Latest Posts by khepris-worst-soldier - Page 3

To add another dumb poll to my tumblr

I have decided to randomly generate worm ships. I rolled from a list of 114 worm characters, creating 36 ships and picking 12 of the funniest weirdest easiest to title most interesting. Most of them were not good, but that's the risk of random chance

I rejected any that wouldn't fit explicitly stated (to my knowledge) canon sexualities, and any that resulted in illegal pairings.

I gave each a silly little subtitle. Not a ship name.

I'm pretty sure I already know who's gonna win.

Also I rejected Lung x Marquis because that was a definite win. Best gay male ship in worm except for Kevin Norton x Scion. The random number generator also kept giving me Citrine, it thinks she's a casonova. I legit rolled Skitterxpanacea at one point.

Also I'm not separating tohu and bohu.

What to Watch at the End

I've been happy to run in to a couple pieces of media back-to-back over the last week or so- plenty of down time, since I have that bug that's going around. They make pretty interesting companion pieces to one another, actually. With the end of the world so close now, we're starting to get a bit more genuinely thoughtful art about the subject, stuff you really can't say until you have this kind of vantage point.

They are The Power Fantasy (written by Kieron Gillen), an early-days ongoing comic of the 'deconstructing superheroes' type, and Pantheon (created by Craig Silverstein), one of those direct-to-streaming shows that get no marketing and inevitably fade away quickly; this one's an adult cartoon with two eight-episode seasons, adapted from some Ken Liu short stories, with a complete and satisfying ending. I'll put in a cut from here; targeted spoilers won't occur, but I'll be talking about theme and subject matter as well as a few specific plot beats, so you won't be entirely fresh if you read on.

Pantheon is a solid, if wobbly, stab at singularity fiction, with more of a focus on uploaded intelligence than purely synthetic (though both come in to play). It's about two-thirds YA to start, declining to about one-fifth by the end. The Power Fantasy, by contrast, is an examination of superpowers through a geopolitical lens that compares them to nuclear states; I'm not as good a judge of comics over all (particularly unfinished comics), but this one seems very high quality to me.

The intersection of the Venn Diagram of these two shows is the problem of power, and in particular the challenges of a human race handing off the baton to the entities that supersede it. They're both willing to radically change the world in response to the emergence of new forces; none of them even try to 'add up to normal' or preserve the global status quo. Both reckon with megadeath events.

I'm a... fairly specific mix of values and ethical stances, so I'm well used to seeing (and enjoying!) art and media that advance moral conclusions I don't agree with on a deep level. I used to joke that Big Hero Six was the only big-budget movie of its decade that actually captured some of my real values without compromise. (I don't think it's quite that bad, actually, I was being dramatic, but it's pretty close.)

Pantheon was a really interesting watch before I figured out what it was doing, because it felt like it was constantly dancing on the edge of either being one of those rare stories, or of utterly countermanding it with annoying pablum. It wasn't really until the second or third episode that I figured out why- it's a Socratic dialogue, a narrative producing a kind of dialectical Singularity.

The show maintains a complex array of philosophies and points of view, and makes sure that all of them get about as fair a shake as it can. This means, if you're me, then certain characters are going to confidently assert some really annoying pro-death claims and even conspire to kill uploaded loved ones for transparently bad reasons. If you're not me, you'll find someone just as annoying from another direction, I'm sure of it. Everybody has an ally in this show, and everybody has an enemy, and every point of view both causes and solves critical problems for the world.

For example, the thing simply does not decide whether an uploaded person is 'the same as' the original or a copy without the original essence; when one man is uploaded, his daughter continues thinking of him as her dad, and his wife declares herself widowed, and both choices are given gravitas and dignity. He, himself, isn't sure.

This isn't something you see in fiction hardly at all- the last time I can think of was Terra Ignota, though this show lacks that story's gem-cut perfection. It's that beautiful kind of art where almost nobody is evil, and almost everything is broken. And something a little bit magical happens when you do this, even imperfectly, because the resulting narrative doesn't live in any single one of their moral universes; it emerges from all of them, complexly and much weirder than a single simplistic point of view would have it. And they have to commit to the bit, because the importance of dialogue is the core, actual theme and moral center of this show.

The part of rationalism I've always been least comfortable with has been its monomania, the desire to sculpt one perfect system and then subject all of reality to it. This becomes doomerism very quickly; in short order, rationalists notice 'out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made', and then conclude that we're all very definitely going to die, once the singleton infinite-power system takes over, because it too will be flawed. (e.g. this joking-not-joking post by Big Yud.)

And don't get me wrong, I do take that concern seriously. I don't think I can conclusively, definitely convince myself that rationalism is wrong on this point, not to a degree of confidence that lets me ignore that risk. I don't at all begrudge the people devoting their entire professional lives to avoiding that outcome, even though I don't take it as given or even as particularly likely myself.

But it is precisely that monomania that is the central villain of this show, if it even has one. Breakdowns in dialogue, the assertion of unilateral control, conquering the world for its own good. The future, this show says, is multipolar, and we get there together or not at all.

That's a tremendously beautiful message, and a tremendously important one. I do wish it was more convincing.

The Power Fantasy works, quite hard, to build believably compassionate personalities into the fabric of its narrative. It doesn't take easy ways out, it doesn't give destroy-the-world levels of power to madmen or fools. Much like Pantheon, it gives voice to multiple, considered, and profoundly beautiful philosophies of life. Its protagonists have (sometimes quite serious) flaws, but only in the sense that some of the best among us have flaws; one of them is, more or less literally, an angel.

And that's why the slow, grinding story of slow, grinding doom is so effective and so powerful.

In a way that Pantheon does not, TPF reckons with the actual, specific analysis of escalation towards total destruction. Instead of elevating dialogue to the level of the sacred, it explores the actual limits and tendencies of that dialogue. It shows, again and again, how those good-faith negotiations are simply and tragically not quite good enough, with every new development dragging the world just an inch closer to the brink, making peace just a little bit more impossible. Those compassionate, wise superpowers are trapped in a nightmare that's slowly constricting around them, and they're compassionate and wise enough to know exactly what that means while remaining entirely unable to stop it.

It's most directly and obviously telling a story about the cold war, of course, not about artificial intelligence per se. The 'atomics' of TPF are just X-Men with the serial numbers filed off, and are therefore not constructed artifacts the way that uploaded and synthetic minds are; there's some nod to an 'superpowers arms race' in the AI sense of the term, but it's not a core theme. But these are still 'more than human' in important ways, with several of the characters qualifying directly as superintelligences in one way or another.

The story isn't complete (just getting started, really), so I don't want to speak too authoritatively about its theme or conclusions. But it's safe to say that the moral universe it lives in isn't a comfortable one. Echoing rationalists, the comic opens with an arresting line of dialogue: "The ethical thing to do, of course, would be to conquer the world."

In his excellent book Superintelligence, Nick Bostrom discusses multipolarity somewhat, and takes a rather dim view of it. He sees no hope for good outcomes that way, and argues that it will likely be extremely unstable. In other words, it has the ability to cloud the math, for a little while but it's ultimately just a transitional phase before we reach some kind of universal subordination to a single system.

The Power Fantasy describes such a situation, where six well-intentioned individuals are trying to share the world with one another, and shows beat-by-beat how they fail.

Pantheon cheats outrageously to make its optimism work- close relationships between just the right people, shackles on the superintelligences in just the right degree, lucky breaks at just the right time. It also has, I think, a rather more vague understanding of the principles at play (though it's delightfully faithful to the nerd culture in other ways; there's constant nods to Lain and Ghost in the Shell, including some genuinely funny sight gags, and I'm pretty sure one of the hacker characters is literally using the same brand of mouse as me).

TPF doesn't always show its work, lots of the story is told in fragments through flashbacks and nonlinear fragments. But what it shows, it shows precisely and without compromise or vagueness. It does what it can to stake you to the wall with iron spikes, no wiggle room, no flexibility.

But all the same, there's an odd problem, right? We survived the Cold War.

TPF would argue (I suspect) that we survived because the system collapsed to a singleton- the United States emerged as the sole superpower, with the Pax Americana reigning over the world undisputed for much of the last forty years. There were only two rivals, not six, and when one went, the game functionally ended.

In other words, to have a future, we need a Sovereign.

So let me go further back- the conspicuous tendency of biospheres to involve complex ecosystems with no 'dominant' organism. Sure, certain adaptations radiate quickly outward; sometimes killing and displacing much of what came before. But nature simply gives us no prior record of successful singletons emerging from competitive and dynamic environments, ever. Not even humans, not even if you count our collective species as one individual; we're making progress, but Malaria and other such diseases still prey on us, outside our control for now.

TPF would argue, I suspect, that there's a degree of power at which this stops being true- the power to annihilate the world outright, which has not yet been achieved but will be soon.

But that, I think, has not yet been shown to my satisfaction.

Obligate singleton outcomes are a far, far more novel claim than their proponents traditionally accept, and I think the burden of proof must be much higher than simply having a good argument for why it ought to be true. A model isn't enough; models are useful, not true. I'm hungry for evidence, and fictional evidence doesn't count.

It's an interesting problem, even with the consequences looming so profoundly across our collective horizon right now. TPF feels correct-as-in-precise, the way that economists and game theorists are precise. But economics and game theory are not inductive sciences; they are models, theories, arguments, deductions. They're not observations, and not to be trusted as empirical observations are trusted. Pantheon asserts again and again the power of dialogue and communication, trusts the multipolar world. And that's where my moral and analytical instincts lie too, at least to some degree. I concern myself with deep time, and deep time is endlessly, beautifully plural. But Pantheon doesn't have the rigor to back that up- this is hope, not deduction, and quite reckless in its way. Trying to implement dialectical approaches in anything like a formal system has led to colossal tragedy, again and again.

One narrative is ruthlessly rigorous and logically potent, but persistently unable to account for the real world as I've seen it. The other is vague, imprecise, overconfident, and utterly beautiful, and feels in a deep way like a continuation of the reality that I find all around me- but only feels. Both are challenging, in their way.

It's a bit scary, to be this uncertain about something this consequential. This is a question around which so much pivots- the answer to the Drake paradox, the nature of the world-to-come, the permanence of death. But I simply don't know.

The following tinkers are all given 2 months to create a basketball team of 5-9 players. These teams have to be entirely made of their creations.

The only limitations are everything has to be bipedal and have a vaguely humanoid shape, cannot have more than 8 limbs (tails count), and cannot be above 7 foot tall.

They then do a tournament. Assume that those that can't explicitly create drones (i.e mannequin) can turn existing stuff into drones. So mannequin could create a drone version of his current weird body as a 'player'.

Directly attacking other players is not allowed but indirectly is. Any damage is repaired between matches. Distorting the field by doing things such as creating acid pools is allowed, so long as the hoop itself is still accessible. Blocking the hoop in any way is not permitted. The ball must be accessible at all times - no teleporting it to alternate dimensions. No teleporting in general, and ball modification is not permitted. Flight or wall climbing is not permitted.

Anything else goes.

I think it's pretty funny how The Power Fantasy has a scene highlighting how Haven has plenty of doors that close, but then later we see that Heavy's bedroom just has incredibly translucent partial curtains. "We're open about our weird sex stuff. We're secret about our secrets."

As we head into issue 6, wherein “Magnus and Heavy’s 18-years-in-the-making plans for world-domination are revealed” I think it’s worthwhile to remember that some of the most dangerous times in the Cold War was when one side erroneously believed that nuclear war was something they could win, or would soon be able to win (see, eg the Star Wars Defence system). Nuclear peace was enforced by MAD, and so too is the continuing peace between the Superpowers, but MAD breaks down the instant one side thinks they can win, that action stops being lose-lose.

Heavy thought conflict between him and The Major would be lose-lose; an instant after he learned otherwise The Major was a ball of meat.

In issue 6 Heavy and Magnus will think they can win. How many will die proving them wrong?

The world’s unluckiest criminal award goes to:

- Interlude 1

I think it’s absolutely hilarious to imagine that, at any point in time, Scion could have dropped by and stopped a supervillain or criminal in the story.

How utterly terrifying to imagine planning a bank heist with your team of supervillains and when you open the vault, Scion is there

In issue #1 of The Power Fantasy, we get at least a glimpse of most of the Superpowers' living or working spaces- the exception is Etienne. For four of them- Valentina, Eliza, Masumi, Magus- the color palettes of their spaces are very similar to how they usually dress, and I also think their spaces are on-point symbolism for who they are. Let's look at the places we see, one by one.

Valentina lives in a small, cozy house on a scrapped-together space station- she loves the small details of human culture, but will always have to take an outsider role. The interior is designed with warm neutrals, similar to the golden yellows she often wears.

Eliza's space is cloaked in shadow, with candelabras and high windows that barely illuminate anything- she's eerie and mysterious, with religious motifs. It's high-contrast black and red, like the colors of her dramatic, costume-like outfits.

Masumi works in a huge warehouse- suited to the large-scale ambitions of her art, but also an industrial space that feels sterile and empty. The pastel paints she uses are all over her outfit, and when she dresses up for her gallery opening, it's in similar pastels.

And Magus works in a dimly-lit pyramid full of strange technomagic- the angles of the walls feel alien and menacing, as do the unfamiliar gadgets. His space includes Pyramid members, not just himself, so its design reflects the messaging he sends them about uncanny power. He dresses in eerie greens that make him almost blend into his environment.

Later we see Valentina's 1962 apartment and Magus's 1978 flat, which tell us more about how those two have changed or stayed the same. But I want to talk about how issue #1 dedicates one page each to those four characters and their spaces- a very obvious parallelism that leaves out Etienne and Heavy.

Etienne's traveling, so of course he can't be depicted within that pattern. He also comments to Tonya that he likes travel, and in issue #3 he implies that he flies transatlantic pretty regularly, so it's possible that he feels just as comfortable traveling the world than staying home.

But Heavy… he's at home, taking Etienne's psychic call just like everyone else. But he's outside the pattern because his relationship to his space is different.

Haven is beautiful. It's all pastels, it's full of flourishing houseplants, it's built with swooping curves rather than workaday right angles. There's enough charming little details that if I tried to make a comprehensive list you'd get bored reading it. The oveall aesthetic effect is peaceful, luxurious, idealistic, and gentle.

Basically, Heavy is completely at odds with the city he built. It's his place, for his people… but notice how the forty-something guy in pajamas stands out among all the beautiful young people with impeccable fashion sense. Four of the Superpowers seem to have designed their signature space to represent the way they live their lives. So why does Heavy live in a space that doesn't look or feel anything like him?

I see a couple possible takes on that. You could think of the discrepancy as straightforward hypocrisy- he founded his city on ideals he consistently fails to live up to. But… well, I have an alternate take that's kind of personal. I'm saving the details for another post, but basically: I think Heavy knows that Haven is the opposite of the face he presents to the world, and that's exactly the point.

America's modern psychic shields are Magnus's Numinous tech, which implies that they didn't have shielding prior to Magnus's rightward shift and his involvement with America. So when then, did Etienne not stop the New Mexico Festival Massacre, or at least warn Valentina? Was it a deliberate attempt to alienate her from America? Or was he even hoping that they would succeed? The balancing act would be easier with one less Superpower around, even if its Valentina, but I think they're were still too close at that point for Etienne to do that.

And more importantly, how did he explain this lapse to Valentina?

These images from J. Michael Straczynski's Rising Stars gestures in the same direction I was gesturing with that Aquaman post- there's a really interesting archetype in superpower fiction consisting of characters who "Step Outside" in the way described here. Superhumans who remove themselves from society- not in a "kneel before me" way, but simply out of recognizing that participating in society in a conventional manner offers them significantly less than it does an average person (though not nothing- insert that MP100 monologue about "can you make a soda can.") Libertarians who fuck off to the moon and carve a Gadsen snake visible from earth, that kind of guy.

Invincible featured the title character gradually sliding into something adjacent to this as he realized that he was just sort of going through the motions by attending college and so on, when his girlfriend can wish a house into existence and the Cecil throws money at him to do stuff he'd do for free. The entire main cast of The Power Fantasy is doing something like this- you're most likely in no danger if you see one of the Superpowers walking down the street but most of them probably haven't paid for a meal in years (unless they insist on paying, which wraps back around to having the same dynamic as not paying.) Superman yo-yos on the topic of how accountable he makes himself to human governments, but I strongly doubt he got a permit for that fuckoff-huge fortress in the arctic. And so on. Obviously not all superhumans can get away with this- Spider-Man is held back from becoming a full-time bank robber by way more than just his conscience. But whether they could get away with this is a great characterization question to ask of any superhuman, and it's a door you can't really close once it's open- any decision they do make from that point forward will be implicitly contrasted against their everpresent option to just Hit Da Bricks.

Wanted to try out some effects/brushes and do some slight redesigns so have a Tecton!

Cool guy, but one has to wonder how he got his costume approved. Your power specializes in demolition, destroying buildings, and creating sinkholes, and you go with a bulky power armor with one eye? That’s like being a Water-based Mover and going for a lizard costume, or having a Master power and dressing up in white feathers- no wait that last one’s just the Mathers Fallen.

Ward, but it's Dot fighting Amy's Nine Evil Exes.

Hear ye, hear ye

Once again noble creatives have invented the Worm, termed on this occasion as the ‘Tactical Breach Wizard’. But be not disappointed, this is no mere repackaging, for this Worm, unlike the original, is not beloved literature but instead uses the power of lightning channeled through sigils etched in silicon to create interactable moving images. Furthermore, this Worm concerns itself with defenestration, a most joyful activity when done without harm, to a degree unconceived by the original Worm

Powers are known to be born from moments of trauma. A mother losing her child can gain necromancy to bring them back. A child in an abusive family can gain invisibility to hide when needed.

I am a therapist for those with powers. Tell me your powers, and together, we shall work through the trauma that caused it to spawn.

oooh have you ever done a post about the ridiculous mandatory twist endings in old sci-fi and horror comics? Like when the guy at the end would be like "I saved the Earth from Martians because I am in fact a Vensuvian who has sworn to protect our sister planet!" with no build up whatsoever.

Yeah, that is a good question - why do some scifi twist endings fail?

As a teenager obsessed with Rod Serling and the Twilight Zone, I bought every single one of Rod Serling’s guides to writing. I wanted to know what he knew.

The reason that Rod Serling’s twist endings work is because they “answer the question” that the story raised in the first place. They are connected to the very clear reason to even tell the story at all. Rod’s story structures were all about starting off with a question, the way he did in his script for Planet of the Apes (yes, Rod Serling wrote the script for Planet of the Apes, which makes sense, since it feels like a Twilight Zone episode): “is mankind inherently violent and self-destructive?” The plot of Planet of the Apes argues the point back and forth, and finally, we get an answer to the question: the Planet of the Apes was earth, after we destroyed ourselves. The reason the ending has “oomph” is because it answers the question that the story asked. 

My friend and fellow Rod Serling fan Brian McDonald wrote an article about this where he explains everything beautifully. Check it out. His articles are all worth reading and he’s one of the most intelligent guys I’ve run into if you want to know how to be a better writer.

According to Rod Serling, every story has three parts: proposal, argument, and conclusion. Proposal is where you express the idea the story will go over, like, “are humans violent and self destructive?” Argument is where the characters go back and forth on this, and conclusion is where you answer the question the story raised in a definitive and clear fashion. 

The reason that a lot of twist endings like those of M. Night Shyamalan’s and a lot of the 1950s horror comics fail is that they’re just a thing that happens instead of being connected to the theme of the story. 

One of the most effective and memorable “final panels” in old scifi comics is EC Comics’ “Judgment Day,” where an astronaut from an enlightened earth visits a backward planet divided between orange and blue robots, where one group has more rights than the other. The point of the story is “is prejudice permanent, and will things ever get better?” And in the final panel, the astronaut from earth takes his helmet off and reveals he is a black man, answering the question the story raised. 

And heaven forbid he freeze the train

Clockblocker not on a train: A perfect hero; capable of locking down opponents without causing injury; requires tinkertech and a demonstration by Skitter to figure out how to use his power to do harm

Clockblocker on a train: A weapon of massive destruction, incapable of anything less than destroying the entire train, for the second he freezes anything it shoots towards the back of the train at at least 50km/h and up to 300km/h

Clockblocker not on a train: A perfect hero; capable of locking down opponents without causing injury; requires tinkertech and a demonstration by Skitter to figure out how to use his power to do harm

Clockblocker on a train: A weapon of massive destruction, incapable of anything less than destroying the entire train, for the second he freezes anything it shoots towards the back of the train at at least 50km/h and up to 300km/h

Sometimes I think about for how much Faultline looks down upon Skidmark and the Merchants, for her whole “he has no ideology, he’s just an idiot” line at the S9 moot, Skidmark and the Merchants actually showed up to the Leviathan fight, while Faultline and her people got the hell out of dodge because no one was paying them.

 Like, Melanie, you are not significantly less of an opportunist than those guys!  You sided with the villain alliance over the bombslinging terrorist because they outbid the terrorist. Your wholesome fan-favorite found family is composed entirely of people you took in because they were at rock bottom and you could exploit that- you were not Spitfire’s first choice of boss, lady! Your cute surrogate-daughter is someone you broke out an asylum to use as a gun. You only grow principles when it would let you butt heads with Tattletale more effectively, or wring more money out of a deal by positioning yourself opposite Alexandria! 

I dunno, I find this internal moral jockeying between the villains to be super entertaining because of how clearly it highlights how many people in the wormverse are angling for any means by which they situation they’ve arrived at in life is the morally and practically correct one.

So there’s a question that Worm asks, and answers, again and again. And the question is, “If a person does something sufficiently bad, if they are a bad enough person, does it become okay to do bad things to them?” And again and again, the answer to that question is no.

Glory Girl flattening the Nazi is a pointed example of this; she breaks an irredeemable scumbag’s back, and no tears or shed, but the narrative is really pointed about the fact that she shouldn’t have, that the power disparity made it totally unnecessary, and she clearly knows that too. And later, when the karma wheel comes back around, what happens to Glory Girl is patently in excess of anything bad she ever did as a dumb, angry teen.

Regent enslaves people! But he exclusively (on-screen) enslaves gangsters, serial killers, and bullies who use their power to hurt those weaker than them. This appears to be an actual line in the sand he drew for himself; he’s outsourcing his morality to common ideas of cathartic vengeance. But when he systematically disassembles Sophia’s life for what she did to Taylor, it’s framed as horrifying.

Armsmaster throws Kaiser, a wealthy Neo-Nazi gang leader, to the wolves, and Kaiser gets torn in half. He had it coming and it’s still treated as a massive ethical breach that Armsmaster did this. 

Moord Nag suffers a breakdown during the tail end of Gold Morning, and it’s treated as an example of how Taylor’s gone too far- forget the fact she built an empire on literal human sacrifice, nothing justifies what’s being done to her.

I think, or I have this theory, that about 40 percent of worm discourse is rooted in the fact that people have very, very different intuitions about the correct answer to the above question.

Because I’ve seen people criticize the writing and ethics of Worm on the basis that the dumpster Nazi deserved it, and that the framing is overly sympathetic to Nazis for having that be how Glory Girl abuses her power. From the opposite direction, I’ve seen people- fuck that, it’s been ten years, we’ve all seen people saying that Vicky, in turn, had the wretchening coming because she’s a junior cop. I see people cheerleading Regent because they do, in fact, think Sophia had it coming; I see people criticizing the race and gender politics of the book because they think the author thinks Sophia had it coming. Armsmaster feeding Kaiser to Leviathan? I’ve seen people criticize how that’s treated as an ethical breach alongside all the other stuff he did during the Endbringer attack, that it’s overly sympathetic to Nazis. 

And, you know, I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong, per se, to hold many of these opinions. Vengeful Bloodlust is kind of foundational to my personality so I do very much get it. But so often this gets painted as “bad writing” or “plot holes!” 

 No! No it isn’t! You just disagree! You’ve got a different ethical framework than the one presented by the book and you disagree with the conclusions it draws! 

There really is basically no reason for Imp Vista friendship to happen in a world where Regent doesn't blow up but I really wish there was. Maybe in comedic less serious AU they can still be Best Friends because there really is something so engaging about a world where the Undersiders and Wards hate each other but are also forcing friendship through gritted teeth off the clock for the sake of Team Little Sisters

Imp invites Vista to one of Taylors block parties in hopes that exposure to raw villainous joy will turn Vista supervillain. Vista brings the Wards with her in hopes that exposure to good natured heroes with a system of ethics will make Aisha want to join the Wards. Everyone is out of costume and random adults try and solve the tension between what they perceive as two groups of teenagers having a spat over nothing. Lisa and Chris Win are forced to shake hands and apologize lest they set a bad example for the kids watching. They play Cornhole and Regent makes the Wards mess up every single throw. Emotionally charged game of Uno turned philosophical debate between Brian, Taylor and Dennis.

In conclusion I have a vision for a beautiful world of WardSiders frienemyship and it all boils down to this image

Hated it at the time, but I can't understate how much I've come to like the reveal that Brian died on the oil rig. The protagonist's love interest-turned-ex died off-screen due to her decision making, and while she's recovering from getting literally blown in half by the same thing that killed him everyone decides that they're just Not Gonna Tell Her What Happened to her romantic lead, they're gonna tell her almost literally that he fucked off to a farm upstate. And she believes it, and hinges her last scraps of psychological stability on it during the endgame, and then either dies or escapes the narrative still believing it, possibly forcing herself to believe it. I think there are very few works playing in the same space as Worm that would have the balls to treat the quote-unquote "lead pairing" this way.

As a person that knows a lot more about capeshit than me, what’s the meta-textual significance of the Superpowers in The Power Fantasy abstaining from establishing secret identities?

Principally it's to signal that the characters, while informed by the traditional superhero paradigm, exist largely outside of it.

Contemporary superhero fiction has a complicated relationship with the concept of The Secret Identity. When you come at the premise fresh without years of ossified genre convention, you get hit with the double whammy that a civilian identity is increasingly difficult to keep secret and that even if you buy into the idea of doing vigilante shit in secret to avoid going to jail, it's still going to take some extra work to get to the finish line of grown men calling themselves "Batman" or "Ant Man" and expecting to be taken seriously.

So, retellings will often go out of their way justify how these characters could develop these public identities semi-organically. "Superman" is usually not Clark Kent's idea in modern retellings- the media names him that, Lois names him that, and he runs with it. The Batman has the fantastic recurring gag that Bruce appears to actually self-identify as the comically overwrought "Vengeance," but the bat motif led to everyone just calling him Batman instead. The X-Men have advanced the idea, in a couple different forms, that "Mutant names" are a sub-cultural thing brushing up against a cult thing, a ceremonial way of setting yourself above and apart from baseline humanity. And you've got military callsigns, obviously. I think that's where "Ant-Man" and "Hawkeye" come from in the MCU.

In The Power Fantasy, none of the superpowers have a dual identity because they've all got extremely specific political (or artistic) projects that don't mesh well with that. To a degree I think this is playing in the same space as X-Men, where a lot of the cast have shifted over the years from being public ciphers to being public activists whose real names are on the news alongside their code names when they blow something up. But even if they don't have dual identities, the superpowers do have identities, personas, nicknames; there's a mix of deliberate image-building and outside-designation-by-society occurring. "Heavy" Harris is a thing an activist or cult leader who controls gravity could plausibly come to be called in the course of Moving and Shaking. Masumi is mentioned, in passing, to also go by the name of "Deconstructa," which reads like either a pretentious artist thing or a common-parlance nickname she picked up after the Kaiju thing. Eliza Hellbound is clearly not that woman's real name, but also, it is- and it's descriptive, and she's certainly powerful enough that that's what she gets to be called if she wants. "Jacky Magus" is really really really obviously not what's on that guys birth certificate, but it's also the only name he has that actually matters. Ettiene gets a whole monologue about the necessity of constructing himself as a figurehead that human governments can work with. He wears bright yellow, he gives interviews, and I will eat my hat if his actual last name is Lux. These people are similar to traditional superheroes in that they are constructing larger-than-life identities, they're playing a game, they're selling the world on specific narratives about themselves. But the truth that they're covering for is never that they've got some kind of secret civilian life waiting for them when they clock out. By choice or otherwise, all six of them are simply well past that.

Ever think about how Scion’s defeat matched the Chicago Ward’s modus operandi during the time skip? In both cases direct force was not an option, in Scion’s case because it was either ineffective or could be easily avoided and in the Chicago Ward’s case because it was forbidden, and both had the same answer: to apply relentless psychological torture until the enemy literally gives up.

It’s honestly embarrassing that Taylor didn’t come with the idea to do this against Scion considering it was most of what she was doing during the previous two years

Have we talked about how Taylor has common themes with each teammate when she meets them and they foreshadow something about her final form as Khepri? (Also ship names being based on bug things makes me feel wickedly gleeful)

• Taylor + Lisa = SmugBug = uncanny insights, could be mistaken for precognition ; reckless self endangerment

• Taylor + Rachel = WolfSpider = sudden not-necessarily-proportional violence ; brain no longer maps to human interaction

• Taylor + Grue = Dark&Creepy = obfuscation, macho power displays ; power theft

• Taylor + Regent = QueenBee = false sense of emotional detachment ; controlling people but not their minds

• Taylor + Imp = Fly On The Wall = unobtrusively spies on others ; forgetting

God's Favorite

Lucy wakes to the soft tapping of rain against her window, and she is God’s favorite. She knows this in the absent sound of her alarm, and she knows this in the yawning rumbles of thunder, and she knows this before she touches her phone alight to the notification screen.

8:43 am. Far from the 4:30 am alarm she’d needed to heed to make it to her flight. Her screen is awash with airline notifications.

She scrambles from bed. Her urgency is an apology. Lucy skips the shower and skips the hair washing and paints on deodorant before stowing it back in her carryon and calling her uber.

“Crazy weather,” her driver with the big mustache remarks. His windshield wipers swish through a river of rain.

“Yeah,” Lucy answers. She glances at her rumbling phone. She glances at the rumbling clouds. The road is clear. It shouldn’t be, not this route and not at this hour. A gas main broke somewhere up the highway that feeds this street. A freak accident. 2 injuries. It’s kept this road clear for just the locals since it happened. Lucy encounters no traffic enroute to the airport.

There are pockets of planes grounded across the runways, barely visible behind the sheets of downpour. They look like herding animals, herbivores, standing stock-still in brace against the weather. Lucy stares at them only a moment while the driver pulls her carryon out of the trunk. She grabs her jacket closed against the wind, and grabs her carryon handle, and thanks her driver. The rain does not reach her here, though the wind does.

Inside Lucy drags her bag past the help desks swarming with the orderly filings of people in disarray. Parents leaning too hard on help counters with kids pulling on bag handles. Hurried conversations and requests and arguments. The electronic boards are awash with deeply red DELAYED and CANCELED. The airport is choking. Lucy, who God loves, glides through security unimpeded.

At gate-side, Lucy finally looks to the large red board of DELAYED and CANCELED etchings to confirm what she knew without even checking her phone notifications. Gate A14. Her carryon wheels pitter and patter across tile as she walks, striding quickly, with apology.

When Gate A14 comes into view it is smothered with the weight of two or possibly three flights worth of people. There are people asleep clutching backpacks and curled on the floor. There is a four-year-old girl with her face buried in an iPad and a mother having a phone call whose clipped urgency infects Lucy. There is a man leaning over the counter to talk to the gate agent, and his hands pulse with each tensing of his fingers. “…to the hospital before she…” Lucy makes out, or thinks she makes out. She doesn’t hear the gate agent’s response, but she can read the defeated shake of her head.

Lucy’s carryon wheels clunk where the smooth tile of the terminal shifts to carpeting. She doesn’t think to grab a seat because there are no open seats. So she positions herself in a way to unmistakably say she is at the gate, threading between stagnant suitcases and kids splayed on the floor. Lucy approaches the rain-splattered windows, and like a conversation shy upon being overheard, the thunder recedes from her advance. The rain draws to a polite close. The clouds split along a seam and pull away, as if they were only ever a wave that had transiently crashed to shore. The sky is beautifully blue.

There is a stirring hopefulness in the air. Other passengers have pushed past Lucy to stand closer to the window and peer outside, as if their confirmation of the changing weather can convince the airline of what to do next.

The gate agent puts down the phone receiver of a one-sided call. She pulls the microphone close and with grainy clarity she announces, “Boarding for Flight A1874 to Detroit will begin in 10 minutes.”

On the walkway, through the gap between the throughway and plane, Lucy sees the puddles rising with steam. They throw the iridescent spectrum of a rainbow up into the sky.

In a backlog of hundreds of flights, Lucy’s is the first out across the runway. This is because God loves her. She only wishes It loved her in a way to fix her broken phone alarm.

…

In childhood Lucy had heard “God loves you” and “Jesus loves you” in the placative ways that Sunday School teaches its children. With jingles and crayon-drawings of sheep and shepherds and a decorated ornament, crafted each Christmas Eve.

Lucy had long since fallen out of it and had thought very little of her parents’ tepid god for the last 10 or 15 years.

It was last spring, 27-years-old, that Lucy had found her way out into the marsh. Mud sucking her boots and gnats plicking in swarm against her skin. Where she sat her tailbone in the muck and folded her arms over her knees and buried her face in her legs to cry. And cry. And cry. And there with the mugginess sopping her skin and the humidity coiling her hair, God decided It loved her.

It loved her with a parting of canopy for the robin-blue sky. It loved her with the chirp of cicadas. It loved her in the way a dog circles its owner and nudges a wet snout to palm, because It was here, and It would make her feel better.

Lucy’s seat is the window seat beside the man with the tensing fingers. He fiddles with a phone in his clutch until he locks it in airplane mode and stows it, to look at no more. Lucy wonders who this man knows in the hospital, and she wonders why God doesn’t love him more than It loves her.

…

In March, Marco breaks up with her over a plate of fish that is too dry. In the moment, Lucy wonders if it’s her fault, because of the fish. But that’s not it. The signs were there, in all the subtle and stuttering moments Marco had pulled away. Each little moment like a slightly missed step, on a staircase growing ricketier each month.

Marco leaves and everything is so quiet, to the point that Lucy thinks her own sounds are pretty stupid, and pretty embarrassing while she’s coiled snail-like and snottily-sobbing into her pillowcase. She thinks absently of how she has to wash the pillowcase now, and that’s fine, because she was going to wash her linens this weekend anyway. She sobs so hard she’s almost screaming. Oh, and kitchen towels. She’ll wash the kitchen towels too.

She’s alive enough the next morning to throw all her linens and her kitchen towels on the floor of the laundry room. And maybe Marco breaking up with her is fine, because his birthday is December 25th and who wants a husband whose birthday is the same day as Christmas?

Her doorbell rings. And somehow it’s Marco again. She opens it to him, and he smells like a wildfire.

“Sorry, Lucy, this is awkward,” and Lucy believes he means it. He’s clutching a jacket around himself for what looks like security more than warmth. His apartment burned down last night. A resident fell asleep with a cigarette lit and dangling from her fingertips. Unit right below him. All his stuff burned, or filled with smoke, or is now logged up with water. He’s been sitting outside on the cobblestone for the last few hours, watching the blaze, on the phone with insurance. His landlord hasn’t responded to him yet. He’s cold, and he’s smokey, and can he shower here maybe? Can he stay for just a day or two, maybe? Sorry. This is awkward. He has no family on this coast. He really has nowhere else to go.

“Sure.” Lucy lets in Marco who smells like a wildfire. She adds the towels to her laundry list because they will smell like a wildfire too once Marco has used them. When he is clean, Lucy asks him nice questions. He asks her nice questions back. She helps him figure out something strange on the insurance form. He starts cooking dinner before Lucy realizes he’d entered the kitchen, because she was busy with the linens and the towels.

Marco takes the couch and clean linens. “Thanks, again, really. I can pay you a few days rent, when I get the insurance payout.” It’s no problem. Lucy goes to her room and shuts the door. It’s warmer here with Marco again. She wonders how long he’ll stay. She wonders if it will be for as long as she thinks the sound of him breathing in the other room is a comfort.

Something twists in Lucy’s chest. She wonders why God loves her more than It loves Marco. Lucy wonders why God didn’t love the woman with the lit cigarette who did not make it out of the building.

…

In June Lucy is desperately throwing together the haphazard makings of a financial report. She meant to stay up late to finish it, and get up early to make it beautiful, but she’s had a cold for a whole week now and the new bottle of decongestant she grabbed wasn’t “non-drowsy” like she thought.

Her heart is beating, and she nearly twists her ankle with a misstep in high heels, and she almost loses her grip on the shoddy makings of a too-light financial report still warm from the printer. She can spin it, maybe, that it’s intentionally light and she’d simply wanted the esteemed and respected input from the executives in the room before she produces the truly polished report this evening. And when the eyebrows are raised and she is told the report is due now, maybe they will refrain from firing her on the spot since she is still the only one who can produce the report they need.

She pulls open the meeting room door as if she is not out of breath, as if her nose isn’t red from a thousand tissues. She takes her seat so hastily that she does not notice, until she looks up properly, and sees the CEO’s seat is empty.

No one speaks. No one acknowledges her entrance. Lucy hugs the warm binder to her chest.

The door latch clicks open, but Lucy knows it will not be the CEO. She heard the click of heels before the doorknob turned.

It’s his assistant with the lovely auburn hair that curls around her shoulders. Her suit is red and her eyes are red and she stands just behind the CEO’s chair. Everyone notices her in the way they did not notice Lucy.

She speaks. The CEO’s wife and daughter were in a head-on collision with a drunk driver 42 minutes ago. They’re in critical condition, and the CEO has gone to be with them. He asks everyone’s forgiveness and grace in this time. The meeting is rescheduled for tomorrow, same time, and he humbly requests if everyone in attendance can adjust their calendar to accommodate this. This is a big ask, he knows. The board will have questions, he knows. But these are extenuating circumstances. The assistant will help with any necessary reworking of everyone’s calendars. And Lucy, can you please deliver the report tomorrow? The assistant has a sympathy card, which she lays on the table along with a black pen, and she asks if anyone would care to sign it.

Lucy signs it. The card paper is so cold, compared to the warmth of the half-finished report squeezed tight against her chest. The half-finished report should have cooled by now, but God must know she’s cold and ashen-faced, and God loves her so much.

…

In July, Lucy is a perfectionist. Her mother swears she wasn’t always like this. Her high school best friend is surprised, when in town for a weekend and meeting up for coffee, by the way Lucy triple-confirms the time, and the place, and the way she wears two watches. Why two watches? he asks. Because the alarm on one watch might fail. What about your phone? The watches are the backup, if the phone dies.

There’s something off-putting in the way she talks, and the way she asks questions of him, and the way she exclaims in joy at every piece of good news he shares. Josiah glances behind himself, more and more, and it’s because Lucy stares back there like she knows someone else at the next table.

It’s all weird, and Josiah can’t help but pull away. But Lucy pulls away first, retroactively. She can always pull away retroactively, and declare to her four walls of her room how much she didn’t need that friend, like she doesn’t need Marco, or anyone else who God may drop at her doorstep like the dead bird bounty of a cat, happy to share with the person It loves.

Lucy finishes her reports early. She wiles away the sun at her office even in the summer finishing reports far before anyone could need them. She double-checks, every time. She triple-checks. Her boss pulls her into a meeting room and with hands folded on the desk, he asks if maybe she needs to take some time off. And instantly she declares to the four walls that no-one at the company is doing this to her. “I wasn’t implying that…” but she’s not looking at him when he answers.

In July Lucy returns to the marsh. She returns with stones she’s horded up and gathered in the trunk of her car. She walks through the boot-suckling mud and she weighs stones in her arms while she hurls them, and throws, and screams, and hopes one of them might strike God in Its snout.

“I HATE YOU!” she screams. She throws all her weight into a stone whose sharp edge nicks bark. She hurls one through the bushes and another into the leafy canopy above. She is sopping wet and the cicadas chirp at her. “I HATE YOU!! GO AWAY!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” She chucks a stone which lands in the sucking muck, capsizing like a ship beneath the algae.

She throws, and her gravity heaves forward, and her boots stay stuck in the mud. So she topples elbow-deep in the mud, spattered, soaking into her chin and her shirt and her jeans and her hair. She parts her lips and tastes the earthy wetness on her skin, coppery blood, split lip. The stones are all under her. She laughs. Lucy tilts her head to the sky screaming with laughter. Joyous to tears, with the wetness drawing rivulets down the mud on her cheeks. She laughs because sopping-in-mud-and-muck is NOT the state of something God loves. This wouldn’t happen to something God loves.

Lucy goes home. Lucy showers. Lucy does her laundry. And It crawls back into bed with her. Perhaps like a scolded animal, but perhaps It did not even know It was being scolded. Lucy cannot tell.

The wine stains came out of her linens today because God loves her.

In relation to this, of the three great failures of his that Lux lists in issue 1 - the Signal, the Second Summer of Love, and Tokyo - all are extra-dimensional or extraterrestrial. The Signal is an alien gestalt, the Queen arrived “from outside existence” and while Tokyo is the fault of Masumi, an atomic, her power is to control and summon an extra-dimensional creature that exists independently of her.

All the great problems, thus far, have been caused by out of pocket bullshit

Uniquely for superhero deconstructions, The Power Fantasy is largely in conversation first-and-foremost with X-Men rather than bog-standard targets of critique such as Superman and Batman; this is apparent both in the centrality of a millions-strong demographic of post-atomic-bomb superhumans as well as the interpersonal and ideological conflict between Ray "Heavy" Harris (analogous to Magneto) and Etienne Lux (analogous to Professor X.)

One underdiscussed element of how The Power Fantasy approaches the X-Men canon is that in addition to the mutant analogues of The Atomics and The Nuclear Family, the setting's worldbuilding also incorporates religious cosmology and functional magic; three of the six Superpowers in the main cast derive their power from divine intervention or accrued wizardly power, rather than whatever capepunk-standard unified power schema governs the Atomics. This reflects a truth of the X-men canon largely suppressed within the Fox Film canon- namely the absurd amount of time that the X-Men spend having to sideline the mutant metaphor in order to slap down Dracula or space aliens or wizards or Literal Demons from Hell or some such similar out of pocket bullshit

My wild prediction for issue 6, is that Heavy’s son, possibly due to growing up constantly psychically shielded, is not immune to Lux’s powers, resulting in him instantly becoming psychically subverted by Lux, in a way that can only deescalate the situation

Deception also plays a large part of this. The Major survived a decade as America’s super powered hatchet man off of a bluff. Lux’s dead-man’s switch is possibly a bluff. Heavy can pull himself back together from more or less anything, but it’s not as perfect a process as he pretends it is. For all we know America succeeded in killing him, just with a delay

Its just a background detail at the moment, but it’s interesting how the superpowers have undergone a quasi-evolutionary process, in that a new superpower can only emerge and remain around if they are more-or-less immune to the various powers of the existing superpowers, or have some other reason for the existing superpowers not to kill them.

Anyone without psychic shielding would be instantly neutered by Lux (see The Devil). Anyone one not physically resilient enough to survive a first strike from Heavy and whom Heavy dislikes enough to kill will likely be killed by Heavy. Etc

The Major only survived as long as he did because Magnus didn’t tell Heavy about how weak he was because letting America believe that it was still powerful was worth the concessions they were asking for until, suddenly, they no longer were.

Lux, Masumi, and possibly Magnus, are only alive, despite physical squishiness, because they have (in Masumi’s case, unintentionally) created dead-man’s switches.

And so by 1999 all you’re left with are Superpowers that have psychic shielding and which are either incredibly physically resilient or have truly terrifying dead-man’s switches

Its just a background detail at the moment, but it’s interesting how the superpowers have undergone a quasi-evolutionary process, in that a new superpower can only emerge and remain around if they are more-or-less immune to the various powers of the existing superpowers, or have some other reason for the existing superpowers not to kill them.

Anyone without psychic shielding would be instantly neutered by Lux (see The Devil). Anyone one not physically resilient enough to survive a first strike from Heavy and whom Heavy dislikes enough to kill will likely be killed by Heavy. Etc

The Major only survived as long as he did because Magnus didn’t tell Heavy about how weak he was because letting America believe that it was still powerful was worth the concessions they were asking for until, suddenly, they no longer were.

Lux, Masumi, and possibly Magnus, are only alive, despite physical squishiness, because they have (in Masumi’s case, unintentionally) created dead-man’s switches.

And so by 1999 all you’re left with are Superpowers that have psychic shielding and which are either incredibly physically resilient or have truly terrifying dead-man’s switches

Not gonna lie, really looking forward to next issue when we get to see Heavy and the Major square up for a continent destroying battle, only for Heavy to effortlessly yeets him into the sun.

So far The Power Fantasy has largely been an excellent execution of exactly what you would have expected from the previews which does mute the effect a little.

Then Issue #4 dropped and it's as at least as heavily telegraphed as anything that came before but this time that doesn't stop it hitting as hard as possible at all.

It's one of the most horrible scenarios imaginable. Your powers go out of control when your emotions get too negative and when that happens millions die.

Nobody can ever be too honest when it would risk that happening. You can't trust anything someone says to you. You can't develop any type of meaningful relationship with someone. Your emotional, artistic and moral development is stunted because nobody can ever confront you with upsetting truths. You can't even blame anyone because it's completely correct for them to instrumentalise you and to turn every interaction they have with you into managing you.

10/10 I've been screaming internally whenever I think about Masumi since her issue dropped.