#this is just saying 200 years of torture on a guy who can't remember what he did to warrant such behavior

[saanphoenix]

I'm gonna make this a separate post because I don't want to bring a potential shit show of a debate onto someone's post that probably doesn't want one...but I just don't trust fandom these days not to dissolve into that, so...

In my opinion, whatever now-canonical fucked up things Astarion did in the past as a magistrate--as the game doesn't give you shit for info in regards to him and dev comments way back are Eeeeh considering how much has been rewritten hence--does not justify present treatment of Astarion for one unfortunate fact:

He can't fucking remember that shit.

If he could remember prior sins, sins deserving of some retribution, then a little torture here and there would have me like, "Well, you kinda had it coming buddy. So take your lumps and then get back out there and don't be a dick. Right your wrongs, if you can."

...But he can't remember that shit.

What's the point, then? You're doing horrible things to someone who can't comprehend why such treatment might be warranted or reasonable or what needs to be "atoned" for.

That's not justice.

[numberonetrashwitch]

Since this is such a good question, i want to answer it in full. Obviously Spoiler for BG3 / Astarions Questline "The Pale Elf" Vampirism is a Curse

Despite the evidence you can find in the Szarr Manor, i don't think Vampirism is (just) a disease. It is infernal in nature and more akin to a curse, and one that whittles away your humanity - but in levels, the more "infected" you are, the more it turns you into a power-hungry monster. It's also something that Astarion will tell you early on (under the right conditions of course) We also see this in the Palace itself, once we find the remains of the Vampire that turned Cazador. You'll learn what that Vampire did to Cazador - and how it panned out. That is because once you'll turn your Spawn into Vampires, they automatically become your Enemy in the endless fight for control/power

Weakness (this includes mercy) will get you killed if you're a Vampire.

Abuse / Trauma is Cyclical, and a bitch

Astarion didn't just face 200 years of trauma, but as we know through various interactions, was mentally and physically tortured. We're talking about flaying, sensory deprevation, starvation, repeated verbal abuse. Now, victims of this kind of abuse always fault themselves for it, even if they rationally know it's not their fault. Especially if mental torture is involved, these words, bearing enough repetition, will convince you - regardless of your resolve.

That is a loss of control, victims of with often either get addicted to, or will try to avoid it at any cost neccessary. The first kind will often seek out the situation in which they have been abused and try to recreate (or exced) the risk involved, the second type - to which Astarion belongs in my opinion - seeks to gain control, even over trivial matters, as a way to ensure that their needs are met. Nobody has been nice to him in 200 years, and then came Tav... he doesn't understand why they are so kind to him, but it feels good to be seen as more than a toy, a prostitute, a monster, - all the things he sees himself as, still, even away from Cazador. If you break up with Astarion before freeing him, he'll actually say that he knew it wouldn't last simply because he has "nothing to offer Tav, except his burdens"

(snippet of exactly that, in german) Yes, Astarion presents himself as this self-obsessed, smug Guy but that is all a facade to hide how he actually feels; weak, pathetic, lonely, useless, at fault for his abuse.

He is utterly in "love" with Tav.

Remember, Tav is the first person to see Astarion as more than just an object but as a person, and, on top of that, a person deserving of love and affection, regardless of what he brought to the table.

This feels good. Now, again, with Vampires everything comes down to power, and he can't have Tav leave. In this mix of dark urges & new, relatively unexplored feelings his love for Tav turns into an Obsession; He will not let them leave.

I will refer to @morgana-ren who has this point flashed out way more, but in short - by turning Tav into Spawn Astarion essentially ensures that they can't be taken from him. Neither through (natural) death nor by her own will, should they find out that Astarion has in fact, turned into a monster.

paraphrased: "don't move too far away from me... but you wouldn't do that, right?"

If you break up with him after he ascended and bit you, he will laugh in your face and not allow you to leave. You're his, after all.

There you have it, an in-depth answer to this question.

[me-on-set]

Harrowingly Strange

When was the last time you had to face a moral dilemma? I am still reeling. I actually just got home. I think I invented a new selfie style. I wanted to take a photo of my makeup on and off.

As I currently write this, I am not an actor but instead have been doing background work for the past year. I've occasionally been a featured extra and was a body double once.

It's fascinating, seeing and doing the work that embodies being on set.

A couple of days ago, I received a message from a casting agency that had my headshot asking to submit my photo for a featured non-speaking role with a local production company. It was a one or two day shoot at $200 per day. I said yes and I got the gig.

When you are cast, you get an email the night before with details about the set location, start time, special instructions, and wardrobe. This show I booked was for a reenactment TV series about real world events. The exciting news was that this particular episode revolved around a crisis that occurred in my parents' homeland. I was to play someone at home seeing the news on television, and then in a second scene complain to police of their incompetence. I was asked to bring leisure clothing one would wear at home.

When I first started being an extra, I would bring my clothes in a backpack, trying really hard not to care too much. That behavior did not last. I found my interest stumbling forward into a natural evolution. I started taking luggage to neatly carry my wardrobe options. I found that I would mostly get cast as a mid-30's businessman. This led me to comfortably bring my outfits in a garment bag. It's funny how familiarity can grow your views.

For today, I packed shorts, sweatpants, t-shirts, a hoodie, a pair of runners, and a pair of flip flops. I got these flip flops during my last vacation with my mom overseas in her hometown. I also brought some henley shirts and arrived on set in khakis and a short-sleeved polo because there was also a mention of button-ups being an option.

The majority of work involved as an extra is waiting. It's a good idea to bring a book, although in this day and age, occupying oneself with a smart phone is a much more fulfilling time killer. I didn't end up using any of the clothes I had brought except for my belt and my runners. After my hair and makeup were done I decided to satisfy my curiosity by searching keywords of this specific production. I searched the name of the character I was to reenact. Adding quotations to strict strings of words, I had soon discovered the event I was going to portray. This was when my moral dilemma began.

I was born and raised in North America by immigrant parents who arrived in their early 20's. The typical experiences had by people of color paint a relatively positive mural that represents my upbringing. Having visited my ethnic country many times throughout my life, I felt, and still feel, a deep connection to the motherland. This connection is common for others like myself, powered by identity in a time where life will sometimes present it as a limitation. Conversely, this only strengthens cultural pride.

The role I was to play was an international representing their countrymen against the very country I identify with. Pangs of uneasiness flooded my body. There was another featured role performer who had an earlier call time. We sat together in the holding area. He was cast to play the part of a family member learning the news of the event. What surprised me more was the fact that he was a recent immigrant from my country of ethnicity. Us both, cast in roles of coincidental conflict of interest?

When it comes to acting, the only other time I recall having feelings of apprehension was during a big budget movie filmed in a church. I was a church goer among a sea of church goers seated in church pews. We were instructed to portray the enjoyment of a church service. Some of us were selected to stand and sway to the Christian music. Some had their eyes closed, head tilted to the ceiling, palms facing up to the heavens. As easy a physical task that is, I instead opted to clap along to the band and pretend to really feel the sounds of my favorite music. I know it's just acting but I was driven by the thought of my mom seeing me do anything other than that on camera. So, I coursed the music through my veins. I know the history of the band members, the albums, this music moves me, pretend.

I received my paperwork and read it over a cup of coffee from craft services. It was standard paperwork that I've filled out over a dozen times before. I looked at the inviting exit door. I was parked right outside. This is not that big of a deal, is it? I imagined this TV episode making its way to the news overseas, the citizens all over the world deeming me a traitor for perpetuating a negative image, not merely through action but through representation against them. Against us. Am I selling out? For two hundred bucks?

I thought about getting up and leaving. I thought about all of the hard work that people have put into this specific production. If you haven't been behind the scenes before, it is quite the trip. An assortment of heavy duty cables line the floors, taped in place. Racks of props in designated areas. The backstage crew zip around in sync, bursting with walkie-talkie sounds and hollers of instruction. There is a commonality in the many interactions, their minds tuned into the goal meant to be achieved. This is their career.

This is my hobby. I am a prop. Would leaving this put a blemish on my record in the local film community, or the film industry as a whole, because I wasted everyone's time being sensitive? As I languished, I get a message from my best friend and I tell him I'm on set. I tell him:

For some reason, that makes me feel better. I just might be able to work with that mentality. The other guy has finished. He returns his wardrobe and collects his belongings. I ask him if he knows what this show is about. We speak in our language among the English-speakers. I ask him if he thinks people back home are going to be mad at us. I ask him if he knew we were going to be doing this. He seems ok with it all. He said he was there during the actual event. He's new to the industry. We laugh about how we can pass as different races. This is his first time being on camera. He said he enjoyed the experience. I ask him if he'll continue. He said yes. I hope he does.

Finally, wardrobe is set and I am wearing a navy blue golf shirt and some gray slacks. I want to feel good, like the other times I've worked. How can I get that feeling? They're calling me on set. They adjust the lighting while I sit in front of the camera. A fog machine fills the mock living room belonging to my character. When the camera rolls, there is a fake TV in front of me that I am to watch casually at first and then grow increasingly interested as the live footage I am pretending to watch unfolds. I am supposed to build up into a frustration with the host country. My country. As I understand it, the real guy is being interviewed and I am the reenactment; the illustration of his side of the story. I do the scene. Twice. Filming took less than 5 minutes total. The whole time I was thinking about my mom. I can remember it still, a few hours ago today, the director describing the gradual transpiring of the footage to guide me. To help me see a reason to be frustrated on camera. It wasn't helping. It's not his fault. I don't think it's anyone's fault. I don't think they even knew why I would be uncomfortable. I don't think they knew much about the countries involved in the event. They even spelled the city name wrong. I don't even think the takes were that bad.

I wish it wasn't about my country. If it were different, I feel like I could have given more - like I had done at the church.

It's unsettling to perform make-believe, but for myself I have managed to apply a mental exercise that immerses me into a character; to actually be the person. The trick is to relate. To tie the emotion to a real memory and relive it. If it had only been about another country, I'm sure I would have enjoyed the process a lot more.

I'm writing this and I was hoping it would help me shake away this dread. Thoughts of regret imagining if I had only researched the keywords sooner. Maybe I would have cancelled. But that wouldn't have been better. I would be blacklisted and never cast as another role again. Or maybe I'm being dramatic. Hey, that's good for this line of work, right?

I honestly hope the final cut looks great. This is the biggest role I've ever been in. They gelled my hair funny like a nerd, I had on large framed glasses, just like the portrayed, and they put makeup on my upper lip to hide my dark, clean-shaven stubble.

When I got home, before I washed my makeup off, I took a before and after mirror selfie because my face looked comedically smooth. Taking the pictures reminded me of when I was sipping coffee in the holding area. I had taken pictures of my paperwork. I remember my mind racing. The feeling was like gathering license plates and insurance information after a collision. You know, just in case I have to stand trial, my cultural membership in jeopardy. I can review my situation with a lawyer to see what I can and can not say during a variety show interview that is getting my side of the story after viral, captioned screenshots of me flood the internet with embarrassing memes, stamped into history. Jesus Christ, that would be the worst. Here I go again with extreme maybes. It's an entertaining curse that I will forever be engulfed in my own hypothetical torture.

Anyway, here's that selfie I invented:

Yeah my bathroom mirrors are dirty.

I can't wait for my next job that I can cleanse my palate with. I really hope I can accept today as purely an actor's portrayal, and not a turncoat betrayal. This can't be my last go at acting. I ate some of my country's food for supper. I feel a bit better. I'm wearing a shirt that is emblazoned with our country's sports hero.

I have always been excited to see the final release of a production I am in, except for this one now. Uncontrollably, my perverse curiosity into the film world is only strengthening, so I don't think even the worst thoughts can slow my future participation. The silver lining is that the uncomfortable bar is set to a new level. I could reenact a murderous deviant now without batting a moral eyelash, I like to think. All for the sake of film.

- WSS, February 8, 2019