#he will show up v briefly in birds of a feather as a child I think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kindness-ricochets · 4 years

Text

Prompt: “You’re Satan.” (Pt. III)

Jan Van Eck fascinates me because of those 8 years between the time he had Marya institutionalized and the time he tried to have Wylan killed. Wylan concludes that Jan gave up on him at the time he had Marya institutionalized, but Jan Van Eck definitely could have faked an accident and gotten rid of Wylan earlier. Why keep him? Did he truly believe he could shape Wylan into the son he wanted? Or was it from a purely sadistic desire to act out his frustration on the person he blamed for his life taking an undesired turn?

My main “You’re Satan” fic focuses on him rather than Jarl Brum and Tante Heleen because I have an easier time wrapping my head around his domestic, interpersonal, laser-focused antiwylanism than their respectively indifferent and discriminatory exploitative, systemic abuses.

TW: ableism, abuse, graphic animal death (a bird)

-----------------------

The target streaked into the air, but it only crossed a quarter of the field before falling victim to those twin sounds: the report of the rifle, the crack of breaking clay. It burst into a small cloud of dust. It was shattered beyond repair.

Jan Van Eck lowered the rifle from his shoulder.

“That’s how it’s done.”

Wylan nodded. He knew that. He wasn’t a baby, he was ten, he knew things!

“Good. Get your rifle up and cocked.”

Wylan obeyed, fumbling but managing to rest the rifle against his shoulder like his father had. The he remembered the second task, but he couldn’t cock it without lowering it, so he did.

Jan swatted his son’s hand. “Get your finger off the trigger when you’re swinging that thing around!”

“S-sorry!”

Blushing, Wylan took his finger off the trigger, then carefully cocked the rifle and brought it back to his shoulder. He looked up to his father. Had that made up for his mistake? Jan was watching, but gave not so much as a nod. He simply turned to face forward and called, “Pull!”

When his father shot, everything had just come together. Rifle simply seemed to know how to track the target, when to fire. It didn’t go that way for Wylan. He didn’t even see the target before hearing it hit the ground.

Wylan looked to his father again.

“Pull!”

The second attempt was a failure, too, but this time Wylan understood that he mustn’t take his attention away. He managed to briefly target the clay pigeon the third time, and the fourth time he squeeze off a shot. It missed and the recoil hit far harder than Wylan had expected, but he had managed a shot!

“Watch closely this time,” Jan said. He demonstrated once more how it was done.

Wylan did make small progress. He learned how to cock his rifle without removing it from his shoulder, not difficult really, and took the recoil better by his third shot, but as the wind picked up and whetted the bitter edge to the late afternoon chill, he had not hit a single target. He had begun to feel heavy from carrying himself.

Jan, meanwhile, did not miss a shot.

We’ll go inside soon, Wylan promised himself. And maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe they would shoot again and Wylan would actually make a shot this time. Or maybe they would leave the countryside and head back to the city. Either would be preferable to another failure like this one.

A group of geese called as they flew overhead. Wylan glanced up. They flew in a sleek V, though one lagged some at the end of the left leg of the V. It gave the V some character, he thought, and he liked that, the way they were like any other group of geese, but a little different. They had a sort of personality to their flight.

The shot sounded, but this time there was no answering smash of clay. Instead Wylan heard a cry as the lagging goose fell from the formation.

“Why did you do that?” he cried.

Jan lowered his rifle and strode onto the field. After a moment’s hesitation, Wylan trotted after his father. He followed until Jan paused, standing over the fallen creature. It was clear the goose would never fly again; its body gave little trembles as it lay there in the grass, and its one good wing gave a desperate flap.

“Put it out of its misery, Wylan,” Jan said.

“What?”

Put it out of its misery? Did his father really expect him to… to…

Jan gave a meaningful look to the rifle in Wylan’s hand.

“Even you can’t miss this shot,” Jan said.

That was true, but…

Seeing a flash of something, anger on the brink of breaking in his father’s face, Wylan raised the rifle once more to his shoulder. His hands shook, but he managed to cock his weapon and aim it. The goose gave a plaintive, weak honk as it tried to move away and Wylan briefly wondered if it couldn’t be saved if they picked it up right now, if he took it inside and washed out its wound, if—

“The servants can see you. Don’t show weakness.”

Wylan squeezed the trigger. His target was so close the resulting spray of dirt hit his trousers, but the goose went still in the grass, its head a devastated splatter. Something inside Wylan kicked.

Jan grabbed his son’s chin. “No weakness,” he repeated. “Swallow it.”

Wylan gave a tiny nod. He clamped his jaws shut and when the hot bile hit his mouth, he forced it back down through several painful swallows. He could taste it and the tang of the goose’s blood perfuming the air. He felt hot and prickly all over. His head swam and he looked to his father. Hadn’t he done this right? Wylan waited for a word of praise. He wanted his father to hug him and make it all okay.

“Good,” Jan said, taking his hand away from Wylan’s face. It wasn’t enough. “Now pick it up and bring it inside, no use wasting good meat.”

Wylan’s jaw dropped. Was his father serious?

“What else was the defective thing good for? It was the right thing to do, it made the flock stronger. The geese know. It’s why they’ve flown off and left… that. Now pick it up. You may hold it by its feet.”

Wylan’s hand trembled, but he picked up the goose. When his knuckles brushed its feathers, they were still warm. His fingers closed around the goose’s feet. When he lifted it, the goose’s neck flopped—his stomach lurched. Said neck’s abrupt end bounced against Wylan’s leg, smearing blood on his trousers.

“Sometimes,” Jan said, “a defect that cannot be corrected must be eliminated.”

A week later, Wylan noticed a new pillow on his bed.

===========

The first time he realized he was being left behind while his father went on business trips, Wylan had been saddened. He had redoubled his efforts, determined to have something to impress Papa when he returned, but… but the squirming lines on the page… he couldn’t make them stop. He tried, but he couldn’t make them stop.

That had not been as painful as the day he realized he liked when his father was absent. There was still plenty to do, but he had hours between five bells—the time his tutor left—and six bells and half chime—dinner—and ten bells—bedtime. (Never mind that he was too old for a bedtime, he was already eleven, he was practically five feet tall! Well, he was four and a half feet. Almost four and a half. His height rounded up to four and a half feet and that rounded up to five feet, so he was almost five feet.) And with his father gone, Wylan could spend all that time drawing, or playing his flute, or taking apart his pocket watch—he loved to watch the little gears tick away.

When Wylan was eleven (and five feet tall if you rounded up twice), his father returned home with a man he introduced as Mister Hagen. The big man was going to teach Wylan his native Fjerdan, as well as reading and writing. It shouldn’t be too difficult, Jan said, Fjerdan used largely the same alphabet as Kerch. Wylan had looked as his father, pleading, knowing he couldn’t speak of his inability in front of others. Jan Van Eck ignored his son.

Two weeks later, Wylan went to his father in tears, but Jan was having an important meeting and needed Wylan to wait.

Privately, Jan was pleased when his son simply nodded, wiped his tears, and went to stand in the hallway. Wylan’s deficiencies were numerous, but he was for all his failings a biddable child. It was why Jan had gone to the expense of hiring on Erik Hagen. The man’s methods were severe, but perhaps it was simply more incentive that Wylan needed. Perhaps this would be the key to salvaging the boy.

Jan concluded his meeting deliberately. He had never cared for disorder, and Wylan was a naturally expressive child. It was unseemingly. He had taken the time to control himself, stop his tears and wash his face.

“Come in, Wylan.”

Wylan went into his father’s office.

“Have a seat.”

He did not.

He burst into tears again, gulping and fighting against it, but losing. At least he did this in private.

“Pull yourself together, you look like an infant.”

“He hit me, Papa! Mister Hagen hit me with his belt!”

Did the child have so little faith in his father’s ability to run his own house that he believed Jan could possibly be ignorant of that? It was almost insulting!

Jan placed a hand on Wylan’s back.

“Breathe, Wylan.”

He had survived the lung fever, but his chest did not fully recover. There was always that wheeze when he over-extended himself. Jan had paid a Grisha Healer to see to it, but she claimed there was nothing to be done—there was nothing to be done, then, if Jan Van Eck hadn’t the resources to obtain it.

Wylan nodded. He gulped ragged breaths, accepted his father’s handkerchief and mopped his face.

“Now,” Jan said, when Wylan had calmed, “I am well aware of Mister Hagen’s methods. I brought him here to teach you when all other methods have failed. This is not what I wanted, either, but this world holds nothing for you if you cannot learn your letters.”

His reaction was transparent: shock, almost betrayal, giving way to resignation.

The next day, when Wylan squirmed and whimpered in his seat at dinner, Jan told him sharply to sit still. Wylan understood. Because he obeyed, Jan overlooked his soft, unbecoming whimpers.

————

When he was twelve, Wylan received a letter from Hendrik Van Aakster. He assumed, anyway. He recognized the imprint in the wax and he and Hendrik had bumped into each other in the park a few times. The letter was finely printed on thick, creamy paper; it looked like an invitation. To a birthday, he guessed, because it said “19” and Hendrik was 18.

Wylan genuinely liked Hendrik.

He tucked the invitation under his mattress. Going forward, he ensured that he did not encounter Hendrik often in the park. He liked Hendrik, he really did—but if anyone came too closer, they might learn about his defect.

It hurt, knowing he must avoid someone he genuinely liked, but he was doing Hendrik a favor by staying away.

————

The night was so quiet thirteen-year-old Wylan heard crickets and the soft lap of the canal. He sat on the edge of his bed, breathing. Just breathing. Each shift ached through him. He actively tried not to think about what had happened that evening, what his father had done—had to do. Because of Wylan.

He thought about reaching for something to make himself feel better. He thought about touching his flute or his sketchbook or himself. But he didn’t.

The pain came in waves. So did the shame. He wanted to curl up and disappear. Why was he like this? What was so wrong with him? Times like this, Wylan could almost swear he felt the defect like a physical thing inside him. If only it were! If only it could be cut out and Wylan Van Eck made whole.

Wylan opened his eyes. He rolled up his pajama shirt. The bruises hadn’t formed properly yet, but there were red marks on his abdomen. He remembered the first time a tutor had beaten him, but not the first time his father had to hit him. He knew how long he had been a failure of a student. How long had he been a failure as a son? Wylan probed the red places with gentle but curious fingers. They already hurt.

“Wylan?”

He hurriedly dropped his shirt and scooted back, clambering under the covers as the door opened.

“I was just going to sleep!”

To his surprise, his father stepped into the room carrying a mug. Jan sat on the edge of Wylan’s bed and he saw that the mug contained hot chocolate.

“I thought you might need it.”

“Thank you,” Wylan said, flooded with a fresh wave of shame at how his father loved him, comforted him. Jan Van Eck was such a good father and he deserved a better son.

Wylan sipped his drink.

“I’m sorry about… earlier.”

Jan nodded solemnly, not quite accepting the apology. He hadn’t yet changed out of his suit and the red pocket square stood out against the dark gray.

“You know it’s all for your own good.”

“Yes, Father.” He truly did know that.

Jan tousled Wylan’s curls, trailed down Wylan’s face and patted his cheek. It should have made Wylan feel better, but didn’t.

“Tomorrow will be better,” Jan said.

Wylan nodded. It would. He silently promised them both. Tomorrow would be a better day.

————————

Wylan was seventeen.

Just barely, but he was seventeen, he was an adult now, a man responsible for his father’s—for his trading company, for maintaining a good home for his mama and the cleverest, most loving, and (even the thought made him blush) most beautiful man he had ever encountered.

But he wasn’t just seventeen-year-old Wylan. He was the ten-year-old scattering breadcrumbs for migrating birds. He was the eleven-year-old gnawing his thumb to bleeding as he tried again and again to make the shapes stop moving on the page. He was the twelve-year-old sneaking about to spy on an older boy and pretend they were friends. He was the thirteen-year-old muffling his sobs in his goose-feather pillow.

“Wylan.”

He nodded. He stood by the window, not quite looking through the rain-lashed pane.

“I’m broken tonight, Jesper.”

Jesper responded by wrapping them both in a blanket, holding Wylan close.

“I can feel your heart beating,” Wylan said.

“Is it a beat you can dance to?”

His mind wasn’t quick enough to answer, not right now, so instead Wylan said, “Thank you.”

He had burned the pillow, the one his father had stuffed with feathers from the goose Wylan shot. He didn’t tell Jesper why.

“He’s not here, you know,” Jesper said.

He wasn’t… but he was a part of Wylan. He was the way Wylan hadn’t needed to be told he was a disappointment, the way he would apologize before being told to, the way Wylan truly believed he deserved the mistreatment.

Wylan half-turned closer to Jesper.

“I’m scared.”

“He’s locked up, and Kaz will see to it he stays that way.”

“I’m scared I’m still going to be like this in ten years.”

“What? In my arms?”

Wylan had to smile at that.

“Because I will literally hold you for ten years if that’s what it takes. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you, Wylan, even though all that holding will make my arms really, really tired.”

Wylan reached for Jesper’s hand, just to give a reassuring squeeze. He wanted to say that Jesper was perfect, because to Wylan, Jesper was perfect. That tended to make Jesper anxious, though. It made him feel like he wasn’t meeting Wylan’s standards—so Wylan had stopped calling Jesper perfect. (Even though he still was.)

Instead, Wylan said, “You make me feel safe. You make the pain smaller.”

#six of crows #soc fanfic #wylan van eck #jan van eck #jan van eck is a truly terrible human being #jesper fahey #angst #angst with a positive if not outright happy ending #my writing

18 notes · View notes

segadores-y-soldados · 7 years

Text

Reaper and Soldier: American Cultural References

Alright, I know the title is a fuckin turn off for some people but I’m tired and so bad at essay titles, guys, you don’t even know, fuck I’d show ya’ll my college essays if they didn’t immediately reveal who I am but the titles were BAD.

So after a few people mentioned that the Reaper References post was helpful (and I saw your comments, I’m coming back to them, I promise), and after thinking about it a bit more this morning, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and explain some of the more...oddball American cultural references going on in these skins. Please note that I’m not trying to be rude by not discussing the Mariachi or Blanco skins, but rather that I consider those to be out of my field of depth and would rather focus on the skins I do know more about.

This will have mild shipping discussions for Reaper76 but it’s mainly from an analytical perspective. In my opinion, with Blizzard being what it is, these are primarily coincidences or a way of demonstrating the two characters’ shared interest in American pop and literary culture.

Since this is kinda turning into a mini series, have these as well:

Reaper Art Assets

Reaper References

A LOT MORE under the cut, fair warning, this one is LONG.

Name and Design Comparisons

In the Reaper References post, I talked about how the name “Gabriel Reyes” could potentially have been derived from California’s Spanish history, such as by being references to the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel or the El Camino Real. John “Jack” Morrison has some interesting possible name references as well.

John of course, is another Biblical name, derived from the Greek Iohannes, which in turn is derived from the Hebrew Yohanan, meaning “graced by God.” “John” as a unique English name is due primarily to the Biblical figures John the Baptist and the Apostle John. So both characters feature religious or spiritually derived given names.

Jack is actually a nickname for John. Which like, makes no sense to me either, but this is from the language that made “Dick” a nickname out of “Richard” so we can all be lost on this one together. The term “jack” features a MASSIVE variety of uses and meanings in English, including but not limited to things like “jack of all trades,” “jumping jacks,” “a jack” (the card), etc. “The Encyclopædia Britannica article on the history of the word "jack" linked it directly to the common name: "Jack, a word with a great variety of meanings and applications, all traceable to the common use of the word as a by-name of a man."”

Morrison is an interesting one because it too is religiously or spiritual derived. One etymological hypothesis links it to Scottish or Gaelic roots as “son of Maurice,” with Maurice being the English version of the name Mauritius. Saint Mauritius is the patron saint of the Holy Roman Emperors, but more importantly, Saint Mauritius is the patron saint of soldiers.

“Maurice became a soldier in the Roman army. He was gradually promoted until he became the leader of the Theban legion, formed of 6600 soldiers.”

Mauritius ascended to martyrdom when he and his troops refused to engage in sacrificial offerings to the Roman gods, and Mauritius and his troops were killed for their refusal.

This, of course, has a number of parallels to the lore that Blizzard has provided around Jack Morrison. How much of it is intentional is debatable, but considering the Soldier: 76 concept and character has existed for like fifteen years, I’m willing to bet it’s pretty deliberate.

Other odd points of comparison:

Gabriel Reyes = 12 letters

Jack Morrison = 12 letters (still works with John)

Again - how deliberate is this? I have no fucking idea, but considering that both men are 6’ 1” (1.85 m) and they effectively swap outfits after the Fall of Overwatch (Reyes goes from simple jacket/sweatshirt and plain pants to long, dramatic overcoat; while Morrison goes from long dramatic overcoat to simple jacket and plain pants; both men wear masks after the Fall), like...I would not be surprised at this point?

Once upon a midnight dreary

“But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.””

So I’ll just be honest and say that I’ve never really liked Edgar Allen Poe, and other people will offer you better analyses of “The Raven,” but for our purposes, we just briefly need to cover the subject of the poem and some of its themes. Basically, The Raven is about a man heartbroken over the implied death of his lover. He is visited in the night by a mysterious Raven who only speaks one word - “nevermore.” While the man is aware that the Raven probably only knows this word through conditioning from a human owner, he continues to ask the bird increasingly deep questions about love and the afterlife, despite being aware that the Raven will only ever give him one answer. It’s a play on the futility of deeper thinking to solve grief, a discussion on the nature of grief itself, and also a partial satire by Poe on making “a commercially successful poem” - one with deliberate rhyming intended “to appeal to both critical and popular tastes.”

It is perhaps one of the most famous and well-known pieces of American literature in history.

The Raven character is frequently compared to both heavenly messengers, such as angels, and more “evil” figures such as the devil, offering both the duality of possible salvation or damnation, depending on how the reader chooses to interpret it. In the last stanza, the man effectively gives up on deciding which aspect the bird represents to him, and lets the bird’s “shadow” both consume him and “lift him.”

So basically, Reaper’s Nevermore skin is fucking American literary NERDISM.

“This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;”

And

“And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;”

In the skin, Reaper’s eyes glow purple, as do the “eyes” on his shotguns. Moveover, Reaper will occasionally say “Nevermore” upon killing someone with this skin selected, a reference to the single word the bird says and also represents. The word “Nevermore” represents a true finality - something that shall never happen “anymore”. This is the first Reaper skin to be steeped in American literary history and references.

The second, which might surprise some people, is:

Pumpkin? But Pumpkin is a Halloween-theme skin!

But Pumpkin is also a reference to the Headless Horseman from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” one of the oldest “American” folkstories and pieces of literature. It’s true that the Headless Horseman character is himself derived from a number of European original sources, but the variation found in “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” has worked itself into American folklore and cultural concepts so deeply that it continues to affect American ideas of death, ghosts, and - yes - Halloween today.

In the Irving version of the story, the main character Ichabod Crane rides through the woods of Sleepy Hollow after a night of heavy partying and drinking and sharing ghost stories. The man is very superstitious, and is frightened when “a ghost” appears riding on a horse, carrying “his head” in his lap. The Headless Horseman pursues Ichabod through the woods, and eventually throws his head at Ichabod’s face. In the morning, Ichabod has mysteriously vanished from town, and the only traces found of him in the woods are his startled horse, a saddle, a hat, and a smashed Jack-o-lantern.

In almost all versions of the tale, the Headless Horseman either wears or carries a flaming Jack-o-lantern for his head.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SsCHYW_I3s

This is the Disney version of the story that I remember seeing as a child. From the Headless Horsemen, a number of other American “skeleton” or “death” figures have been derived, including characters like Jack Skellington, Skeletor, and well...Reaper.

This is also probably why “The Reaper” in Junkenstein’s Revenge had strange horse noises associated with his appearance:

http://juunkrat.tumblr.com/post/151882686536/the-reaper-comes-for-your-s-horse-noise

Since the Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Halloween in general are associated with celebrating the fall harvest, Reaper has a number of voice lines exclusive to the skin talking about “harvesting”: “Harvest time” or “Time for the reapening.”

In fact, the entire concept of the Grim Reaper in American culture distantly stems from the Romans - not exactly Thanatos or Charon (both of whom were Greek), but Saturn, god of time and, well, harvesting. Saturn was frequently depicted with the sickle or scythe, a tool that has carried over to other mythological figures like Father Time or the Grim Reaper, and Saturnalia was the Roman celebration of the harvest. Much like Halloween, Saturnalia permitted role reversals, a shift in expectation, lots of partying, and both a respect and playful mockery of death. Saturnalia is one of the possible sources for the origins of Halloween, combined with Gaelic, Scottish, and Irish roots and festivities - such as the dullahan and pumpkin/turnip-carving - and the Christian “All Saints Day”. All of these aspects build into both the Grim Reaper and the Headless Horseman.

Again, this is not to say that the Headless Horseman is unique to American folklore mythology, nor that even skeletal figures are, but rather to acknowledge the prominence that these figures have taken on, especially as they relate to American Halloween. Jack-o-lanterns (also not uniquely American) have become a popular symbol of the holiday.

And since we’re on the subject, here’s one of the myths of the origins of the Jack-o-lantern, from Irish roots:

“Many years later, the thief died, as all living things do. Of course, Jack's life had been too sinful for him to go to heaven; however, Satan had promised not to take his soul, and so he was barred from hell as well. Jack now had nowhere to go. He asked how he would see where to go, as he had no light, and Satan mockingly tossed him an ember from the flames of Hades, that would never burn out. Jack carved out one of his turnips (which were his favorite food), put the ember inside it, and began endlessly wandering the Earth for a resting place. He became known as "Jack of the Lantern", or jack-o'-lantern.” - Wikipedia on the origins of Jack-o-lanterns

(Almost all uses of the word “jack” derive from the name “Jack”)

Which brings us to a certain immortal soldier.

The reference to immortality denoted by the skin’s very blatant name “Immortal” probably indicates something like vampirism or simply being undead (as death seems to be something that both Jack and Gabriel are like...physically incapable of doing). The extra-pale skin and the “skeletal” white paint on his gloves also point to him being some sort of...undead spirit. While I’m willing to say he’s probably some sort of vampire in this (like Symmetra...whose Halloween skin is a whole ‘nother can of worms), it’s not impossible, giving the Scottish/Gaelic/Irish origins of the name Morrison, that “Immortal 76” is also a reference to Jack-o-lanterns. Just food for thought.

More significantly, and more blatantly, the design of the Immortal skin is almost dead-on (heh) another cultural reference, although this one is less literary and more...poppy:

Given the fact that the black stripes on Immortal 76’s jacket is about as dead-on (somebody stop me) as Soldier’s design can get, the comparisons seem obvious. Even if the design was not deliberately influenced by Thriller, Michael Jackson’s outfit in the music video is so iconic that it’s pretty difficult to escape its influences, especially if you’re making a Halloween skin.

Soldier’s “sunken”/overly-make-upped eyes are also probably a reference to Jackson’s ghoulish appearance in the Thriller video, when he’s taken on a more haunting appearance:

Moveover, both Thriller and Junkenstein’s Revenge (both the in-game event and the comic) pay homage to “cheesy Halloween thriller movies,” featuring things such as a third-person narrator, a number of movie references, and the overall theme of “playing at” Halloween. I would hypothesize that Thriller probably had some sort of direct influence on the Halloween event itself, such as featuring a few “human protagonists” against a “zombie horde,” the narration by Reinhardt, cheesy lines between characters, and the whole concept of:

“You’re fighting for your life inside a killer thriller!”

Thriller remains one of the “theme songs” of American Halloween; arguably, it is the theme song of Halloween, so it would be very strange if Immortal 76 was NOT an homage to the song and the music video.

Plus, it yields itself to one of the best puns in Overwatch: Michael Jack-morri-son.

(Please note that I’m not necessarily arguing that Soldier: 76 was the best character for this homage - honestly, the fact that Lucio HASN’T had a Michael Jackson reference yet is mind-boggling considering he is actually a “professional music and star.” Maybe for a different event?)

Going Commando

So I brought this up briefly in the Reaper References post, but as far as I can tell, Reaper and Soldier are the only two characters who make references to a major American movie star: Arnold Schwarzenegger. This is rather odd considering characters like Reinhardt and Mercy are geographically and culturally closer to Arnold’s home country of Austria; Reinhardt in particular shares a similar sense of bravado and battle-lust that Arnold has portrayed in many of his films (Kindergarten Cop Reinhardt when?).

But in any case:

The Commando 76 skin pays homage almost directly to the Arnold Schwarzenegger film by the same name, “Commando,” which itself is pretty much a reference to other movies of similar caliber and nature.

Like, we’re talking down to the facepaint and everything:

And the vest:

And Arnold’s entire fucking outfit, really:

Reaper, on the other hand, has the voice line “If it lives, I can kill it,” which is a reference to Arnold’s famous quote “If it bleeds, we can kill it” from Predator, a movie that also features Schwarzenegger in a military role. I’m waiting for someone to get an “Hasta la vista, baby” line - bonus points to Blizzard if they give it to Mercy.

And since Soldier’s stupidly Americanized skins aren’t fucking deep enough in American pop culture, he had to be given this fucking abomination of a skin:

This is a reference to American stuntsman Evel Knievel, known for trying to do crazy jumps on his motorcycle while wearing a very...patriotic outfit.

Why the fuck they gave him the mustache is...I dunno.

Evel Knievel is one of these weird American icons that is difficult to explain. America has a long and bizarre history of “doing daring feats,” such as dropping off of Niagara Falls in a barrel (seriously, I’ve read a book on Sam Patch and just like...the whole concept of bravado in American culture is something that’s difficult to try and explain. I blame our revolution or something) all the way down to dumb shit like pranks and stuff like “Jackass” (ahaha, another Jack word). Again, it’s not that other cultures don’t have this - many do - but it’s so bizarrely celebrated in the U.S., to the point where Knievel has been dead for ten years but his legacy is still very much active and impressive to many Americans.

Knievel is also the source of the line: “Bones heal, pain is temporary, but chicks dig scars.” Which, of course, “Daredevil: 76” has a slightly different variation on the line: “Bones heal, pain is temporary, but scars look good.”

Now, trust me - the change in wordage is super tempting to read into, but it’s much more likely that Blizzard dropped the line about “chicks” because the term is slowly falling out of favor in North America. It’s not really a fun way to describe women anymore (although arguably it never was?), and I��m more inclined to say that they probably modified the quote to reduce the aging, not-funny slang.

That said, if you wanna read into it, go ahead?

...why did they give him the mustache?

And since we’ve got the ball rolling on military/stunt stuff:

When Does the Rooster Crow?

So in the Chinese New Year/Lunar New Year event, Soldier got a new voiceline that says “The rooster crows at midnight.” Despite being FUCKING HILARIOUS for the implied “the cock crows at midnight,” it’s actually another reference.

This time to M*A*S*H.

http://mash.wikia.com/wiki/The_Rooster_Crowed_at_Midnight

“In an otherwise empty mail bag, they find a package for B.J. Hunnicutt which turns out to be the novel The Rooster Crowed at Midnight which, according to the jacket blurb, was "another brain-teasing, spine-chilling whodunit from the prize-winning pen of Abigail Porterfield". The jacket blurb also described Abigail Porterfield as a 97-year old lady who had been residing in Sydney, Australia for the last 60 years.

The bored MASH staff soon pass the book around sometimes a chapter or a page at a time. For Hawkeye, getting to read the first chapter "just might be better than sex". For the impatient Winchester, "it certainly takes longer around here." The efforts of the MASH staff to identify the murderer take up much of the time in the episode.”

It’s actually a rather clever homage to both a military show and the Year of the Rooster, and is pretty much the only time a crossover between the two is applicable.

And hopefully people don’t take this the wrong way, but I wanna get a little bit into Chinese-American and Korean-American culture.

Many people may not realize this, but in big cities, or hell even medium-sized cities and towns across the U.S. West Coast, Asian American individuals are ubiquitous. I believe more people are familiar with the concept of Ellis Island in New York, which was a historic immigrations center almost everyone coming from Europe had to travel through, but the West Coast had “Angel Island,” a similar immigrations center that, quite frankly, was used to regulate how Asian immigrants entered the country during the 1900’s, many of them predominantly Chinese. That said, even with “regulations,” Asian immigrants continued to enter the country and settled at various points along the West Coast, including in neighborhoods like San Francisco’s Chinatown and Los Angeles’ Koreatown.

“Since Koreatown has a Latino majority, it's not unusual to find Latino employees in restaurants and grocery stores speaking Korean with customers or Korean store owners engaging Latino customers in Spanish. An example of a cultural interchange between Koreans and Latinos in Koreatown is the popularity of Korean-inspired taco trucks in Los Angeles that feature classic Mexican food infused with Korean ingredients.” - Wikipedia on Koreatown

Inter-cultural exchanges here in California are fairly commonplace in major cities, and “multiculturalism” (or whatever you want to call it) is taught at schools across almost all grades. In second grade, my class celebrated both Hanukkah and Chinese New Year - we learned the lion dance and ran around with paper dragons. In third grade, we learned about St. Patrick’s Day. In fourth grade, we studied the California Missions.

During Chinese and Lunar New Years, large “historically Asian” neighborhoods openly celebrate the festival, sometimes spanning two weeks or a few weekends. San Francisco and Los Angeles in particular hold huge parades and have open markets of gifts and food for anyone to stop by and visit.

“The parade theme emphasizes ethnic diversity, Chinese culture and exposure to Chinese-American businesses. The parade continues to be a rich and diverse experience for Angelenos of all ages and ethnicities.

The day of the Lunar New Year is the most celebrated holiday of the year for nearly 1.5 million persons of Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese descent in Southern California. It is celebrated with colorful festivals, parades, and most importantly, large family gatherings. It is also a time when ancestors are fondly remembered and families give thanks for their blessings. Red packets of money (Lai see or Hung bao) and firecrackers add fun and excitement to the Chinese New Year celebration.”

http://www.lagoldendragonparade.com/

I understand that the Year of the Rooster event was not limited to set characters, and that all characters received sprays, voice lines, etc. My point is that characters like Reaper and Soldier celebrating the event alongside characters like Mei and D.Va would not be unusual to them. Gabriel in particular would probably be more familiar with the event, which it seems like he is based on his line “now those are some fireworks” and his firecracker spray, but Jack having the “folded hands” spray would not be particularly unusual either.

Regardless of how I feel about Blizzard’s writing abilities, I believe that their familiarity with Los Angeles and California culture at large (and the fact that many of their employers are Asian Americans or of Asian heritage) led them to the conclusion that, 60 years into the future, Chinese and Lunar New Year will be events largely celebrated across the globe, or at least globally recognized. The events are already massive celebrations in Asia, parts of North America, and parts of Australia.

Please know, however, that I obviously don’t speak for all Asian Americans on this matter, just myself and a few friends who I’ve talked to about this. I believe that, given context, the way the Year of the Rooster was approached was handled well. Personally, I found the Year of the Rooster events to be fun, entertaining, and delightful. They reminded me of the the spirit of fun that permeates San Francisco on the CNY weekends.

Sorry this got so long, but hopeful this was informative and helpful! The short version is that Reaper and Soldier are fucking NERDS about American history, literature, and cultural references. There are times when American culture gets bleak, or poppy, or downright weird, but Reaper and Soldier show an interesting variety of references to a number of American cultural aspects, from the bleakness of Poe, to the pop of Michael Jackson, to the weirdness of Knievel, to the love of celebration and diversity of cultures.

And I guess that also makes me a nerd because I find that to be FUCKING AWESOME.

#i don't even know how to tag this #reaper #soldier 76 #gabriel reyes #jack morrison #references #my writing #my essays #resources #overwatch #american cultural references #jack is surprisingly varied in his references #lots of military stuff but also some really oddball pieces of culture there #seriously #everyone go read about sam patch #dude was fucking insane

240 notes · View notes