#on a metaphorical level (as in the death of a relationship). if you do slay her you destroy her memory and in that way you do not know her

[featherymainffins]

Now this might be because I have issues but is it just me or does Slay The Princess feel like an allegory for a relationship?

[unmotivated-cosmere-nerd]

Blake could never fly.

In a lot of stories, learning to fly is often an incredible moment of self actualization and freedom, but in pact the ability to fly is granted to Blake because he needs to fight a dragon, and it's a solution. For a character who has romanticised and envied birds for there freedom, Blake's wings feel practical not emotional and he only gets that back when all that he is is taken away.

More interestingly is that Blake constantly turns down the ability to fly(you fools), he goes back to the police for Evan, back to the tower for Rose, and back to Ur despite having no obligation to face it again.

And in Isadora's interlude we find out why:

The Fool in the Tarot deck frequently depicted a boy with a dog at his heels, staring at the sky while he walked blithely off a cliff, burdened only by a bundle on a stick.  The diabolist had admitted a relationship to the card.

No single detail was quite right, but much as something might appear similar if one were to unfocus their vision…

The young diabolist walked with the sparrow at his shoulder, eyes on the windows without looking through the windows, walking forward as if he were afraid to stop.  His burden here was the gas containers.

No, he was burdened not just by the gas containers, but by some notion of responsibility.

A man, when facing death, aspires to finish what he started.

What had the custodian of the Thorburn estate started?  What drove him?

She knew he sought to do good and to vanquish evil, and she could surmise that both good acts and the existence of evil had touched him deeply.

The Fool card was akin to the ace.  Depending on the game being played, it was often the lowest card or the highest.  Valueless or highly valued.  Powerless or powerful.

It all depended on context.  He sought to kill the demon, and he would either catastrophically fail or succeed.

This Fool sought to slay the metaphorical dragon.  He felt his own mortality, which was quite possibly her fault, in part, and now he rushed to finish the task he’d set for himself.  To better the world.

The Fool was wrought with air – the clouds he gazed at, the void beyond the cliff, the feather in his cap, even the dog could often be found mid-step, bounding, just above the ground.

He was a Fool wrought with a different element.  The familiar didn’t quite fit for the departure from the air, but the traditional dog didn’t conjure ideas of air right off the bat either.

What was he wrought with?  That was another question that begged an answer.

For so many characters in fiction flight represents some level of ascension(haha) often this is being free, of some fear or restriction, but also rising above others, making them small in comparison to you, to fly you must sever yourself from earthly tethers and part of the reason flight is so special is because everyone else is on earth. 

So why can’t Blake Fly? It is because he carries a burden and it weighs him down. As Isadora says, he was touched by a great evil. The Evil has left him with a desire to be free, to get away to never be pinned down (He probably associates birds with a freedom from his trauma), but he was also touched by great good, Alexis has inspired him to make the world “better for having him in it” and that takes precedent. That's why he bonds with Evan,  that's why he goes back for Rose, that's why he faces down something worse most practioners wouldn’t face in their entire career

I’m sitting this one out.  I’ve earned a break.  I’m going to use that break to do some reading I’ve fallen behind on, I’m going to look after my circle, and when that’s done, when I feel ready, I’m going back to the factory.”

Blake Turns down a chance for freedom and safety, to do what is right, even if it isn’t Right.

So that leaves us with a question, what element is Blake wrought with? And I think the answer is Earth. In Pale we learn that the astrological symbol for earth means to be a part of reality, to be brought down to the rules and laws all must follow. Flying puts one above the world, made apart from it and Blake’s mission is to make the world better for having him in it and so he must be a part of the world he cannot be apart from it. (Also Evan is dead, and his corpse will be buried, hence his connection to Earth).

In conclusion I think the reason Blake can’t fly is because he must be part if it if he wants to make it better and that responsibility will keep as a part of the earth until there is no Blake Thorburn left, and I think that's beautiful

[solena2]

So.

Tommy isn’t Theseus. Every time I see Techno’s analogy about Tommy being Theseus brought up I’m filled with endless rage and I’ve DECIDED!

That it’s about time I explained just why it’s so objectively incorrect.

-

First: a bit of backstory on Theseus, because I doubt many of you actually know much about him beyond what Techno said in his “so you want to be a hero” speech, which left out a lot of relevant details.

Theseus was a demigod with two fathers and one mother. His fathers were king Aegeus of Athens and the sea god Poseidon, and his mother was Aethra, Aegeus’ wife. Aethra raised Theseus on her own, far from Athens to avoid him being assassinated.

Aegeus left him nothing but a sword with the Athenian crest and a pair of sandals, buried under a rock so no one else could get them.

When Theseus came of age, he took the sword and sandals and headed up to Athens, slaying various monsters along the way. (It pains me to abbreviate it that much, but Techno left out everything before the Minotaur so it won’t help me much in debunking his analogy.)

Once he got to Athens, he met up with his dad, chased out his stepmom Medea, (yes, that Medea) and killed some people. Then comes the relevant part.

Crete had won a war against Athens a while back, and because of this, every seven years Athens was forced to send 14 tributes to be killed by the Minotaur. (Yes, this inspired the Hunger Games)

Theseus decided he’d volunteer and kill the Minotaur, thus ending the tribute system for good and getting one over on Athens. He promised his dad that if he won, he’d come back in a ship with white sails, as opposed to the standard mourning black that signified the death of the tributes.

So he went to Crete, met king Minos and his daughters Ariadne and Phaedra, and got sent into the labyrinth. Ariadne gave him a magic ball of string that kept him from getting lost, allowing him to find the Minotaur and then safely get out afterwards, providing he could kill it.

He killed it, led his other 13 tributes out, and sailed back home. On the way, Athena told him to leave Ariadne stranded on a tiny island in the middle of the ocean, so he immediately did so, because Theseus was an asshole.

He got home, his dad committed suicide because Theseus forgot the white sails and his dad assumed he’d died, Theseus became king and married Phaedra, and then the fun began, because again, Theseus was an asshole.

First, he cheated on Phaedra with Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, so she left and took the kids. Next, he and his other asshole friend Pirithous decided to kidnap themselves some new wives. Theseus decided on Helen of Troy, who was a child at the time, and Pirithous decided on Persephone, which resulted in both him and Theseus getting stuck in the Underworld for a while due to pissing off Hades.

Once he got back up, he killed his son for fucking his wife, which is messed up on many levels, and then left Athens because his people were rightfully not super okay with that.

Then he goes and meets Lycomedes, who throws him off a cliff.

-

Next, let’s talk about Techno’s speech a bit.

He starts off by accusing Tommy of being a power hungry dictator (paraphrased), before asking him if he wants to be a hero.

Then, he provides what is apparently the archetypal example of heroism, something often associated with selflessness, kindness, and generally giving at least one singular solitary fuck about other people.

Theseus! Heroic hero who does heroic things, like, uhhh *checks notes* cheating on his wife, kidnapping children with plans to forcefully marry them, leaving people alone on tiny islands with no supplies, killing his kid, etc. etc...

So we’re off to a great start.

Then, he gives a short summary of Theseus’ life and times! He skips the first part of his life completely, which is hilarious to me because it’s the only time Theseus ever did anything actually heroic or selfless, and gets straight to the meat!

“Let me tell you a story, Tommy. A story of a man called Theseus. His country was in danger, he sent himself forward! Into enemy lines. He slayed the Minotaur! And saved his city. You know what they did to him, Tommy? They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. That’s what happens to heroes, Tommy.”

-Technoblade

So first off, he doesn’t mention... really anything other than the Minotaur and the exile, which is leaving out a lot of relevant details, like why Theseus was exiled. (You know, killing his son in cold blood?)

Second, he doesn’t give details in general. Not that he should’ve given a full telling, or anything, but I’m always surprised by the shortness of this speech when I go back and listen to it. He pretty much just gives the barest bones of an argument and expects his audience to take it at face value. (Which they do, but it’s still bad practice)

From the more accurate (if still brief) summary if Theseus’ life I’ve just given, I’m sure you can see why this might be more than a bit dubious, as an analogy. Given cc!Technoblade is literally an English major, and doubtless knows significantly more about the myth than I do, I’d imagine this was never intended to be taken at face value.

Over and over again, c!Techno proves himself to be an unreliable narrator, and over and over again, the fandom at large takes his word as gospel.

-

Now, as far as a more in depth argument for Tommy as Theseus goes, I will attempt to debunk that as well, because there are some genuinely good points to be made.

First of all, most people make Dream out to be the Minotaur. Given the time this speech was made, I imagine Schlatt was the intended target of that, but with latter events in mind, Dream does make much more sense.

I’d say this is honestly pretty fair, but I don’t think Tommy takes the role of Theseus in that narrative. I’d argue he’s much more analogous to the role of Ariadne, giving the tools required to defeat Dream but ultimately not doing so through his own power, but because someone chose to take those tools and make use of them. This also provides the very interesting characterization of Punz as Theseus, which is an incredibly unique take that I hope some a Punz enthusiast does something with, because I don’t know enough about his lore to make a good analysis on that.

The idea of Schlatt as the Minotaur, as was probably intended by Techno at the time, makes much more sense, though I still think other characters fit the role better. Firstly, Schlatt wasn’t killed, he died of a heart attack, and if someone had killed him I think it’s more likely to have been Wilbur or Techno who did it than Tommy, as Tommy was still very hopeful and idealistic at the time, at least compared to his character now. You could posit Tommy as Ariadne again in this situation, given he was the one to mastermind the final charge, and though I think Tommy as Ariadne is an idea that’s worth further exploration, I’d say Fundy futs the Ariadne role here much better, with him giving the spy’s diary before being effectively shunned and left out in the cold by both Pogtopia and Manburg, much like Ariadne was abandoned in the original myth.

I’d posit the Theseus in this scenario as Techno, Wilbur, or possibly Philza, as they were the ones to actually kill things in the 16th, though Techno and Wilbur’s killings were more in the metaphorical sense, taking the second life of L’manburg.

As for the exile, Tommy exile was alike to that of Theseus only in concept. Both were sent from their kingdoms for a crime, resulting in a falling out with someone close to them, and had a precarious relationship with heights while they were gone, but that’s about where the similarities end and even then they’re superficial.

First of all, Tommy’s exile was far more because Dream was looking for an excuse to do it than because briefing actually means anything on the SMP, given how Dream had been griefing bases and blaming Tommy for it for a while before it went down. (Fun fact, Bad and Skeppy were going to burn one of his discs over this, but one of them got sick so they had to cancel the stream.)

Theseus’ exile, on the other hand, was entirely deserved, especially when you consider how serious a crime killing family was in Ancient Greek culture. It was pretty much the biggest no-no in existence, and I’m almost surprised he wasn’t just straight up executed for it.

Second, Tommy’s falling out with Tubbo was almost entirely due to outside forces, (Dream) rather than because anything Tommy had done. Though Tommy’s cavalierness towards the trial and attempts to threaten Dream with Spirit doubtless didn’t help things, Dream surrounding L’manburg in obsidian walls and threatening them to exile Tommy was entirely his own choice, and not something that can be pinned on Tommy, no matter what the apologists may say.

Meanwhile, Theseus’ falling out with Phaedra had begun long before his exile with him cheating on her. Him killing his son was merely the last in a long line of dominos to completely destroy their relationship.

Last, Tommy nearly killing himself is very different from Theseus being pushed off a cliff. Tommy’s near suicide was the direct result of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of c!Dream for what was canonically, I believe, several months? (Correct me if I’m wrong on that one.) Tommy almost jumping off a pillar because he was deliberately isolated from his support systems is nothing like Theseus being killed because he was a cocky asshole who thought he was god.

-

So that’s why I don’t think Tommy is anything like Theseus, and why I’m filled with endless rage by the completely uncritical acceptance of this parallel, but it’s not the whole reason it pisses me off.

It also pisses me off because, as stated earlier, cc!Techno is an English major. He knew what he was doing with this. The fandom’s insistence on refusing to acknowledge his character as an unreliable narrator is, in my opinion, acting as a massive kneecap to what could be a great analysis of how he thinks.

Specifically: why does c!Technoblade think Tommy is like Theseus?

Of all the Greek heroes to pick, why that one? Was it just the tantalizing opportunity to parallel Schlatt with a horned monster, or was it because c!Techno has some genuine in-character reason to think this myth specifically applies to Tommy.

Now, we all know people in the SMP have a habit of analogizing Wilbur and Tommy. The assumption Tommy wanted to be president, the belief that Tommy nominated Tubbo directly, the belief that he was intentionally deceiving Techno about Pogtopia’s intentions regarding Manburg... all of these stem from Wilbur. There are more cases of this, of course, but several analyses have been done in the subject already, and this is long enough without more padding.

So why does Techno think Tommy is Theseus? Well, it’s simple, isn’t it?

Wilbur is Theseus.

To be continued, because this is already too long and my brain hurts.

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Young Griff, Part 1: The Pisswater Prince

So, I know I haven't done a super deep dive in a while. I kinda got stuck, then binged Sense8, The OA, The Americans, and Dark. It just got hard to write, and I feel into a bit of depression. But I finally managed to complete this, something I've wanted to write about for a very long time. This is part of the Daenerys essays, but the main focus is not on her, but rather the enigmatic Young Griff who appears in ADWD. As he was never seen on the TV show, we have little to no idea of what his future holds. Personally, of all the characters cut from the show, I most wish they kept Young Griff, because his presence is quite interesting. The fandom (and the in-world characters) are highly skeptical of his identity, and think he is destined for major things in the future of the story.

There is no doubt his existence is tied heavily to Daenerys's storyline, although perhaps not the way that is often recognized. This was originally going to just be one long essay, but I uncovered more and more that I found compelling enough to write, and so it became split into two parts. The first part will be about Aegon's role in the story; his identity, what he represents, why he is here. The second part will be about Aegon's future; his next moves in the Stormlands, possible allies, and how he might meet his end.

The Dubious Prince

What's curious is that apparently, Aegon's return has been considered by GRRM for quite a while. A mere 2 days before the publishing of ASOS, in 2000, GRRM was asked a question by a fan:

Fan: I was wondering if you could answer (or take the "fifth") one teeny little question I've been dying to ask for the past year: Are Aegon and Rhaenys, Elia's children, well and truly dead? GRRM: All I have to say is that there is absolutely no doubt that little Princess Rhaenys was dragged from beneath her father's bed and slain.

And then when ADWD is published in 2011, it is revealed that in fact, Aegon isn't dead, but secretly alive. This is something that was actually rumoured in Westeros, according to this entry of Aegon VI in A World of Ice and Fire app:

Rumors persist, however, that it was not truly Aegon who was killed, but some other infant, and that Aegon has been taken away to safety.

Aegon literally tells Tyrion the story of how he was whisked away to safety:

"That was not me. I told you. That was some tanner's son from Pisswater Bend whose mother died birthing him. His father sold him to Lord Varys for a jug of Arbor gold. He had other sons but had never tasted Arbor gold. Varys gave the Pisswater boy to my lady mother and carried me away."

It's certainly a great story, that Aegon return from the dead, living in Essos waiting for the chance to take back his birthright. The fact Aegon is still alive is truly a miracle... but is he? Is this young boy who purports to be Aegon really Prince Aegon, son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia? One of the most pervasive fan theories is that Aegon isn't a Targaryen at all, but secretly a Blackfyre, descended from the Targaryen bastard Daemon Blackfyre who rebelled and tried to become king (the Blackfyres are still Targaryens but don't tell them that).

It's such a popular theory that it is considered all but canon, as much as R+L=J is. Now, time for me to commit heresy: I do not buy this theory at all.

For those not in the know, some have pointed out potential circumstantial evidence of Aegon being a Blackfyre; he's supported by the Golden Company, a sellsword company that was made for the Blackfyres and ruled by them until Maelys died on the Stepstones. Dany sees a vision of a cloth dragon swaying on a pole in the House of the Undying, as the Undying call her the "slayer of lies". There is mention of Maelys being the end of male line of House Blackfyre, but no mention of what happened to the female line. There is a story about an inn that had a black dragon made of iron symbolizing the Blackfyres, and after Lord Darry (a Targaryen supporter in the Blackfyre rebellions) took it off, cut it apart, and threw it into the river, one piece showed up years later on the Quiet Isle, having reddened with rust (potentially symbolizing a Blackfyre returning disguised as a Targaryen). Illyrio is oddly emotional when talking about Aegon. Plus the entirety of the Pisswater Prince story sounds really out there and unlikely.

At first glance, I found this theory really compelling. There is all this subtext and reading behind the lines that you didn't see before, and on some level it makes some sense. Why introduce another secret Targaryen in book 5 out of 7 (8)? It also fits neatly with another theory I will talk about more in depth later. However, while it isn't a theory I think is necessarily 100% inaccurate and completely out there, I think it doesn't account for alternatives, and ultimately is an unnecessary plot twist.

The support of the Golden Company isn't all that suspect when you consider just what's been happening since Maelys died. The male line of House Blackfyre is over (who knows what happened to the female line), the Blackfyres no longer rule the Golden Company, they are gone. The Golden Company was also founded by Westerosi exiles who fled Westeros and supported the Blackfyres. The fact the Golden Company broke its contract with Myr and that "some contracts are writ in blood" more has to do with the fact that these people are mostly descendants of Westerosi exiles and want to return home. The idea of the Golden Company wasn't really to be a permanent thing, it was meant to be a means through which the Blackfyres had support when they invaded again, and when the Blackfyres were installed, those exiled lords would get their lost lands back.

With the Blackfyre cause gone, the only thing left for the Golden Company is home. And that's exactly what Aegon is giving them, regardless of him being Targaryen. The slayer of lies visions are implying Daenerys is going to be confronting people who are in some way not true. Stannis (who is the first vision) is not Azor Ahai. This probably means that the cloth dragon represents a fake Targaryen, and in comes Aegon, out of nowhere! The first issue I have is that the vision has to be literal. Prophecies are very tricky, and the House of the Undying prophecies are extremely finicky. What does slayer of lies mean? Does it mean she literally kills the lies? Is it more metaphorical that she exposes people to the truth? And if Aegon really is a true Targaryen, then why is he the mummer's dragon and considered a lie to slay?

Disregarding the fact Varys was a mummer and he is working for Aegon, even if Aegon is a Targaryen, it's very obvious that they need to do a lot to convince people he is one. He has to play the part of Rhaegar's son, because everyone thinks he is dead. Meanwhile, Daenerys has to do literally nothing of the sort, because she has dragons. She embodies what it means to be a Targaryen, she is about to embrace her house words. As Illyrio tells Tyrion, Daenerys is a true Targaryen. But Aegon doesn't have dragons, so he needs to play up his Targness in some other way. Rhaegar was called the Last Dragon. Viserys called himself a Dragon. Aegon is about to try to take Rhaegar's place. But neither Rhaegar, Viserys, or Aegon are the Last Dragon; Daenerys is, and the lie is that he is the last dragon, and that Dany's existence itself is the way she slays the lie. As Dany thinks to herself after Viserys dies, "fire cannot kill a dragon".

Look at Aegon being someone piggybacking off words and looks for his claims. Meanwhile, Daenerys has all the proof one needs. I think the vision is much more esoteric than literal. While Varys's story is suspect and even Tyrion finds it unbelievable, it's not entirely impossible. Hell, Mance Rayder climbed the Wall and went to Winterfell in disguise as a bard twice. It makes sense for Varys to take away Aegon and replace him with another child during Robert's rebellion, when things were going badly for the Targaryens and plans had to be made in case the worst came to worst.

Another popular interpretation is that Illyrio and his wife Serra are Aegon's real son, but I find this to be incredibly flawed. Not only does Serra not really look much like a Targaryen (blue eyes instead of purple), but Illyrio's somewhat emotional confession that he can't see Aegon before he drops Tyrion off doesn't mean he is the boys father. The idea that you need to be someones parent in order to have a strong connection completely holds disregard for other kinds of relationships. Aegon is implied to have been raised for at least a bit in Pentos. Illyrio probably felt some affection for him and genuinely enjoyed his company.

To me, however, it's not really the alternative explanations for the evidence of a Blackfyre conspiracy that convince me Aegon is in fact Rhaegar's son. It's rather simple; what's the point of yet another secret identity plot twist? Consider how we meet Aegon. We meet him through Tyrion's POV in his third chapter, under the guise of the son of a sellsword named Griff, called Young Griff, his hair dyed blue in honour of his dead Tyroshi mother. Tyrion is immediately suspicious, but he's not entirely sure what's going on. We then get two more chapters of him aboard the Shy Maid, and during that time we are meant to be a little confused and unsure what is going on. It's a mystery of why Tyrion is on this boat and who these people are.

By the third chapter of Tyrion on the Shy Maid, the mystery is finally lifted, and all is revealed; Griff isn't Griff, he's Jon Connington, an exiled lord thought to have drunken himself to death. And Young Griff isn't his son; he's Prince Rhaegar's son Aegon, who was thought to have been killed by the Mountain in Robert's Rebellion. I think it's important to remember that it isn't just Aegon who is thought to be dead. JonCon is considered dead too! Two dead people aboard a boat plotting to retake Westeros. We already had a mystery handed to us, and the plot twist was already revealed. Another thing to consider is how thematically and symbolically important the journey down the Rhoyne is for Aegon. To me I think it makes a lot of sense for Rhaegar and Elia's son to be on the Rhoyne, especially since there is a lot of evidence that he and Dorne will eventually ally.

It's also important to remember that apart from a very few sly people, Aegon being secretly alive wasn't even a possibility on most peoples radar. It truly was something that came out of nowhere. While that can be used as a marker against him being Rhaegar's son, with the complaints of such a large character being revealed so late with seemingly no forewarning, I think that's honestly sort of the point.

Aegon's existence is already so large of a twist that it feels awkward to then put in another plot twist that he's actually a Blackfyre, something that really only has significance to the people who have read the Dunk & Egg novellas and know the history of Westeros very well. Although not entirely the same, it reminds me of "the Others are actually morally grey/the good guys" theories, which are in a similar vein of "George is always subversive and this is classic George". However, while the text does sort of lend credence to this theory being at the very most plausible, I feel it's ultimately an unnecessary plot twist built upon another seemingly unnecessary plot twist to try to justify his late entry and/or his significance (as can be noted, I detest calling him fAegon). The plot for Aegon isn't to be uncovered as this secret conspiracy of another ultra-double secret identity, it's about what his existence does to change the story.

Young Griff, Daenerys Stormborn, and Jon Snow

A large part of why the Blackfyre conspiracy theory is so popular is that it actually does have a compelling narrative link to the series. It's a simple progression; there are hints at a second Dance of the Dragons, vision of a mummer's dragon, a fake Targaryen, boom, Dany and Aegon fight. Dany thinks her claim is the best, but then someone appears who has an even better claim, and she fights thinking there's no possible way he could be real. It's an easy to follow trajectory. As always, people are welcome to disagree with my interpretation, but I think there is a far better reason for Aegon's role in the story; he's more foreshadowing for R+L=J.

For certain, there's more to him than just that, but I think this is something that simply cannot be ignored. He's another Targaryen. Yeah, it's kind of a meme to say X is a secret Targaryen, but I actually see the logic in why GRRM did this. Jon Snow is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, and most likely is a trueborn prince. He is the one destined to have an extremely significant relationship with Daenerys. I plan to eventually write an essay on how R+L=J effects the characters and story by itself, but for preface; I don't buy that R+L=J is there just to make Jon have an identity crisis. Something as significant as that is going to have a lot of consequences and reasons to be around, some more than others. I do think there will be people who will learn the truth and at the very least, some people will believe it.

This is where Aegon's appearance becomes more significant. Here is a Targaryen people had no idea even existed, let alone was still alive. It kinda opens the floodgates for the world to question what is known about Robert's Rebellion. It also serves as precedent for the reveal that Jon Snow reveal. One Targaryen we didn't know existed is suddenly here. Is there another nearby? You can't simplify such a complex plot quite that easily of course, but I think it's significant to think about how the Young Griff twist applies to the story as a whole, and specifically RLJ. George maybe thought of this as the initial purpose for Young Griff, but as per usual, he definitely has other reasons to exist.

In fact, Aegon is a perfect foil for Jon Snow. Both are the son of Rhaegar, both are disguised as someone else, both are thrusted into a leadership position at a young age. However, Jon is unaware of his true parentage, while Aegon is. Jon is reluctant to embrace his identity in general (especially as lord commander) while Aegon is embracing his identity to his fullest extent. In a way, Aegon represents what Jon's life could have become in a parallel world. Instead of being taken as Ned's bastard to Winterfell, he is educated and taught his role and origin in Essos as plotting begins for retaking Westeros. Aegon is literally parallel universe Jon Snow.

Aegon is also a foil for Daenerys (who in turn is a parallel to Jon Snow). Daenerys grew up poor, constantly visiting nobles in the Free Cities but never getting anything in return. She was sold as a marital slave to Drogo. Her brother resented and abused her, and anything she learned she learned from Viserys, who was very unreliable. Yet she climbs up and becomes an incredibly powerful figure, and is now one of the most powerful people in the world. In contrast, Aegon was always protected, given safety, care, education, train at arms. In fact, it might be accurate to say that Aegon is actually spoiled. His interaction with Tyrion while playing cyvasse is a good indication of this. After Tyrion defeats Aegon when he follows the bad advice he gave him (making a point to not always trust people), this happens;

Young Griff jerked to his feet and kicked over the board. Cyvasse pieces flew in all directions, bouncing and rolling across the deck of the Shy Maid. "Pick those up," the boy commanded.

This is quite an extreme reaction. It even reminds Tyrion of Joffrey, and I have to agree this is a very petulant, Joffrey-like outburst. I don't believe Aegon is really anything like Joffrey, but both kids were pretty spoiled and given so much safety and care that when things don't go their way they get upset. Aegon is used to having everything given to him, and Tyrion is the first to show that he won't always win. In contrast, Daenerys has suffered some pretty severe losses; Rhaego, Drogo's khalasar, Drogo, Jorah's betrayal, etc. I have a hard time seeing Daenerys react so badly to this the way Aegon did. It also casts doubt on the speech Varys gave to Kevan as he dies that Aegon was molded to be this perfect king. He may have been raised to be that way, but the opposite might be true instead.

In fact, this might really be the true crux and core of Aegon's storyline. He's touted as the rightful king, this perfect prince who has been taught everything he needs, ready to be this hero who returns to Westeros to reclaim the throne. But Aegon is a deconstruction of that trope. He seems to have everything going for him, and is touted as this great king, but the truth is he remains relatively untested. All the privilege he has been given has only made him spoiled. The game of cyvasse he and Tyrion play is a lot more significant than I think it is given credit for, but that will be saved for part two when I go in depth about his future.

Of course, there has been a lot of pushback against the idea that Aegon is spoiled and that he's no different from Jon and Dany and that it should be expected he react like that to losing cyvasse at his age. While the cyvasse outburst doesn't mean he is going to be evil or anything, I think the context about this is important, and there is a lot more stuff I think hints that Aegon is not really the prince Varys believes him to be. Again, this will be saved for part two.

The Dragons Will Dance Again

In 2003, a fan asked George:

Hi, short question. Will we find out more about the Dance of the Dragons in future books? GRRM: The first dance or the second? The second will be the subject of a book. The first will be mentioned from time to time, I'm sure.

This is further supported by a quote by Teora Toland in the first Arianne sample chapter for TWOW:

"It is dragons." "Dragons?" said her mother. "Teora, don't be mad." "I'm not. They're coming." "How could you possibly know that?" her sister asked, with a note of scorn in her voice. "One of your little dreams?" Teora gave a tiny nod, chin trembling. "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced the people died."

The use of the language of dragons dancing is very noteworthy, and when connected with the SSM show in-text hints that a second Dance is indeed going to happen. Various theories include that this refers to Jon vs. Dany, Dany vs. Euron, Dany vs. Aegon, or Jon vs. Aegon. The most common theory in the fandom is Dany vs. Aegon, with Dany believing Aegon to be a fake Targaryen and refusing to acknowledge his claim to the throne. Instead of facing Cersei as in the show, Daenerys will face Aegon.

The extension of this theory is that Dorne will ally with Aegon, with an ambitious Arianne marrying Aegon, and a burnt toast Quentyn showing Daenerys's rejection, turning Dorne against Daenerys. When Daenerys invades Westeros, Aegon is to be the perfect prince while Dany plays the role of the evil Mad King's daughter. In retaliation of Dorne siding with a false Targaryen instead of a true Targaryen, Dany will burn the Water Gardens. On a narrative level it kinda does make a lot of sense. In the first Areo chapter, Doran mentions that the blood oranges are well past ripe. He has waited for his vengeance for 17 years, because he's so careful about the cost, but in the end all that waiting will do him in and the second Daenerys will burn the Water Gardens that were built for the first Daenerys.

There is just a slight problem... someone talked about the theory that Daenerys will burn the Water Gardens in the comment section of a NotABlog post, and GRRM very quickly shut it down by saying "the Water Gardens bit... uh no". Not that we needed GRRM to debunk this tired theory, it didn't make much sense in the first place since the Water Gardens hold no strategic value and burning it would mean Daenerys has to do it for no reason other than needless cruelty.

The bigger issue I have is that of Dany and Aegon even fighting in the first place. Despite everything, what a "second Dance of the Dragons" even means is incredibly vague. A Targaryen succession crisis? A Targ succession crisis leading to war? A Targaryen man fighting a Targaryen woman? Does it need to be on the same scale as the original Dance? We have no context other than this and it could mean literally anything. What's more, there is a very often overlooked SSM that kinda puts the dampers on this theory a bit;

The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion. Geroge stopped himself short and said he shouldn't say anymore. The response came because of my question of whether the dance would take place in ADWD because AFFC and ADWD parallel.

We will definitely see more of Aegon in TWOW, and we'll probably get to know him better. I'm not going to argue that Aegon appearing in book 5 of 7 is bad writing, because I don't think it necessarily is. Perhaps he won't be as major a character as the fandom believes him to be. However, if Daenerys and Aegon are going to clash, there needs to be time for the characters to interact and establish any sort of relationship. I think the idea that Dany hears of Aegon's existence and immediately thinks he is a fake and goes to war with him completely disregards both Dany's character and how you establish a tragic event like this.

The first Dance of the Dragons was not something that happened on a whim. It was the result of decades of hatred built towards two factions. They weren't always antagonistic to each other, but as the years passed, the blacks and the greens grew to hate each other more and more and more until it took the death of the king that kept them at bay to start a devastating war. Dany declaring Aegon a fake without ever having met him and going to war with him is incredibly simplistic. Also, think about it from Dany's perspective.

Viserys was an abusive asshole to her, yet she still thinks about him and even feels lonely. It's natural to want to have a family and someone to feel close with. Dany is warned about the mummer's dragon, yes, but she is also lonely and thinks all her family is dead, that she is alone in the world. So what would really happen if she learned Aegon existed? For sure there would be intense skepticism, but I think there is a part of her that will at the very least want to believe it to be true. Daenerys is very ambitious yes, but I don't think she would simply refuse to believe someone is her nephew because that means he has a better claim to the throne.

Besides, kinslaying is a huge taboo, and killing someone who claims to be her nephew without being sure is definitely going to not be the best option in her mind. And also, Aegon hasn't done anything yet to earn Dany's resentment, unlike Viserys. There might be some anger at Illyrio, some serious shock, denial even, but at the end of the day, this is one more family member she didn't know she even had. The show portrayed Jon's parentage as being a bad thing for her since he would have a better claim, but I doubt that will be the first thing on Dany's mind. In fact, she thinks to herself what would happen if Aegon was alive:

Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper's dogs had murdered her brother's son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him.

There is a good chance that the emotions she feels when learning about Aegon will be a precursor to the R+L=J reveal with Jon Snow. Just more reason Aegon is a big step towards R+L=J being confirmed.

Although Daenerys is quite ready to leave Slaver's Bay for Westeros at the end of ADWD, Aegon's existence might motivate her to leave even more quickly and solidify her goal to get the Iron Throne. However, I don't think that Aegon is going to become a new main character. His appearance and his actions I feel are more important than his actual character. And hey, maybe the second Dance will involved Daenerys and Aegon, but I think there is enough reason to doubt it.

Next up; the Golden Company landing, Dorne, and Aegon's game of cyvasse, detailed.

[misscrawfords]

Rey & Lara and the quest for the missing parent(s)

I know I was being facetious in my post the other day about ReySky fans looking to Tomb Raider for what they didn’t get in TLJ but I’ve been thinking about the differences and similarities quite a bit since. 

The purpose of this meta is to use a comparison with the straightforward narrative in Tomb Raider (2018) to explore how the plot of Rey’s parentage in TLJ is both hitting all the necessary plot and character points while also being fresh and subversive.

Rey and Lara (at least the 2018 interpretation) have a lot in common both in terms of their background and motivations and yet their stories diverge. In some ways.

Physically, they are incredibly similar. They both belong to the Katniss Everdene school of wiry brunettes with distinctive hairstyles, attitude and a signature weapon or two.

They’re also resourceful survivors with a past they are trying not to confront involving parental abandonment. Both refuse to face the “truth” about what happened to their parents: that Rey’s parents abandoned her, that Lara’s father is dead. This unwillingness to face the truth has consequences about their life in limbo at the start of their stories. Rey is stuck on Jakku, unwilling to leave in case her parents come back for her. Lara refuses to sign the documents saying her father is officially dead and giving her access to her fortune and inheritance, meaning that she lives precariously in poverty when she doesn’t need to.

Both heroines then leave the routine of their lives (lives dominated by the absence of parent(s)) on an adventure that is all about discovering who they are and what their place in the world is and that is completely bound up in the missing parents. For Lara, this is explicit. She wants to find her father who she is convinced is not dead and complete his work. For Rey, it is implicit but central. Her growing Jedi powers make her question her origins and she is seeks a father figure first in Han and then in Luke. Her desire to know who she is dominates her conversation with Maz in TFA and her pull to the dark side of Ach-To in TLJ and is the key information Kylo is able to hold over her.

But here the narratives apparently diverge. Lara’s quest is successful: she finds her father and reunites with him, hears from him her own value - which she always possessed but needed to hear, found closure, said goodbye to him, and was able to return home to sign the papers and collect her inheritance. In future instalments if there are any, Lara will no longer be looking to the past and will have confidence in herself. She has the answers she needs.

Rey, on the other hand, does not find her parents. She discovers instead what she already really knew - that her parents were nobody in particular, she has no legacy and her parents are dead. This seems to be the opposite of Lara’s story. And arguably, if Luke was Rey’s father, TLJ could have played out very similarly to Tomb Raider.

Rey arrives on an island in the middle of nowhere and meets a bearded stranger living in a cave in exile. After initial disbelief, they discover they are father and daughter and reunite. Rey is initially angry at Luke/her father’s abandonment of her but he is able to explain why it was necessary in plot terms and they forgive each other. Luke is, however, angry at something Rey has done that leads her/them straight into the hands of their enemy and there is tension before Luke ends up helping Rey in the climax of the film despite knowing it will be his death. Luke dies but not before having passed onto Rey some important wisdom that she can continue his legacy and possesses worth on her own merits. Rey takes up her inheritance as the Last Jedi with sadness but resolve, having received the answers she needs to progress.

I mean, that is literally the plot of Tomb Raider. And it is very nearly the plot of TLJ. In fact, the only difference is that Luke is not in fact Rey’s biological father. Rey is still able to tick off many points in this narrative because Luke fulfils the archetypal father figure role. The fact that he is not Rey’s biological father is beside the point on a mythic level. And this plot is very important in a hero’s arc - to learn from the father figure and then see the father figure removed so that they can move forward on their own and come into their own powers. 

Tomb Raider couldn’t actually have played out any differently. As I was watching I was able to predict every beat of the narrative structure. It played out exactly as I knew it had to from the moment Lara refused to sign the papers. It was quest by numbers. Had Lara gone on a massive adventure explicitly to prove her father was alive and find him, without ever finding her father, the narrative wouldn’t have made sense. She had to reunite with him and gain closure. But then he had to die, sacrifice himself. Having started the mess in the pre-film past, it’s up to him to end it through his death. Again, the narrative wouldn’t make sense if he made it off the island alive and returned home to take care of his company, leaving Lara dependent and subordinate. She’s the hero! Her story arc is taking charge of her own life and, in a metaphorical sense, coming into adulthood - standing on her own without relying on a parental figure. (Obviously she’s extremely self-reliant in a literal sense as Rey is on Jakku, but she’s still hung up on the past and her father and their relationship and until she moves past that she cannot symbolically achieve independence.)

Father figures always have to die. It’s, like, the laws of storytelling. Mythic hero narratives are generational - the old generation always has to make way for the new, whether that is the death of the mentor (Qui-Gon, Yoda, Luke Skywalker) once he has passed on all he can to the hero, or the Oedipal slaying of the father/antagonist (Obi Wan, Han Solo) or the death of the evil king/monster figure who is causing a blight over the land and must be removed so that the new generation can take over (Palpatine, Vader, Snoke). All father figures, all have to die. You just cannot end this kind of story with the father figure alive. 

So, Tomb Raider was a well-put together and enjoyable if predictable hero origins narrative that we’ve seen 100 times before. It works because it is an archetypal story of searching for belonging that hits all the beats that make this story work without a single twist. No offence to it - I absolutely loved the film because I am programmed to respond positively to this type of storytelling. It tells us fundamental truths about the passing of power from one generation to the next and about the letting go of a parent. And that’s an important story to tell and it’s okay not to subvert it. 

And it’s okay to have expected that from TLJ as well. However, I now want to argue firstly that TLJ did in fact hit all the same narrative beats in terms of Rey’s development even while it did not allow her to have the reunion with parents or the explicit assumption of a legacy that many viewers wanted. And at the same time it managed to tell a much more subversive and unpredictable story which TLJ is able to do because it is Episode VIII in a much larger story universe than Tomb Raider is.

So I’ve already said that a lot of the things that you’d want and expect from a “Rey finds her parents” narrative in TLJ, you still have with Luke as father figure rather than literal father. Moving on from that, what are the key things Lara gains from her standard narrative of finding and losing her father?

1. Knowledge and closure about what happened to her father. 2. Which allows her to move onwards into a new stage of development as a person and as a hero, unencumbered by the past. 3. As part of that, she assumes her father’s legacy and takes his inheritance giving her the literal power to act in the future.

I think these points also apply to Rey.

1. Rey is forced to face up to the fact that her parents abandoned her. Her closure is admitting this to herself which Kylo forces her to do. She knows this instinctively - and Kylo only knows because their bond has given him access to her memories - but she is forced to confront it explicitly after the throne room battle. In fact, both Rey and Lara are proved right in what they think instinctively happened to their parents. Lara believes against the odds that her father is alive - and he is. Rey knows deep down that her parents were nobodies that abandoned her (she says so on multiple occasions) and this is also true. In the fascinating and deeply symbolic cave scene, Rey goes in search of her identity and asks who her parents are and the mirror shows her - herself. This is the equivalent of what Lara learns from her father - that she doesn’t need him. This is the most vital and difficult to accept lesson Lara learns from her father. Rey also learns this even without a reunion with an actual parent.

2. As a consequence of Rey “letting the past die” and gaining this knowledge and acceptance, she is able to move onto the next stage of her development. This is signalled in the way TLJ represented adolescence, the period of life in which a child questions their relationship with their parents and eventually moves away from them to form important relationships with their peers. We see Rey letting go of the older generation and her fantasies about her parents in order to form real connections with Kylo/Ben, Finn and Poe. Presumably Episode IX will represent adulthood, a phase of life Rey is now able to move into because of the events in TLJ. As for her development as a hero, I’ve already gone into (as many others have as well) why the father always has to be removed as part of the hero’s journey.

3. End of Tomb Raider, Lara becomes the owner of Croft Industries and realises the true power she wields for good and bad and also has the financial resources she needs. End of TLJ, Rey is seen raising rocks to save the Resistance, taking on Luke’s legacy as the Last Jedi (whether she really is or not is a debate for another time because there is always more than one thing going on in this film) and as a beacon of hope. She has taken on an inheritance of power if not blood and accepted the part she is to play in the narrative. (Though I suspect that might well be subverted again in Episode IX.)

So I would say that in fact on a narrative level TLJ did absolutely deliver a story of Rey-finding-her-parents just as much as Tomb Raider did, just on a more symbolic and metaphoric level. But all the things such a narrative needed to accomplish to have any meaning at all were there. And the point is, it’s not about giving Rey parents so she can have a nice hug with them and live happily ever after - that’s wish-fulfilment, not storytelling. It’s about what makes the character grow in the right ways for the overall story and challenges them the most. 

Rian Johnson:

The whole notion was what would be the toughest thing for her to hear and, if her search is for belonging and her place in the story, it would be so easy to give that to her by her being so-and-so’s daughter. But that’s super easy for her to hear and I needed to find the hardest thing for her to hear, just like “I am your father” was the hardest thing for Luke to hear in the original trilogy. (Source)

Which brings onto the final point which is that while Rey does get all the things she needs regarding her parents, the thing that makes TLJ stand out in this respect from all the many Tomb Raider-like films that tell an uncomplicated, literal narrative is that TLJ hits all the right beats while subverting our expectations and doing a 100 other things as well.

I’m honestly not going to write very much about this because loads of people have already written about the subversive aspect of the Rey parentage non-reveal. We are attuned to stories in which the scrappy hero from nowhere is revealed to have a significant birthmark or item of jewellery which means they’re actually the long-lost prince/princess come to claim their royal crown and return home to save their people. It’s Odysseus returning disguised as a beggar, it’s Perdita in The Winter’s Tale, it’s Harry Potter finding out he’s a wizard, it’s the plot of Romances and comedies the world over. Like, this is a story that is built into our psyche from early childhood.  And when this rug of our expectations is pulled out from under us, like General Tilney in Northanger Abbey discovering that Catherine Morland is not, in fact, an heiress (another story that both conforms to and subverts its genre expectations like TLJ), it is natural to feel a sense of confusion and of being cheated. 

But, again, as others have said, it is really important that Rey is a nobody and that power is separated from genealogy. Kylo/Ben is the legacy Skywalker and it’s messed him up pretty badly and he has his own narrative of coming to terms with his parentage which in his case basically involves killing all the father figures he can find. Which is a perfectly natural response in certain hero narratives. Rey’s hero’s journey is parallel but different. She’s the hero that comes from nowhere, who does not have parents just as Anakin didn’t have a father. Her Force power is intrinsic and inexplicable. And as well as being perfectly acceptable and even common on an archetypal level for a hero to come from nowhere or be missing one or both parents, it’s also a really important message that who your parents are doesn’t and shouldn’t define you. Rey is important and powerful because of herself and despite her origins. It’s a great message to put out there.

Just to return briefly to Tomb Raider in the context of Rian Johnson’s statement, it would be tempting to say that this film is taking the easy way out because Lara wanted to find her father and she did without any subversion of narrative expectations. Okay, in some sense that is true and I think TLJ is a much cleverer and rewarding film, but I do think Lara was challenged. She wanted to find her father exactly as he had been when he left but she also wanted to prove that he was wrong about his quest so that she wouldn’t be forced to deal with the reality of his quest after Himiko and his secret life. And then she wanted him to come back and take over Croft Industries so she could continue to rebel against him. Instead, she found a hermit who seemed mad who absolutely had made the choice to leave her. She also realised that by looking for him - which she would have hoped would bring her praise - actually allowed the enemy to succeed when he had been stopping them all this time. Her arrival undid all his work. She failed him. And at the end, she was also forced to take the responsibility she had been shirking at the beginning. Which brought with it the realisation that her father’s company is into some pretty shady stuff and her childhood guardian is probably an evil villain so... I think Lara got plenty challenged. It wasn’t a simple narrative of “You’re doing great, sweetie, here’s some good life advice, now I’m going to die”.

[endeavorsreward]

Orlandeau is not a Problem

So, when it comes to fans playing Tactics, you generally have two schools of thought regarding the Thunder God, Count Cidolfus Orlandeau: either you love that he’s a “cool badass” that can kill nearly anything in the game, or you’re mad that he makes the game too easy.

But why is Orlandeau so strong? I don’t mean in the fiction - we take it as a given that as Barbaneth Beoulve’s close peer and his position in the Order of the Southern Sky, it makes sense enough that he’s tremendously powerful. What I mean is, why does the game make him so powerful? And actually, why does that make perfect sense?

At the most fundamental gameplay level, Orlandeau exists so that people who really struggle with the game to make it to the end if they’ve been losing party members left and right. Of course, most people who’ve made it through Dorter and Riovanes are probably fine by that point, but the game works in the way its inspiration Fire Emblem does, introducing new units until the end, just in case. Which is fine. But Orlandeau, as befits his station, has pretty much everyone’s moves and Excalibur to boot.

And I do think it’s a little unfair to Meliadoul, who joins shortly after and cannot compare (on a technical level, I mean). Especially in the game’s original release, when her powers were functionally useless on monsters. But I think that was somewhat intentional - Orlandeau is overpowered, so they give you a unit afterwards who isn’t so that you needn’t rely upon him if it will harm your game experience.

But: why make him so powerful at all?

The reason is that Yasumi Matsuno doesn’t necessarily overvalue game balance in favor of a game experience that reflects the story he’s trying to tell, which in my opinion is a far more valuable point of view.

In Tactics Ogre, which is a much more balanced game overall, Matsuno still made characters who were far, far more powerful than other units due to the roles they played and what their “canon” strengths would suggest (and honestly, Canopus and Arycelle are far more impressive in their games than Orlandeau is in his, speaking as someone who thinks they’re all pretty great). I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen someone who plays games complain that when a powerful character joins a party in a game, they’re suddenly less impressive - call it the “Magus from Chrono Trigger” problem, maybe. These are the same people who’d complain here, generally speaking.

But Orlandeau arguably makes the entire rest of the game a breeze, and it was if anything amped up in the re-release. So what is Orlandeau’s role in the Tactics story that justifies this?

Let’s back up a second: what is Tactics about? What is Ramza’s journey?

Tactics is about two young men who diverge at an early age and take different paths. History favors Delita as a hero, but we learn that he is no hero at all, regardless of the final outcome of his radicalization. We are told instead that Ramza is the hero, and we follow him, checking in on Delita periodically as he manipulates events to best suit him.

Ramza and Delita start out sheltered from the world. Delita less so, but he has not been forced to confront the full reality of his situation either. The death of Milleuda Folles catalyzes their change, and their split occurs when Tietra dies. Ramza becomes devoted to preventing any more unnecessary sacrifices, and Delita ostensibly does as well, though it becomes apparent that what he really wants, deep down, is to destroy the society that made the sacrifice possible and remake it - as he literally tells Ovelia. This difference is fundamental because Ramza himself famously says:

“I have no wish to change the world. But nor can I stand by while men suffer and die on the whim of some select few. Do you truly believe you can change the world? Not even I am so naive as that.”

Ramza’s trajectory as a protagonist is interesting. He operates somewhat in metaphor, and a lot of people don’t like it, because he spends a lot of the plot tracking down magic rocks while Delita actually interacts with politics and warfare. But the biggest poison in the realm isn’t the petty nobility, it’s the lie surrounding Ajora Glabados, and as Ramza unravels it, he basically purges Ivalice of sins. Most of the Lucavi basically represent sins - arguably this gets goofed a bit later because Adrammelech should represent avarice - fitting for Dycedarg - while Belias is representative of Wiegraf’s wrath (and also thus why Belias is perfect for Ashe’s main Esper).

Ramza is given a specific charge by his father at the game’s onset that defines his role and character journey:

Take care of your sister. And show these brothers of yours what it is...what it is to be a knight...

This becomes his outline and thesis statement for the rest of the narrative. “Take care of your sister” takes until the game’s conclusion to complete, but what does it mean to be a knight in Ivalice? It’s not Ramza’s behavior at the game’s onset, but the decision he makes at Zeirchele and the decisions he makes afterwards make him a hero. And after Riovanes, where he slays the hero that fell, and sees the Galthena siblings offer a counterpoint to the relationships Ramza and Delita had with their own sisters, he is a different man when he sees Delita himself for the last time. Directly following this is the battle at Fort Besselat, which has been teased for half the game.

The game has been talking about Besselat since Delita first grabbed Ovelia, and at the time it was believed to be impregnable, the ultimate battle. When Ramza finally arrives, the battles are simple, showing his growth. And what he does when he gets there is open the sluice and let the Zeirchele flood the plains between the two armies, preventing the upcoming battle and halting much of the Church’s plan. While Folmarv and his agents still have Alma, still plan to resurrect Ultima, the plot is in many ways over in this moment.

I mean this sincerely: while for many people this battle is not especially notable, this is the climax of Ramza’s tale in many ways. Arazlam is tracking how Ramza was the true hero of the War of the Lions, and with the battle halted and Larg and Goltanna murdered shortly thereafter, the war is fundamentally over.

Water seems to be a recurring motif for Ramza in the way that the gull overhead is one for Delita. Delita claims to move against the current, but in the end it washes him away. Ramza and Delita constantly meet either next to or separated by water, depending on the scene, until at last in the chapel they are equals again.

And the other character most represented by water is Ajora and her poisoned well. Unlike that foul water and the plague that killed so many (Delita’s parents were killed by a different plague outbreak, but that disease keeps being referenced and Ultima can’t ever be far from thought - even in XII, plague kills Ashe’s brothers and Vaan’s parents and sets that game up the way the plague in Romanda sets up this one), Ramza in this moment associates himself with cleansing water - a rush of river water (the same river where he rose from his torpor and declared “No more like Tietra”) and thus a worthy opponent to Ultima, who is the final boss of the game.

And so, directly following, in a game with precious few fully-character-based moments, the game pauses for Cid to reminisce about Ramza trying to lift the sword, and how much older he is now, and how he has fully taken up his father’s mantle. This is important, because in Cid’s eyes, Ramza has done it: he’s the hero now, Besselat has proven he’s worthy.

And so Cid joins him, and because Ramza is the hero and is worthy, the game is no longer difficult. Why should it be? He’s succeeded in his role. At one point, young Ramza could not lift the sword, but if you play Ramza as a sword-wielder at all, he can now hold Excalibur itself (holy elemental, just like Ultima).

The thematic point the game is trying to make here is more important than the game mechanics themselves, because the game is actually about certain ideas. If the game being too easy from that point is a problem, you certainly don’t have to bring Cid into battle with you. After all, he’s already said that you can do it alone.

[thaliaarche]

Sebaciel and “Love Suicide”

(cw: suicide, violence, underage relationship, canon-typical dark themes) A meta about interpreting the first season of Kuroshitsuji’s anime as a Sebaciel love suicide story. In the centuries-old Japanese genre of love suicide stories, lovers caught in a forbidden romance escape their troubles by committing suicide together, preserving vows of love through death. Kuroshitsuji clearly follows many conventions of love suicide stories, and so we can view Ciel and Sebastian as lovers who commit a double suicide, even undergoing extended journeys to reach their place of death, as is typical in love suicide stories. In this interpretation, Kuroshitsuji’s characters preserve their vows-- the stipulations of a Faustian contract-- through a love suicide of their own. Specifics below (with citations and everything! There's also a tl;dr, because this got long):

Part One: The “Love” I and many others have already identified instances of Sebaciel subtext in the first season of the anime, so I won’t talk about those at length. Here are a couple highlights:

The implication that Ciel is “fonder” of Sebastian than of his dead parents+the near-kiss in “That Butler, Ghost Illusion”

The corset scene (scholar Anna Maria Jones wrote more extensively about the subtext here in her article "The Victorian Childhood of Manga: Toward a Queer Theory of the Child in Toboso Yana's Kuroshitsuji”)

The second anime opening

Part Two: The “Suicide” Kuroshitsuji suggests that a sort of “love” exists between Ciel and Sebastian, yet it is not as obvious that a mutual suicide occurs. The anime heavily implies that Ciel dies in the moments after its ending, yet it is likely Sebastian, advancing with a predatory smile, who literally slays him. Taken alone, this is a murder scene, not a suicide. The previous episodes, however, establish Ciel as an agent of his death. After all, Kuroshitsuji does not immediately commit itself to a love suicide ending, and it instead presents Ciel with multiple courses of action, flirting with other potential outcomes. Ciel makes clear that he has agreed to being killed by Sebastian by systematically rejecting these alternatives. For instance, even in the very first lines of the show, Sebastian tells Ciel that humans who contract with him will never go to heaven and then poses a question: “I’ll ask you again: do you wish to make a contract?” This opening scene indicates that Ciel makes an informed, deliberate decision when he forms the contract. But that's not necessarily a real choice, you might think. Being killed by cultists isn’t a valid option for a scared little kid. Later on, the first season of the anime-- even more so than the manga, perhaps-- goes out of its way to give Ciel other options. Still, he turns down at least two clear chances to reject his demon:

Angela tries to help Ciel give up his revenge, back when she seemed relatively sweet, before she revealed her "angel of massacre" side. There would have been some body horror involved, but I think this was still the best chance to escape the contract that Ciel's ever gotten. He apparently turned it down because he wanted to keep his "hatred" and complete his revenge, more than because the body modifications grossed him out.

In the second to last episode, while Sebastian's temporarily ditched the contract, Undertaker informs Ciel that he's doomed to die soon. Ciel could choose to ignore this warning entirely. He could choose to take it into account but fight his death by staying on the apparently safe boat he's currently on, or by sticking to his servants for protection after disembarking in London. And even if he were totally convinced that he can't escape an imminent death, he could choose to die while participating in rescue efforts and sacrificing his doomed life to help someone else, or while wandering aimlessly through London and waiting for a burning building to collapse on him, or while doing a thousand other things. Instead, he believes the warning, plunges into the ruins of London alone and tries to single-handedly complete his revenge, explicitly wishing to act in a manner that would impress Sebastian. Sebastian is indeed impressed, and he comes running back to complete the contract and then kill his master. Ciel does not seem the slightest bit upset by this turn of events.

To sum up, Ciel actively pursues the contract with Sebastian, and so I think he inflicts his own death, even if he does not deal the final blow. Thus, I argue that we can interpret Ciel's death as a suicide. Sebastian's suicide isn't a clear-cut matter either, since this near-immortal demon is at no risk of literally expiring when his human master does. However, as his witty catchphrase states, Sebastian is “akumade shitsuji”-- “a demon and a butler,” or “a butler to the end.” Indeed, he shows deep dedication to his role as a butler, taking pains to act in-character even in extremely risky situations when no other characters observe him and denouncing his demonic body as “unsightly, disgusting, [and] repulsive” compared to his human appearance. Clearly, Sebastian has grown attached to his butler self, and so he commits a sort of metaphorical suicide when he gives that part of himself up at the show’s end. Part 2.5: Who's Chikamatsu? In the 17th century, a playwright named Monzaemon Chikamatsu wrote lots of plays about love suicides-- often based on real-life events-- and, as far as I can tell, these plays are still considered important and influential works within the love suicide genre. In parts 3 and 4, I will highlight parallels between parts of Kuroshitsuji and passages from two of Chikamatsu's most popular love suicide plays-- Sonezaki Shinju and Shinju Ten no Amijima. Part 3: The "Journey" For centuries, Japanese stories have commonly featured a michiyuki, “a literary set piece” describing an important journey. Michiyuki scenes became quite popular in Chikamatsu’s love suicide stories, where the journeys would bring the lovers to the places where they intended to die (Miner 289). The ending of Kuroshitsuji also revolves around journeys, as Ciel and Sebastian metaphorically approach the end of their contract and literally travel to an otherworldly realm where the final death scene takes place. In Kuroshitsuji, these metaphorical and literal journeys parallel a love suicide play’s in several aspects, exemplified by the michiyuki scenes from the last acts of Chikamatsu's Sonezaki Shinju and Shinju Ten no Amijima. Kuroshitsuji’s metaphorical michiyuki begins near the start of the season’s second half, when it changes the music and art of its ending credits. In the fourteenth episode, the credits’ tone suddenly turns solemn, indicating that the characters have embarked on a metaphorical michiyuki towards the end of the contract. The background music switches from "I'm Alive," an upbeat rock song, to the semi-operatic “Lacrimosa”-- “Tearful” in Latin. On a general level, “Lacrimosa” alludes to the michiyuki right from its opening line, “arta via.” The Latin “via” is roughly equivalent to “michi,” meaning “road,” “way,” and “journey,” and the line as a whole can be translated as “a narrow road”-- easily a reference to the michiyuki. Later lines more firmly establish “Lacrimosa” as a song about a journey: “I move through the blue night’s stillness. Lacrimosa! I want to love once again the dazzling world that crumbled in the distance (translation from the official subtitles on Funimation's Youtube channel)."  In this section, the speaker is both physically traveling and metaphorically leaving behind the brighter world of the living. Voila! Michiyuki. Now let's talk more specifically about Chikamatsu. "Lacrimosa" happens to integrate two key features of the poem-song recited during Sonezaki Shinju's michiyuki (quoted and translated in Miner 73). Here's a long-ish quote from the play, which I'll break down further:

"Pipe by well pipe-- The pipe well gives forth water-- That once ran clear-- But now with salty tears It starts to soil And on their moisted sleeves the moon-- Also starts to cloud-- The morning clouds and evening dews At the Cove of Evanescence where the hollowed boat-- Tells that they will lose themselves although they knew this, too . . ."

To start off, “Lacrimosa” echoes Sonezaki Shinju’s michiyuki when it speaks of moonlight and mourning: “The moonlight that reveals sorrow was coldly illuminating/the despair and the future which grew intimate in the dark.” In Japan, moonlight is associated with transience, and Chikamatsu played on this same symbolism. Sonezaki Shinju uses “an ages-old association, [in which] the tears are thought to be on the sleeves that wipe their eyes and therefore glisten in the moonlight, which is fading, along with their lives” (Miner 73).

The art that accompanies “Lacrimosa” shows further resemblances to Sonezaki Shinju’s michiyuki scene. The play refers to an “utsubobune,” a boat made from a hollowed-out tree and associated with death (Miner 74). Does this sound familiar?

(Look, more moonlight!) And yep, Kuroshitsuji’s credits show Sebastian rowing a hollow, wooden boat while Ciel lies inside, outstretched and apparently lifeless. Clearly, the second version of Kuroshitsuji’s ending credits alludes to the michiyuki, incorporating specific elements linked with classic michiyuki scenes such as Sonezaki Shinju’s. In Kuroshitsuji’s last episode, Ciel and Sebastian's symbolic journey moves out of the credits into the main plot, and the pair undertakes a literal voyage that closely echoes the last act of Shinju Ten no Amijima. Both Kuroshitsuji and Amijima feature a poetic and surreal michiyuki scene that follows a river, since love suicides are often connected to watery settings (Shively 43 and Miner 74). Here's a shot from Kuroshitsuji's michiyuki scene:

(Side note- this episode's title is translated as "His Butler, Fluent," which doesn't make much sense unless I interpret "fluent" as "flowing," as if he's flowing along the river . . . and that would serve to really emphasize the importance of this michiyuki scene!). During both journeys, the characters pass a series of bridges; the first such bridge mentioned in Amijima is “Tenjin Bridge,” or “Heavenly God Bridge,” while the last bridge to appear in Kuroshitsuji bears the similar name “Tenshi Bridge,” or “Angel Bridge” (Chikamatsu 91). Maybe that's a coincidence, or maybe it's an explicit allusion . . . At any rate, bridges-- especially ones whose names have such clear spiritual connotations-- carry symbolic weight, and they may here represent a crossing from the land of the living to the realm of the dead. Indeed, characters in both works explicitly allude to such a crossing. In Amijima, the male protagonist Jihei remarks that, “The farther we go the closer we get to the road to Hades.” In response, his mistress Koharu asks, “Is this road already Hades (Chikamatsu 92)?” Likewise, Kuroshitsuji’s michiyuki brings the protagonists to a misty otherworld after they pass Tenshi Bridge in the hollow boat previously shown in the credits, at which point Ciel asks Sebastian whether he is already dead. In both works, the michiyuki positions the characters at an ambiguous border between life and death. The very end of Kuroshitsuji’s journey scene also parallels the passage immediately following Amijima’s michiyuki. In Chikamatsu’s play, Koharu reminisces about the people she has leaves behind, remembering that the double suicide will break the heart of Jihei’s wife, Osan (Chikamatsu 93). Similarly, Ciel thinks of the world he has left while memories of his life literally appear as film reels floating in the river, and he and Sebastian predict that Lizzie, his fiancée, will grieve for him. However, both characters give up those reflections on their past lives and on the abandoned third members of their respective love triangles at a clear turning point. Koharu cuts her hair, becoming like a “Buddhist monk” and thus freeing herself from worldly obligations (Chikamatsu 94). In Kuroshitsuji, the water turns clear, and Ciel looks up to a crescent moon with its connotations of impermanence and declares he is “just Ciel Phantomhive,” doffing the titles of “earl” and “Watchdog” that defined him for so long. In these dramatic moments, both characters mentally sever their bonds to their previous life and permanently surrender themselves to suicide. Part 4: The "Love Suicide" At the conclusion of the michiyuki, the characters of Kuroshitsuji and Amijima arrive at their chosen places of death and commit suicide, in final scenes that once again closely mirror each other. For instance, Ciel resembles Koharu-- they're both the younger, seemingly more feminine members of their pairs-- as he considers the different fates of his body and soul. Koharu muses that, “Even if we die in different places and these bodies are pecked at by kites and crows, I ask only that our two souls be bound together and go together to hell or to Paradise” (Chikamatsu 93). In a remarkably similar scene, Ciel glances at a black bird of prey, likely a raven or crow, and orders Sebastian to let it finish off his corpse, once the demon has consumed his soul and perhaps tied their damned spirits together by this consumption. Thus, both characters dismiss the importance of their physical forms, instead emphasizing the souls that may now be joined to their partner’s in an eternal afterlife.

(These crow lines are freakishly close!) Ciel’s behavior further imitates Koharu’s as the moments of their deaths approach. Both characters face their ends calmly, with minimal carrying-on; Ciel refrains from crying and wears a neutral expression even from the start of the michiyuki, while Koharu conquers her initial tears and replaces them with a smile (Chikamatsu 95-96). Thus, the characters project a calm resolve that might almost justify their suicides, specifically in the eyes of a Japanese audience (Miner 74). Moreover, the two characters instruct their partners to brutally kill them, taking charge of their deaths even without dealing the final blow. Both Sebastian and Jihei initially hold back from violence-- Sebastian assures Ciel that he will be as “gentle” as possible when taking his soul, while Jihei’s blade falters as tears blur his vision. Ciel delivers a surprising response: “Go ahead and be brutal. Etch the pain deep into my soul as proof that I lived.” Similarly, Koharu insists that Jihei “hurry” and thus inspires him to stab her, as the narrator observes that “it is the woman who has the strength to spur him on” (Chikamatsu 96). Though these two characters seem to have less power in their relationships and are killed by more physically able partners, they claim agency in their final seconds, directing their own deaths. Sebastian and Jihei also demonstrate similarities in their concluding scenes, treating their partners with apparent tenderness even as they prepare to murder them. Prior to stabbing her, Jihei pulls Koharu into an embrace and holds her close for some time (Chikamatsu 95). Sebastian also cares for Ciel in a surprisingly intimate manner. He first uses his lips to pull off his glove-- an article of clothing which Yana Toboso likens to underwear-- and, with his now-bare hand, softly strokes Ciel’s hair, brow, and cheek (“エロい”). He then leans in towards the boy’s mouth, implying that he may extract his soul through a kiss. In this way, the two characters exhibit a romantic gentleness that contrasts strikingly with the violence they are about to inflict. Finally, the music that ends the two works imbues them both with a sense of spiritual transcendence, slightly tinged with tragedy. In Amijima’s ending lines, the sole reciter chants that his characters reach “Buddhahood and deliverance [from reincarnation] . . . In the eyes of all [who see it] there are tears” (Chikamatsu 96).  This ending elevates the suffering of two rather ordinary characters to near-mythical proportions (Miner 74-75), yet it then states that this “deliverance” is no happy ending and that spectators still weep over the tragedy.

Kuroshitsuji likewise infuses its last moments with somewhat contradictory transcendental and tragic overtones, using an excerpt of a Latin song, “Si Deus Me Relinquit,” or “If God Has Abandoned Me.” While the anime previously plays this theme over a variety of sad scenes, it now presents it anew, omitting the usual choral elements and complicated orchestration and allowing a sole voice to recite the text. Remarkably, the song breaks off and leaves a sentence grammatically incomplete, drawing special attention to two words before buried in a longer line-- “nigram clavem,” or “the black key.” As Sebastian advances towards Ciel to take his soul, the show declares that this boy alone holds the “key” to unlock the afterlife, whether it be heaven or hell. He thereby escapes his troubled life and may reach eternal rest, yet the weak, solitary voice, echoing against silence as it sings of misery and damnation, reminds us that this scene is tragic nonetheless. The anime then fades to black, leaving the details of Ciel’s death ambiguous, so we can imagine bloody horror scene, a transcendental merging of two souls, or both at once.

In part through this careful use of music, both stories leave us with bittersweet feelings of both awe and mourning. Tl;dr- Kuroshitsuji draws on the same literary conventions, symbols, and associations that have been inspiring Japanese love suicide writers for centuries, and Ciel and Sebastian’s behavior in the final scene closely resembles that of the main couple in a famous love suicide play. Even if the creators of the anime did not refer specifically to the work of the great love suicide writer Chikamatsu-- and I really think they might have-- they most likely intended to situate their work within the broader genre of love suicide literature. Ultimately, Kuroshitsuji’s use of love suicide tropes heightens the romantic subtext we see elsewhere in Ciel and Sebastian’s relationship. Sources: Anna Maria Jones. “The Victorian Childhood of Manga: Toward a Queer Theory of the Child in Toboso Yana's Kuroshitsuji.” Criticism, vol. 55, no. 1, 2013, pp. 1–41. www.jstor.org/stable/10.13110/criticism.55.1.0001. Black Butler. Dir. Toyisha Shinohara. Perf. Daisuke Ono, Maaya Sakamoto, et al. A-1 Pictures, 2008-2009. Youtube. Funimation Entertainment. Web. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdglf3Tna0k&list=ELzukJMElcwvc>. Chikamatsu, Monzaemon. The Love Suicide at Amijima. Trans. Donald Shively. Print. Miner, Earl Roy., Hiroko Odagiri, and Robert E. Morrell. The Princeton Companion to Classical Japanese Literature. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1985. Print. Shively, Donald. "Introduction." Introduction. The Love Suicide at Amijima. 2-60. Print. Toboso, Yana. "Re: 26:エロい." Blog article. 落書き帳. 30 June 2013. Web. 15 Dec. 2016. <http://yanatoboso.tuna.be/?mon=2013/06>.

[leftistnextdoor-blog]

Monsters Don’t Exist, Part 1

During the second semester of my undergraduate work, I enrolled in a first-year writing course on vampires, zombies, and monsters. This was a course that frequently drew the ire of critics – surely it was one that would pander too much to students and rely too heavily on base popular culture to be a challenging and valuable component of a college education. Yet this course remains to be the single greatest contributor to my moral and philosophical development thus far.

We did not simply sit around watching campy horror films, but probed the line between human and non-, examined the political and philosophical implications of the monstrous, and situated famous works of the horror genre in their proper sociopolitical context. The first works we read were excerpts from the writings of Thomas Hobbes and John Locke on the States of Nature, War, and Society. We used these concepts to inform our discussions of apocalyptic scenarios in film and literature, as well as a basis for further discussion of inclusion and exclusion from social contracts and society at large. The latter eventually led us to Giorgio Agamben, whose works Homo Sacer and Remnants of Auschwitz we read for the course.

It was Agamben and his conceptualization of homo sacer (Latin for both “sacred man” and “accursed man”) that had the greatest initial impact on me. We learned that in Roman law, homo sacer was a person banned from civil society and its protection, one who any other individual could kill without facing legal repercussions. In some European societies, this legal category persisted through-out the middle ages in the form of the ‘outlaw’ – one who existed outside of the law and its protections. Agamben argues that despite the abandonment of these legal categories, homo sacer abound in modern society and are indeed more often the rule than they are the exception.

Agamben frequently utilizes the Holocaust to illustrate his ideas on homo sacer and the states of exception that create them. He speaks at length on the use of pre-existing racism and state propaganda to transform Jewish citizens (and other victims of the Holocaust) into Absolute Others, beings whose survival is mutually exclusive to the survival of the German people. This psychological process allows for the State of Exception to emerge, a state wherein actions that normally constitute crimes are permissible on a massive scale. It is a state in which mass incarceration, forced labor, and genocide are all allowable – after all, as the thinking goes, the nation and its people will not survive otherwise.

Agamben goes on to point out that the Holocaust is far from exceptional in modern history. It is a history rife with genocide, populated by homo sacer, and perpetuated by both the state and its citizens. After all the United States, which supposedly fought World War II to end the Holocaust, later opened a prison at Guantanamo Bay to incarcerate those viewed as its absolute enemies.

Besides political and philosophical works, we did indeed examine monsters in film and literature. However, our examination was primarily from the perspective that monsters are almost never “just monsters,” but rather manifestations of human anxiety and fear, particularly with regards to other humans. We read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus, first published in 1818 and Bram Stoker’s Dracula, published in 1897. We learned that the former reflected anxieties over a modernizing world driven by the Industrial Revolution. In many ways, Frankenstein’s monster represented the working classes – people driven from the countryside into the unskilled workforce. Like the monster, they excite both sympathy and fear – while their plight was dire, their riotous responses threatened the upper classes. In contrast, Bram Stoker’s Dracula represents a far more decisive reflection of anxieties over immigrant populations in England. Stoker takes an unambiguous stance toward Count Dracula, portraying him as unequivocally evil and a biological threat to England and her citizens. When referring to Dracula, Stoker relies heavily on dehumanizing language and metaphors, making frequent reference to parasites and carriers.

Besides reading classic literature, we watched influential zombie films such as Night of the Living Dead, directed by George Romero and released in 1968, and 28 Days Later, directed by Danny Boyle and released in 2002. We realized that in many ways, Night of the Living Dead ended up being more about racism and the state of civil rights in 1960s America than it was about slaying the re-animated dead. We cheered on Ben, played by Duane Jones, only to mourn his death at the hands of a white sheriff who mistakenly (or perhaps not?) identified him as a zombie. 28 Days Later speaks to broader anxieties regarding modernity and the relationship between the state and its citizens. The well-meaning intentions of both animal rights activists and scientists at the beginning of the film unleash a rage virus on England’s population that transforms many of its citizens into zombies. Although the film’s protagonists not only survive but thrive due to their relationships with one another, the very organization supposed to protect them – the military – threatens them just as much if not more than the zombies do.

Finally, for my independent research project, I wrote on the film White Zombie, released in 1932 and directed by Victor Halperin. Although some of this film’s finer points are somewhat ambiguous, it is undoubtedly a narrative steeped in imperialist American discourse and anxieties over racial miscegenation. White American lovers Neil and Madeline travel to Haiti for their wedding on an acquaintance, Beaumont’s, estate. Unbeknownst to them, Beaumont has enlisted the help of local witch doctor Murder Legendre, who transforms Madeline into a mindless zombie after she rejects Beaumont’s romantic advances. One of the keys to understanding this film on a more critical level lies within the title itself – appending the adjective “white” to the noun “zombie” implies that the quality is unusual to a typical zombie. Indeed, Madeline is one of only two white zombies portrayed in the film – in an act of revenge, Legendre also transforms Beaumont into a zombie slave – amongst a host of other zombies, all black (although played primarily by white actors in black face). Thus the horror, the state of exception, the inhumanity this film seeks to portray lies not in the Zombie, but in the White – apparently it is only natural for a Haitian man to exist as a mindless slave suspended between life and death, but it is a horror for a sexually pure white woman to fall prey to the designs of a Haitian witch doctor.

From all this disparate yet related material, I learned a very powerful lesson regarding horror and (in)humanity. The monsters that creep within human minds are not terrifying because of the fake blood, special effects, or CGI but because of their ability to resemble deep-seated anxieties regarding the surrounding world. And in many cases, it is fear of the (absolute) other that possesses the most power to cause distress – it twists perceptions of the immigrant who has surmounted great obstacles to move in across the street, the working class individual fighting for economic justice, the black man who asserts himself against racial hegemony. This lesson continues to shape my worldview and has produced the one moral absolute I cling to, which goes as follows:

Always uphold the humanity of all those around you. Never denigrate it. Nothing is worth creating homo sacer. Nothing is worth human rights violations. Nothing is worth genocide.

This is the precept on which I strive to begin and end all my thoughts on politics, philosophy, and ethics. It is why I chose to begin writing in this space – because we continue to live in a world where human suffering is excused through the creation of homo sacer. Because the Holocaust can and indeed has already happened again. Because monsters do not exist. Only humans do.

Works Referenced

Agamben, Giorgio. Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Stanford University Press, 1998.

—– Remnants of Auschwitz: The Witness and the Archive. Zone Books, 1999.

Hobbes, Thomas. Leviathan or The Matter, Forme and Power of a Common Wealth Ecclesiasticall and Civil. 1651.

Locke, John. The Second Treatise of Civil Government. 1689.

Night of the Living Dead. Dir. George Romero. Perf. Duane Jones, Judith O’Dea, Karl Hardman. Image Ten, 1968.

Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft. Frankenstein, Or, The Modern Prometheus. 1818.

Stoker, Bram. Dracula. 1897.

White Zombie. Dir. Victor Halperin. Perf. Bela Lugosi and Madge Bellamy. Edward Halperin Productions, 1932. Netflix Instant Play.

28 Days Later. Dir. Danny Boyle. Perf. Cillian Murphy, Naomi Harris, Christopher Eccleston. DNA Films, 2002.