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miahasahardname · 4 months

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i’ve had this long list of td surname headcanons (and i guess some of them are nationality headcanons) for a while and haven’t done much about them, so…

here are each generation’s surnames! (except for rr since i’m not too confident about them)

gen 1:

harold norbert cheever doris mcgrady V

cody emmett jameson anderson

lindsay tyson

noah könig (german)

eva barta (czech)

izzy clark

owen fraser

trent evans-grant

gwen kennedy

heather ryeo

bridgette summers

leshawna simelane (south african iirc)

beth spring

devon ‘dj’ joseph

alejandro burromuerto (spanish)

sierra kauffman (german)

tyler wilson

ezekiel miller

courtney cortez (spanish, or from somewhere where they speak spanish primarily)

duncan butcher

katie wan (malaysian)

sadie peterson (originally was gonna give her a romanian surname but here is peterson)

justin kāne (hawaiian)

geoff jasper

gen 2:

josef ‘jo’ kaczmarek (Polish)

brick macarthur

anne-maria chahuán (chilean)

michele ‘mike’ russo

cameron corduroy wilkins

rudolph ‘lightning’ jackson

staci sterling

zoey gates

dawn oakwood

scott brackin (irish)

dakota milton

sam stevens

beverly ‘b’ jones

gen 3:

ella ito-courtemanche (japanese and french)

scarlett montgomery

max mayhem (yes. i’m actually giving him that as his surname. get sillyed)

jasmine reynolds

shawn tremblay

dave korrapati (indian, more commonly in telugu-speaking areas)

sky sanderson (i was a bit uhm. stuck with this one. i looked up ‘cree surnames’ but found only three. i went for this one but i’m still uncertain.)

amy martin

samantha ‘samey’ martin

topher mccann

rodney rogers

sugar silo

beardo mbomio (equatoguinean)

leonard howe

gen 4:

nichelle ladonna (italian)

bowie davis

emma fletcher

julia hartwell-hughes

priya khan (indian)

millie carter

chase boonmee (thai. it means ‘reliable, generous, loyal’. ironic)

raj ghosh (indian)

wayne watterson

mary-kate ‘mk’ yí (chinese. in honour of fai yí, my beloved)

damien reid

hezekias ‘zee’ guzman (argentinian (it means ‘good man’ which is what he is!!!))

rhinffrew ‘ripper’ bowen (welsh (WELSH RIPPER REAL))

caleb garcia (hispanic)

axel sanchez-guðmundsdóttir (hispanic(?) and icelandic. yes, apparently ‘axel’ is an icelandic name!)

#ok i kept two of the comeback surnames. i actually really like them. bite me.#(i hope i used that phrase correctly)#btw geoff’s surname is based off this really nice person from my school i met during our oliver! production!#he doesn’t go to my school anymore because he graduated. i hope he’s doing well #i’m realising now that priya and raj’s surnames are both surnames of my classmates.#like i genuinely didn’t name them after these people. this is a total coincidence #IF there is any mistakes in this please correct me. a lot of these are taken from websites #(i made up the first gen surnames first…. i actually looked up ‘canadian surnames’ LMAO)#oh yeah i named noah after someone i know too (my german exchange partner). also he’s like. a king #I LOVE NAMING THINGS #IT’S SO FUN #naming characters is one of my favourite parts of creating characters #(although i accidentally named two octuplets characters after like. people idk.)#((and one character was nearly named after a WWI war general!))#ANYWAYS #total drama #td #I AM NOT TAGGING ALL THOSE CHARACTERS

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rad-roche · 2 years

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Nick Valentine, the Detective Archetype, and the Mettle of a Man

If you browse social media, chat to your friends, brave what old-school forums are left or plunge into comments of various subreddits, you will find a fair amount of people who truly, earnestly enjoyed Fallout 4. It has been the subject of numerous (earned) critiques regarding everything from its convoluted story to its oversimplification of once interesting game mechanics. This isn’t an essay that focuses on those elements, numerous though they are, but something I noticed as I did my best to grapple with the unwieldy main plot and the significantly better Far Harbor.

If you gather a crowd of people who have played the game and ask ‘how many of you had a great time?’ some people, by merit of how taste works, will happily raise their hand. That I’m writing this at all is a sign that, for all the faults I found, I genuinely engaged with it in a way I didn’t expect to as I (apparently a lawyer) slogged through the opening with my assigned soldier husband and Apple-Cheeked Infant You Will Love. In that respect, I suppose, I’m raising my hand.

If you peruse those same places, with the same people, and ask ‘how many of you really liked Nick Valentine?’

The number of hands up will be significantly higher.

In fact, it isn’t uncommon for people who didn’t enjoy any part of Fallout 4 to instinctively throw in a ‘Nick was cool’. But, as somebody who agrees, why is that? He’s got a lot of cool elements, sure. He’s a wisecracking robot detective. He has the most fleshed out backstory of any companion and, come Far Harbor, is the deuteragonist. Stephen Russel delivers an incredible vocal performance. He has a sick-ass fuckin’ detective name. What’s not to like? But he isn’t just a well-liked character in a game with many failings, he’s one of the most beloved characters in the entire franchise. That takes some doing. So how the hell did they do it?

Valentine is a character defined by contrasts; man to machine, past to future, ‘me’ to ‘not me’ and, less obviously, 'archetype’ to ‘antithesis’. Nick Valentine is both a stereotypical gumshoe, the hardboiled detective of the neo-noir setting of Fallout 4, and every element of what makes up that stereotype turned completely on its head. He is, and is not, what he claims to be. He is noir and neo-noir. He shouldn’t be well-written. But, by accident or miracle, he is.

He is, and is not, Nick Valentine.

Let’s pull back a little and talk about noir, detectives, and detectives in noir:

The role of The Detective isn’t to solve crimes in the seedy underbelly of whatever city he lives in, seducing dames and cracking wise as he goes toe to toe with gangsters. That’s the window dressing. Press your cheek up against the glass and squint a little and you’ll make out a murkier shape, something that wraps around all the others like chiffon. It accentuates, highlights, is easily overpowered by the glitzy parts it surrounds. It is vital to the context of what makes or breaks a noir detective yet makes an effort to avoid your scrutiny. It is, and is not, the point.

The role of a detective is to suffer.

Put on the jazz, grab a scotch and look forlornly out the sharply-lit shutters at your window, this’ll be a long one! So let’s start at the start.

‘Noir’ is something of a fuzzy term. You could ask a few people and get a slightly different answer from each of them and find none are wrong. Often people conflate ‘noir’, a genre with particular themes, motifs and framing with ‘hardboiled’, a genre of crime fiction with often very similar themes, motifs and framing. If it stars a detective battling crime and a corrupt legal system, it’s hardboiled. If he does those things and having three different sorts of Dutch angle breakdowns about the hopeless failings of human nature, it’s probably both.

So what the hell is up with noir, anyway?

It’s a style of filmmaking that spawned in the 40s. The term was coined by critic Nino Frank some time in the late 1940s but didn’t see popular use until the 70s. What we, looking back, would call ‘noir’ would at the time be ‘melodrama’.

But what is it?

Well, the world’s on fire, the staff on your movies are refugees fleeing horrific conflict and everything feels hopeless. The good guys you knew aren’t as good as you’d hoped they’d be, and the criminals aren’t bad enough to make hating them an easy job. Circumstances are murky. Everything is terrible, and it might get better, but for now we’re stuck. The systems in place are hopelessly cruel, suffering is as endless as it is needless. And glittering on top there’s the glitz and glamour of celebrity, the nouveau riche, a booming entertainment industry of stars and crooners, fresh paint on an asbestos wall that’s choking out everybody. And when you get down to it, what’s ‘good’ and ‘bad’ in an awful place like this, anyways? Do those distinctions exist? Hell, should those distinctions exist? Those questions, and what transpires as a result of those questions, that’s noir.

I believe the deliberate push towards neo-noir in Fallout 4 (the gumshoe, the newsie, working cases, the plot focus on a missing person, feelings of loss and paranoia) was a fantastic opportunity, completely keeping within the setting, mostly frittered away by poor writing.

And this hard-boiled gumshoe, this private detective, marooned from every point of contact, is not a mandatory component of a noir. But such a character is a perfect lightning rod through which to conduct these difficult questions. So this Detective character, who the hell is he, anyway? What’s his deal, what’s he about? Note that every instance of ‘Detective’ refers to the specific instance found in American crime fiction from the 20s to 50s. If you can imagine Humphrey Bogart then, yes, it’s that guy.

1) The Detective As The Outcast

The Detective is at odds with the public (who don’t trust him until they need him), the police (who are hopelessly corrupt street gangs with better hats), and the criminal underworld (who at least aren’t cops). The Detective, aside from a few specific touchstones (a distant friend, an ex-colleague, an in with a don), is adrift. He is not liked, even by himself. He knows just enough of these worlds to meddle. He is smart enough to solve problems, but rarely enough to forestall problems.

Nick Valentine has no biological functions. The parts that make up Nick’s body are mass-produced and interchangeable. He can relate to people but only through the memories and experiences of a human being he can’t unshackle himself from. He lives among human beings, dresses like one, but cannot ever be one. He is too obviously mechanical to be confused for a Gen-3 Synth and can find no relief with other mechanical Synths who share his face (bar one, who raises his own set of problems we will return to later.) His memories, personality and speech patterns are based on the brain scan of a clinically depressed pre-war cop utterly ruined by the violent system he upheld. Valentine isn’t just alienated from the people around him, he is alienated from himself in a difference that is, ultimately, irreconcilable. Nick Valentine is Nick Valentine. Nick Valentine is not Nick Valentine. Nick Valentine was not a good guy. Nick Valentine is a good guy. His body is and is not his. His mind is and is not his.

And everybody loves him!

If you walk around Diamond City with Valentine, you can’t go two seconds without some ambient conversation being struck up while you wring Myrna for all the caps she has. Old clients thanking him for help, grateful strangers inviting him to drinks. It’s possible for you to be ambushed by a group of raiders, fend them off and find that they’ve stopped attacking because they recognize Nick. Ellie, his secretary, doesn’t think to mention that he’s a juddering mannequin with peel-away skin and unblinking eyes. He’s just Nick. The most formative event of his life, not the inherited life of a long-dead man, is stumbling into a settlement and being treated like a human being.

Nick is both utterly divorced from the people around him and a passionate champion of them. He is both the alienated man— the jaded, cynical snoop waxing lyrical about the evils men do— and a beloved friend to the people of Diamond City. He is, and is not, the outcast.

2) The Detective As His Own Man

The Detective is the knightly archetype, iron-wrought principles at his own expense. For all the talk, all the compromises made, he is incorruptible. There is good to be done and, unfortunately, he has to be the one to do it. He cannot be bought, sold, bribed or dismissed. The wheel is in motion and will spin in perpetuity until it stops or is made to stop. He is an anti-hero willing to lie, cheat, steal and resort to violence to get the job done. He is a loner and often hard to get along with. He will butt heads with anybody.

Detectives, often, are products of the anxieties of their time. It’s where the femme fatale comes from, the wily temptress who is getting a lot of strange ideas about ‘having agency’. Nick, in turn, is the anxiety of Fallout 4. He is, and is not, part of the Institute. He is one of the greatest fears of the Commonwealth; the possibility that a human mind, abstracted, can be flattened and transplanted and set loose. That memory, personhood, is constructed of building blocks. They can be rearranged.

Nick is that lawful good, justice-at-any-costs archetype.

But Nick is a noir detective who is, crucially, not an anti-hero.

His outlook and personality aren’t just unusual for a gumshoe, it’s downright bizarre. In a genre populated almost entirely by moody, snippy alcoholics, Nick is warm, personable, funny and genuinely optimistic. He’s the most do-good do-gooder to ever do good. That’s not to say he can’t be moody or snippy—he’s certainly sarcastic—but his general demeanour is different compared to a Marlowe, or a Spade. Justice must be done, but not at too great an expense. Murder is sometimes necessary but only sometimes. But Nick’s core issues come from his idea of personhood, the grim reality that Nick Valentine is loaning a name and an outlook. His job is to chafe, to make broader points crystalline and easier to pick up and examine. Nick is, and is not, his own man.

3) The Detective At The End

Noir, traditionally, isn’t the place for happy endings. If you’re watching an old movie and find that the detective has made an honest woman of the femme fatale and they live happily ever after, you are looking at a mandated rewrite. Free of tampering, the best you can hope for is ‘nothing is significantly worse’ and often you won’t even get that. People murder one another for pittances, slights, baubles. A gamble is made. If you win you don’t get anything and if you lose you’ll lose more than you even knew you had. And then you’ll keep losing. And then it’s all over. You sit in a dark room with it, contemplative and miserable and thrilled. Fallout 4 has the much maligned radiant quest system. It doesn’t end until you say it does, for better or for worse. But, working chronologically, there is an end point to Nick’s story in Far Harbor. By merit of it being a video game, you get to pick. Is it tragic in one way or tragic in another? He doesn’t get a happy ending because he’s a noir detective. The confluence of the anxiety of the setting. Incorruptible in a world that can’t allow it. Nick is unusual in that he is nice and sweet and warm. It’s still his job to suffer.

In Far Harbor you meet DiMA, the only person in the world Nick could consider ‘blood’ family. In a moment of vulnerability, Nick leans on the player character for advice and asks them their opinion on what DiMA should be to him. You can push him to accept DiMA as a sibling and initiate a sequence where they begin to forge a fraternal relationship, advise that he doesn’t let DiMA into his life which halts any chance of reconciliation or, crucially, leave Nick to decide for himself. This leads to him accepting DiMA as his brother on his own terms.

DiMA is a complicated, nuanced character in his own right. This is already much too long, so I’ll save the specifics of him for another time. But, in short, he murdered somebody, covered it up and removed his own memories of the murder. He remembers this, is horrified, and prompts you to join him in doing it again. Your player character can refuse to go along with his plan, bully him into confessing to the townspeople and as a result have him executed for the crime he did commit and fully intended on committing again.

If you encouraged Nick, or let him decide what DiMA means to him by himself, he is distraught. He has gained, and lost, family. One of the last dialogue options you get before heading back to the Commonwealth to wrap up the DLC is Nick resentfully admitting that his life is in ruins. He will never recover from this. The Valentine you meet in the Vault and the Valentine that leaves Mount Desert Island are two slightly different people.

He is an archetypical, by-the-books noir detective. He is a noir detective turned entirely on its head. Fallout 4 fumbles its neo-noir through poor writing, baffling story decisions and often a fundamental misunderstanding of its own premise. Fallout 4 contains incredible neo-noir in what may be one of the most compelling detective characters ever put to paper. In a better game, Valentine would be cool. In Fallout 4—and it could only be in Fallout 4—he is incredible.

Valentine is a character defined by contrasts. And Nick’s character, while complex, is simple. And in a game subject to rewrites—retools, re-re-writes, ‘oh Christ it ships tomorrow!’, re-re-re-re-writes to broaden appeal, nukes are pretty cool, what if we put a kid in that fridge?—simple stands out. The core of Nick Valentine, and what makes him so memorable because of the game he’s in, not in spite of it, is this:

Everything is terrible, and it might get better, but for now we’re stuck. But you can’t wait for it to get better to try and do some good.

“You help who needs help. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

—

Boy, did that run long! You can find my fanart here and, if you liked reading this, my fo4 noir pastiche here. Thanks for reading!

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #Nick Valentine #Ellie Perkins #DiMA #if you're curious what my favourites of the genre are then the little sister by raymond chandler and double indemnity for the movie pick #you can put literally any chandler book in that first part btw and i'd agree with you. 'yeah that fuckin rips'#gotta love hammett but chandler's prose fuckin RIPSSSSSS laser focused not a word wasted. incredible #double indemnity is. THE movie. THE fuckin movie #ANYWAY robotpostin. robot thots.#boy did this one get out of hand

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