The Three Commandments

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.

Thinkin’ About Alexandria

An important thing to keep in mind about Alexandria, I think, is that she (and the rest of Cauldron’s inner circle) have been sticking like glue to an organizational schema she developed when she was fifteen, using power-assisted cognition but the life-skills, worldview and experience of a fifteen year old; I think this goes a long way towards explaining why her mindset was finding the most efficient way to martially oppose villains instead of, say, finding a way to financially disincentivize villainy through social safety nets. (alternatively, she wanted society to be a thunderdome of sorts to get everyone trained up for gold morning, but that’s got just as many holes that could be explained by being fifteen.)

Her power answered her fear that she’d die without getting to grow and change by arresting all her biological processes and permanently locking her into her late-teens-early-twenties; she has to pretend in order to seem as old as she actually is. Her cognition is completely offloaded to her power; her brain is vulnerable, but it isn’t clear if she’s actually doing any thinking with that thing. Unmovable, unbreakable, clad in fortress imagery, sticking like glue to a specific plan, and a specific value (they’ll be alive, that’s all that matters) derived from her own root fear of death, her preference for mutation over death by cancer, which she projects onto everyone else in the world and uses to justify everything she does to them. Incredible calculative power, incredible resources, incredible martial power, and a fighting style that, to my recollection, consists of hitting the other guy until they stop moving.

So, you know, conclusion number one that I’m drawing from all of this is that Alexandria is Taylor with all the world’s resources at her back and no one to ever tell her no. Conclusion two is that Alexandria is subtly in the same kind of power-induced arrested development as Contessa; she’s got the brains and the brawn to think up and execute bad plans perfectly, she faces no criticism or scrutiny, she (usually) faces no consequences. She’s not “stand-on-a-beach-for-three-days-in-a-stupor” levels of brainscorched by her power but there’s a real degree to which I read the training wheels as never having come off with her. I get a vibe of R/Iamverysmart permeating Cauldron’s set-up and self-assuredness, and this is part of why.

Conclusion three (the big obvious one) is that she’s a metaphor for institutional inertia. When she dies and the Protectorate uses her as a scapegoat for everything that’s wrong with them it’s very obviously self-serving but it’s also not, like. Incorrect. She’s a synecdoche for everything wrong with the system. Rigid, inflexible, callous, arguably necessary but nearly impossible to remove or change or challenge.

And then she gets replaced by a guy whose whole schtick is that he can mix and match the best properties of wildly different component elements on the fly to create the best possible response to any problem.

Ok, it’s good to know that the Fallen at least have a coherent thematic throughline in Ward, and I guess I could see that working if it coheres with the larger themes of Ward. I know the members of Breakthrough and it seems like they’re set up to explore themes of imprisonment, violation and the aftermath of such. Victoria and her whole experience, Sveta and being a C53, Tristan and Bryon, etc, and I would imagine that the Fallen is that for Rain.

Still, even the most abusive, most cynically created cults have theologies. And I don’t think any sizeable cult can run without the rank and file being actual believers. So it’s worrying, in regards to verisimilitude, that the Fallen’s theology, as far as I’m aware, hasn’t significantly changed despite the actual apocalypse happening.

I should be excited to read Ward. There’s so much potential in a sequel to Worm. I care about the returning characters and I really, really, really liked what the epilogue of Worm set up. I’m maybe one of a handful of people that like Teacher (as of his epilogue). I love the idea of a work set in the portal ridden ruins of New York. The tension created by the amnesty and of the Wardens attempting to police this new world. And fundamentally, it’s incredibly interesting to move from a work where the world was slowly ending, to one where the world has ended, but which is no longer on the path to ending.

And yet, I’m aware that this potential is, at least partially, squandered. The evocative picture of New York replaced by the amorphous, placeless City. The problems of resource distribution mentioned and yet never fully integrated into the narrative. The apocalypse cult going through the apocalypse mostly unchanged.

Still I’ll read it. Who knows, maybe I’ll love it

Something I’ve only occasionally seen mentioned is how Cauldron capes still have a degree of irony between their power and their trauma

Take Coil. While moments away from being rescued from Nilbog’s monsters, he is faced with a split-second choice: to kill his superior officer or to not. He didn’t know which was the right call, whether it was possible for them both to survive or whether letting his superior live would have doomed them both. And so, he made his choice, and was left to deal with the consequences of it. And then he drinks a vial and is given the ability to delay the making of any such decisions, until the consequences were known.

Or Battery. She wants powers to take down Madcap, and gets powers that operate similarly to his but perform better. Except, of course, only for a handful of moments, leaving her ultimately worse off than him. She loses to him 7 times, and only wins on the 8th because Legend is there

Is it just me or does she give off Harry Du Bois vibes?

Having an extremely specific problem after trying a traditional pencil crayon look for an older Tattletale portrait. Somehow, during the slow work from grubby sketch to rendering, she became way too hot. And said traditional art style means I can’t change this with regular digital tools, I have to redraw sections of her face entirely.

That I did with optical colour mixing using hatching and a limited palette.

Do I roll with hot Tattletale or do I suffer?

I think that the Power Fantasy wants us to understand the characters as they are in 1999. They know what happened, they know the world made it out alive, and thus so do we. But they also look back upon the past through the lens of the present.

We see the Tokyo event as Masumi does; an episode of dissociation, Etienne reaching out to her, and violence instilled into a single memory.

The Cuban missile crisis and New Mexico festival massacre are seen through Valentina's eyes, as remembered in the present.

The killing of the Major is seen through Jacky's eyes, and thus there is an emphasis on the violence of the act, and on the elements that will come to make him regret it. And obviously, Jacky's memories of the early Pyramid is distorted and simplified, not quasi-photorealistic like the other, more flashblub memories. Eliza is pure white.

And, of course, knowing how the crises of the past went puts us into the headspace of the superpowers in the present; neither they nor us know if this crisis is one they will get through. Compare the hypothetical linear Power Fantasy; crisis after crisis is resolved without the destruction of the world. What would mark the 1999 crises as any different?

I was talking to some people about the narrative effect of the issue #3 timeline in The Power Fantasy and the phrase that comes to my mind is "disaster voyeurism". If the story had started in 1945 and proceeded linearly, we'd arrive at each of the events on the timeline and not know what would happen or even if the world would survive. But with TPF's actual nonlinear structure, we know the world persists at least until 1999, and also that it faces these very specific crises.

I feel like that shifts the whole tone of these events. I know they're going to be awful, but I'm also really curious what happens, and the knowledge that "the world and all the main characters survive" puts a little distance between me and the nerve-wracking suspense of not knowing what happens. Someone on Discord described it as "anti-immersive"- not the exact word I'd choose, as I do feel immersed in the story in a lot of ways. But I see what they mean, in that I can look at past events with mixed eagerness and dread, rather than just dread like the characters must feel.

Actually maybe Wildbow’s tendency to issue poorly thought out proclamations about his stories to win arguments with his fans is a good thing, as it forcibly introduces otherwise naive readers to the idea of the death of the author

worm doodles

An alternative way Gillen has described TPF is “as if your idiot clique of friends had to stay civil or the whole world would end”, and yeah it’s hard to imagine, with ours and Tonya’s front row seat, the civility lasting much longer at all

What I like about Tonya in The Power Fantasy is that she's the journalist viewpoint character, right? The character who's asking questions and poking at the same kinds of things that the audience would be poking at. And over the course of the story she's developing the shell shock that any quote-unquote "normal" person from our world or one similar would have, if they got plunged into the deep end. But the thing is that this isn't some mysterious new paradigm shift she's investigating, she isn't new to this and it isn't new to her, she was doing a piece on one of the leading public figures of the last fifty years when she got caught up in this. What's new to her is that she's spent somewhere around a week in proximity to these six people when they're going through a fairly-eventful-but-still-within-parameters week of their own lives- not quite business as usual, but close- and she's getting a front row seat to how the six most famous people on earth are perpetually six seconds away from fucking up and destroying the whole planet, and how much everyone attendant to this messy friend group needs to constantly bust their asses to prevent that from happening. That's the big reveal of the setting, from her perspective, that's what's inculcating her issue-5 certainty that the world is going to end. It's neat.