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333kaylynn · 4 years

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midsummer madness - grayson dolan

a/n: I am fully aware it isn’t summer but I thought maybe this would fit a bit of a valentine’s theme. (I’ve started writing this on the 13th but I’m not sure It’ll be finished by tomorrow so please spare me if this isn’t posted on Valentine’s day. Either way, I hope you have/had a good Valentine’s day!) p.s- this isn’t edited so pls spare me

warnings: fluff, swearing, slight smut but not really, mentions of drugs + alcohol and mentions of death

word count: 5k+

She had the entire world ahead of her and she wouldn’t dare to let anyone stop her from achieving her goals. Everyone knew it, her teachers, her siblings, her parents, her fellow classmates, everybody. It wasn’t unknown to see her at the library with her face shoved into a book. In fact, it was a new book almost every week. She wouldn’t tell anyone, but she had a huge taste for romance books. Nobody would ever find that out though. It was her dirty little secret. At that very moment, she was sitting in the quiet library, the only sound being her breathing and the paper whenever she needed to flip to the next page. The librarian loved her, sometimes even allowing her to come in before hours or after hours. Ms. Holling was the sweetest old lady, nothing like the mean librarians y/n had read about in some of her books. It made her happy that she could not only compare her books to her real-life but that she could live a life as good as her own. If she wasn’t at the library, you’d often catch her walking around by the lake, sitting on the bench that sat in the perfect spot in order to look at the lake and the sky above. If it was a nice day, she’d much rather be out there reading her book than to be stuck in the library, no matter how nice Ms. Holling was. However, this day was an icky and rainy July afternoon so she was stuck sitting cross-legged on the red leather chair in the corner of the library. Her tea from this morning sat on the table ahead of her and when her eyes weren’t glued onto the pages of her book, she would stop to look at the raindrops falling down the window. It was probably room temperature by now, her tea, and there was nothing she hated more than room temperature drinks. At least, that’s what she would tell you at that very moment as she thought about how disgusting it would taste. She would probably tell you that even if she was locked in this building for days and that’s all she had to drink, she would rather die of thirst than take even a sip. However, if you caught her at a different time, on another day, she would probably tell you she hated a completely different thing “more than anything in the world.” She looked back at her book and started reading it again. Even though y/n had her entire life ahead of her and had so many goals, she was so indecisive and had no idea where to start. That’s why you’d often catch her reading three to four books at a time.

On Mondays, she would start by picking an adventure or action-type novel. Mondays were her least favorite day, so it isn’t surprising that she’d pick her least favorite genre. She didn’t think anything bad about it, in fact, she loved them. It just wasn’t the same as the other genres. Tuesdays- she would start reading a mystery. She loved being able to solve the mysteries herself before she ended the book like she was her very own Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes. Wednesdays were when she would start her favorite genre, romance. Even though she cringed at some of the actions the characters would do or the things they would say, she loved the sappiness of it all and she wished that one day her life could be as romantic as that. Thursdays - horror. She loved the thrill it gave her and she loved that she was able to imagine it exactly how she wanted, so she could either get scared or not get scared, depending on how she chose to view it. Finally, on Friday, you’d likely find her with her nose shoved into a contemporary novel. She felt those ones were easiest to compare with her real-life and she loved being able to compare whatever book she’s reading to the past week she just had. Saturdays and Sundays were y/n’s free-day, however, and you would often find her sitting in her room watching Netflix or Hulu or out doing something with her friends that would drag her out of her room because she was “too much of a homebody”, even though her home was more-so the library or the park than her actual home, or because she was “glued to her books.” She wouldn’t tell them they were wrong or argue with them because she knew they were right and that she needed a taste of the real world so she didn’t get mentally trapped in a fictional world. Her friends were much more extroverted than her, always wanting to go out and talk to new people and do new things. Y/n wasn’t like that. If someone talked to her she wouldn’t ignore them but she wasn’t the type to go up and start a conversation with someone she didn’t know. She’s surprised she even has the friends she does now because of how different her personality is compared to theirs. She loves them though and she often compares them to the characters of her books. Each one of them has their own personality that she loves and that she can learn new things from. Josie, with her long brown hair and tan skin, was probably the biggest party animal of the group. Every weekend she’d be out at some house party and if she wasn’t, she’d be getting into clubs and dancing with whatever guy she deemed the cutest of the night. Gabriella had the most gorgeous melanin skin tone and y/n loved looking at the way it glowed in the sunlight. She wouldn’t tell her other friends but she really did think Gabi was the prettiest of the group. She was extremely friendly and always knew what to say to make someone else feel good about themselves. Y/n loved that Gabi was not only pretty on the outside but also on the inside. She was the perfect girl, y/n thought, and any guy, or girl, would be lucky to have her. Stella, the last of the friend group, had wavy blonde hair. She wasn’t naturally blonde though and her brown roots were seen very obviously. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders and it really brought out the obviousness of her collarbones. She was an animal-loving gal and y/n felt like she was probably the closest in personality to her. Stella was usually pretty quiet until you got her to start talking. Once she started it would be extremely hard to get her to stop. This would often result in Josie telling her to shut up, Gabriella telling Josie to be nicer to Stella, and Stella arguing back. Often times, Josie and Stella would drag y/n into the argument and make her pick someone’s side. However, she would often just nod and say “mhm” to whoever was talking to her at the time. Y/n didn’t like getting involved in arguments, especially ones involved with her friends because she absolutely hated picking sides because she loved all of them equally, just in different ways. Because of this and Gabriella’s willingness to stop their arguments, the four girls were inseparable. They were together almost every day they could, oftentimes being dragged along to some of these parties Josie loved to attend. This just happened to be one of those days. After the rain would come to a stop, y/n would make her way home and she’d start getting ready for whatever crazy party Josie had planned to take them to. It wouldn’t be long until the rain stopped, possibly just another twenty minutes or so according to the weather app on her phone. It looked like it was starting to clear up a bit outside too, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. The sun soon came out and the rain came to a stop. Y/n stood up from her seat and grabbed her books and slipped her phone into her pocket. She picked up her tea from the morning with her open hand and said goodbye to Ms. Holling before walking out the heavy glass door and onto the sidewalk. She began her walk home, only taking about five to ten minutes for her to get home, depending on how many times she would stop on the way home. She would often stop to look at flowers or whatever was posted up in the glass windows of the shops throughout the main street she walked down. On the sunny days, unlike this one, she would often take twenty or so minutes to get her home because she loved soaking up the sun and getting in all the vitamin d she could. After about seven minutes, y/n was walking through her front door and taking her shoes off before she walked to her room. She set the three books she had down and walked back out to dump the small bit she had left of her tea out into the sink and she rinsed out the cup she had used and set it down before walking back into her room to get ready. She grabbed a pair of light grey joggers and rolled them up so they fit better, the size of the pants being slightly too large for her. She threw on a red cami top and put a black zip-up hoodie on over the top of it in case it would get cold later in the night. She wanted to be comfortable while also looking somewhat decent and that’s exactly what she did. She sat down by her vanity and put on some mascara and foundation, those being the only forms of makeup she wanted to wear for the night so she didn’t come home looking like too much of a trainwreck the next morning. By the time she finished her hair after doing her makeup, it was seven o’clock and Stella would be on her way with Gabi to pick her up and then they would pick Josie up after y/n. She slipped on her shoes and took her phone off of the charger before walking out of her room and out her front door, sitting on her front steps and looking through twitter on her phone for the few minutes she had left before Stella and Gabi arrived. Soon enough, Stella pulled up in her black Mazda 3 with Gabi in the passenger seat. Y/n got in behind Gabi and greeted the two girls, kissing both of their cheeks like the girls always did when they first saw each other each day.

“What book are you reading now?” Gabriella asked, turning her body to look back at y/n. Stella looked up in the rearview mirror at y/n to show she was listening as well but soon looked back at the road ahead of her. Y/n’s face lit up when Gabriella asked her that and soon Gabi regretted asking, knowing she would probably go on and on about whatever it is she was reading. Y/n loved, however, that her friends would ask her about what she was reading even though she knew they weren’t the biggest fans of reading. “Bel Canto. I’m about three-quarters of the way through.” Y/n pauses and takes a breath and Stella nods before she continues, “It’s based on the Japanese embassy hostage crisis. It follows the relationships among a few young terrorists and the people they’re holding hostage. I’m not really sure how I feel about it yet. I am close to being finished but this book is giving me mixed feelings.” Gabriella asked her a few questions about it and the girls continued talking and quickly arrived at Josie’s house. Gabriella quickly ran up to her door and rang the doorbell, knowing Josie probably wouldn’t answer her phone if she just called her. Josie was always getting ready until the very last second. She wanted to make sure she looked immaculate. Y/n looked up after about a minute of looking down at her knees and Stella looked up from checking her phone to see Gabriella and Josie opening the doors of the car and climbing into their respective seats. Gabriella went right back to the passenger seat and Josie climbed in beside y/n. “Hello, ladies,” Josie said, bringing her hair over her right shoulder and buckling her seatbelt. “Hey, Jo, what’s up? You ready to party?” Stella asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror. Before Josie was given the option to answer, y/n spoke up, “Josie’s always ready to party.” The other three girls erupt in laughter and Josie nods, “You’re not wrong, y/n/n.” Eventually, the girls arrived at a big house in the town next to where they lived. It took only fifteen to twenty minutes for them to get there and the person who invited them told them they could just walk in, so that’s what they did. Stella was determined to be the designated driver for the night, so as soon as they went inside Josie went off to the table covered in cups and different bottles of alcohol. She poured a glass and handed it to Gabi and then poured y/n a cup. She got her own cup full and squeezed her way through some people and then y/n had lost her. Y/n and Gabi stuck by each other's sides for a few more minutes before Gabi wandered off to go dance with a group of random girls she had met. Stella was sitting down on one of the couches chatting with a guy who was apparently the designated driver for his friends. Y/n walked into the kitchen to get away from all of the people, knowing people hardly ever went into the kitchen unless it was to get a private spot to make out with their significant other or just some random girl/guy they had just met that night. She pushed herself up onto the counter and leaned against the cupboards above the counter. She kept her cup in her hands and looked around at the people in the living room. She could see them all having a good time as she looked through the archway that divided the kitchen from the living room. She looked back down at her cup and took another swig of it, only putting it down because she heard the voice of a man, very deep and raspy, he goes, “You wanted to get away from all this too?” Y/n nodded and responded with a quiet “mhm” and the guy continued, “Grayson.” He puts his hand out for her to shake and she hesitantly goes to grab it. “Y/n.” He smiles and asks her if she wanted to come to play beer pong with him, y/n laughed and agreed, jumping off the counter. Grayson takes her hand and pulled her through the group of people that had surrounded the table. The two guys Grayson was up against were setting up the cups and one of them threw Grayson a ball once they finished. “You sure you want to partner up with a girl, Gray?” He asked and as Grayson caught it he responded, “Yeah. I have faith. Plus, dude, you suck. And so does E. It can’t be hard to beat you guys.” Right as he says that, the partner of the other guy turns around. He looks exactly like Grayson so y/n just put two and two together and determined they were twins. Just as she had guessed, Grayson turns to her and tells her, “That’s my brother Ethan by the way. We’re twins. And that one,” He points at the guy that had previously bashed him for playing with a girl, “is Ryan. He’s a close friend of ours.” Y/n nods and backs up so Grayson can throw the ball. He makes it into the first cup and she started to get somewhat nervous, thinking she wouldn’t make the shot. She lined herself up and shot the ball, closing her eyes immediately after in case she missed. She didn’t want to witness her failure. Grayson erupts in cheers and picks her up and spins her around and as soon as she felt Graysons grip on her she opened her eyes. He set her down and put his hand out for a high five. The two teams played together until Grayson had finally made the winning shot. At this point, y/n and Grayson were slightly too intoxicated and they began jumping for joy at the sight of Grayson’s ball landing perfectly in the cup. Ethan and Ryan sighed at their loss but soon starting laughing at how childish and goofy Y/n and Grayson were acting. Y/n grabbed Grayson’s hand, and with her intoxicated self came her overly confident and flirty self, and pulled him so he would look at her. He leaned down to be able to hear her better and she goes, “Come dance with me. I love this song.” She smiles and gives him the puppy dog eyes, pleading that he would go dance with her. “Only because I love this song too. And you’re cute.” Y/n blushes and looks away, but soon looks back and grins, pulling him into the other group of people that had already been dancing. The pair got awfully close, Y/n grinding up against Grayson as Grayson swayed along with her, his hands placed carefully on her hips but with a firm grip. The more she moved, the more Grayson knew he wanted to fuck her. Although Y/n seemed like an innocent girl when she was at the library or the comfort of the park bench, much like her friends, she wasn’t as sinless as she had made herself out to be. Especially when she went to parties. The way her ass would grind against his crotch in the best way possible made Grayson hard and he had to keep stepping back and readjusting, not wanting to scare her away. Grayson knew that no matter how sexually frustrated he got he didn’t want to scare this one away. He felt a connection immediately and loved everything about her, even after only knowing her for a few hours. Y/n turned around and looked up at Grayson, grabbing his hands and spinning herself underneath his arm. She giggles and he smirks at her as he watches her intensely. The two keep dancing for a while before Grayson bends down to talk to her, “Wanna get another drink?” Y/n nodded and Grayson kept his hand on her lower back as the two walked through the group of people together. Grayson poured himself a glass and hands y/n the bottle and an empty cup so she can pour it herself. She bumps her cup with Grayson’s and says, “Cheers,” and the two walk away from the table of liquor and over to the couch. Y/n sees Gabriella sitting down and she takes a seat next to her and grabs her shoulder, “Gabi! Hi love. How are you doing?” Gabi looks at Y/n and says, “Pretty good. Do you wanna come to play the board game with me?” Y/n nods, knowing she’s talking about the “Let’s Get F’d Up” game a few of the other girls at the party made, “Can Grayson come to play?” Gabriella nods but then asks, “Wait, who’s Grayson?” Grayson raises his hand in response and says hello to Gabriella. Gabriella says hi back and then all three of them wander over to where the game was being held. They sit around this table with about five or six other people and the girl, who y/n assumes made the game, starts explaining the rules, “Roll the dice, land on the spot, do what it tells you. Some are self-explanatory but others aren’t. I’ll explain those on the way. If you pussy out and don’t do yours, you’re out of the game and you lose. The game finishes when there’s only one person left or when everyone reaches the finish line.” Everyone takes turns rolling the dice and doing whatever it is they had to do. Three people had finished already and everyone else was close behind. The drunkenness of everyone playing this game was through the roof. They were all stumbling their words and laughing with each other. Finally, a girl whom Y/n had discovered was named Elise, had finished the game as the final person to get across the entire board. Everyone took one last shot together and then a few of the people at the table wandered off but some stayed back. Y/n stood up but almost fell over, luckily Grayson had been there to catch her. “You a little dizzy there y/n?” Grayson chuckles, keeping his hand on her so she doesn’t fall over like she almost did the first time. She smiles and nods and then walks towards the kitchen to get away from all the sweaty people that started to migrate towards the table they were at. Grayson follows her closely behind, he didn’t want to lose her before he was able to get her number. She pushes her self onto the counter like she did earlier and holds onto her cup with both hands. Grayson and y/n are sitting together in the silence, Grayson pacing across the kitchen floor for who knows what reason. Y/n speaks up though, grabbing Grayson’s wrist and pulling him closer to her, “I’m hungry.” Grayson smiles and agrees, rubbing his stomach, “Let’s go get McDonald’s!” Y/n tilts her head to the side and asks, “Is it close? We can’t drive we have to walk.” Grayson nods and tells her it’s about a ten-minute walk and it’s a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s so they would most definitely still be open. She grins and hops off the counter and the two walk out the kitchen and through the living room. Eventually, they make their way out the front door and they’re on their way to McDonald’s. The two are messing around together and singing their favorite songs, telling each other secrets they never could have imagined telling anyone else, and just overall having the time of their lives. After the two get to McDonald’s, order their food, and eat it in the span of twenty minutes, they’re on their way back to the house. They stumble back in the front door and everyone’s still dancing along to the music, smoking, and drinking as if nobody noticed they had left. They made their way to the couch and Grayson sat down, patting his left thigh when he noticed the rest of the couch was taken up and y/n had nowhere to sit. She sat down on him and he put his hand on her side. She smirked to herself, knowing Grayson couldn’t see her. She wouldn’t admit this but she did love the attention. Y/n sits silently as Grayson talks to his friends, only listening to small parts of the conversation. She felt a slight tap on her shoulder and she looks over to see Stella standing there, “Hey, you ready to leave? Josie’s with some guy right now but I say she’ll be ready to go in about twenty minutes and Gabi’s ready to go now.” Y/n nods and says she’ll either still be here or in the kitchen in the next twenty minutes so Stella could find her in one of those spots. Stella nods and walks off to go find Gabriella again. Grayson looks at the girl on his lap, “Gotta go soon?” Y/n nods and gives him a slight frown, “Twenty minutes.” Grayson moves a bit and the two of them get up, “Well that means I have twenty minutes to talk to you. Come back to the kitchen with me so I can talk to you and we can have a less public conversation.” The two walk off and back into the kitchen where they had gone many times on this particular evening. Y/n sat right back on the counter where she had every other time and Grayson sat on the island across from her. The two began talking about their lives and asking each other lots of questions. Eventually, the talking led to flirting and Grayson had hopped off the counter and squeezed himself in between y/n’s legs. He stood there while she sat up on the counter, his hands resting on her thighs. They didn’t do anything for a minute, just took in what was happening. Y/n grabbed his hands and put them down farther, signaling that what he was doing was okay. He gripped her thighs and pulled her closer to him, only moving his hand for a second to fix her hair but then soon putting it back where it was before. He kissed her intensely and it ended up leading to a super intense make-out session. Y/n had never been kissed like that before, honest to god, she’d tell you. “When you’re done making out we gotta go!” Gabi yelled as she stood in the archway. Y/n pulled away from Grayson but kept their foreheads touching, she smiled and giggled a bit, “I gotta go.” Grayson grabs her hands and backs up, “At least let a guy get your number first? I wanna be able to see you again.” He hands her his phone and she adds her number into his contacts, changing the name to “Y/n/n <3.″ She hands his phone back to him and he looks at it quickly and grins before shutting his phone off and putting it in his pocket. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” He pulls her in for a hug and then backs away so she can walk out to leave with her friends. She gets out the door and walks to Stella’s car, where all three other girls are sitting in it chatting it up. As soon as y/n opens the car door the girls ask her a bunch of questions, “Jeez. We were expecting Josie to come out last, not you.” Stella says, laughing. “Yeah! Who was the guy?” Gabriella asks, smirking at y/n and Josie nods, showing that she also wanted to know the answer to Gabi’s question. “His name is Grayson. He asked for my number before I left.” “Well did you give it to him?” Stella asks, turning down the street as the streetlight turned green. “Duh!” “Does he have any brothers?” Gabi asks. Y/n nods, “A twin, actually. He was at the party. His name is Ethan. I’ll see if I can hook ya’ll up.” Y/n chuckles and winks at Gabriella. The four of them arrive back at Gabriella’s apartment, her being the only one that lived alone. With the girls being as drunk as they were, showing up to a house accompanied by one of their parents probably wouldn’t be the best decision. They all managed to make their way inside quickly and safely, all hopping straight to bed, Stella and Gabi sharing her bed and Y/n and Josie snuggled on the couch together, thank God Gabi had a big enough couch to fit the both of them.

It had been a month since the party where y/n and Grayson met and they had been texting and getting a lot closer, hanging out quite often and texting almost every second. Y/n still continued her journeys to the library and/or park every day but she was much more distracted than usual with Grayson on her mind. She walked to the park and texted Grayson, telling him she wanted to hang out again. He texted her back and told her he’d come to wherever she was and she told him she was at the park. Grayson had been with her there plenty of times before. Y/n sat patiently as she waited for Grayson. He arrived soon enough and she looked up and smiled immediately as she saw him. He walks around the bench and stands in front of her, pulling her up. “We should swim.” He suggests, taking his shirt off and walking towards the lake. “I don’t have a swimsuit.” Y/n says, shaking her head and laughing at Grayson. “Where my shirt and you’ll be just fine.” He tilts his head towards his shirt he had thrown on the grass and y/n laughs, changing into Grayson’s shirt and slowly getting into the water. The two swam together and talked a lot like they always did. “You should come over!” Grayson suggests, getting really excited at his idea. Y/n nods and tells him she will, so the two of them spent maybe another ten to fifteen minutes in the water before getting out and heading to Grayson’s Bronco. The two hop into the car and Grayson turns on Kid Cudi. Y/n wasn’t surprised by this, Grayson always had either Kid Cudi or Cub Sport on. They arrive back at Grayson’s soon enough and due to their constant flirting the car ride back, Grayson wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless and y/n wanted nothing more than that either. Grayson basically pulled her into the house and immediately pushed her up against the front door. The two began feverishly making out but y/n soon pulled away, “Isn’t Ethan home?” She breathed heavily, Grayson still sucking on her neck. He looks up, “Shit. Come with me. Be quiet.” Grayson picks her up and brings her to his bedroom, closing the door and locking it. He sets her down on his bed and climbs above her, slowly bringing his weight down onto her but not too much so he would make sure not to crush her. Y/n knew she needed him right away but Grayson wouldn’t be so quick to oblige. He wanted to take his time on her. He kept making out with her, moving down to her neck and pulling at her shirt. She sat up and took it off, revealing the pink Calvin Klein bra she had on underneath her shirt. He went down and starting leaving hickies all over her chest. He sat up and pulled her pants off, leaving her vulnerable in nothing but her bra and underwear. Grayson loved the sight in front of him. He brought his hand down to her panties, rubbing her in the best way possible. Y/n had to stay quiet but Grayson would make sure she felt better than she had ever felt. Y/n, of course, had to return the favor to Grayson. She didn’t want Grayson to be the only one doing the hard work. As soon as Grayson finished her off, she got down on her knees and put his dick in her hands, sucking him off. Grayson’s grunting and moans made y/n know that she was doing a good job and she loved the sound of it. She finishes him off and they lay down on Grayson’s bed together, y/n head against Grayson’s chest. “Who knew the innocent little library girl could be so naughty?” Grayson says, killing the silence. “We met at a party, Grayson. I got wasted. So did you. Did you forget?” Y/n laughs and looks up at Grayson. He smiles and shakes his head, “I know this might not be the right timing but will you go out with me? Like, be my girlfriend?” Y/n smiles and nods, “I just wish you would’ve asked me a lot sooner.”

Grayson knew he was in love with y/n from the moment he met her. He never believed in love at first sight until he met her. Now, to be sitting in his firm-fitted black suit at his girlfriend’s funeral, he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He felt like everything good had been taken from him and that he had nothing left to give to this world. He held a singular flower in his hand and sat in the front next to her parents and Josie, Gabriella, and Stella. Everyone was silent, listening to the priest give his speech on her life. Grayson knew y/n wasn’t that religious but her parents were and that’s why there was a priest. At the end of the ceremony, Grayson walked up to her casket and set the flower down. It was a daisy, he remembered her telling him it was her favorite, her exact words being, “I like the daisy because it’s pretty popular like the rose but whenever someone asks you to name their favorite flower they say rose and nobody ever says daisy. I feel bad for it!” He remembers that moment perfectly, in fact, he remembers every moment with y/n. The way her eyes would light up when she would talk about her books, the way she got nervous whenever she would talk to his family even though they had met plenty of times before, and the way she spoke so kindly to everyone she met. Grayson loved that about her.

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soveryanon · 4 years

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Reviewing time for MAG165! X_X

- I really wasn’t expecting to hear the calliope music again one day! That took me back to the end of season 3 – it felt like another (successful) Unknowing, a glimpse of what would have happened if the Circus had pulled through in MAG118/MAG119?

Also, confirmation that Tim definitely got his revenge and blew up the Circus to pieces, including Grimaldi/Nikola:

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: [LOW] I’m hoping if we’re quick, we can avoid her notice. MARTIN: “Her”? [SILENCE] J–Jon, please, don’t tell me there’s an evil clown doll down there– ARCHIVIST: No– MARTIN: –because… ARCHIVIST: N–no, Nikola died with The Unknowing; it’s, uh… [INHALE] An old friend.

At least, Tim got that T__T

- The pattern of beginning the statement with “There is…” already got broken with this one:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: … Wha…? [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] … “There is a place, deep in the heart of Fear, where you trap yourself and claim that it is safety. [STATIC DECREASES] It was once a cabin, and professes still to be such, but as with all in this new world that promises respite… it is a trap.”

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: … Alright, then. [INHALE] [SIGH] [STATIC RISES] “There is a wound in the earth. [STATIC DECREASES] A bayonet gouge, scored through the soft and sodden mud for uncounted miles. A trench that marks the front line of a war that has no name. It has always been raging, deep in the hearts of the powerful and those that thirst to see bodies piled high in their name.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There is a sickness in this village. Perhaps you would not see it from a distance and the faint sting of rot on the breeze is easy enough to dismiss; but as you get closer, that infectious feeling of wrongness is harder and harder to shake. The grass is not the green of nature, the buildings are warped by more than age, and the voices that come from behind the inhabitants’ masks… are hoarse, and wet. They move with exaggerated casualness, a parody of idyllic village life.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] … Right. [STATIC RISES] “Your face is not your face is not your face [STATIC DECREASES AND FADES] around the curling carousel, it twists in place to take from you and all the tattered stolen souls whose sense of ‘me’ is swollen and distended into nothing.

Could be because The Stranger (/the Circus/identity thieves/I-Do-Not-Know-You) is Like That and can’t conform to little boxes, or could be because there isn’t really a “pattern” to begin with, we’ll see with the next nightmare pockets.

Consistency-wise: the use of “you” (as a way to include/pull the listeners in?) went through the roof, but was understandable – “you” is “something/someone who isn’t me, in front of me”, and doesn’t need to be as personified as third person. Jon once again used “End recording” at the end of the ~statement~, which is… a reminder that 1°) these aren’t really statements as we knew them (Jon has never labelled them as such; actually, the only times characters have mentioned “statement(s)” this season were dead people mentioning them in the tapes Jon was listening to in the first two episodes); 2°) there is still that recording/pouring-into-the-tapes thing going on, that Jon is aware of, even if the tapes weren’t relevant in this episode for themselves. Unclear whether Jon had any influence on the tape recorder clicking on both times in the episode, or whether it autonomously reacted to stuff (Jon&Martin approaching the Merry-Go-Round, Jon&Martin walking along the edge of it while the Not!Them was coming close… or just because Jon&Martin were chatting about personal things?).

Still *squint* at what the heck is happening thanks to/through the tape recorders at the moment – it still reminds me of Albrecht von Closen pouring out his stories to Jonathan Fanshawe, there is still the possibility that Jon is feeding the tapes themselves to create something even worse, and mmmmm… (New kinds of Leitner books?)

- I’ve already forgotten almost everything I used to know about English poetry, but lots of iambic constructions (up and down) combined with lots of ternary syntactic structures (round, circularity)? My references are mostly French, but the work on sounds really reminded me of Antonin Artaud’s – though way faster, fittingly, since it was also a relentless chase in which selves kept getting stolen and lost (and so was my attention). Beautiful piece, but ooft did it keep losing me before I was picked back up and forced to run with the words again.

Lots of themes that we had seen with the Circus in previous manifestations:

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name. NIKOLA: Not always, and it’s far too late for any of that. Nothing you see can help you. […] Tim… TIM: … Grimaldi. NIKOLA: Once, a long time ago, before Orsinov made me. And sometimes, even now, on special occasions. Like your brother!

(MAG128, Breekon) “When we left our destination, the mule whining at the new weight behind it, he would reach behind us and find a face, sagging, sloughing off its skull, and would pull it to him. He’d place it over the one he wore already, and he would laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Sometimes it fell off. Sometimes it stayed for weeks. I kept the face we chose, but I loved him for our levity, and the corpses piled ever higher. […] But with the Circus we were amongst our own kind at last. They all had names, true enough, but none would dare pretend that names were real. Faces changed more often than clothes, and nobody truly knew who anybody was, save for their function within the show. […] We didn’t like the puppet, when Orsinov began to carve it. It seemed wrong to us to try and bring one like us about; to create or remake it in such a solid, static shape. We were wrong, of course. When Orsinov carved into the thing that had once called itself Grimaldi, and fed the pieces they didn’t need to the shuddering organist, even we found ourselves impressed. And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me… and laughed… and laughed…”

Identity loss, the loss of self, permutability. But it’s interesting that it fit so well to the other Circus members we had encountered and… still was incredibly Hunt-y, with the premise of an ongoing chase where the victims become the new mob of predators (who may become victims once again if they are successful, etc.), taking place in a circular space, where things can never truly end. Really reminiscent of the concept of The Everchase, I feel? Fears bleeding into each other, etc.

(There could be something about a “(word) chain” of Fears, since MAG163 was mostly Slaughter/War and had bits of Corruption with the medical malpractices, then MAG164 was Corruption with what was identified as “strangers” being targeted more heavily, then MAG165 being Stranger with very a Hunt logic, which would lead to MAG166 going for Hunt… But I’m not really feeling it.)

- It wasn’t clear in MAG164, but this one also made explicit that people in the nightmares can’t really die-die – either they seem to respawn (or get stuck in a nightmare inside of a nightmare inside of a nightmare etc.?), either they just… can’t:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “There is a rumbling in the earth around him, as a tank speeds along its unstoppable path, and Charlie is immediately pulled under its tread. He has a moment of shocked horror, before being reduced to a smear in the mud. […] Next to his bleeding corpse, Charlie wakes from what passes for sleep in this place. A sergeant is yelling at him, screaming for him to take his gun and get into the waiting transport.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “And so they fall to frantic terror and conflict, just as vicious as it was when it was bearing down on you. You lie there in the fugue of vivid pain and feel that gentle rain from violence overhead, as some fall dead or close as this place lets you lie, for truly thus to die would be too eager an escape; and listen to the ebb and swell of slow, melodic wail that well you know conducts the flowing rhythm laced into this endless, faceless dance.”

Does The End feel cheated, or is the fear of dying (or the fear of not being allowed to die) enough to feed it? Will we meet a pocket mostly dominated by a facet of The End…?

- I wonder if we’ll meet people not yet taken by a “place” since we got a couple mentions of an outside/inside and people still coming in…

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “And people do still come to the village, for however thick the paranoia, however terrible the disease, there are worse things beyond.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “But no, for all the dreams of bounding, leaping off into the great Unknown, you see the ring of broken mewling wretches who have shown the sting that comes with such rejection of the truth, so seldom spoken yet inside you all, that there is no – way – off the merry-go-round. […] It’s not the same as what you had when first you climbed the brightly painted stairs, but not the worst “who” you have been.”

Are the places making people feel like they could leave/that there are newcomers, when they’ve actually been stuck here forever? Or are there people who are still “free” until they’re taken by one of the places? (I mean, outside of main characters: we already know that Daisy is tearing through these places, and that Basira is following her (though that… sounds like a Hunt nightmare in itself), and Jon was unable to tell where Melanie&Georgie were – so unless they’ve been taken by a Dark nightmare, they’re probably outside of the boxes somehow.)

- I’m still trying to narrow down what is making me feel uneasy this season so far, and it’s sadly not something that will be warned for in the content warnings: it’s… about the whole ideology regarding free-will, agency, guilt and responsibility.

So far, all the “nightmares” we have encountered made it clear that it was, yes, people prisoners of a nightmare tailored to make them suffer, but also in which… most of the violence was committed by people against people:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “Something moves outside, struggling to crawl upon a hundred reaching grasping hands. It shudders, and grips the earth, pulling itself along as nails rip free and skin scrapes loose. It is afraid of what it has become, and where it might be going. […] Outside, it is raining. Heavy drops fall, ice-cold and laced with salt; tears of voyeuristic delight from The Eyes that see and drink in all – it sinks into the dry cracked ground, and from the mud faces struggle to push themselves free and breathe. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] They cannot breach the surface, as the slick soil flows down their throats.

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Ishaan had been afraid, terrified that they were going to strap him to it, pin him to the Goliath’s hull like all the other flayed flags of war, striking fear into the hearts of the enemy. But instead they fed him to it, tossed him into its burning innards and sealed the hatch behind him. Now, his body has contorted itself to fit, his fingers clutched around the firing lever; pulling it frantically is the only thing that will reduce the impossible heat even for a moment. From the tiny slit in the metal, he can see other soldiers: baby-faced friends and the monstrous, pig-faced enemy, both falling beneath his iron coffin’s advance. He tries to cry, but his tears turn to steam. […] Hasanna’s eyes fall on the entrance to the tent, and she sees the line of civilians, stretching away into the distance. They are no less maimed, their agonies no more bearable; but there is simply no room. She tries to apologise – but instead, she closes the tent. […] Far in the distance, she sees Alexei look out over the battlefield, and her stomach turns at the detestable wrongness of his face. Alexei in turn looks out from deep in the trench. He catches sight of the enemy, their shrivelled rat-like heads causing the bile to rise in his throat.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “It is, alas, those who are unblemished that suffer worst. So incomprehensible is it that any from outside could be clean, that there might be another source or vector, the inspectors devise another theory: an invisible infection. A hundred Typhoid Marys spreading mildew and decay. […] For no one would speak up if Gillian Smith were to mark you infected, or declare you foreign. No one would lift a finger as they dragged you to the green. […] What Mrs Kim is… is scared. Scared of her neighbours, scared of her friends, scared of the moment when someone will smell the spreading patch of darkness on her back and decide she is infected, or remember she has only been in the village since her grandfather’s day, and judge her to be an outsider. Should she accuse someone else? Send them to the village green? Perhaps she might petition to join the council, though that would invite their attention as much as anything might. Even through the masks, Mrs Kim knows the looks she gets in the pub; but what can she do? When she hears the shouts outside and sees the smoke pouring from the thatched roof, she knows it is too late.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “The world in which the carousel will twirl is not the hollow hell you fear; it is the world. Just the world. A world where if you’d wish to have a name, it must be stolen, carved and pulled full-bloody from the frame of others who would wish in vain to hold their selfness close. You want a face? Take it. There are so many here; and those who cannot hold them, well, whoever chose to give them such a gift must take the blame, knowing they could never keep it in a world of so much thieving strangeness. […] You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people. […] then comes the briefest flash that surely now it’s done, so much, perhaps… the pain will be somewhat lessened. There’s no way it could hurt as much as you remember. But it does. And so of course, you scream, and scream; and curses, foul, obscene will tumble garbled over where there once sat other people’s lips or yours now gone, and teeth that once shone yellowed ivory a crimson in the flowing sanguine flood. And as you lie in agonies and fading dreams of personhood, of knowing who you were and what that might have meant, you hear the bitter whisper of recriminating seekers, who have found the treasure of their eager dreams, but see, it seems there’s not enough… for all. And so they fall to frantic terror and conflict, just as vicious as it was when it was bearing down on you. […] You are, of course, a faceless thing as well, and so should quickly match the pace of those who chase the self-same prey. But now, it is too late, they’ve gone. Their chase will not abate until their former friend is ripped apart in turn. And you have learned to wait. For there are many faces out upon the carousel, and many names that you might be. So bide your time a while and wait the coming of another one whose fate and face might sit upon your grinning carmine skull.

And I feel like there has been a shift compared to statements in previous seasons: it used to be monsters or eldritch things going after people, but we also got people trapped in these oppressive systems, who could have chosen their survival over others’… and still said “no”. Is that even possible in the nightmares? Are we assuming that people are constantly remade in order to keep the circles of violence going (in order to serve them) and that it’s going past a mere influence, that it’s erasing any responsibility in their actions? Or is it still an individual choice and are we heading towards the idea that anyone (or 99.99% of people) would choose to inflict direct violence against others if it means lessening their own pain? (I’m honestly super uncomfy about the latter idea, because it feels bleak and edgy to me, because it’s hard to forget that in this reasoning, marginalised people would always have it worse, and because it narratively feels like “cheating” to have Jon&Martin on the frontline, who are super fluffy and obviously wouldn’t push the other under a bus for their survival… while other people would just be eh, people. ;;) In summary: can people currently be held accountable for their actions, in the same way Daisy took responsibility for her Hunt-influenced actions, or are they deprived of any choice?

Interesting, though, is that in these nightmares, we… have never seen families or groups of friends, so far (Charlie had one, who seemed to exist just to get killed? The fungus village had neighbours who didn’t seem to know much about each other?). It feels like in rewriting reality, the Fears have also isolated people, fractured their previous social links to impose new “societies” with their own rules and mechanisms? Jon, at least, still labels them as “victims” even when aware of what is happening:

(MAG165) MARTIN: Because, uh… [LOWER] I really don’t like the look of those riders. ARCHIVIST: Would you believe me if I said they were the victims? MARTIN: … At this point, I’m not even surprised.

But I’m kind of wary and expecting an argument to be made about how Human Nature Is Fundamentally Selfish or something like this, precisely when The Web is lurking around and had such a knack for the theme of free will… ;;

- What does Jon know that he’s not sharing with Martin? He confirmed that they needed to “experience” these places to reach the Panopticon:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: Martin… It’s going to be a hard journey. MARTIN: [RELIEVED EXHALE] ARCHIVIST: One– MARTIN: Yeah, yeah, yeah– ARCHIVIST: –in which we… MARTIN: –so, I’ve actually had a couple of bags packed for a while, now! [HEAVY ITEM DROPPED] ARCHIVIST: Oh! MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps.

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: And if you walk towards it, eventually you’ll get there. But you have to go through everything in-between. […] Nightmares. [BANG IN THE DISTANCE] Come on – that trench is our first. […] MARTIN: Jon… I’m scared. ARCHIVIST: … Yes… That’s the idea…!

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: We’re fine. MARTIN: A–are we? I mean, that place is– … I don’t, I don’t feel fine, okay, and you were there a long time doing your… y–you–your guidebook, which, you know, I get it, but that place is… I–it’s–it’s infectious, and, I don’t– ARCHIVIST: We’re not infected, Martin, that place, it– … It isn’t for us.

(MAG165) MARTIN: But. You said we needed to go through these places. … Is that even going to work here? ARCHIVIST: Uh… [EXHALE] We need to go through them… metaphorically. MARTIN: Mm… ! ARCHIVIST: Psychologically, we need to… “experience” them. MARTIN: Hm! [SILENCE] D’you think we could get that experience just… walking along the edge?

And his explanation of what they need to do is getting a bit more precise every time.

* It’s not only about Jon experiencing the places, it’s about them experiencing the places. Makes sense since they’re on a journey to the Panopticon, but still interesting: Jon gets overwhelmed by the places to the point of needing to do his “guidebook”; Martin doesn’t, past his discomfort/casual fears, but it’s working anyway. What is happening with Jon…?

* Fear.jpg because “experiencing” them had been mentioned by Elias/Jonah as a way to prepare Jon towards his goals:

(MAG092) ELIAS: [SIGH] What are you? ARCHIVIST: I… The Archivist. ELIAS: Precisely. It is your job to chronicle these things, to experience them, whether first-hand or through the eyes of others. To simply be told, well… ARCHIVIST: It doesn’t please your master? ELIAS: Our master, Jon.

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Because the thing about the Archivist is that… well: it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named “the Archive”. Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon – you are a record of fear. Both in mind, as you walk the shuddering dread of each statement; and in body, as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror.”

So what is happening exactly…? Is it because Jon simply needs to “experience” the various layers of the new world before reaching the centre of the storm? Are these steps actually “undoing” — or furthering — something…?

- Also confirmation that Martin&Jon seem immune to what is happening, as long as they don’t push their luck:

(MAG161) MARTIN: … Are we still safe? ARCHIVIST: Y–yes, it… it doesn’t want to harm me. MARTIN: And me? ARCHIVIST: I won’t let it.

(MAG163) MARTIN: Good. Good. [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY PANTING] … J–J–Jon, Jon, w–we’re not alone. ARCHIVIST: I–ignore them, they’re not… Just ignore them. MARTIN: … They’re not… real? [VOICES SHOUTING IN THE DISTANCE] ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLING] No…! They’re real; they were… normal people before the– … Before me. But now they’re here, meat for the grinder. I just mean there’s no point… talking to them. MARTIN: Don’t be a prick, Jon. Hey! I’m, I’m sorry about him. He’s–he’s going through a lot – well… we all are, I suppose, but well… “Hi”, I guess. [SILENCE] Hello? ARCHIVIST: They won’t hear you, Martin, they’re all… too busy waiting to die.

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: Either way, best not to actually climb onto the thing, if we could help it. […] MARTIN: You, you sure? [CHUCKLING] I could speak to an attendant! ARCHIVIST: [CAUTIOUS] I would advise against doing that. […] MARTIN: Jon, do we– do we need to run? NOT!SASHA: Oh, yes, Martin, you very much do. I’ll even give you a head start! ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLE] MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: You’re bold! [FOOTSTEPS] I’ll give you that. NOT!SASHA: [HISSING] Last chance…! ARCHIVIST: Desperate for one last morsel of terror from us? NOT!SASHA: [HISSES] ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLE] A final sip, and then we’re gone! Somehow we manage to keep just ahead of you and get away. NOT!SASHA: [SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: God forbid you actually catch us. NOT!SASHA: [FURIOUS SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t bear thinking about…! MARTIN: Jon, what are you talking about? NOT!SASHA: [FURIOUS SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: She can’t touch us. We’re so far beyond her now. NOT!SASHA: [FURIOUS SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: She’s just like everything else here, ruled by The Eye. [CHUCKLING] And she hates it…!

Is it only because Jon is the Archivist, is it thanks to their connection to the Institute/the Eye (… after all, Basira apparently wasn’t taken)? What would happen to Martin if he were to be separated from Jon?

Also curious that both the Not!Them and The Distortion are what I would label “monsters” (as Martin&Simon did in MAG151), and yet the Not!Them was shown trapped… and Helen is roaming free. Did The Distortion lie about its own contentment in the new world? Did it get a better seat thanks to its connection to the Institute, since its Door had often appeared in the tunnels? (Helen had told Jon that this is how she knew a bit more about the tunnels, back in season 4.)

- Martin’s poetry is back as a theme! (Not included: Tim recording over one of Martin’s poems in MAG079.)

(MAG042) ARCHIVIST: I’m glad [Martin]’s moved out of the Archives, as it gives me a chance to work here without his constant presence. Also because he managed to leave some of his possessions behind. For the most part it’s just a few books of… relatively awful poetry… There are a few pieces I feel could almost have been affecting if his style wasn’t so obviously enamoured with Keats […].

(MAG124) MARTIN: Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, I’m… I’m alright, uh… Everything’s… fine. ARCHIVIST: … Right. Hum. … H–how’s… How–how’s the poetry? MARTIN: Oh, uh– Well, I haven’t… exactly had a lot of time recently, so… ARCHIVIST: Yes, uh… Of course… MARTIN: Hm. ARCHIVIST: You’ve been busy. MARTIN: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: …

(MAG165) MARTIN: So was it any good? ARCHIVIST: U–uh… What do you mean? MARTIN: Was it a good poem? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know! “No”? You’re the poetry expert, Martin, not me…! MARTIN: Well, did it stir any feeling in you? ARCHIVIST: Yes! “Nausea”. Because of the horrible things in it! MARTIN: That’s not quite what I meant. ARCHIVIST: Then I don’t know what you mean, Martin, I’m not a poetry person, I don’t… “get it”. I never have. MARTIN: That’s… That’s fine, I understand…! ARCHIVIST: Look. I’m better than I was; I used to think all poetry was bad. MARTIN: Sorry, what?! ARCHIVIST: I mean, I just thought of… [SIGH] I sort of thought it was pointless! Just… write some prose and stop… wasting everyone’s time! MARTIN: Hm! What changed? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, I just… mellowed on it, I suppose. MARTIN: That’s… kind of weird. ARCHIVIST: In my defence, there is a lot of bad poetry out there.

* With this new information: it’s actually BIG from Jon that he had qualified Martin’s poetry as “almost affecting” given his personal feelings about poetry in general.

* Obviously, I want to tease Jon mercilessly about the idea that he began to mellow down on poetry since someone he was developing a crush on liked it so much… But also, just simply, people’s tastes change.

* … Okay, so if Jon managed to survive uni without getting poetry at all, either he did really well besides that, either it rules out that his degree might have been in literature. (History could fit him well?)

* … I find it interesting how Martin somehow managed to… not say anything about himself in this episode? We learned a few things about Jon – that he had fond memories of the London Zoo carousel, that he was in a bad mental space at a point before the Institute (break-up with Georgie? Being thrown in a new city for his academic studies, leaving Bournemouth? “Regular” student stress?), that he doesn’t get poetry but that his opinion has changed on it a bit.

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: Either way, best not to actually climb onto the thing, if we could help it. MARTIN: Fine – by – me, eh! Never really liked merry-go-rounds anyway. ARCHIVIST: No? You… gone on any recently? MARTIN: What? Uh– No, I don’t think so, not since I was a kid. ARCHIVIST: Hm! I actually, uh… There’s one at London Zoo – uh, was one at London Zoo. Big old thing. Went quite fast, actually, su–… [CHUCKLE] Surprisingly thrilling. MARTIN: [BURSTS OUT LAUGHING] ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Seriously? ARCHIVIST: It was years back, before the Institute, I… I was in a weird place. Had a good time, though! MARTIN: [CHUCKLES] Well! ARCHIVIST: I mean, obviously I wouldn’t want to ride this one, we’ve got… quite enough thrills already. MARTIN: You, you sure? [CHUCKLING] I could speak to an attendant! ARCHIVIST: [CAUTIOUS] I would advise against doing that. [SILENCE]

But Martin? Asked questions for Jon to answer, but managed to avoid having to tell anything about his own past. It’s not really surprising, it’s kinda fitting – Martin has probably got into the habit of not telling much about himself because of his fake credentials and his fake age? But still, I wonder if he will talk about himself at some point… (I still feel like we’re missing his own perspective on his mother or Tim, for example, since these subjects were mostly mentioned by other people and Martin only even mentioned his mother’s death when he poured his heart out at Peter&Elias in MAG158).

- I randomly really really love Martin’s nasal “Fine by me”:

(MAG102) ARCHIVIST: What about Daisy? MARTIN: Don’t see her much. Which is fine by me. [UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE]

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: Either way, best not to actually climb onto the thing, if we could help it. MARTIN: Fine – by – me, eh! Never really liked merry-go-rounds anyway.

Martin…

- … So, hearing Not!Sasha like this confirms that she didn’t “take” Julia or Trevor! (I guess that one of them could have died from her attack or Daisy’s, but… at the very least, the Not!Them didn’t take on a new identity through them.)

- There are various ways of interpreting what the Not!Them said about Martin:

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: And what if I let you choose this time, which one of you would I wear next? Martin looks very comfortable, positively roomy; oh, wouldn’t you agree, Archivist~?

… and my favourites are either that Martin indeed big, either she was making a tease about them (aND THEY’VE BEEN ROOMMATES).

- Jon Has Upgraded – the Not!Them used to call him “Jon” as a taunt, and now…

(MAG078) NOT!SASHA (HEAVILY DISTORTED, DISTANT): Jooooonnnn… ARCHIVIST: Er… I… [SOUND OF A CREAKY DOOR OPENING] MICHAEL: You – need – a door.

(MAG079) NOT!SASHA (DISTANT): Jooooonnnn… ARCHIVIST: Oh Christ. […] NOT!SASHA (DISTANT): Jooooon… Jooooon… Come out, come out, wherever you are. ARCHIVIST: [SCARED BREATHING] NOT!SASHA (DISTANT): It’s okay Jon; it’s Sasha. Reliable old Sasha. Nothing to be afraid of. … You seem stressed, Jon. You’ve been under a lot of pressure. You should talk about it. Have a real good chat. You like talking, don’t you, Jon? … I’m going to wear you, Jon. […] I’m glad we got a chance to run, Jon. It makes it so much more satisfying.

(MAG158) NOT!SASHA: [MUFFLED, HEAVILY DISTORTED] Jooo–ooon~! [SOUND OF STONE AND BRICK SHIFTING, LOUDER, THEN GRADUALLY STOPPING] NOT!SASHA: [HEAVILY DISTORTED] [PANTS] So you finally decided to let me out, Jon! Joooo–oooon~! … Who’s there? MARTIN: [PANICKED BREATHING] NOT!SASHA: Who let me out? [SILENCE] Don’t be shy. I just want to say thank you. [SILENCE] All right, have it your way. Now, if you’ll excuse me: I have some unfinished business. [MENACING SATISFIED LAUGHTER] […] [CRASHING SOUND] NOT!SASHA: Hello, Jon. DAISY: Oh, shit! ARCHIVIST: You gotta be fucking kidding m–

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Eh! My dearest colleagues…! MARTIN: Just get back! [THUMP] NOT!SASHA: I can’t believe you’d decide to pass through my neighbourhood and not say hello, to – dear – old – Sasha. ARCHIVIST: Just ignore it, Martin. NOT!SASHA: Oh, you wound me, Archivist. And we used to be so close! […] And what if I let you choose this time, which one of you would I wear next? Martin looks very comfortable, positively roomy; oh, wouldn’t you agree, Archivist~?

… it’s “Archivist”. He’s really had a special status/power-up, uh?

- So, The Distortion is having a blast in the new world (MAG164), or so it says… but it’s not fundamentally the case for all monsters/avatars out there. It makes sense for The Stranger since it had been presented as opposed to The Eye:

(MAG079) NOT!SASHA: So the monster got its friends to carry the table all around, and it still got to take faces and scare people. Then one day it was sent to the house of its enemy, which had the biggest eyes you ever did see. The monster was sent there to steal all its secrets, but it was sad because it couldn't scare anyone any more.

(MAG092) ELIAS: The Stranger is antithetical to us. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH HEAVILY] ELIAS: We thrive on ceaseless watching, on knowing too much. What we face is the hidden, the uncanny, and the unknown. If you are to stop them, you need to get better at seeing. And my explaining things is simply not enough.

(MAG119) SARAH: You… idiot! Do you really think the world will fare any better under the Watcher? You think you’re saving anyone?

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: She’s just like everything else here, ruled by The Eye. [CHUCKLING] And she hates it…! NOT!SASHA: Well, of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master! Do you know how it feels? To be… anonymous, and yet known? To have all the sweetest dread I can create tainted by the relentless gaze of that damned Eye! I’ve suffered enough!

So people from the (survivors of the) cult of the Divine Host probably won’t be extremely happy about it either – we know that some were still roaming around, Jon had mentioned seeing people with the pendant at the beginning of season 4. Martin mentioned their lack of allies in MAG164, are we heading towards them getting some “help” from unsatisfied avatars…?

- ;; I said I would put the Not!Them amongst the “monsters”, but technically… the victims in the carousel felt like proto-Not!Them themselves? And Not!Sasha had enough reasoning to try to go into denial – pretending that it could still catch and hurt Jon&Martin, while it knew that it couldn’t anyway, but ready to create the illusion that it could. That’s some very human mental structure…

- Sob, but also:

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: Pathetic. [SHRILL SCREAMS] Martin, let’s go. NOT!SASHA: Not as pathetic as your little friend when I ate her life…!

… I really like the description of what she did as “eating Sasha’s life”: it was not only that it killed her; it’s that it erased and reshaped her whole life as a memory and a possible influence on others…

- ;; I’m even happier that we got Sasha’s tapes at the beginning of season 5, because it brought her back as a presence, as an existence, and not only as the concept of “the friend we lost but can’t really remember”. The Not!Them getting killed closes a very long chapter: Sasha’s murder at the end of season 1, which was a wound that kept being reopened (Jon realising that she had died long ago, then Martin&Tim having to learn about it; Nikola teasing Jon about her during The Unknowing; the Not!Them getting freed during the season 4 climax), the fact that the Not!Them had been spotted and described as soon as in MAG003, and also… the first time we heard of Adelard Dekker was when he imprisoned it within the Web table?

I’m especially ;; that The Stranger regularly used Sasha’s murder against Jon, and that it has always been a sore spot… until he snapped:

(MAG079) NOT!SASHA (DISTANT): … I’m going to wear you, Jon. I’m going to wear everything you are. Like you never existed. Noone will even know. And it will hurt. Oh, yes, it will hurt. It hurt Sasha. ARCHIVIST: Shut up! NOT!SASHA (CLOSE AND DISTORTED): There you are. […] ARCHIVIST: [WHISPERING] I’m sorry. Martin, Tim… Sasha. I’m so sorry. I should have… I didn’t… I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.

(MAG096) ARCHIVIST: He was a–a tax inspector. He came here, and Daniel Rawlings, or his replacement, showed him something he claimed to be the oldest piece of taxidermy in the world. Gorilla skin from Carthage. SARAH: Heh, was this when you sent your “Sasha” to interrogate us? ARCHIVIST: Don’t you dare talk about– DAISY: Sims. Sims. Shut up and focus.

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: Who are you?! NIKOLA: Who am I? Tim, of course! Who else would I be! ARCHIVIST: You’re not– you’re not… Tim. NIKOLA: Oh, you caught me~ I’m… Sasha! ARCHIVIST: Shut up! NIKOLA: No~! Really, it’s me! Sasha– whatever her name was! Back from the dead, just like you wanted~! ARCHIVIST: Get away from me, or, or I swear I’ll… I’ll…

I mean. Yes, if Jon had to lose his temper and go terrifying due to feelings, it would be about Sasha’s murder ;;

- It’s also jarring how Jon used to be terrorised and victimised by monsters, and took the upper hand this time: the dynamic between him and the Not!Them in this episode was an extreme reversal of what had happened at the end of season 2. I’m also curious about how “Jon using his powers against other monsters” has felt more and more threatening over time:

(MAG091) ARCHIVIST: What, I? I–I didn’t– [RUSTLING NOISES] Plea– Please don’t shoot me… [SOUNDS OF PANIC] [STATIC] W–why are you doing this? Tell me! [GURGLES MORE AS DAISY GRABS HIM ROUND THE THROAT] DAISY: Stop – asking – questions.

(MAG101) MICHAEL: I had hoped that you would stop the Unknowing first, destroy the workings of I-Do-Not-Know-You. But instead you are here, and may bring it about faster. So better your death happens now…! ARCHIVIST: I… [STATIC] Is there anything I can do to stop you from killing me? MICHAEL: [LAUGHS] If you scream loud enough the Circus may take notice of me, but… I promise you will die far more pleasantly with me than with them. [MORE LAUGHTER]

(MAG119) NIKOLA&GERTRUDE: A terrible new world and it’s all your fault. GERTRUDE&LEITNER: Though I suppose you never really had a chance ARCHIVIST: … I see you. NIKOLA: Do you, now? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name. NIKOLA: Not always, and it’s far too late for any of that. Nothing you see can help you.

(MAG128) BASIRA: Get. Out. [STATIC RISES] BREEKON: Make. Me. [RATTLING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Stop. [HIGH-PITCHED BUZZING SOUND OVER STATIC] BREEKON: What’re you doing? BASIRA: … Jon…? What are you doing? BREEKON: What’re you– Stop it… Stop it! ARCHIVIST: [ECHOING] No. BREEKON: [STRUGGLING, BUZZING INCREASES] Enough! Stop… looking at me! [SCREAMS] [DOOR SLAMMED OPEN, FLEEING FOOTSTEPS WHILE BREEKON IS STILL SCREAMING, DOOR SLAMMING SHUT] ARCHIVIST: [PANTS] [HIGH-PITCHED BUZZING SOUND FADES] BASIRA: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: It’s fine…!

(MAG159) ARCHIVIST: … I, I don’t understand. PETER: And you won’t. Not from me. I’m done. ARCHIVIST: Tell me. [STATIC RISES] PETER: I’m. Not saying. Another. Word. [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: Tell me, or I will rip it out of you! [STATIC INCREASES] PETER: [STRUGGLING] No…! ARCHIVIST: Answer. My question! PETER: NO! Leave – me – ALONE! [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: TELL ME! PETER: [GROANING SCREAM] [RIPPING, EXPLODING SOUND] [STATIC FADES] ARCHIVIST: … Stubborn fool…

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC INCREASES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It is time that I emerge…” [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] […] I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! MARTIN: W–wow, okay… ARCHIVIST: But, when I thought it… the–there was… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] There was something else. Th–this place, it… it didn’t want me, it… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] didn’t want us to go.

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Not as pathetic as your little friend when I ate her life…! [RUMBLING SOUND] [THE CALLIOPE MUSIC DERAILS, TAKES A HIGHER PITCH] ARCHIVIST: … What did you say? [STATIC RISING: LOW AND SPIRALLING, PRESSURING] NOT!SASHA: [SHAKY BREATHES] I’m–I’m sorry… MARTIN: Jon? ARCHIVIST: You were wrong, you know. NOT!SASHA: [GASPS] [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: There is more suffering than you can ever experience, so much more. The horror of your victims… NOT!SASHA: [CRIES OF PAIN] ARCHIVIST: Their constant, senseless agony… NOT!SASHA: [CRIES OF PAIN] [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: Feel it now. Understand it. You have drawn out so much despair, and now finally, it’s your turn. [STATIC INCREASES] [DIGITAL GLITCHING SOUNDS] Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing! [STATIC INCREASES, WITH MORE PRESSURE] NOT!SASHA: No! No, please, no…! [DIGITAL BURSTING, RIPPING SOUNDS] NOT!SASHA: [FADING] No…! [STATIC DECREASES AND FADES] ARCHIVIST: [PANTS]

Jon used to rely on compulsion to try to struggle his way out (when it was his only weapon), in a panic. But since MAG119, it has begun to feel as if something was coming out from it, as if he were possessed? It really feels like something is trying to come out (and we precisely began the season with The Eye wanting the cabin to be his “chrysalis” and Jon announcing that “he” would emerge…). There also had been a clear escalation in his use of his powers: from giving Tim the tools to prevent Nikola from achieving The Unknowing, to stopping Breekon when he was ready to fight Basira, to compelling Peter to death while Peter was resisting, to… an execution, triggered by his anger. Jon had made a point to tell Martin that the Not!Them couldn’t harm them; it was a murder purely motivated by anger. The Not!Them had it coming, and it’s really interesting that Jon weaponised the suffering of the Not!Them’s victims to force it to feel pain (so, a case of… forcing empathy on it?), but… still a murder, still scary, still concerning that Jon did that when Martin and him weren’t threatened, and that it happened when Jon’s feelings got out of hand.

(Jon, you’re just a shounen anime protagonist gdi.)

- And Jon did nooooooot feel fine with it:

(MAG165) MARTIN: … Whoa–oh–oh! ARCHIVIST: I, uh… MARTIN: What was that?! ARCHIVIST: … I–I destroyed it. [ECHOING CREAKING SOUNDS] Ki–killed her. MARTIN: Are you kidding me, you–you obliterated her! You… you smote her! [ECHOING CREAKING SOUNDS] ARCHIVIST: We, we should go. MARTIN: What about the merry-go-round? With her gone, is it, is it still th– ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know! MARTIN: [CHUCKLING] Yes you do! ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t… want to know, plea– We need to go. [SHUFFLING] Please. MARTIN: Oh, oh, okay. A–alright. Alright. Lead on. [CREAKING SOUNDS]

* Martin sounded… kinda very very into it (mARTIN), not surprised – Martin was already ready to use whatever he can even if it means compromising himself. Jon sounded more upset, so I’m half-expecting them to discuss this at some point?

* It had already felt a bit like it with Peter (when Jon mentioned the powers of The Eye in relation to The Lonely), but it was way worse here: … Jon really felt like an actual priest of Beholding when he obliterated the Not!Them. As if he was accepting it as a god, and himself as its agent, able to channel its powers.

* It was also SO CLOSE to what Elias did to Melanie and Martin, with the whole implanting memories/truths in someone’s head to make them suffer… oofffft ;;

* ;; I’m. Also very concerned about the fact that the end of the episode seems to imply that Jon made it worse for the victims in the carousel, since we can hear it creaking. Has he just condemned these people to an actual death, or to worse doom? If it turns out that Jon has powers allowing him to have an effect on these nightmares, the fact he chooses to remain an observer and only “uses” the place to experience them will feel iffier and iffier… ;;

- Welp, it does clear up right away why The Web hasn’t tried to contact Jon directly. On a scale from calling his partner while Jon himself is further away to directly taunting him, how much self-preservation instinct do you have?

MAG166’s title is… interesting, because?? Corruption?? But it also feels too easy?? (And would be the biggest Middle Finger at something Smirke mentioned in MAG138.) I see a way in which it could potentially be Hunt, or Flesh, or Vast, or Buried, or End, or Web (well… it’s more like there’s an existing connection for that one + RQ’s teasing about Web stuff this week), but, wow. Bold move.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag165 #tma season 4 #the magnus archives #tma liveblog #tma spoilers/#long post/

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howtohero · 4 years

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#276 The Self-Help Guide for Child Sidekicks

It has come to our attention that despited our best efforts and repeated attempts to prevent such things, many superheroes are still employing child sidekicks. (Read: child soldiers in their war on crime.) This is, obviously, still a horrible idea as most supervillain attacks are home to poison fumes, fear toxins, zombie carnivores and lots of loose knives, all things that children are famously not supposed to be around. And yet, we’ve seen time and time again that superheroes will actively recruit children, usually orphans, to help them fight crime. (I guess you can still call it a “one-man crusade on crime” if the person you’re waging it with is not a man but a child.) So, we’ve decided that it’s time for a new approach. Today we’re going to reach out directly to the children... Children still read advice blogs right? (Definitely.)

So, hello children, how are you today? Gleefully beating up henchmen in dark alleys? Kicking terrorists in the shins? Fab fab fab. Now, how would you like to stop doing all of that because, as it would turn out, all that stuff is extremely dangerous and you are a child and that is not the kind of stuff you should be doing at all. And look, I get it, you’ve got incredible powers, or a knack for kick flips, or an insatiable thirst for justice, and that’s great. Your heart is definitely in the right place. Nobody understands the desire to use your incredible powers for good at such a young age better than me. (Except, probably, for people who actually have superpowers at a young age.) But you’re simply not ready to go out into the field and busting skulls quite yet. Instead you should take this time to hone your abilities so that when it comes time for you to enter the crime fighting world you can start out as an experienced and professional hero who doesn’t accidentally blow up a school or get gross webbing everywhere.

As a young superhuman it is important that you don’t allow yourself to be swayed by the rhetoric of established superheroes. They’re going to tell you that you can be a valuable asset in the field, and that many supervillains are actually terrified of ten-year-olds in tights but don’t listen to them! They are most likely lying. (There is, admittedly, a thirty percent chance that they’re actually just stupid, lotta stupid superheroes out there. More than you’d think.) Trust me, all they’re thinking about is securing their legacy. They just want you to train you to be just like them so that you can take over their superhero identity when they retire or die or get shunted into another dimension. And I’m gonna let you in a little secret, they’re never going to retire and pass their mantle on to you. It’s a false promise! You’re just going to be another in a long line of proteges, apprentices, and sidekicks that get led on until you somehow grow older than the hero you’re working for. Don’t believe me? At the time of this writing there have been 388 different Hatboys. Anyone have a guess as to how many Hatmans (Hatmen?) there have been during that time? It’s 1. Hatman has always been Hatman. Still don’t believe me? Let’s take a look at what’s happened to some of those Hatboys.

Hatboy #1: Went to college. (Nerd.) Hatboy #2: Was turned into a crowbar by a wizard. (Was then lost in a big pile of crowbars that Hatman used to keep lying around.) Hatboy #23: Asked when Hatman planned on dying so he could become Hatman. Was arrested for “threatening the life of a beloved superhero.” Hatboy #46: Stung by a wasp and decided he was not cut out for the superhero life. Hatboy #73: The only female Hatboy to date. She left Hatman’s tutelage pretty quickly and struck out on her own. She goes by the name Helm Lady now and she’s actually doing quite well for herself. Hatboy #74: Eaten by a shark. Hatboy #79: Beaten to death with Hatboy #2. (Hatboy #2 was subsequently lost again. Nobody involved realized that he was the crowbar used to kill Hatboy #79.) Hatboy #86: The “forgotten Hatboy”, only showed up on one mission with Hatman and was never seen again. When asked by How To Hero about this Hatboy Hatman told us “there was never an 86th Hatboy”. Hatboy #100: The hundredth Hatboy! Can you believe some people actually thought this guy would be the one to take over Hatman’s legacy. Ha! Joke’s on them. He turned out to be a cyborg sent from the future to kill Hatman. Technically the closest any Hatboy has gotten to taking on Hatman’s mantle. Hatboy #115: Sprained his ankle and was told by a doctor that he couldn’t fight crime for a few months. Hatman promptly returned him to the orphanage from whence he came (can you even do that?????) and had his memory erased. (What??????) Hatboy #166: Stung by bees, had an allergic reaction, taken to hospital, hospital ended up being a front for evil bees, every doctor was actually several evil bees in a lab coat, Hatboy stung several more times, has several more allergic reactions, quits. Hatboy #167: Hatboy #166′s twin. He got annoyed that Hatman kept calling him his brother’s name. Quit. Hatboy #173: Accidentally launched out of a cannon. Never seen again. Hatboy #180: Lost in enchanted woods. Hatboy #182: Actually a tiny supervillain. Hatboy #193: Trapped in Opera House of Doom. Hatboy #195 and Hatboy #196: The first and only time Hatman decided to employ two Hatboys at the same time. They killed each other after a dispute about which of them Hatman loved more. (A stupid argument, Hatman didn’t much care for either of them.) Hatboy #203: Turned into a crocodile. Is doing just fine now. Hatboy #209: Cloned and then fired for violating Hatman’s strict but fair “no clones” policy. Hatboy #213: 213... 2 13... 13 twice... that’s unlucky two times. Like hell was Hatman going to keep a guy like that around. Shortest time as Hatboy at three seconds. Hatboys #214-233: After 213 failed Hatboys the local orphanage banned Hatboy from adopting anymore orphans so the next 20 Hatboys were imaginary. Unfortunately, not even nonexistence was enough to protect these brave Hatboys from suffering horrifying and grisly fates. Hatboy #234: The first new real Hatboy in three years. In an effort to show the rest of the superhero and orphanage community that he could keep a Hatboy safe, this Hatboy was never allowed outside until he turned thirty. By this time he was too large for the Hatboy costume, so he was fired. Hatboy #235: Hatboy’s back bay-beeee and cooler than ever! This Hatboy had spiked green hair, cool sunglasses, a skate board, and pet monkey. Easily the coolest Hatboy ever. Shame about the thing with the immovable mass of dark thoughts though. Hatboy #266: Eaten by that same shark from before. Apparently it acquired a taste for Hatboys. It now goes by the name Sidekick Snapper and it is still at large, so if that doesn’t turn you off from being a sidekick I don’t know what to tell you. Hatboy #272: Accidentally run over by the Hatmobile. Hatboy #279: Part witch, melted when it rained. Hatboy #280: Part ice pop, melted in the sun. Hatboy #283: As part of an attempt at synergy between this blog and the superhero community, this Hatboy was actually our very own Curly! {It was not fun let me tell you. On day three he had me scrubbing out the(All right nobody wants to hear it let’s move on to the next one!) Hey!} Hatboy #294: Tried to push Hatman in front of a train to avenge his predecessors. It didn’t work obviously. If Hatman had a dime for every time he got pushed in front of a train he’d be three times as rich as he already is. He’s trained for this. He knows how to survive being pushed in front of a train. (We can’t give away all of his tricks, but it essentially boils down to “not letting the train hit you.”) Hatboy #300: The three hundredth Hatboy! A party was thrown in the Hat Cave and all of the still living Hatboys were in attendance. (All 32 of them!) At the party they cornered the new Hatboy and held an intervention during which they convinced Hatboy 300 to get the heck out of there and never return. Hatboy #315: Fell in love with an elf princess from a magical realm in New York’s sewer system. Hatboy #330: Ended up on the wrong side of a superhero civil war. Hatboy #349: Stared directly at an eclipse, was temporarily blinded, and was then kidnapped by a giant bird. Hatboy #355: Tripped and fell onto a landmine. Hatboy #368: Brainwashed into becoming a terrifying assassin. Hatboy #379: Struck out on his own and became the superhero Dark Brood to reflect his new mature and humorless disposition. Hatboy #380: “Misplaced.” Hatboy #388: The current Hatboy, he’s doing quite well actually... for now.

If the horrible fates of these Hatboys aren’t enough to dissuade you from a career as a sidekick, what’s the matter with you!? The life of a sidekick is not as glamorous as it’s made out to be. You’re essentially an unpaid intern with a high mortality rate. You’re going to be getting coffee, picking up dry cleaning, preparing meals, waxing and buffing and repainting hat-shaped vehicles, fighting the gross and weird henchmen that your boss doesn’t want to deal with. It sucks! And for what? So you can get eaten by a shark or lost at the nightmare mall? It’s just not worth it.

Instead what you should do is band together with other superpowered children and pressure one of the older heroes into mentoring you as a group. It’s like forming a sidekick’s union. You’ll look out for each other in a way the adults won’t. You’ll make sure nobody is put into situations that are too dangerous for them to handle. You’ll grow as a group and forge unbreakable bonds, and when you all grow up, you’re going to be a generation of superheroes the likes of which the world has never seen!

Right now you’re in a great position. You have powers, and you know you want to do good with them. So take some time now, find others like you, receive proper training and when the time comes, you and your team will take the world by storm. Don’t rush into things. Don’t fall under the spell of a charismatic older hero that doesn’t care about anything but himself. Don’t rob yourself of the change to be truly great! (We regret to inform you that Hatboy #388 was just hurled at a lava giant in a failed attempt to slow it down.)

#superhero #superheroes #comics #comedy #humor #funny #advice #sidekicks #child sidekicks #Hatman #Hatboy #The Sidekick Snapper #magical realms #supervillains #self-help

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

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A Text Adventure Review: Enchanter by Infocom

Hopefully the Council of Elders can ignore how I BLORBed myself on the second turn and we can move on to ending the wicked reign of the vile Sorcerer Krill without ever mentioning it.

I don't like to criticize the Council of Elders because I don't want to live the rest of my life as a toad but what kind of sorcerous douchebags send an apprentice wizard out on a dangerous mission with just his spellbook? The entire beginning of this game is foraging for food and water so that I don't die of thirst or hunger before I die from Krill's lightning bolt or fireball. At least start me off with the BERZIO spell, you tightwads! After loading up on supplies and learning the REZROV spell from some old crone in a deserted village, I REZROV my way into the castle. As I do so, Krill probes my mind. But sensing nothing but incompetence and a teetering house of anxiety built on a crumbling foundation of Impostor Syndrome, he shrugs his shoulders and returns to his dark work. Speaking of dark work, I FROTZ my battered brass lantern so that I won't be eaten by a Grue. While stumbling around the castle, I discovered a beautiful jeweled egg that could be opened. Not by somebody as moronic and clumsy as me of course! So I just smashed it open to discover a damaged scroll inside. And because magic can solve any problem, I simply cast KREBF (which I found on a scroll just outside the castle) on the egg and the scroll, fixing them both. I'm perplexed that the KREBF spell wasn't the first spell taught to me by the Council of Elders, seeing as how I fuck up everything I touch.

For those uninitiated with magic, here are what some of the spells I mentioned earlier do.

Parlor Magician After discovering the ZIFMIA scroll by KREBFing it and the egg, I found I was no longer a Charlatan! I was growing as an enchanter! Soon, I'd be powerful enough to be probed by my father and he'd have to acknowledge me! I mean Krill. Krill will have to acknowledge me. My main goal as a Parlor Magician was to grow my book of spells. After adding the EXEX spell (make things move with greater speed) and the VAXUM spell (make a hostile creature your friend), I decided I had enough spells to solve another problem: a door so well guarded by magical creatures that I had no hope of ever getting through it. See, I had a dream about an idiot who was too dumb to see the illusions on the door and thus was safe from harm. And my cousin, the treasure hunting jerk exploring The Great Underground Kingdom, was just the dolt to open that door! I had seen him previously in a large mirrored hallway so all I had to do was ZIFMIA him, VAXUM him, and lure him to the door by showing him my beautiful jeweled egg! Then by motioning to the door, the moron would simply walk right past the danger, saving me the trouble of disenchanting the illusion before I could get through the door. And with that accomplished, I was stronger than ever before! I was a Novice! Novice Enchanter At this point, I simply lost track of when I went up a rank which means I'll be fudging these headers. After becoming a novice, I think I helped gave meaning to the life of some stupid turtle when I allowed him to help me find a powerful scroll (not the powerful scroll. Just a powerful scroll!). I thanked him like all good and decent people would do but I don't think I scored any points for thanking him. That was a missed opportunity to really confuse people by allowing them to win the game with 395 out of 400 points because they were rude and didn't thank the turtle. Speaking of winning with only 395 points out of 400, I have something to admit when I get to the end of this...review? Um, what do I call this thing where I sort of discuss the game but also sort of just act like it's a story I'm writing but then also tell stories about my personal life that nobody actually wants to hear? Intermediate Enchanter I probably leveled up after helping the turtle. It makes sense since you get points simply for eating and drinking in this game. I figured I was powerful enough to steal the powerful scroll (the actual powerful scroll!) from The Terror's weird lair at this point. So I found my idiot cousin and forced him to give me the map and pencil he'd taken earlier because he's a greedy dick. Using the magic map and magic pencil, I freed The Terror from his cell by drawing a line on the map but then trapped him again by erasing some other lines. Then I stole his scroll and he was super pissed. But I was probably a real Enchanter at that point! Enchanter I'd love to say that I became an Enchanter because I'm such a huge genius but in reality, I think I mostly remembered the solutions to a bunch of the puzzles in this game as I stumbled upon the items that could help solve those puzzles. That being said, the only part of the game I mapped was The Terror's prison maze so I easily recognized it when I found the map. And since the pencil is found with the map, it wasn't that much of a leap to figure out what to do. I also remembered what to do with the turtle as soon as I attempted to get the brittle scroll and was hit by a spear trap. Plus once I found the ZIFMIA spell and realized I had to summon a being, I knew I had to summon the adventurer to help with something. It wasn't until I had the dream of the simple guy opening the plain door that I figured out how to use him though. I also knew I had to memorize a spell or two for the next puzzle I was going to tackle: surviving getting sacrificed. That one was easy because the OZMOO spell tells you that it's the solution by being a spell that allows you to survive an unnatural death. I'm not sure if I needed to EXEX myself to do all the moves before getting sacrificed again but I did it anyway. With that accomplished, I now had a sharp sacrificial dagger to cut the ropes on the jeweled box that enabled me to get another scroll I needed! I don't remember what scroll that was because at this point I was really flying through the game and didn't want to stop to write about it. I'm writing this a day or two later because I simply assumed my memory would be up to the task of recounting the story accurately. This won't be the last time an assumption has made a fool out of me! Although I think it was the MELBOR spell that protected me from evil beings. It makes sense because you need it to get to the final puzzle where you face Krill. If you're not protected, I think you just keep getting caught by hairy jerks whenever you enter Krill's tower. Oh yeah! I also ranked up again! Probably! Master Enchanter Finally, I had everything I needed to defeat Krill! I KULCADed his illusory staircase, IZYUKed myself so I didn't fall into the bottomless pit, and headed into his evil lair with all the correct spells memorized to defeat him! Obviously I couldn't know beforehand what spells to use because I'm an enchanter and not a psychic. So I had to die a few times before I figured it out. Also I had to realize I didn't yet have the GONDAR spell (which I didn't know existed but after being burned to death by dragon's flame a few times, I began to suspect I was missing a spell to protect me from fire). It took me almost no time to discover the spell because I hadn't gone into the library that game and thought, "Oh, isn't there a scroll with the Dusty Book?" There wasn't. But I did investigate the rat tracks which lead to a hole in the wall which led to the GONDAR spell which led to Krill's inevitable defeat! After defeating the dragon, I turned Krill's next henchman into a lizard with the CLEESH spell. Then Krill shit himself as I began to recite the GUNCHO spell. That's a spell that banishes a creature to another plane! I succeeded with the spell or maybe he teleported away. It was hard to tell for sure. In any case, I won! I scored a full 395 out of 400 points! Oh. Shit. Candidate for Membership in the Circle of Enchanters Yeah. I fucking tanked it, dude. I mean, I was now about to enter the Circle of Enchanters but with a huge stain on my permanent record. How could I have missed five points?! How embarrassing! I checked out Infocom's Invisiclues to see where I could have missed five points and the only five point puzzle was KREBFing the shredded scroll that was inside the egg. But I'd done that! The Invisiclues also said you get ten points for opening the egg. I began to suspect the Invisiclues were wrong and had those two point totals mixed up because I never actually opened the egg. I just broke it and then fixed it with the KREBF spell. I reloaded and experimented a bit and, yep, that was the five points I missed. Some Enchanter I turned out to be! SCORES Game Title: Succinct and to the point. I would have preferred Zork IV because I love when game designers become mired in a world that was so popular they find they can't reasonably abandon it, at least not for economic reasons. It's why Terry Brooks wrote five thousand Shannara books! Puzzles: Terrific! I really wish I hadn't played this game when I was younger because I feel like they were fair enough that I would have figured them out now as an adult. It's also possible that if I hadn't had Kim Schuette's solution at hand, I would have worked harder at solving all the puzzles before diving into the clues. It's pretty much the only reason I beat Trinity back in 1990. Because I was a freshman in college with two games on my Apple IIe that I'd brought with me, Trinity and Dragon Wars. Also because I wasn't distracted by things that we're all distracted by today, like the Internet and more Internet and other things that are pretty much just the Internet. I could say I was too distracted to beat Trinity because I was drinking so much beer and getting laid all the time. But I'd rather tell the truth and brag about having beat Trinity without any clues, no matter how big a hit my sexy rock and roll reputation takes. Gameplay: The only weak bit with Enchanter is the part where you need to eat and drink and sleep. And it's made even worse because it's implemented so weakly! Sure, I guess I like that a loaf of bread lasts the entire game and I don't have to worry about dying of hunger. And I don't have to worry about thirst because I can always refill my jug. But if they don't really matter and only provide a limited number of turns so high that nobody probably ever died of hunger in this game, why bother? The sleeping I liked though because the dreams were a really nice way to provide hints to puzzles that might not have been so obvious. Like the dream that points to entering the Gallery without a light source. Quite clever, really. Graphics: It's an Infocom game, dumby! Although they did eventually get into graphics so maybe I should apologize for expecting modern readers to know Infocom mostly ignored graphics. Except in games like Infidel where one of the major puzzles was translating ASCII hieroglyphics! Concept: The best concept! I love pretending I'm a magic user like Gandalf or Fonzi. Fun Time: Like Border Zone, I think I may have spent about six hours total on it. That might not seem like a lot for an Infocom game that I beat and you might be thinking, "That Grunion Guy is a fucking genius!" And you should keep thinking that instead of remembering how I had already read clues about it thirty years ago. Hopefully when you think about this review later, like when you're excitedly telling your significant other about this great blog you've been reading, you only really remember the part where I typed, "Grunion Guy is a fucking genius." "Grunion Guy is a fucking genius" has a pretty good ring to it, doesn't it? Just listen to it: "Grunion Guy is a fucking genius." Hopefully you just said "Grunion Guy is a fucking genius" out loud. And hopefully there were other people nearby to hear you and reply, "Is Grunion Guy a fucking genius? Yeah, yeah. I guess Grunion Guy is a fucking genius, isn't he?!"

#Enchanter #Infocom #Text Adventure

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bradleyhartsell · 6 years

Text

What’s God For?

Kendrick Lamar- DAMN. 2017 (32nd of Top 100)

When Kendrick Lamar released To Pimp a Butterfly in 2015, critics and fans alike lauded it as a generational monument. The consensus record of the year became a voice for blackness in America. The album did so as it tracked through Kendrick emotionally bottoming out after his breakout debut, until finding a sort of redemption after visiting Africa. Though vastly different sonically, the record’s movement from dark to light is akin to good kid, M.A.A.D. City, which was comparatively much smaller-focused (centered on his gang-affiliated teenage years, then finding Jesus after their homie gets shot, thus reflecting on his complicated but essential relationship to his hometown of Compton). These were albums documenting a hero’s journey.

Enter DAMN., Kendrick’s most compelling album. Being almost a half-hour shorter than the previous two LPs, DAMN. feels much more confined, which helps underline the darkness rooted in it. The pathos of DAMN. certainly feel surprising, as it’s hard not to project being the black advocate, voice of a generation onto Kendrick, especially with the imagined positive reinforcement he would’ve received in light of To Pimp a Butterfly’s unequivocal success. But Kendrick is prescient with how he ends that album, which brings in a lot more ambiguity than we might remember because of how empowering the album’s second half becomes (post-Africa, narratively speaking); “Mortal Man” closes the record with Kendrick speaking to Tupac, only for Pac—Kendrick’s spiritual compass—to suddenly disappear: “Pac? Pac? Pac?!” If there’s a hint of something being lost, the world’s realities over the ensuing two years inform this dejected incarnation of Kendrick Lamar.

“BLOOD.” opens the record with a ghostly Bēkon, who acts almost like an ominous Greek chorus throughout the album, asking, “Is it wickedness?” This question is followed by a pregnant pause, then, “Is it weakness?” A sturdy bass strolls over a warped and chilled cinematic score, like a haunted 45, as Kendrick recalls his offering to help a blind woman who’s dropped something. Oh yes, you have lost something…You’ve lost…your life. She shoots him, and he spends the next 53 minutes trying to process being angry, confused, frustrated, longing, and self-righteous, all to see the closer “DUCKWORTH.” reverse itself and reintroduce us to Kendrick from “BLOOD.”: “So I was takin’ a walk the other day.”

Placing revolutionary hope in To Pimp a Butterfly is naïve and idealistic, sure, but what’s happened since its release—I mean, could things have gone any worse? A longtime punch line ascends to the most powerful position on Earth? Racism and misogyny are more belligerent than ever. It’s surreal for an American of a certain type, much less to one of the most socially aware and important artists in the world today. DAMN. reflects so much of that.

The 2017 record is so raw and so stilly produced, it harnesses the most captivating side of Kendrick. He returns to the bass-and-drum-forward sound, minimally lined with cracked and spectral flecks of soul, R&B, and ‘90s West Coast hip-hop that he so deftly used on good kid. This style has a two-pronged effect: the first being stripped-back beats are deferential and allow the best pure rapper alive to demonstrate his virtuosity. That hollowed-out ‘90s West Coast sound on “DNA.” gets subsumed by Kendrick, who rides the swaggering, bouncy groove into a dazzling bar: “I know murder, conviction / Burners, boosters, burglars, ballers, dead, redemption / Scholars, fathers dead with kids and / I wish I was fed forgiveness.” Elsewhere, “FEEL.” has a spaced-out, fluid, and slippery beat that sounds like mercury pulsing over light hi-hat shuffles as Kendrick expertly spits all of his perceived slights (“Look, I feel heartless, often off this / Feelin' of fallin', of fallin' apart with / Darkest hours, lost it / Fillin' the void of bein' employed with ballin'”). Suddenly, the song boils over and Kendrick goes aggro, “Fuck your feelings, I mean this for imposters.” It sends chills down my spine every time.

The second of the production’s two-pronged effect is how jarringly (and fittingly) empty the space feels when Kendrick sounds withdrawn. The best song here, “YAH.,” has a sound similar to “FEEL.,” with its sauntering, lava lamp beat that is continuously fascinating as Kendrick slides in and out of the groove brilliantly; the incisive, drilling Kendrick of “FEEL.” is replaced with a casual, seemingly stoned Kendick: “I got so many theories and suspicions / I’m diagnosed with real n**** conditions.” It’s a mesmerizing shade of Kendrick, sounding like him at his most natural, which is apt given his removed and philosophical public persona. Just as poignant is his seemingly complicated relationship with religion, which “YAH.” begins addressing three songs into DAMN.: “I'm not 'bout a religion / I'm a Israelite, don't call me black no mo' / That word is only a color, it ain't facts no mo'.” The skit on “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst” shares Kendrick (and his homies) being led to the redemption of Jesus Christ; five years later, on “YAH.,” he casts aside religion, almost audaciously, in order to transcend limiting racial labels. In the next line, Kendrick relays the thesis of the album, and he does so placidly, because, on this circular album, he’s already made peace with his understanding, or more likely, because he’s resigned to the world’s fate: “My cousin called, my cousin Carl Duckworth / Said know my worth / And Deuteronomy say that we all been cursed / I know he walks the Earth.”

This call from Carl is tagged onto the end of “FEAR.,” which reaffirms both the centrality of the reveal in “YAH.” and the interlocked-nature of the album. In fact, this documenting of a cursed world pervades throughout DAMN. The very first words on the album by Bēkon are likely wondering about the origin of these curses; the meditative song takes a turn when the blind woman guns down Kendrick. Then, the last third of “DNA.” switches from a throwback West Coast vibe to a scratched-up trap beat that shows Kendrick at his most aggressive (“Tell me when destruction gonna be my fate / Gonna be your fate, gonna be our faith / Peace to the world, let it rotate / Sex, money, murder—our DNA”), while the final movement of “ELEMENT.” slogs to half-time, incongruent with Kid Capri’s hype-man praise and Kendrick’s braggadocio (“If I gotta slap a pussy-ass n****, I’ma make it look sexy”). Given the chest-puffed-out beat and the trickling piano in the chorus lending the boastful Kendrick his purported elegance, when the beat slows at the end and he says, “They won’t take me out my element,” he sounds exactly that—out of his element. That is this stricken man’s lot in this cursed world, the one who continually reminds us that “Ain’t nobody prayin’ for me.”

DAMN. is made even more interesting with three seeming outliers, which are actually just as weighted down by some looming burden. The first is “Loyalty,” with its strobe light melody and genuine positivity that’s a full-on pop song, if rap is the new pop (which it is). Rihanna guests with Kendrick to swat away pettiness and bullshit in order to seek a real and honest connection: “Tell me who you loyal to,” they each demand. Perhaps the presence of megastar Rihanna hides this, but what’s inherent in this song, though, is that there’s an enormous burden of proof on someone—anyone—to prove their loyalty in spite of this me-first world. “LOVE.,” meanwhile, is a full-bodied and luscious R&B beat that Kendrick professes an authentic love, presumably for his fiancée. In a vacuum, it’s a doting love song, but it conspicuously follows “LUST.,” the same song that he turns the mirror back on society as the root of these curses: “As blood rush my favorite vein / Heartbeat racin' like a junkie's / I just need you to want me / Am I askin' too much? / Let me put the head in / Ooh, I don't want more than that / Girl, I respect the cat.” In all likelihood, this lascivious and uncomfortable chorus is a metaphor for fame, public adoration, and materialism more than actual (coercive) sex, but the language is striking and it taints the authenticity of “LOVE.” Lastly, “DUCKWORTH.” closes the album with its smashed-up soul sample, akin to old Kanye, that has a brightness and a garishness unlike anything else on the album. This isn’t an accident, as Kendrick drops the biting introspection for pure narrative, this one about his father not being killed in a KFC robbery by Top Dawg when he was working; the only reflection Kendrick does in the song proper is wonder what if Top Dawg killed my dad…then I’m not here, not rapping to you. But of course, we know the song reverses itself and puts Kendrick right back in the line of fire with the malevolent blind woman.

It’s a taut 55 minutes, in which Kendrick knows he’s the best rapper alive, yet knows that success leaves him feeling empty. To Pimp a Butterfly is open, in part, about his depression, just as DAMN. admits To Pimp a Butterfly didn’t solve the issues, personal or societal, that he hoped it would. He feels he’s given his all to be a voice for the marginalized and injustices, but he’s deflated to realize nobody’s praying for him. Carl’s voicemail gives Kendrick the only possible answer to all of this—Trump, racism, misogyny, mass shootings, climate change, lies, injustice, lust, depression, emotional voids. It’s that we’ve pissed off a higher power and his curses have come to collect.

DAMN. may not be life-affirming or heroic or Odyssean, but sometimes you don’t need explanations, sometimes hope feels naïve. If it can often feel like we’re living in the worst of times, at least we have DAMN. to commiserate with.

Now, can somebody start praying for us?

#Kendrick Lamar #damn #to pimp a butterfly #good kid m.A.A.d city #dr dre #kanye west #bekon #rihanna

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