In the end, what was your reward? You never said. But I think I know…a family.”

 Jack is given the short end of the stick in terms of family and future. His parents are not his real parents, his biological father Andrew Ryan didn’t want him, his mother sold him to Tenenbaum and Suchong as an embryo, and he has no control over himself or his own destiny. Considering it turns out everything Jack knew about himself and his family is a lie, a real family is the best thing he could have received. Jack basically has nothing at the beginning of the game, so the fact that he is able to still build a life for himself and the former Little Sisters is a great reward. Of course, this is thrown out of the window if the player harvests the Little Sisters and gets the bad or neutral endings, so there you go.

 12.) Refusal of the Return

 We’ve reached the point where the hero has accomplished the goal he/she has set out to do, has received their reward, and now has to go back to normal life that was left behind at the beginning of the story. What? The hero doesn’t want to return to normal life? They prefer the world they’re in now? Yeah, in a strange reversal of the Refusal of the Call, the hero no longer wants to return to their previous life, having earned the boon and learned the lessons they have.

 Can anyone really blame Harry Potter for not wanting to return to his aunt and uncle’s house once the school year end? Yeah, let’s go back to the house where he’s treated horribly, has a literal hand-me-down bedroom, and is not allowed to perform any of the magic he has grown to love. Plus his owl is forced to stay in her cage the whole summer. That sounds great! Let’s do that.

 Frodo, on the other hand, does return to his normal life in the Shire, but later has to leave because of his wounds and from carrying the One Ring (see The Ultimate Boon step above). It’s not so much that he refuses to return, but rather he is forced to leave again. Luke is kind of the same way. He doesn’t really refuse to return to his family and their moisture farm, it’s that he can’t return to it, because that has been destroyed. His previous life can no longer be. Even if we stretch the timeline to the end of The Return of the Jedi, Luke never goes back to just being a moisture farmer.

 Psychonauts only has a half-hearted refusal. At the end of the game, Raz acts like he’s going to go back to the circus, but only for a moment. Once the opportunity to go on another rescue mission comes up, Raz turns to nonverbally ask his father if he can go. It’s more like he’s asking for permission to not return rather than refusing outright.

 The Inquisitor of DAI doesn’t return to their previous world either. The life of running the Inquisition doesn’t end when Corypheus is defeated. It continues on until the Trespasser DLC, which even at the end of that the Inquisitor continues their adventure to stop Solas from basically destroying the world in a few years. I’m actually pretty eager to see how the Inquisitor fits in the next Dragon Age game, although the developers have given a 2022 release date, last time I checked.

 For Bioshock, Jack really does not refuse to return, symbolically indicated by him leaving Rapture and returning to the surface world. Regardless of whether he brings the cured Little Sisters to the surface to have a normal life or he becomes the splicers’ new leader and brings them to the surface to destroy mankind, he peaces out of Rapture at the first opportunity he has. There’s no refusal to return on Jack’s part at all.

 FFVII…okay, I’m again having trouble with this step. Cloud doesn’t really act like he refuses to go back to his previous life. His previous life is actually up in the air, with all his messed up memories and near lack of anything connecting him to his past, either as himself or with his false memories as an ex-SOLDIER. The only person really connecting him to his life before the story is Tifa, and I’m not going to get into the shipping wars about whether he should be with her or the now dead Aerith. That’s a different post. Regardless, by the end of the game, Cloud is more interested in moving forward than going back.

 13.) The Magic Flight

 In the process of returning to normal life, the hero will often have to flee from some kind of danger. This happens after the hero has received the boon, but before they are able to bring it to the people. If there’s a bad guy that needs to defeating or a task that needs accomplishing, this step often takes place immediately after. Actual flying is not required, but don’t be surprised if it does. The Magic Flight frequently merges with the next two steps, Rescue from Without and The Crossing of the Return Threshold.

 Let’s see. Luke escapes the Death Star on a shuttle with his father’s body. Frodo and Sam fly with the Eagles back to safety as Mount Doom is erupting. Harry is knocked unconscious and rescued by Dumbledore from the room containing the Mirror of Erised. Whew. Managed to keep that short.

 DAI doesn’t really have this step, because again, the story keeps going even after Corypheus’ end. However, I could argue there are other parts of the game that have a Magic Flight, such as escaping from the dystopian future after defeating Alexius or escaping the Fade after fighting the Fear Demon. These events just don’t happen at the end of the game. FFVII also only kind of has this step too, in the form of the Highwind bringing the party out of the North Crater following the defeat of Safer Sephiroth.

 Raz has to escape from his own mind, which is intertwined with Oleander’s in the last stage of the game, and his brain has to be detangled in order to return to his normal self. He’s not really conscious for the process though, so the player doesn’t really see it. As for Jack, this step is really kind of merged with the next two, so we’ll get to those.

 14.) Rescue from Without

 During the course of the Magic Flight, the hero will be unable to escape the danger they are trying to flee from on their own. Someone (or multiple people) will need to come in and rescue the hero. This is especially true if the hero is injured or weakened in some way, particularly after a rough final battle with the big bad.

 As stated before, this one often overlaps with the previous one and the next one. Vader saves Luke from Palpatine’s Force Lightning. The Eagles rescue Frodo and Sam from the erupting Mount Doom. Harry rescued from the attack from Voldemort/Quirrell by Dumbledore and brought to the Hospital Wing for treatment. Yeah, that sounds about the same as before.

 The closest thing the Inquisitor comes to being rescued from without, at least at the end of the game, is with the red lyrium dragon, where either a dragon-shifted Morrigan (if she drank from the Well of Sorrows) or the Guardian of Mythal (if the Inquisitor did). However, the red lyrium dragon defeats either Morrigan or the Guardian, and the Inquisitor and the party have to fight it anyway. So it’s an attempted but ultimately unsuccessful rescue.

 Raz is rescued by his dad, Augustus, from his own brain, and I imagine Cruller, Sasha and Milla all played a role in separating Raz’s brain from Oleander’s and rebraining him, even though this isn’t shown on screen.  Several Little Sisters stab Fontaine to death with their ADAM-collecting syringe, saving Jack from his final blow. It’s a wonderfully satisfying scene and I absolutely love it. FFVII has a rescue of sorts in that Aerith has to basically make the Lifestream rise up to help her Holy spell stop Meteor from destroying the planet. How she manages to do this from beyond the grave is never explicitly explained. It must just be a Cetra thing.

 15.) The Crossing of the Return Threshold

 So, this step is the final of the triumvirate of the return steps. The hero actually returns to their normal life or their previous home, and distributes the boon they have received upon the rest of the world. This is basically anything that happens after the climax of the story. Exposition explaining what exactly has happened may or may not be included.

 Luke returns to the rest of the characters on Endor to celebrate the destruction of the second Death Star, bringing the teachings of the light side of the Force with him. Harry Potter boards the Hogwarts Express to return to the Muggle world. And the hobbits all return to the Shire, although in the books they have to deal with Saruman and the Scouring of the Shire once there.

 For Psychonauts, there’s kind of a Return Threshold, but only if you stretch it, and not in the sense that returns Raz to his normal life. Quite the opposite actually. Raz and the gang levitate into the Psychonauts jet that just happens to show up from the ground. Hmm, didn’t Raz say he suspected that Cruller had a jet hiding in his lab somewhere? Oh look! More setup and payoff!

 Finally, we come to Jack. After defeating Fontaine, he is finally able to take a bathysphere to the surface again. The player sees this almost immediately after defeating Fontaine, and it occurs regardless of whether the player gets the good or bad ending.

 As stated in the Refusal of the Return step, neither DAI nor FFVII really have Crossing of the Return Threshold. FFVII just sort of ends and DAI doesn’t show the Inquisitor returning to their home origins, either in the game proper or in the DLC.

 16.) Master of Two Worlds

 This step is no so much of a step, but rather a final result of the hero’s journey. It is closely related to the next step, Freedom to Live. We see the hero basically in their final form, having achieved what they set out to do, whether that was the original intention or not. The hero is able to live in both their old and new worlds.

 In our chosen movies, Luke is really the only one who is the Master of Two Worlds. He recognizes the darkness that exists in him, but he can overcome it. Frodo, on the other hand, literally can’t become Master of Two Worlds due to his experiences. He has to leave one world (the Shire) permanently for the east.

 Harry…really has to compartmentalize his wizard and Muggle experiences, but that has more to do with his family not being willing to accept that magic is a part of him. Obviously his aunt and uncle do not care for his boon (magic) that he brings with him, forbidding him from using it, even without the Statute of Secrecy in place. He can’t really master both worlds in that regard, not until the last book and he reconciles with Dudley. (I’m really annoyed they cut that from the final release of the movies. That badly needed to be shown.) Harry does become a master of two worlds, the living and the dead, in the last book, but we’re looking at the first book alone, and this step isn’t really possible for him due to his circumstances.

 Now I have to admit, the only game (on our list anyway) that has this step is probably Psychonauts. Cloud steps away from his false life as an ex-SOLDIER when he admits that it was all in his head, choosing instead to continue to live as himself. Jack either returns to the surface with the Little Sisters and stays there (in the good ending) or becomes the master of Rapture and new leader of the splicers, rejecting his previous life. And The Inquisitor, well, I guess you could say they become the master of both the real world and the Fade, especially since he/she gets progressively better at controlling the Anchor and closing Fade rifts. However, they he/she still remains in the real world as the Inquisitor, until the events of Trespasser at least. These three games have the main character choosing one world over another, so it’s hard to pin them down as “masters” of two.

 Psychonauts, however, shows Raz accepts both parts of his life, as an acrobat and as a Psychonaut. This is illustrated excellently during the last platforming part of the game, during Meat Circus, with the rising water and Raz needing to keep up with his mental image of his dad. He uses both his acrobatic skills and his psychic powers to reach the top of the area. And as stated previously, Raz gains his father’s blessing before running off on another mission. Raz succeeds at being a Master of Two Worlds, and this kid is only ten!

 17.) Freedom to Live

 A follow up of the previous step, Freedom to Live is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Having mastered both worlds, the hero is allowed to live, as he or she wants, without worrying about any more conflicts…until the story sequel at least. This is the happy ending of the story, presuming the story has a happy ending.

 All of our protagonists, both movie and video game, manage this step in one way or another. Luke no longer has the threat of the Sith looming over him, and he can be at peace knowing he helped to redeem his father (and, for now, I’m going to ignore the stuff that happens in the New Trilogy, because that starts up a whole new set of the monomyth). Harry is given the opportunity to go back to Hogwarts for more schooling, and even though his Muggle family disapproves, he knows who he is now and has answers for things he couldn’t explain before. Overall, the end of the first Harry Potter book gives him a new lot in life, and the series continues on with that from there.

 And Frodo. Poor Frodo. Perhaps it’s hard to say he has “freedom” to live since he does end up leaving the Shire, but considering that his goal was to save the Shire (and by extension, all of Middle Earth), he succeeds. Frodo had to leave his home, but the other hobbits, including Sam, his closest companion, were able to live without a care. It’s a sacrifice, but one Frodo seems content to make.

 As for the video games we’re looking at, well, now Raz has the freedom to pursue his dream of being a Psychonaut without worrying about it alienating his family, his father in particular. Cloud is able to put the past behind him and move forward as his own person, rather than trying to live up to a standard he forced himself to before. The Inquisitor has challenges ahead to be sure, but without the threat of Corypheus breathing down their neck, they have a bright future to look forward to (at least until Solas decides to tear down the Veil, but we’ll have to wait for Dragon Age 4 to see how that turns out). And finally, Jack finally has answers to any questions he had about his life, and with his mental conditioning removed, he is finally allowed to choose his own fate, whether as a despotic leader of the splicers or as a father to the cured Little Sisters.

 So there you go. The Hero’s Journey in a bunch of movies and video games. As I said at the beginning of this extensive diatribe, the monomyth is not the only way to tell a story well, and it certainly is not mandatory to make a story good. However, whether intentional or not, parts of the monomyth somehow find their way into the stories we share in our various media. It’s worth looking at for any kind of story, if only to analyze how the presence or absence of the monomyth affects the story, for better or worse. And yes, video games can be a great form of story telling, if developers take the time to create it and players take the time to experience it.

 Okay. This post has gone on long enough. To anyone who managed to make it all the way here, thank you for your patience and commitment to reading my ramblings.

[moodboardinthecloud]

The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction

Ursula K. Le Guin

In the temperate and tropical regions where it appears that hominids evolved into human beings, the principal food of the species was vegetable. Sixty-five to eighty percent of what human beings ate in those regions in Paleolithic, Neolithic, and prehistoric times was gathered; only in the extreme Arctic was meat the staple food. The mammoth hunters spectacularly occupy the cave wall and the mind, but what we actually did to stay alive and fat was gather seeds, roots, sprouts, shoots, leaves, nuts, berries, fruits, and grains, adding bugs and mollusks and netting or snaring birds, fish, rats, rabbits, and other tuskless small fry to up the protein. And we didn’t even work hard at it — much less hard than peasants slaving in somebody else’s field after agriculture was invented, much less hard than paid workers since civilization was invented. The average prehistoric person could make a nice living in about a fifteen-hour work week.

Fifteen hours a week for subsistence leaves a lot of time for other things. So much time that maybe the restless ones who didn’t have a baby around to enliven their life, or skill in making or cooking or singing, or very interesting thoughts to think, decided to slope off and hunt mammoths. The skillful hunters would come staggering back with a load of meat, a lot of ivory, and a story. It wasn’t the meat that made the difference. It was the story.

It is hard to tell a really gripping tale of how I wrestled a wild-oat seed from its husk, and then another, and then another, and then another, and then another, and then I scratched my gnat bites, and Ool said something funny, and we went to the creek and got a drink and watched newts for a while, and then I found another patch of oats.... No, it does not compare, it cannot compete with how I thrust my spear deep into the titanic hairy flank while Oob, impaled on one huge sweeping tusk, writhed screaming, and blood sprouted everywhere in crimson torrents, and Boob was crushed to jelly when the mammoth fell on him as I shot my unerring arrow straight through eye to brain.

That story not only has Action, it has a Hero. Heroes are powerful. Before you know it, the men and women in the wild-oat patch and their kids and the skills of makers and the thoughts of the thoughtful and the songs of the singers are all part of it, have all been pressed into service in the tale of the Hero. But it isn’t their story. It’s his.

When she was planning the book that ended up as Three Guineas, Virginia Woolf wrote a heading in her notebook, “Glossary”; she had thought of reinventing English according to her new plan, in order to tell a different story. One of the entries in this glossary is heroism, defined as “botulism.” And hero, in Woolf’s dictionary, is “bottle.” The hero as bottle, a stringent reevaluation. I now propose the bottle as hero.

Not just the bottle of gin or wine, but bottle in its older sense of container in general, a thing that holds something else.

If you haven’t got something to put it in, food will escape you — even something as uncombative and unresourceful as an oat. You put as many as you can into your stomach while they are handy, that being the primary container; but what about tomorrow morning when you wake up and it’s cold and raining and wouldn’t it be good to have just a few handfuls of oats to chew on and give little Oom to make her shut up, but how do you get more than one stomachful and one handful home? So you get up and go to the damned soggy oat patch in the rain, and wouldn’t it be a good thing if you had something to put Baby Oo Oo in so that you could pick the oats with both hands? A leaf a gourd shell a net a bag a sling a sack a bottle a pot a box a container. A holder. A recipient.

The first cultural device was probably a recipient.... Many theorizers feel that the earliest cultural inventions must have been a container to hold gathered products and some kind of sling or net carrier.

So says Elizabeth Fisher in Women’s Creation (McGraw-Hill, 1975). But no, this cannot be. Where is that wonderful, big, long, hard thing, a bone, I believe, that the Ape Man first bashed somebody in the movie and then, grunting with ecstasy at having achieved the first proper murder, flung up into the sky, and whirling there it became a space ship thrusting its way into the cosmos to fertilize it and produce at the end of the movie a lovely fetus, a boy of course, drifting around the Milky Way without (oddly enough) any womb, any matrix at all? I don’t know. I don’t even care. I’m not telling that story. We’ve heard it, we’ve all heard about all the sticks and spears and swords, the things to bash and poke and hit with, the long, hard things, but we have not heard about the thing to put things in, the container for the thing contained. That is a new story. That is news.

And yet old. Before — once you think about it, surely long before — the weapon, a late, luxurious, superfluous tool; long before the useful knife and ax; right along with the indispensable whacker, grinder, and digger — for what’s the use of digging up a lot of potatoes if you have nothing to lug the ones you can’t eat home in — with or before the tool that forces energy outward, we made the tool that brings energy home. It makes sense to me. I am an adherent of what Fisher calls the Carrier Bag Theory of human evolution.

This theory not only explains large areas of theoretical obscurity and avoids large areas of theoretical nonsense (inhabited largely by tigers, foxes, and other highly territorial mammals); it also grounds me, personally, in human culture in a way I never felt grounded before. So long as culture was explained as originating from and elaborating upon the use of long, hard objects for sticking, bashing, and killing, I never thought that I had, or wanted, any particular share in it. (“What Freud mistook for her lack of civilization is woman’s lack of loyalty to civilization,” Lillian Smith observed.) The society, the civilization they were talking about, these theoreticians, was evidently theirs; they owned it, they liked it; they were human, fully human, bashing, sticking, thrusting, killing. Wanting to be human too, I sought for evidence that I was; but if that’s what it took, to make a weapon and kill with it, then evidently I was either extremely defective as a human being, or not human at all.

That’s right, they said. What you are is a woman. Possibly not human at all, certainly defective. Now be quiet while we go on telling the Story of the Ascent of Man the Hero.

Go on, say I, wandering off towards the wild oats, with Oo Oo in the sling and little Oom carrying the basket. You just go on telling how the mammoth fell on Boob and how Cain fell on Abel and how the bomb fell on Nagasaki and how the burning jelly fell on the villagers and how the missiles will fall on the Evil Empire, and all the other steps in the Ascent of Man.

If it is a human thing to do to put something you want, because it’s useful, edible, or beautiful, into a bag, or a basket, or a bit of rolled bark or leaf, or a net woven of your own hair, or what have you, and then take it home with you, home being another, larger kind of pouch or bag, a container for people, and then later on you take it out and eat it or share it or store it up for winter in a solider container or put it in the medicine bundle or the shrine or the museum, the holy place, the area that contains what is sacred, and then next day you probably do much the same again — if to do that is human, if that’s what it takes, then I am a human being after all. Fully, freely, gladly, for the first time.

Not, let it be said at once, an unaggressive or uncombative human being. I am an aging, angry woman laying mightily about me with my handbag, fighting hoodlums off. However I don’t, nor does anybody else, consider myself heroic for doing so. It’s just one of those damned things you have to do in order to be able to go on gathering wild oats and telling stories.

It is the story that makes the difference. It is the story that hid my humanity from me, the story the mammoth hunters told about bashing, thrusting, raping, killing, about the Hero. The wonderful, poisonous story of Botulism. The killer story.

It sometimes seems that the story is approaching its end. Lest there be no more telling of stories at all, some of us out here in the wild oats, amid the alien corn, think we’d better start telling another one, which maybe people can go on with when the old one’s finished. Maybe. The trouble is, we’ve all let ourselves become part of the killer story, and so we may get finished along with it. Hence it is with a certain feeling of urgency that I seek the nature, subject, words of the other story, the untold one, the life story.

It’s unfamiliar, it doesn’t come easily, thoughtlessly, to the lips as the killer story does; but still, “untold” was an exaggeration. People have been telling the life story for ages, in all sorts of words and ways. Myths of creation and transformation, trickster stories, folktales, jokes, novels....

The novel is a fundamentally unheroic kind of story. Of course the Hero has frequently taken it over, that being his imperial nature and uncontrollable impulse, to take everything over and run it while making stern decrees and laws to control his uncontrollable impulse to kill it. So the Hero has decreed through his mouthpieces the Lawgivers, first, that the proper shape of the narrative is that of the arrow or spear, starting here and going straight thereand THOK! hitting its mark (which drops dead); second, that the central concern of narrative, including the novel, is conflict; and third, that the story isn’t any good if he isn’t in it.

I differ with all of this. I would go so far as to say that the natural, proper, fitting shape of the novel might be that of a sack, a bag. A book holds words. Words hold things. They bear meanings. A novel is a medicine bundle, holding things in a particular, powerful relation to one another and to us.

One relationship among elements in the novel may well be that of conflict, but the reduction of narrative to conflict is absurd. (I have read a how-to-write manual that said, “A story should be seen as a battle,” and went on about strategies, attacks, victory, etc.) Conflict, competition, stress, struggle, etc., within the narrative conceived as carrier bag/belly/box/house/medicine bundle, may be seen as necessary elements of a whole which itself cannot be characterized either as conflict or as harmony, since its purpose is neither resolution nor stasis but continuing process.

Finally, it’s clear that the Hero does not look well in this bag. He needs a stage or a pedestal or a pinnacle. You put him in a bag and he looks like a rabbit, like a potato.

That is why I like novels: instead of heroes they have people in them.

So, when I came to write science-fiction novels, I came lugging this great heavy sack of stuff, my carrier bag full of wimps and klutzes, and tiny grains of things smaller than a mustard seed, and intricately woven nets which when laboriously unknotted are seen to contain one blue pebble, an imperturbably functioning chronometer telling the time on another world, and a mouse’s skull; full of beginnings without ends, of initiations, of losses, of transformations and translations, and far more tricks than conflicts, far fewer triumphs than snares and delusions; full of space ships that get stuck, missions that fail, and people who don’t understand. I said it was hard to make a gripping tale of how we wrested the wild oats from their husks, I didn’t say it was impossible. Who ever said writing a novel was easy?

If science fiction is the mythology of modern technology, then its myth is tragic. “Technology,” or “modern science” (using the words as they are usually used, in an unexamined shorthand standing for the “hard” sciences and high technology founded upon continuous economic growth), is a heroic undertaking, Herculean, Promethean, conceived as triumph, hence ultimately as tragedy. The fiction embodying this myth will be, and has been, triumphant (Man conquers earth, space, aliens, death, the future, etc.) and tragic (apocalypse, holocaust, then or now).

If, however, one avoids the linear, progressive, Time’s-(killing)-arrow mode of the Techno-Heroic, and redefines technology and science as primarily cultural carrier bag rather than weapon of domination, one pleasant side effect is that science fiction can be seen as a far less rigid, narrow field, not necessarily Promethean or apocalyptic at all, and in fact less a mythological genre than a realistic one.

It is a strange realism, but it is a strange reality.

Science fiction properly conceived, like all serious fiction, however funny, is a way of trying to describe what is in fact going on, what people actually do and feel, how people relate to everything else in this vast stack, this belly of the universe, this womb of things to be and tomb of things that were, this unending story. In it, as in all fiction, there is room enough to keep even Man where he belongs, in his place in the scheme of things; there is time enough to gather plenty of wild oats and sow them too, and sing to little Oom, and listen to Ool’s joke, and watch newts, and still the story isn’t over. Still there are seeds to be gathered, and room in the bag of stars.

https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/ursula-k-le-guin-the-carrier-bag-theory-of-fiction

[tlatollotl]

Response from 400-Rabbits

This is my general notice that "Native American" encompasses two vast continents filled with innumerable people in the various landscapes of those continents, whose thoughts, traditions, and cultures were not static, but evolved and flourished over a period of thousands of years.

Also, intrinsic to this post is the question of whether Native Americans, when they interacted with dinosaur bones, knew that they were interacting with the fossilized remains of creatures who had died millions of years ago. The answer to that question is no, but this is to be expected as the notion of dinosaurs did not gain prevalence until hundreds of years after contact between Americans, Europeans, and Africans.

That said, we do have emic accounts of pre-modern peoples interacting with fossil bones in the Americas. Again, the term "Native American" includes the entirety of the Americas for the entirety of their history, up to and including any indigenous people who may currently be involved with the excavation, preservation, and study of dinosaur fossils. A cheap, but informative, answer would be to cite the CV of one of those individuals, but I'm instead going to tweak your expectations in a different way.

We have a very clear and recorded account of native peoples interacting with ancient biological remains from both the indigenous records and Spanish accounts in Mesoamerica. These were not dinosaur bones though, which are primarily found in areas of Mexico where not very many people were living at the time of Contact. These bones are instead from Pleistocene fauna, notably the mammoths and mastodons which were endemic to the Valley of Mexico. Amazingly, these creatures were present when the first humans moved into the area, and human depredation in conjunction with climate change is thought to have led to their extinction.

By the late Postclassic (1200-1521 CE) however, there were no accounts of mastodon hunts within living memory. What there were, however, were huge bones in remarkable prevalence throughout the central Mesoamerican region, including the Basin of Mexico, which is where the groups that would eventually be called the Aztecs would make their home.

Those groups, however, were not autochthonous, but instead migrated into the area over a period of centuries. While they adapated to and integrated themselves into the previously existing complex, settled, agricultural societies of the Basin of Mexico, the histories of these people tend to be a bit... vague when describing anything that may have occurred in the Basin and its surrounding valleys prior to their own arrival. Sahagún, for instance, picks up the thread of Aztec history from the Toltecs, before doubling back to describe the migrations of various peoples from Aztlán. Describing the migration of the Mexica and their stop in Teotihuacan, he says that:

they built the pyramid of the sun and the moon very large, just like mountains. It is unbelievable when it is said they are made by hands, but giants still lived there then. Also it is very apparent from the artificial mountains at Cholollan...

General History of the Things of New Spain, Book 10 Sahagun, trans, Anderson and Dibble 1981, p. 192

The reference to giants that "still lived there" might be better understood via the numerous references to past races of giants. Markman and Markman's (1992) The Flayed God: The Mesoamerican Mythological Tradition shows how variations on the Mesoamerican, and specifically the Nahua, creation myth stated the past existence of giants (quiname in Nahuatl). A prominent variant is from the Historia de los Mexicanos por sus Pinturas showing the first "sun" (i.e., creation) being one where the Earth was inhabited by giants, who peacefully went about eating acorns before being devoured by jaguars to usher in the 2nd Sun. Not all accounts agree on the exact ordering of creation though, and Fernando de Alva Ixtlilxochitl, an Acolhua-Spanish mestizo writer in the late 16th/early 17th centuries places the giants in the second creation, though he notes that later people encountered some survivors of this previous age.

Diego Durán, a Spanish friar who grew up in Mexico in the 16th century, has the most extensive writings on the quiname, stating that they lived to the east of the Basin of Mexico, "where Puebla and Cholula are found." Note that this coincides with Sahagún pointing towards "Cholollan," which is a Nahuatl spelling for Cholula, as the home of giants. Durán gives a dramatic account of the giants, who "led a bestial existence" of hunting, wearing skins, and living in caves, all of which also could apply to stereotypes the settled peoples of Mesoamerica held about the hunter-gatherer Chichimec groups which had migrated into the Basin region so recently. The recent arrivals in Cholula and Tlaxcala coaxed the giants into attending a feast with them, during which the giant's weapons were taken from them. The Cholulans then rushed out from hiding and slaughtered the giants, thus making the land free and safe for people to settle and farm.

There's a huge amount of symbolism here. There is the basic allegory of a nomadic people "killing" their savage side to be free them to embrace civilization. In true Mesoamerican fashion, a "sacrifice" thus giving rebirth. Yet, this transformation is seen as necessary primarily for the people to the east of the Basin (and thus outside the Aztec sphere), who are seen as savages; they had not incorporated the civilized ways of the Toltecs like their (Aztec) brethren in the Basin. The fact that these people would be the adversaries of the Aztecs, and indeed would side with Spanish, is also fraught with meaning. Notably, the attack on the unarmed quiname resembles the surprise attacks the Spanish would use against the Aztecs during Toxcatl and on the Aztec-aligned elites at Cholula.

Perhaps most relevant to the question though, is this passage from Durán:

In some places of that region enormous bones of the giants have been found, which I myself have seen dug up in rugged places many times.

History of the Indies of New Spain Duran, Heyden trans. 1994, p. 17

Durán's translator notes, as we've already covered, tales of giants were common in Postclassic Central Mesoamerica, and that bones excavated from Mexico were among some of the first things sent back to Spain, prompting an investigation by the Royal Physician, Francisco Hernandez, who proclaimed them to be from men standing more than five meters tall. Heyden also notes, however, that the bones of Pleistocene megafauna are abundantly found in Mexico, with a museum exhibiting locally-found mammoth bones in the Teotihuacan Valley. There appears to be another, smaller museum for mammoth remains found in the city limits of Mexico City itself.

And that's where the narrative of Aztec and Spanish interactions with ancient remains would end, with tales of giants in the Nahua past easily ascribed to the proliferation of mammoth/mastodon bones found in the region.

Unfortunately, some people are very very stupid.

Amongst the kind of people who find aliens to be a credible explanation for past events, conversation about giants often arises. In the Mesoamerican context, they will point to the passages noted above as "evidence," ignoring all context. Often, however, they will point to this page from the Codex Ríos/Vaticanus 3738A, which depicts the body of a giant being dragged by a group of Toltec men. This image from a post-Contact codex, however, is nothing more than another variant on the kind of mythological tales related above, particularly that of Durán; it is no more historical than artistic depictions of Greek myths.

Such persons also very often cite Leon-Portilla's Broken Spears: The Aztec Account of the Conquest of Mexico to claim that the Aztecs had a giant named Tzilacatzin defending Tenochtitlan, who hurled boulders at the attacking Spanish and their indigenous allies. A very cursory glance at the actual text, however, debunks this notion, as Leon-Portilla actually writes:

Then the great captain Tzilacatzin arrived, bringing with him three large, round stones of the kind used for building walls. He carried one of them in his hand; the other two hung from his shield. When he hurled these stones at the Spaniards, they turned and fled the city. (p. 100)

So no mention of being a giant, and in fact he is mentioned as one of a trio of warriors in the Otomi military order later in the same chapter. His stones were not boulders but perhaps just ordinary building stones, or even sling-stones which could have also been used for building.

Regardless of the nonsense of certain parties, what we are left with is a record from central Mesoamerica which takes the historical remains of extinct creatures from another age (the Pleistocene, in this case) and incorporated them into their own myths about the creation and settlement of the world, as such bones were often used by pre-modern peoples.

[a-lemon-tree]

The ancient Egyptians believed that a soul (kꜣ/bꜣ; Egypt. pron. ka/ba) was made up of many parts. In addition to these components of the soul, there was the human body (called the ḥꜥ, occasionally a plural ḥꜥw, meaning approximately "sum of bodily parts").

Akh: The physical body was called the Akh. The Akh was most often used to mean a complete person, whether living or dead. While living, the Akh was composed of all five elements - your body, Ba, Ka, Name, and Shadow. When dead, the Akh referred to the reunion of the Ba and the Ka, which they believed happened each night.

Ba: The Ba was your personality, whatever made each person unique that was not physical - your humor, your warmth, your charm, yourself. The Ba is pictured in hieroglyphics as a bird with a human head. The Egyptians thought birds were able to fly between worlds, that of the living and the afterlife.

Ka: They believed every ancient Egyptians was born with a Ka that was uniquely theirs. Each Ka was a life force. The Ka is sometimes represented in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics by a drawing of a very little person standing next to a picture of the same person drawn much larger. Sometimes the Ka was represented by two arms, outstretched. This was to ward off evil. When a person died, their Ka continued to live. A Ka needed the same nourishment that a person needed, even after they died. That's why the ancient Egyptians painted pictures of food on the walls of their tombs. They believed the Ka did not actually eat these paintings, but rather absorbed the life giving force they represented, so the Ka could live forever.

The ancient Egyptians believed that your soul split into two parts after you died. One part, the Ba, flew off every morning to keep watch over your living family. The other part, the Ka, flew happily off to enjoy life in the Land of Two Fields. At night, both the Ba and the Ka returned home to your tomb to rest up for the next heavenly day.

Name: If something happened to your preserved body, or if your Name was not written down somewhere, the Ba and the Ka would get lost. They would not be able to find their way home to your tomb. You would disappear. Forever. You would not be able to watch over your family or to enjoy your afterlife.

That's why the use of a cartouche was so popular. A cartouche is nothing more than a name plate attached to your coffin. A cartouche made it easy for your Ba and Ka to find their way home.

That's also why grave robbing and the destruction of mummies to get at the treasures hidden inside the folds of wrapping was such a vile crime in ancient Egypt. Grave goods could be replaced. But there was nothing your family could do if robbers disturbed your preserved body. The ancient Egyptians believed you would be lost forever. There was no worse crime.

Shadow: The 5th part, the shadow, was the shadow of a body reflected by the sun. In ancient Egypt, each shadow was considered powerful. Actually, pretty much anything that offered shade from the sun was considered powerful. Your shadow was considered your protection, rather like a body guard.

(source)

According to ancient Egyptian creation myths, the god Atum created the world out of chaos, utilizing his own magic (ḥkꜣ). Because the earth was created with magic, Egyptians believed that the world was imbued with magic and so was every living thing upon it. When humans were created, that magic took the form of the soul, an eternal force which resided in and with every human being. The concept of the soul and the parts which encompass it has varied from the Old Kingdom to the New Kingdom, at times changing from one dynasty to another, from five parts to more. Most ancient Egyptian funerary texts reference numerous parts of the soul: the ẖt (Middle Egyptian /ˈçuːwaʔ/, Coptic ϩⲏ) "physical body", the sꜥḥ "spiritual body", the rn (/ɾin/, Coptic ⲣⲁⲛ or ⲗⲉⲛ) "name, identity", the bꜣ "personality", the kꜣ (/kuʔ/, Old Egyptian /kuʁ/) "double", the jb (/jib/, Coptic ⲉⲡ) "heart", the šwt "shadow", the sḫm (/saːχam/) "power, form", and the ꜣḫ (/ʁi:χu/, Coptic ⲓϧ), the combined spirits of a dead person that has successfully completed its transition to the afterlife. Rosalie David, an Egyptologist at the University of Manchester, explains the many facets of the soul as follows:

The Egyptians believed that the human personality had many facets—a concept that was probably developed early in the Old Kingdom. In life, the person was a complete entity, but if he had led a virtuous life, he could also have access to a multiplicity of forms that could be used in the next world. In some instances, these forms could be employed to help those whom the deceased wished to support or, alternately, to take revenge on his enemies.

ẖt (physical)

The ẖt, or physical form, had to exist for the soul (kꜣ/bꜣ) to have intelligence or the chance to be judged by the guardians of the underworld. Therefore, it was necessary for the body to be preserved as efficiently and completely as possible and for the burial chamber to be as personalized as it could be, with paintings and statuary showing scenes and triumphs from the deceased's life. In the Old Kingdom, only the pharaoh was granted mummification and, thus, a chance at an eternal and fulfilling afterlife. However, by the Middle Kingdom, all dead were afforded the opportunity. Herodotus, an ancient Greek scholar, observed that grieving families were given a choice as to the type and or quality of the mummification they preferred: "The best and most expensive kind is said to represent [Osiris], the next best is somewhat inferior and cheaper, while the third is cheapest of all."

Because the state of the body was tied so closely with the quality of the afterlife, by the time of the Middle Kingdom, not only were the burial chambers painted with depictions of favourite pastimes and great accomplishments of the dead, but there were also small figurines (ushabtis) of servants, slaves, and guards (and, in some cases beloved pets) included in the tombs, to serve the deceased in the afterlife. However, an eternal existence in the afterlife was, by no means, assured.

Before a person could be judged by the gods, they had to be "awakened" through a series of funerary rites designed to reanimate their mummified remains in the afterlife. The main ceremony, the opening of the mouth ceremony, is best depicted within Pharaoh Sety I's tomb. All along the walls and statuary inside the tomb are reliefs and paintings of priests performing the sacred rituals and, below the painted images, the text of the liturgy for opening of the mouth can be found. This ritual which, presumably, would have been performed during interment, was meant to reanimate each section of the body: brain, head, limbs, etc. so that the spiritual body would be able to move in the afterlife.

sꜥḥ (spiritual body)

If all the rites, ceremonies, and preservation rituals for the ẖt were observed correctly, and the deceased was found worthy (by Osiris and the gods of the underworld) of passing through into the afterlife, the sꜥḥ (or spiritual representation of the physical body) forms. This spiritual body was then able to interact with the many entities extant in the afterlife. As a part of the larger construct, the ꜣḫ, the sꜥḥ was sometimes seen as an avenging spirit which would return from the underworld to seek revenge on those who had wronged the spirit in life. A well-known example was found in a tomb from the Middle Kingdom in which a man leaves a letter to his late wife who, it can be supposed, is haunting him.  

jb (heart)

^ jb (F34) "heart" in hieroglyphs

 An important part of the Egyptian soul was thought to be the jb, or heart. The heart was believed to be formed from one drop of blood from the heart of the child's mother, taken at conception. To ancient Egyptians, the heart was the seat of emotion, thought, will and intention, evidenced by the many expressions in the Egyptian language which incorporate the word jb. Unlike in English, when ancient Egyptians referenced the jb they generally meant the physical heart as opposed to a metaphorical heart. However, ancient Egyptians usually made no distinction between the mind and the heart with regard to emotion or thought. The two were synonymous.

In the Egyptian religion, the heart was the key to the afterlife. It was essential to surviving death in the nether world, where it gave evidence for, or against, its possessor. Like the physical body (ẖt), the heart was a necessary part of judgement in the afterlife and it was to be carefully preserved and stored within the mummified body with a heart scarab carefully secured to the body above it to prevent it from telling tales.

It was thought that the heart was examined by Anubis and the deities during the Weighing of the Heart ceremony. If the heart weighed more than the feather of Maat, it was immediately consumed by the monster Ammit, and the soul became eternally restless. 

^ This exquisite gold and green stone heart scarab belonged to Hatnofer, the mother of the prominent 18th dynasty state official Senenmut, who served under the female king and pharaoh Hatshepsut.

kꜣ / KA "double"

^kꜣ (D28) in hieroglyphs

The kꜣ : 𓂓, was the Egyptian concept of vital essence, which distinguishes the difference between a living and a dead person, with death occurring when the kꜣ left the body. The Egyptians believed that Khnum created the bodies of children on a potter's wheel and inserted them into their mothers' bodies. Depending on the region, Egyptians believed that Heqet or Meskhenet was the creator of each person's kꜣ, breathing it into them at the instant of their birth as the part of their soul that made them be alive. This resembles the concept of spirit in other religions.

The Egyptians also believed that the kꜣ was sustained through food and drink. For this reason food and drink offerings were presented to the dead, although it was the kꜣw within the offerings that was consumed, not the physical aspect. In the Middle kingdom a form of offering tray known as a Soul house was developed to facilitate this. The kꜣ was often represented in Egyptian iconography as a second image of the king, leading earlier works to attempt to translate kꜣ as double.

In the Old Kingdom private tombs, artwork depicted a "doubleworld" with essential people and objects for the owner of the ka. As Ancient Orient Curator Andrey Bolshakov explains: "The notion of the ka was a dominating concept of the next life in the Old Kingdom. In a less pure form, it lived into the Middle Kingdom, and lost much of its importance in the New Kingdom, although the ka always remained the recipient of offerings."

^ Soul houses were pottery offering trays often moulded to include a model of a house that are associated with tombs dating from the Middle Kingdom of Egypt. Designs range from simple trays with no house at all to ones which included a comprehensive model of a house. As well as the house there would be clay depictions of food offerings. Some have spouts allowing liquid to be ritually poured over the soul house and flow away.

bꜣ / ba (personality)

^bꜣ (G29) in hieroglyphs

^ bꜣ (G53) in hieroglyphs

The bꜣ (Egyptological pronunciation: ba) was everything that makes an individual unique, similar to the notion of 'personality'. In this sense, inanimate objects could also have a bꜣ, a unique character, and indeed Old Kingdom pyramids often were called the bꜣ of their owner. The bꜣ is an aspect of a person that the Egyptians believed would live after the body died, and it is sometimes depicted as a human-headed bird flying out of the tomb to join with the kꜣ in the afterlife.

In the Coffin Texts, one form of the bꜣ that comes into existence after death is corporeal—eating, drinking and copulating. Egyptologist Louis Vico Žabkar argues that the bꜣ is not merely a part of the person but is the person himself, unlike the soul in Greek, or late Judaic, Christian or Muslim thought. The idea of a purely immaterial existence was so foreign to Egyptian thought that when Christianity spread in Egypt, they borrowed the Greek word ψυχή psychē to describe the concept of soul instead of the term bꜣ. Žabkar concludes that so particular was the concept of the bꜣ to ancient Egyptian thought that it ought not to be translated but instead the concept be footnoted or parenthetically explained as one of the modes of existence for a person.

In another mode of existence the bꜣ of the deceased is depicted in the Book of the Dead returning to the mummy and participating in life outside the tomb in non-corporeal form, echoing the solar theology of Ra uniting with Osiris each night.

The word bꜣw (baw), plural of the word bꜣ, meant something similar to "impressiveness", "power", and "reputation", particularly of a deity. When a deity intervened in human affairs, it was said that the bꜣw of the deity were at work.

^ Bꜣ takes the form of a bird with a human head.

šwt (shadow)

A person's shadow or silhouette, šwt, is always present. Because of this, Egyptians surmised that a shadow contains something of the person it represents. Through this association, statues of people and deities were sometimes referred to as shadows.

The shadow was also representative to Egyptians of a figure of death, or servant of Anubis, and was depicted graphically as a small human figure painted completely black. In some cases the šwt represented the impact a person had on the earth. Sometimes people (usually pharaohs) had a shadow box in which part of their šwt was stored.

^The sheut with the ba

sḫm (form)

Little is known about the Egyptian interpretation of this portion of the soul. Many scholars define sḫm as the living force or life-force of the soul which exists in the afterlife after all judgement has been passed. However, sḫm is also defined in a Book of the Dead as the "power" and as a place within which Horus and Osiris dwell in the underworld.

rn / Ren (name)

As a part of the soul, a person's rn (or Ren) (rn 'name') was given to them at birth and the Egyptians believed that it would live for as long as that name was spoken, which explains why efforts were made to protect it and the practice of placing it in numerous writings. It is a person's identity, their experiences, and their entire life's worth of memories. For example, part of the Book of Breathings, a derivative of the Book of the Dead, was a means to ensure the survival of the name. A cartouche (magical rope) often was used to surround the name and protect it. Conversely, the names of deceased enemies of the state, such as Akhenaten, were hacked out of monuments in a form of damnatio memoriae. Sometimes, however, they were removed in order to make room for the economical insertion of the name of a successor, without having to build another monument. The greater the number of places a name was used, the greater the possibility it would survive to be read and spoken.

ꜣḫ / Akh

^ ꜣḫ glyph

The ꜣḫ "(magically) effective one" was a concept of the dead that varied over the long history of ancient Egyptian belief. Relative to the afterlife, akh represented the deceased, who was transfigured and often identified with light.

It was associated with thought, but not as an action of the mind; rather, it was intellect as a living entity. The ꜣḫ also played a role in the afterlife. Following the death of the ẖt (physical body), the bꜣ and kꜣ were reunited to reanimate the ꜣḫ. The reanimation of the ꜣḫ was only possible if the proper funeral rites were executed and followed by constant offerings. The ritual was termed s-ꜣḫ "make (a dead person) into an (living) ꜣḫ". In this sense, it even developed into a sort of ghost or roaming dead being (when the tomb was not in order any more) during the Twentieth Dynasty. An ꜣḫ could do either harm or good to persons still living, depending on the circumstances, causing e.g., nightmares, feelings of guilt, sickness, etc. It could be invoked by prayers or written letters left in the tomb's offering chapel also in order to help living family members, e.g., by intervening in disputes, by making an appeal to other dead persons or deities with any authority to influence things on earth for the better, but also to inflict punishments.

The separation of ꜣḫ and the unification of kꜣ and bꜣ were brought about after death by having the proper offerings made and knowing the proper, efficacious spell, but there was an attendant risk of dying again. Egyptian funerary literature (such as the Coffin Texts and the Book of the Dead) were intended to aid the deceased in "not dying a second time" and to aid in becoming an ꜣḫ.

Relationships

Ancient Egyptians believed that death occurs when a person's kꜣ leaves the body. Ceremonies conducted by priests after death, including the "opening of the mouth (wp r)", aimed not only to restore a person's physical abilities in death, but also to release a Ba's attachment to the body. This allowed the bꜣ to be united with the kꜣ in the afterlife, creating an entity known as an ꜣḫ.

Egyptians conceived of an afterlife as quite similar to normal physical existence – but with a difference. The model for this new existence was the journey of the Sun. At night the Sun descended into the Duat or "underworld". Eventually the Sun meets the body of the mummified Osiris. Osiris and the Sun, re-energized by each other, rise to new life for another day. For the deceased, their body and their tomb were their personal Osiris and a personal Duat. For this reason they are often addressed as "Osiris". For this process to work, some sort of bodily preservation was required, to allow the bꜣ to return during the night, and to rise to new life in the morning. However, the complete ꜣḫs were also thought to appear as stars. Until the Late Period, non-royal Egyptians did not expect to unite with the Sun deity, it being reserved for the royals.

The Book of the Dead, the collection of spells which aided a person in the afterlife, had the Egyptian name of the Book of going forth by day. They helped people avoid the perils of the afterlife and also aided their existence, containing spells to ensure "not dying a second time in the underworld", and to "grant memory always" to a person. In the Egyptian religion it was possible to die in the afterlife and this death was permanent.

The tomb of Paheri, an Eighteenth dynasty nomarch of Nekhen, has an eloquent description of this existence, and is translated by James Peter Allen as:

Your life happening again, without your ba being kept away from your divine corpse, with your ba being together with the akh ... You shall emerge each day and return each evening. A lamp will be lit for you in the night until the sunlight shines forth on your breast. You shall be told: "Welcome, welcome, into this your house of the living!"

^the ba and the body

(source)

[jacquel-and-ibis]

None of this is Happening (meta)

WARNING: This post contains spoilers for episode one of American Gods and minor spoilers for future episodes.

Religions are, by definition, metaphors, after all: God is a dream, a hope, a woman, an ironist, a father, a city, a house of many rooms, a watchmaker who left his prize chronometer in the desert, someone who loves you—even, perhaps, against all evidence, a celestial being whose only interest is to make sure your football team, army, business, or marriage thrives, prospers, and triumphs over all opposition. Religions are places to stand and look and act, vantage points from which to view the world. So none of this is happening. Such things could not occur. Never a word of it is literally true. ― Neil Gaiman, American Gods 

If you’ve seen the first episode of American Gods, one thing you may have noticed about the episode’s “Coming To America” prologue is how many outrageous, seemingly absurd and impossible things happen in the span of about five minutes – a man turned into a human porcupine, a “shirts vs. skins” Viking battle, a disembodied sword-wielding arm flying through the air, not to mention gallons and gallons of cherry-red blood.

Reading through some viewers’ responses to the episode, some have dismissed this as gratuitous and over-the-top and therefore bad, and while it’s the kind of thing that might not be to everyone’s taste (and it’s fine if it’s not), to call it “unrealistic” is to fundamentally misunderstand what’s going on there. Those are deliberate choices that establish expectations for the tone of the episode and, more importantly, the series as a whole. The prologue, in other words, is there largely to show us just what kind of show we’re watching.

With American Gods, we are in the realm of fantasy, or at least of heightened reality, a realm that co-showrunner Bryan Fuller is definitely at home in. If you’re not familiar with Fuller’s previous work, his shows take place in realities that are more saturated, dreamlike (or nightmare-like) versions of our own. A lot of what you see will look familiar, and then a serial killer will make a totem pole out of his victims’ bodies, or a wax lion figurine will come to life and start talking, or, yes, a disembodied sword-weilding arm will somersault through the air and spear a Viking straight through the throat.

This last example is particularly noteworthy not only for how extreme, even funny in its absurdity, the image is but also for the fact that the arm actually comes up out of the frame, as if headed right for the viewer:

The effect here serves to break the fourth wall by explicitly calling your attention to the very existence of a frame. In that shot, you’re being reminded that you’re not a voyeur looking back on a past real-world event but a viewer sitting in front of a screen being told a story through an artificial medium.

It’s also worth noting that the prologue functions as a kind of origin/creation story, a genre of storytelling not particularly known for realism or even plausibility. This is the birth of Odin – or at least his American incarnation – stirred into being through worship and bloodsport. This is not a historical account but a piece of mythmaking, a fanciful concoction.

What I find most interesting of all, though, is that this prologue (and presumably all the Coming to America stories that will follow in future episodes) is itself situated with a narrative frame: Mr. Ibis in his study, penning the tale of the Vikings’ first contact.

As book readers know, Mr. Ibis is Thoth, the scribe of the Egyptian gods, responsible for keeping the stories of gods and mortals alike. In Egyptian mythology, Thoth is in fact credited with the invention of written language. As the storyteller, he has the power to make meaning, to shape the tale and its perception by the reader (and in this case the viewer).

By framing the “Coming to America” tales with Mr. Ibis/Thoth as a narrator, the writers are again calling attention to the unreality of the tale, to its existence as a story rather than a factual account.

The prologue tells us this: in American Gods, as with any kind of myth-making, verisimilitude is not a requirement nor should it be expected.

[cavalorn]

Unearthing the Bones: digging into the myths of Alien: Covenant

WARNING: SPOILERY AS ALL HELL BELOW THE BREAK Hi. It’s me, the guy who did that Space Jesus blog about Prometheus on Livejournal that some of you read. I’m not using Livejournal at the moment for various reasons, so you can find my work here on tumblr for now.

So. It's been a while, but Alien: Covenant is finally here. I've now seen it. I’m banging out the first of a series of blogs while it’s still fresh in my head.

There's a sense of deja vu about this post. Is Alien: Covenant a flawed movie? Absolutely. Does it feature characters making stupid decisions? Emphatically. Will it frustrate the hell out of most people who go and see it? Probably. So far, so Prometheus.

Well then, smartass, is there a ton of stuff going on under the surface so that we can at least have fun digging it out and playing spot-the-reference? Predictably, yes there is.

The most jarring thing about Alien: Covenant is that it doesn't feel like a meaningful sequel to Prometheus. It follows on from it chronologically, but the theme and the important questions have been completely changed. Storywise, it's a jump from 'what is the ultimate origin of mankind' to 'what will befall this ship full of hapless colonists', and having Wayland openly speculate about where we all come from in the first five minutes does not equate to continuing that line of questioning. Referring back to it is not equivalent to picking it back up.

I'll hold my hand up here and say I thought we were going to get something very different from what we actually got. I expected Ancient Egypt and Biblical plagues, not yet another run through of the familiar land – make stupid decisions - get infected – die a lot – escape – fakeout ending – real ending cycle on yet another alien world. But I still enjoyed it.

To be fair, the nature of the followup to Prometheus has been changed several times, so we can hardly be blamed if we had different expectations. The original title of 'Prometheus 2' yielded to the provocative 'Alien: Paradise Lost' and thence to 'Alien: Covenant', leading many of us to wonder what story Ridley intended to tell. My honest opinion is that Ridley changed his mind during the production process. I think, for reasons that will become clear, that Giger's death may have had a bearing on this change of direction.

Alien: Covenant is, to use Ridley's words, about 'Who made [the alien] and why? No one ever asked that question.' To me it seems obvious that the moment you conceive of the Alien as a designed creature, as opposed to a being that is the product of some kind of natural order (however foreign to our earthly understanding that natural order may be) you inevitably invoke the spectre of Giger. It is not facetious to point out that we already know who made the alien, and why.

It was Giger. In the locked studio. With the box of bones.

Why? Because Ridley Scott wanted him to.

*

(Before expounding further, I want to acknowledge a debt of gratitude to the brilliant site http://alienexplorations.blogspot.co.uk which has kept an immense amount of valuable information available. Go and visit them, but make sure you have plenty of time on hand before you do, because the place will suck you in.)

There are several aspects of Alien: Covenant that don't make a lick of sense on the face of it. Why kill off Elizabeth Shaw, the heroine of Prometheus? Why do it offscreen? Why does David declare that he loved Shaw? And why is Shaw's eviscerated, mutated corpse still lying on a slab in David's workshop, many years after her death?

One way to read this is to see Alien: Covenant as a mythologising of the real-world creation of the Alien. Seen through that filter, a disturbing number of things come into focus.

I can't watch David talking to Walter in his secret workshop without thinking of Giger's own workshop, and what Ridley Scott said about it when he eulogised the late artist:

"I think back on how committed and passionate he was, and then consequently, all the security we built up around his 'lock up' studios at Shepperton. I was the only one allowed the honour of going in, and I absolutely enjoyed every hour I spent with him there."

Reading back on this, I was quite startled. Scott's assertion that Giger allowed nobody but him into his studio is contradicted by photographs from the time. They clearly show several members of the team visiting Giger in his various workspaces (he had several, for the different parts of the project he worked on). It's possible that Scott is referring to an earlier stage of the Alien's development, when only he and Giger were present. Or he could simply be misremembering, though that seems unlikely to me.

At any rate, the image of Giger welcoming Scott into his realm is an enticing one, and David welcoming Walter into his surely echoes it. But there are other, more sinister myths woven into the story of the Alien's creation, and at least one macabre aspect of it that is wholly true.

*

Giger's time at Shepperton Studios seems to have been a memorable tale in its own right, as far as the rest of the crew were concerned. One anecdote found its way into the Book of Alien:

'It was a very hot summer in London, and one day we were out on the lawn, having a picnic, and we all had our shirts off. Except Giger, who was still decked out in his leathers. And everybody tried to get him to take off that jacket, but he wouldn’t do it. You see, I don’t think he dares take off those clothes, because if he did you’d see that underneath he’s not human. He’s a character from an H.P.Lovecraft story.'

Again, Giger is remembered as the odd one out, the inhuman creator among the humans, just like David is in the film. It's only Walter, who serves as the analogue for Scott himself, who David sees as even having the potential to understand and embrace his vision.

It was not only Giger himself but his working space that had uncanny resonances. Giger's girlfriend at the time, Mia Bonzanigo, was with him at Shepperton and helped work on the Alien. However, Mia 'hated being on the set alone, saying she felt some kind of presence there' and 'thought she could hear voices or sounds and was creeped out remaining in the studio all the time' (Charles Lippincott). Appropriate, really, for the genesis of an iconic monster.

Giger liked to work with bones, and it often comes as a shock to fans of Alien to learn that the creature's head incorporated a real human skull. By the time the creature's look was finalised, the carapace had become much more opaque and the skull's shape can barely be discerned, but earlier iterations clearly show the eyesockets and the bridge of the nose. The skull was imported from India, and its condition was so good that Dan O'Bannon was later to voice uneasy concerns about skeleton farms. From his commentary on Return of the Living Dead: 'Well, in fact, when i was working on Alien. HR Giger asked them to obtain some real skulls for him to work from, to build the alien, the full size alien. And they did, and they purchased them and they brought him skulls which were wrapped in plastic just like that and they were the most beautiful skulls I had ever seen, they were like works of art, I was struck by the perfection and the teeth were all perfect, and I was told that they were ordered from India, and then sold for medical purposes but the production had bought them for Giger to use, and he took a hacksaw and cut them into pieces and put them back together, and subsequently when i was working with Tobe Hooper, who was meant to direct this film himself, we were talking about this scene. Hooper was aware also that medical skeletons were purchased from India, and he said that the eeriest thing. Tobe did, he thinks that they have a skeleton farm in India. I thought about it a while, it was such a creepy idea that when i wrote the script, I put that in. The picture was released and a few months after the picture opened, i read a news item that the government of India had suddenly stopped the deportation of all skeletons for medical purposes, and ever since then it's very difficult for medical schools to get them. They use plastic skeletons and it may have been a coincidence or the film may have indeed come to their attention and they put a stop to it. I have a feeling, the creepy feeling that there was something very criminal going on in India. At what age does a person have an absolutely perfect skull and set of teeth? When they're young.'

Ridley Scott would certainly have been aware that Giger was using human remains to create his Alien. How he felt about it, we can only guess.

*

Although the account of Giger cutting up a real skull is true, there were other stories about the artist circulating at Shepperton that were completely mythical. When considering Alien: Covenant as a mythologised retelling of the Alien's actual creation, the most important story is that of Giger's deceased girlfriend, Li Tobler.

Accounts varied wildly even at the time, but it was believed that Giger's former girlfriend had committed suicide (that part was true) and that he had kept her skull, or her entire skeleton. Alan Dean Foster, the genius storyteller who wrote the novelization of Alien and several of the other movies, believed that Giger had 'the skeleton of a former mistress suspended from the rafters of his Switzerland home'. Sigourney Weaver recounted that '... you would hear these stories about how he has his wife’s skull or some sort of, kind of, you know morbid stuff in his house.' The source of these rumours seems to have been Mia Bonzanigo, who also claimed to feel a ghostly presence in Giger's studio.

It's important to note that these stories were completely untrue. Giger himself debunked them in 2009, adding the exquisite comment 'Shit, I'm not mad, you know.'

But a myth is a myth, and stories have a way of growing in the telling.

It seems inevitable that at some point along the way, the story 'Giger used a human skull to make the Alien' would fuse with 'Giger kept his lover's skull after her death' to become 'Giger incorporated his dead lover's remains into the Alien.' While I'm not aware of this composite version of events having been told at the time, I have seen it stated online: 'First day on the job of designing alien sets, Giger said to the production secretary, “I want bones.” After touring medical supply houses and slaughterhouses, a truck pulled up to deliver. There was an entire row of flawless human skulls, three fully preserved snake skeletons, and even a rhinoceros skull. Rumors spread on set that one set of bones belonged to his deceased fiancee, who had committed suicide.'

*

You're way ahead of me here, aren't you?

Let's finish the story, then.

In Alien: Covenant, it turns out that David has kept the late Dr Elizabeth Shaw's remains and used them to create his creature, his 'perfect organism'. Bearing in mind that Shaw appears to have died shortly after their arrival, her eviscerated body has been lying on that slab for something like ten years. He has preserved her. And this, of course, matches the myths that arose around Giger precisely.

More unnervingly still, David claims to have loved Shaw. So from David's twisted point of view, he has kept the remains of a lover, not just a convenient source of biological material. Again, this parallels the Giger legend.

And there's one detail that seems to me to confirm the parallels as conscious and deliberate. Some of Giger's most famous, recognisable portraits are of Li Tobler, the very woman whose remains he was believed to have preserved. Her face is shown embedded in a bivalve, symmetrical mass of biomechanical stuff, the cheekbones protruding through the skin.

This is, of course, the inspiration behind how Shaw's remains appear on screen. Like Giger's iconic image of Li, her bones have grown through her face. Numerous reviews have pointed out the parallel between Shaw's remains and Giger's portrait of Li, but the deeper parallels seem to have passed unnoticed.

*

There are other angles of analysis we can pursue when approaching Alien: Covenant, and I’ll be blogging about those presently, but I wanted to get this one out of the way first because it's closest to the surface. Ridley Scott does love his myths, and to me it seems very much as if he's chosen to retell a modern myth here – the myth of Giger the visionary artist, somewhat other than human, and how he built his dead lover's remains into a creature that would outlive him. Next time around we’ll talk about the Demiurge.

[jelbertie]

Amy Clover and the Educational Frustration

harry’s not the only student at hogwarts, there are many other students with many other tales to tell, after all hogwarts is a school full of teenagers making lifelong memories

AO3

1995

Amy Clover was annoyed.

This was her typical state of being, there was never a day where she wasn’t frustrated at her school’s very ineffective ways of coping with being a school, but today was different. Because today she was not only annoyed at the school. She was also annoyed with herself.

She knew that there was no was to ensure that her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was going to be good. She knew that two years was a coincidence, three years was a pattern and five was a goddamn curse so of course Moody wasn’t going to stay for more than a freaking year. But Amy had assumed, oh so foolishly, that Dumbledore was on a good streak. Lupin had been excellent, Moody had been pretty damn great, so this year they were due someone awesome. Right? Right?

Wrong.

And yet Amy had chosen to do Defence Against the Dark Arts at N.E.W.T level. She was so goddamn frustrated with herself.

“Honey, stop stressing, you’re going to ace it.”

“No. I am not. Lila.” She snapped at her best friend. “Who the hell sets the history of defensive magic as homework?”

“Professor Binns?”

“Oh no my dear Ravenclaw. That would logical. No, we have to deal with two feet of parchment on the creation of stupefy. Bloody stupefy! That’s not useful to anyone.” Amy groaned loudly and rolled onto the floor of the Ravenclaw common room. This was her usual state of being when she was stressed.

“Surely you can check the syllabus and see what you need for the exam?” Lila suggested, trying to make sense out of an awful situation.

“I don’t care about what’s on the exam!” Amy moaned, grumpily refusing to get up off the very comfortable carpeted floor. She couldn’t help but think that this would be a good reading spot.

“Well then what do you care about?” Bless Lila, she was trying so hard.

“I want to learn.”

“Don’t we all.”

“But not this. This is rubbish. I want proper learn.”

“Amy. Full sentences please.” Amy made a noise that probably meant no. “You’re not making sense, just like your homework assignment.”

That worked. Amy was up and back in her chair in less time than it takes for Gryffindors to disrupt a class. Then her open textbook caught her eye and any kind of inspiration Lila’s words had given her floated away. There was no way Umbridge had any idea what kids needed to learn in order to take these skills away from her class and have the course enrich their lives beyond their education.

“I just want to be able to take skills away from this class. Feel like my N.E.W.Ts weren’t a huge waste of time, you know?” Amy asked, flicking through the book again.

“I know. Unfortunately, you always knew Defence Against the Dark Arts was going to be a gamble.” Lila smiled sadly. “I think you just have to try and get through it with a pass.”

Amy let out the longest, most exasperated groan she ever had in her life.

But she knew Lila was right. And finally, she figured out something to do to ease her frustration: channel it into another very annoying aspect of her life.

“I’m going to try and get more post-Hogwarts advice from Flitwick.”

___

This was a typical way for Amy to spend a Thursday evening. In fact, she was pretty sure Flitwick had started to set aside 15 minutes every week because, like clockwork, Amy always seemed to end up here. It wasn’t her fault she was constantly changing what she wanted to do with her life.

At least it was halfway through her sixth year when was worrying about it. Amy was so indecisive that she really couldn’t have left it any later if she was going to be setting herself up for graduation.

She knocked twice on the door before it opened. Flitwick was sitting behind his desk, marking essays, when he looked up with a spark in his eye. He set his quill aside slowly.

“Ah, Miss Clover. How are you this evening?”

“Frustrated.”

“A common feeling these days, my girl.” He smiled. “Have a seat.”

She did, happily. There was even a cup of tea waiting for her on the desk.

“So, what brings you here on this lovely Thursday evening?” Her Charms professor asked.

“I don’t think the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is right for me after all.” She admitted. That was the decision they had come to a couple weeks ago, and had been discussing specifics since. Amy knew Flitwick wouldn’t be annoyed though, he had told her that it had taken him a long time to realise that teaching was his future. He’d spent a large portion of his youth as a professional duellist, after all.

“What makes you say that, Miss Clover?” He asked, leaning forward.

“If the ministry works like...I’ve heard it works.” Flitwick raised an eyebrow. He knew immediately that Amy hadn’t ‘heard’ anything, she’d just inferred that if Umbridge was considered a good ministry official then maybe she didn’t want to be a part of that system. That didn’t really leave her with many options though. “Then I don’t think it would suit me and my way of working.”

Flitwick made a thoughtful sound, then he nodded.

“If the ministry stays like it is now, I think you might be right.”

“So...what should I do?”

“Keep studying, keep learning, and make sure you get your colour change charms sorted young lady.”

“I meant with my life.”

“Well that’s a much more complicated question.” Flitwick smiled. He usually did this. He was a very dramatic man, but Amy had only recently realised the extent of those dramatics. That usually happened when you took a N.E.W.T class though, you got to know the teacher and realised that they were actually just as human as you are.

“I know. That’s why I’m stuck.”

“What really brought you here Miss Clover?” He had seen through her. Again.

“I don’t like only studying the theory of Defence of Dark Arts. It’s not practical, it doesn’t make what we’re learning relevant and I’m a true believer that you can only gain a true understanding of spells and disciplines by actively engaging with them.” Wow. Amy gave herself a mental pat on the back for how rehearsed that sounded.

“So you want to gain a true understanding of the discipline of Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

Amy took a few moments to think about the question.

“I think so. I’m just fascinated with how human charms are relatively difficult and human transfiguration takes a mastery of the theory to cast, and yet you can cast hexes and jinxes with relative ease in first year. What’s the difference? And the fundamental make-up of the spells is so particular about what you do to someone, and yet you don’t have to picture it in your head like with transfiguration. And it’s one of the few disciplines I know that have researchers in the Ministry that are made public knowledge.”

“Miss Clover, would you like to continue studying Defence Against the Dark Arts with experts in the field?”

“Yes of course, but I thought you could only do that if you intended to use it with the Aurors?”

“That’s a myth. Everything’s a myth these days if I’m being honest, but you don’t need to concern yourself too much with that.” Amy frowned, but Flitwick quickly shook his head to say that that train of thought had come to a stop. “I can put you in contact with a past student of mine, Peter Redwood. He’s in Russia where there’s a group of academics who have come together to research the field you’re interested in.”

“That sounds brilliant!”

“Yes. It won’t be easy, but I think this is something that is worth you looking into.”

“Thank you so much Professor.” Amy said sincerely as she stood to leave. She wished him luck in his marking and then made her way back to the Ravenclaw common room, her mind much calmer than it had been earlier in the evening. Sure, Amy was so indecisive that she might not actually pursue this opportunity, but it was always nice to know that her professor had her back and was ready to support her in what she needed.

This would probably lead to nothing though.

Probably.

[quoratopstories]

What is the most pernicious and persistent myth about The Lord of the Rings that is believed by people who have seen Peter Jackson's movies but haven't read the books?

I don't know about "the most pernicious and persistent myth" but there are four which I found particularly annoying. Gandalf's weakness (though don't get me wrong Ian McKellan was perfect for the part), the changing of characters in order to create imperfection, the "need" for strong female characters, and the eagles being the fifth army.

Gandalf's weakness (and others' strength)

Gandalf's weakness in the movies is completely unnecessary and blown out of proportion. Not only is he portrayed as weaker than Saruman (when Tolkien stated many times that Gandalf THE GREY was stronger than Saruman) but Tolkien sometimes estimated him to be on the same power level as Sauron himself. There was likely no great fight between Gandalf and Saruman, and even if there had been Saruman would have been able to ambush Gandalf and Gandalf likely would not have fought back. When Gandalf fought the Balrog, it was to prevent it from taking the ring of power which was only a few hundred feet from it. When Saruman captured Gandalf, Gandalf likely could not justify breaking his order not to meet force with force, especially when he allowed himself to be captured by the necromancer centuries prior. Andrea Livo's answer to Who is stronger, Gandalf or Saruman? Andrea Livo's answer to How does Sauron's power compare to that of Gandalf? Andrea Livo's answer to If Gandalf ultimately gave in to temptation, what would he be capable of. What would he do if he took the one ring for himself?

But even if we ignore those two statements, Gandalf is portrayed as being weaker than the Witch King (a mere human) as well as weaker than Galadriel. Galadriel did indeed overthrow the evil of Dol Guldur but this was when Sauron was not present and it's defense was in the care of Kamul, second in command of the Nazgul. Of course she could overcome a human sorcerer, even one centuries old. Banishing Sauron, as she did in the movies, is an entirely different matter. Tolkien himself noted that neither Galadriel nor Elrond could overcome Sauron in a one on one fight even with the power of the ring. He even went so far as to state that ONLY Gandalf could hope to overcome Sauron if he had claimed the ring as his own. It should be noted here that a lot of Galadriel's wisdom and magic came from her time learning under Melian the Maia. Gandalf is described as being the wisest of the Maiar, which would also make him wiser than Melian, Galadriel's teacher.

Gandalf is also portrayed as being answerable to Galadriel. Galadriel was one of the leaders of the Noldor who rebelled against the Valar. Gandalf time and again throughout the books displays his loyalty to the Valar (even when it places his friends in jeopardy). He would not be answerable to an elf who rebelled against his bosses.

Don't even get me started on the "love" between Gandalf and Galadriel. The elves never even considered adultery. Their relationships were the perfect Catholic marriage. While I don't mind creative license, I do mind altering the fundamental intentions of the author.

Gandalf is an angel of Eru Iluvatar, the wisest of the Maiar, one of the strongest Maiar (he was (approximately) to Sauron what Manwe was to Morgoth), and has been around since before creation. And yet he is portrayed as weak and even ignorant in comparison to the other "wise" characters in the movies.

Characters that were made "more realistic".

One of my favorite things about the Lord of the Rings and several of Tolkien's other works was the fact that it clearly outlined black from white. While some people call this being unrealistic, I find that it is merely added to the overall feeling of fantasy. That being said there are many characters which dance close to the line between good and evil: Boromir, Gollum, and Feanor to name a few. Tolkien's tale was one of good people doing the right thing, of fighting "for the right without question or pause. To being willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause" (The Impossible Dream). It was never intended to be realistic any more than Beowulf or King Arthur. I loved how noble Aragorn was in the books, and how he knew he needed to wait until the right time to be king (none of that "I don't wanna" that we see in the movies). I loved the fact that Faramir was mentally stronger than any other man and rejected the temptation of the ring without a second thought. I loved how Gandalf could inspire everyone to find it within themselves to stand up to evil. How Denethor was actually a good ruler who had been standing in the face of defeat and extinction for far too long. And I loved how Frodo and Sam withstood a test that even a man could not pass instead of them being almost childlike and making it to Mordor purely by chance and not by strength of will. All of these changes in the movies detracted from the overall feel of Lord of the Rings.

If you want ambiguous characters and a sense of "realism" in your fantasy don't try to change something to your liking. Go read Game of Thrones. Or the Silmarillion. Skip to the section about the kinslaying.

Female characters.

I love it when a movie can pass the Bechdel test, even if it is a flawed test. But Lord of the Rings is one of a few exceptions that I make. Andrea Livo's answer to The Lord of the Rings (creative franchise): Why are there so few female characters in JRR Tolkien's works?

"Tolkien wasn't just a man created by his time period (he was actually rather forward thinking for his time), he was also writing about a story set in a Medieval society. Would it be historically accurate if he did add a ton of women fighters? No. He wasn't just writing as a man in the 20th century, he was writing as a man who was trying to copy the writing styles of the Old English/Anglo Saxon period (a time in which we only have 2, very short, poems written by women).

Éowyn was the exception, she was the model of a Viking/Scandinavian woman. These women were allowed to take on masculine roles if they wanted to (which at the time included many jobs that we now see both sexes doing). You'll note that while Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit are written with a male (Anglo Saxon) voice the Silmarillion reads more like a historical text. It is here we see the true importance of women in Middle Earth and their influence both on history and on the men around them.

While one may or may not agree with Professor Tolkien's choice, he had reasons behind every word that he wrote. On the outside it might have appeared misogynistic but it wasn't being written for a modern audience. The Lord of the Rings was not nearly as popular when it came out because of its fantasy elements. Now we complain that it was biased. But it was being written largely for himself, and for other scholars of Anglo-Saxon literature who would have appreciated it for what it was attempting (and I feel succeeded) to do."

The fact that the film makers gave Arwen more of a role than she had in the books was not terribly surprising. But I could not agree with what they did with Galadriel. Her magic was in general far more subtle in the books, and when she was truly aroused she was all the more terrible and beautiful. The film makers decided that was not enough, that they needed to throw her power in the face of audience especially in the Hobbit.

Tauriel was not only male in the books (as the Captain of the Guard) but she would have been completely unnecessary if they had remained true to the story. Thranduil was very active in the world, being the one to send Legolas to Rivendell to find out what was going on. In addition, he helped as much as he was able against the threat of Sauron, even when it was something as little as watching Gollum. Tauriel's main purpose (other than "love interest") was to serve as a voice against Thranduil's "inaction". Not only that but they completely changed what little we knew of the Captain of the Guard. The Captain of the Guard was an incompetent drunk who not only let the dwarves escape but was also likely the one who let Gollum escape 60 years later.

It also upsets me that the movies created Tauriel to serve as a love interest and not as a truly independent female character.

The Fifth Army

This is a minor issue in regards to the many sins that both trilogies committed against the books. Even many people who have read the books disagree with this one, but the fifth army was not the eagles. They did not even show up until the end, and would be considered an air force in any case. The fifth army was the wargs. Wargs, like the eagles, were an independent and intelligent race. While they could not speak like the eagles could, they had their own motives and evil goals which frequently lined up with goblins and orcs. They could be equated somewhat to Shadowfax's ancestor Felarof: they had human like intelligence but still agreed to being beast of burden to an extent. To quote the Hobbit "So began a battle that none had expected; and it was called the Battle of Five Armies, and it was very terrible. Upon one side were the Goblins and the wild Wolves, and upon the other were Elves and Men and Dwarves." In my mind the movies committed a huge sin by not only changing who the five armies were (either Men, Elves, Dwarves, Goblins, and Eagles or Men, Elves, Dwarves, Bolg's Army, and Azog's Army depending on how you look at it) but by leaving the wargs out of the battle entirely. Especially when the title of the third movie was “The Battle of the Five Armies”.

A few of the (many) other sins and myths in the movies are: the eagle's inability to talk (which spawned the huge myth that the eagles could fly the ring to Mordor), Beorn's appearance (he was a large MAN), Elven vegetarianism (they ate meat and hunted multiple times throughout LotR, the Hobbit, and the Silmarillion), that the Nazgul rode "dragons" (instead of the fell beasts in the books), that Shadowfax was white instead of grey (they still picked a gorgeous horse), Azog's existence in the Hobbit (he died almost 150 years prior), and many many more. Pick a scene from the movies. I'm sure that most of us die hard Tolkien fans could find SOMETHING wrong with it.

Read other answers by

Andrea Livo on Quora:

Where was Radagast the Brown during The Lord of the Rings?

Why is Elrond considered to be a Peredhil (Half-Elf) when he's actually not?

In The Fellowship of the Ring, why did Gandalf only pull out the bigtime magic against the Balrog? Could he have used that kind of firepower earlier to the Fellowship's benefit?

Read more answers on Quora. via Quora http://ift.tt/2jXqvEx

[dryctarth]

“Tales of Wedding Rings” A Manga Review

Spoilers for this manga! (MLA style)

The front cover has an enticing image of Young Anime Woman looking up at the reader in a gaze of love, the wedding ring of the title glowing on her finger. Not the worst pose, but it sets up the tone of the story as something to be slightly disappointed by: this is a high-school boy sex fantasy (feel free to self-insert). This is accentuated by her ample bosom on display through a school uniform (complete with a hint of lacy bra) framed by an Inexplicably Loose Tie And Unbuttoned Shirt. There isn’t a good reason for this except BOOBIES! And while there are many people who appreciate them, the story never seems to set up whether the MC Girl is willingly displaying or if it’s just the author/male gaze, so the cover is odd right away. But the Medieval Fantasy Cloak and intense stare make it worth picking up, especially since “Wedding Rings” are uncommon title words.

The synopsis on the back makes it seem like Hime (the MC Girl) is very aware and clever, manipulating her Hot Childhood Friend (Satou) into marrying her and taking on the role of hero. This is a lie. It is very disappointing.

Inside Cover: Another shot of Hime, in full color (nice) and in what is soon-to-be-revealed standard school uniform, plus a fantasy cloak and staff (foreshadowing as the justification in the story is just as silly as the outfit itself). 

The story begins with Hime’s arrival (in full color) as a young girl of 7-8 (looks at least 10) and an Old Wise Grandpa in front of a young boy who’s all like, wtf mate? She tells him to forget he saw her being all magical and stuff. This is good (1). Then he comments on the next page (full-page color inked spread) that he fell in love with her instantly. The spread is defined by an image of her as a young girl on the right and her in her current age in standard revealing outfit to the left (actually takes up 1.5 pages) looking all shocked and scared. This is weird since her breasts are heavily emphasized, sexualizing her next to her younger self. A bit creepy (2,3). 

The story actually begins by fast-forwarding to present day where She Wakes Him Up (but with an onigiri instead of toast, realistically wrapped in plastic-wrap, also the wake-up is in color) (4,5). From here MAYBE establishes that she and her grandpa moved in nextdoor to Satou and he’s in love but they’re Best Friends and so Cannot Sex. Luckily they go to school, where Male Friend #3 says, “You’re so lucky, Satou. Guys with girlfriends can be so chill.” (11) to which Satou correctly says they aren’t together. His downplay of the situation is really offset for the reader since in every shot of Hime we’ve seen so far she’s got the girls out in a short skirt and acts like Teasing Anime Totally-Don’t-Like-You-Baka-Girl. Also she wears a pair of wedding rings on a necklace and they’re Really Important and as kids they promised to get married, cuz kids are dumb (7-9). So at school she texts him from two feet away and they go to the festival!

This is where the problems really start. While it doesn’t make sense for Hime to dress like that in school, it’s not that weird for anime/manga. But then in the festival scene she dresses up in a nice yukata while Satou is in Regular No Effort Boy Clothes (with the Untucked Shirt mod for variety). Background characters are portrayed similarly, but it’s weird that he didn’t dress up at all. OR change clothes at all. Or put any effort into an event where he can reasonably expect Hime to dress up and plans on confessing to her. 

Of course, before he can, she says she’s leaving to go away forever. He gets glum and they go home. Then there’s a light on a hill and he runs at Plot Speed for her to say she’s getting married and then he hops in the portal before it closes. Note, the portal is good as it keeps to the symbolism and themes we see later on around her (manga are bad at page numbers). He appears in the middle of court in a wedding ceremony where Hime is being married to Mr. Anime Prince. Immediately. Like, the portal led right to the center of court where everyone was waiting for her to pop out and immediately marry her off without even changing or brushing her hair. Really? 

Then Satou appears and then a monster attacks. And everyone’s all like, “Quick, marry the prince and Do The Thing!” And so Hime looks around and kisses Satou and slips the ring on his finger. Bam! Magical wedding. This is super-super-very-horribly-bad-and-dumb.

Everyone is all like, “WTF! Foreigner!” but Old Wise Grandpa is like, “Cool, also oof,” and Mr. Anime Prince is like “Thank goodness it wasn’t me, here’s a sword, don’t die!” After saving the day Satou passes out from the exhaustion of being kissed and swinging a sword.

He awakens in the Royal Bedchamber to another kiss. He’s still in his school outfit for some reason. At this point I think the author was just too lazy to draw multiple outfits. Hime appears in a Low-Cut Royal Dress and they go out to a balcony to make a Heroic Speech About Saving The World. In his school uniform even though everyone is calling him the “Ring King” (I give up on page numbers). This is dumb. 

There are some shenanigans in the bath and we see the usual “Don’t look! We’re just friends, right?” “Yeah.” “Ok good, (darn it!)” This is dumb since it puts the characters in the situation in which they are married (though Hime says it’s just ceremonial) and thus should be allowed to Have Sex, but since they’re Just Friends and Cannot Sex and they haven’t had enough time dating to ease into intimacy, they Cannot Sex for no reason other than to preserve their Non-Slut status (he must be virtuous and good and she must be pure). While it makes sense for them to be awkward, the plot doesn’t focus around it as a point of lack of experience, it’s clearly for the pretend sake of their virtues. 

Then a monster attacks, we learn that Hime powers up the Ring King (with kisses, of course) and the heroes flee with Gramps and Mr. Anime Prince, who is very relieve to not be in Satou’s shoes, all because the monster is too strong. This is ok.

They find an inn where Gramps explains the Creation Myth: The Abyss King was bad, so everyone made magic rings of five elements which were symbolically given to the Ring King, who beat up the bad guy. Then the rings were split up and given to mortal men, doomed to die. Except actually they are princess, doomed to be forced into a ceremonial-but-totally-not-because-their-relationship-powers-the-rings polygamous marriage. So yeah, doomed to die. This is kinda dumb, but has the potential to be interesting if it were handled maturely. Considering that the other princesses are shown as naked shadows, this will not be the case. Meanwhile, Hime is unhappy since she and Satou just had a surprisingly mature declaration of love and commitment to each other that was refreshingly straightforward and cute. This is good.

They still Cannot Sex. This time it’s because they haven’t eased into intimacy, which could have been good until Satou says something dumb and Hime reveals on a chapter end-note that she’s scared of His Massive Manliness (because obviously He’s A God Among Men, which we actually see earlier when, after the bath scene, she remarks to herself that he’s big and holds her hands apart suggestively).

From here they vow to go out and get the other rings so Satou can save the world. The elves of Wind are next and Satou imagines them to be super sexy. The last page suggests the princess is xenophobic instead (though probably naked).

The author’s note indicates this is MAYBE’s first stab at fantasy and is thus too simple. This is true, but it doesn’t excuse the work. This should have been fixed by the editor. The whole thing is a sex fantasy where the boy is trying to pretend to be A Nice Guy and therefore gets married and waits slightly so they can become more comfortable. But it’s so rushed that the focus isn’t on actually being nice and caring, it’s just on preserving that perception so he can Bang The Girl.

The whole thing could have been improved so much, though, if Hime had been as manipulative as the synopsis suggested. During the wedding she’s timid and weepy and picks Satou out of love, desparation, and fear. She wasn’t set up with him originally, he was just the first familiar face. Instead, she should have been planning this, telling Satou about the leaving and marriage to trick him into chasing her out of his unconfessed love. Then she could have kissed him right away, given him the ring and sword, and said good luck in front of everyone, being confident in the whole thing. Later she’d confess that she was secretly nervous and scared and had to appear confident for the people’s sake. She could have told him the whole thing about his role and the ceremonial nature, saying that she was sorry for using and deceiving him, sorry for being selfish, but she wanted this sham marriage to be with someone she at least loved as a friend, if not truly romantically. That would have set up a much stronger character for her as well as significant inner conflict for Satou. Does he forgive her? Does he resent her? We’ll never know.

Ultimately I wish it were better. It could be, but it wasn’t due to negligence of both the author (in never changing their outfits and making them dumb in the first place) and the editor (in not suggesting better characterisation). It is adequate, but not much more. It is predictable, and I wish it were better, but I probably won’t go look. If you just want boobs, look elsewhere. If you want fantasy heroes, look elsewhere. If you want cheap manga versions of Harlequin romance, here ya go.