October 2021 – Raymond W Wilkinson

I am the Innocent (Last Rites, Pt. 1)

Myths are public dreams; dreams are private myths.
Joseph Campbell

This is part 1 of my series that breaks down the mythologies of Attack on Titan and Land of the Lustrous using the works of Joseph Campbell. General plot points are vaguely discussed that may be spoilers to the reader.

In modern society, fictional stories mean many different things. Sometimes they’re viewed as simple diversions and time passers, meant to entertain at a basic level just like viewing a sporting event. Someone interacts with the story and then moves on with their life without a second thought. Conversely, deep stories can be viewed as massively important to humanity across time and space, serving as the intersection of ancient ritual and modern psychoanalysis.

Mythology is an excellent example of this, as it timelessly probes human understanding in quite comprehensible ways that all persons can relate to. The stories are mostly not true, but they contain truths so essential that they are deemed classics by generation after generation. Archetypes and maxims abound: heroes, villains, gods, sages, and lovers all appear in the stories told around a fire thousands of years ago. In fact, it has been discovered that cultures around the globe and with no connection with each other have invented roughly the same myths during the early epochs. A foundational monomyth has existed in storytelling!

It has always been the prime function of mythology and rite to supply the symbols that carry the human spirit forward, in counteraction to those constant human fantasies that tend to tie it back. In fact, it may well be that the very high incidence of neuroticism among ourselves follows from the decline among us of such effective spiritual aid.
Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces

Joseph Campbell was one such man who made this foundational discovery, coining the term “monomyth.” He also proposed a cycle called the “Hero’s Journey,” which I have discussed extensively in my Marathon series. Needless to say, if you have been exposed to fiction within the last 40 years you have seen some variant of this journey. George Lucas famously credits Joseph Campbell for his success in Star Wars, which laid the blueprint for modern blockbuster movie fiction.

Interestingly enough, however, many stories told today do not fully base themselves in the mythology that Campbell researched, instead choosing to settle for a simplified model that is good for audience consumption on a mass-market level. This, however, can leave a distinct sense of unsatisfaction in the viewer, as the full cycle of the journey has not been completed. Many stories simply settle for a fairytale-like happily ever after, choosing to eschew a more believable and “realistic” conclusion in the fantastical world presented.

Thankfully, there are modern stories that choose to fully embrace mythology with their own specific twists! In this blog series, I will be discussing two popular stories that have just concluded (or will conclude) in the near future: Attack on Titan and Land of the Lustrous. Both stories started out as comic books/manga and have at least partially been adapted into television series.

‘I don’t like the terms good person or bad person because it’s impossible to be entirely good to everyone, or entirely bad to everyone. To some, you are a good person, while to others you are a bad person.’
Attack on Titan

Written and illustrated by Hajime Isayama, Attack on Titan started in 2009 and concluded this year. His story is centered around a young man named Eren Yeager who is caught up in epic and mysterious events outside of his control in his earth-like historical fantasy world. Land of the Lustrous is written and illustrated by Haruko Ichikawa, who started the series in 2012. Her protagonist’s name is Phosphophyllite (commonly referred to as “Phos”), a human-like creature living on post-apocalyptic earth seeking purpose.

‘To come to acceptance with things and feelings is rare and to accept them completely is a miracle. It’s impossible to make that moment come faster by yourself. Someday it comes unexpectedly. In order to not become warped or heartless, let it go in a natural way.’
Land of the Lustrous

At the most casual glance, both stories seem to have almost nothing in common except for their Japanese publisher, but it is not so! You see, both stories delve deep into the heart of mythology and the universal monomyth, with the major difference being in their geographical inspirations. Attack on Titan is heavily rooted in western Norse mythology (specifically the story of Ymir), while Land of the Lustrous tackles the origins of eastern Buddhism (focusing on the bodhisattva path of enlightenment). Joseph Campbell spent much time in his work covering both of these branches of mythology, highlighting the similarities between them. Both Titan and Lustrous focus these creative primordial ideas into astounding stories centered around innocent protagonists who go on to live increasingly dramatic lives that transform both themselves and the worlds around them.

While I will highlight Campbell’s work throughout the series, I plan to use it as a guidepost for the greater narratives presented in these works of fiction. Lustrous and Titan tell the universal story of how a single individual can become a victim, rise up to be a hero, turn to be a tyrant, and ultimately become the savior of the world. It’s the story worth telling again and again: an epic journey that is a deep rite of passage for all!

Bringing it Home (Worldbuilding, Pt. 4)

This is part 4 of my worldbuilding series. You can find parts 1, 2, and 3 in the links.

‘Were I to attempt to be good to everyone, to the entire world and to all the creatures living in it, it would be a drop of fresh water in the salt sea. In other words, a wasted effort. Thus, I decided to do specific good; good which would not go to waste. I’m good to myself and my immediate circle.’
The Witcher

Thus far we have probed many aspects of world-building in this series: basic elements, character attributes, and even player-driven decisions. While all of these are laudable aspects of any cohesive world-building narrative, there is one major part still missing. Any good fictional narrative worth its salt needs an excellent ending. A strong story with a strong world that fails to execute the climax and conclusion is like a roaring ocean that reaches the edge of the fabled end of the world. The metaphorical voyaging ship that is the reader simply falls off into the flat and dark abyss, essentially ending an epic journey on the most hollow of notes. Instead, a complete story with complete worldbuilding provides a global ocean that ends where it begins. There may be cliffhangers but there are no frothy oceanic waterfalls that lead nowhere!

Returning to part one’s discussion of Lord of the Rings, it’s critical to know that Tolkien was not haphazard in his conclusion. There was no piecemeal Hollywood ending thrown together, but instead, a meticulous epilogue that didn’t even make it into the movies! For those of you that have not read the books, Frodo and his companions return to their homeland of the Shire, only to discover that Saruman the Wizard has seized their little country. In many ways, the Shire has started to progress into a new evil Isengard, but Frodo liberates it with the help of many old friends and family. All of the characters have come home changed men: warriors, adventurers, and even writers, bringing with them new life to the ravaged lands. A full cycle is completed; everything is the same again but it has changed. The world hasn’t literally shifted, but the comprehensive worldbuilding story has.

Many video games have sought to capture Tolkein’s ethos in this writing of endings, seeking to provide a journey with a home to return to. Fire Emblem Three Houses does an excellent job with this entire concept, featuring a monastery that serves as an academy for the first half of the game. Tremendous events lead to the monastery’s destruction and a five-year time jump, but the characters return to rebuild what is theirs. The monastery goes on to serve as a base of operations for every branching storyline, becoming a unifying point that serves as a nexus for the narrative. No matter how the player chooses to end the game the ending takes place in the monastery, successfully completing the circle of the journey at hand. Naturally, the worldbuilding of such a location is as deep and complex as the narrative itself is.

Perhaps the video game that best captures the hero’s return is The Witcher’s spin-off Thronebreaker. The story is situated around queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia, who is removed from her throne early on in the game by the invading Nilfgaardian Empire and is forced to wage guerrilla war against her enemies in every conceivable fashion. Journeying from country to country, the player controls Meve as she makes harrowing decisions in a multitude of events. How far is Meve willing to go to win against her vicious enemies, especially when some of them are of her own blood? Thronebreaker is a game that meanders and flows but ultimately returns to the country in which it started, producing a queen that is both fiercer and wiser than at the start. Her lands are the same as before on the map, but now the Nilfgaardians control them, making the victorious homecoming all the sweeter.

To summarize, worldbuilding is greater than the combination of its parts. Quality and quantity flow through it, synergizing and energizing. Characters and plots are more compelling, while beginnings and endings are more memorable. It’s perilous for any writer to ignore worldbuilding, as there is too much at stake. Even a viewer that doesn’t care about worldbuilding can still appreciate it, while the average lore nerd will delight in it every step of the way! There is nothing to lose and everything to gain for an aspiring writer.

But worldbuilding goes beyond a viewer’s memory and into world memory. A story that is unforgettable will literally not be forgotten. Let’s face it, comedic sitcoms can always be entertaining, they won’t stick with a viewer due to their lack of worldbuilding. Instead, most choose to essentially reset every 24-minute episode, making them forgettable both literally and figuratively. Contrasting this, the Lord of the Rings series has stood the test of time and memory, making it a towering achievement alongside the rest of the marvelously crafted worlds of fiction. Our Earth changed because the fantastical Middle Earth changed, a fact that would make Tolkien proud!

The Path that Wends (Worldbuilding, Pt. 3)

This is part 3 of my worldbuilding series. You can find part 1 here and part 2 here.

‘It’s a funny thing, ambition. It can take one to sublime heights or harrowing depths. And sometimes they are one and the same.’
Dishonored

Worldbuilding is a task that is challenging under any circumstance, but what happens when the variables go beyond simple choices in a video game? To put it another way, how can someone have a real “world” without it crumbling under the weight of unforeseen player-based decisions? Worse yet, how do you tell a sincere story around a potentially chaotic mass murderer known as “the average player”? Screenplay writers and novelists never have to worry about these problems, but these are the questions that make game narrative designers break out in a cold sweat. While some designers still stick with the archaic method known as linear “cinematic storytelling,” many have realized that denying player agency in the name of on-rail levels can mean uninteresting stories and uninspired gameplay. For many modern gamers, ambient storytelling is the only acceptable narrative!

So what games exist outside of linear storytelling? Most of the best-selling modern games fall under the broad category of “open world.” These games can take a variety of forms: role-playing games, action shooters, and even puzzle-centric adventure games. There is, however, one category that is perpetually overlooked yet commonly lauded: the immersive simulation game. Such games can take a variety of forms, but they tend to possess the following major attributes: a first-person viewpoint, heavy ambient storytelling, and extremely high levels of interactivity in an open world. Immersive sim games often feature heavily-armed (swords, guns, magic, etc.) player characters, but they tend to shy away from trigger-happy combat. Stealth, guile, and perception play much heavier roles here, as players might possess great power but also tend to have realistic frailties. In many ways, immersive sim games resemble the real world.

‘I’ve learned that our choices always matter, to someone, somewhere. And sooner or later, in ways we cannot always fathom, the consequences come back to us.’
Dishonored

While perhaps the most prominent games in this genre category are the Half-Life and Bioshock series, there are many other simulation games (and game studios) in existence. Perhaps one of the highest-profile developers at the moment is Arkane Studios, makers of games like Dishonored, Prey, and Deathloop. All of their games feature strong stories, extremely dynamic gameplay within those stories, and stylish worldbuilding beneath it all. Every game of Arkane has a widely different location and premise: futuristic space stations, 19th-century islands, and even 1970s style time loops. Killing is easy in all of their games, but dying is even easier. Likewise, while the player character can behave in a cruel manner, it rarely pays off to soak the streets in blood. Every action has a reaction and nothing stands apart by its lonesome in a cohesive world.

So to come back to the fundamental question: how on Earth can an immersive simulation tell a compelling story? Arkane Studios executes storytelling with two methods working in tandem. Firstly, it utilizes major pivot points to unify story beats throughout every act of the narrative. The most simple example would be a major character living or dying. Choosing to kill or subdue is always a major decision in Dishonored, as there are a tremendous number of lethal and non-lethal weapons available. This is binary information that can be remembered for later scenes in the story.

Secondly, aggregate world changes comprise the parallel method working within the major pivot points. Such a procedure accumulates action data by the player and makes logical verdicts based on it. Dishonored also factors in peace and chaos into its system of assassination. You can kill every single major target in the game, but choose to do it discreetly and without collateral damage. The game will notice this and will slowly render a more stable and peaceful environment. Conversely, cutting a bloody path through the city will leave it worse for the wear.

The implications for practical worldbuilding in immersive sims are immense. Almost no scenery can be two-dimensional: buildings, characters, and objects all have to have multifaceted interactivity or risk simultaneously undermining both story and gameplay. Likewise, game designers have to make narrative gameplay flexible to meet the needs of veteran hardcore gamers and casual new players alike. Arkane’s latest game Deathloop is a perfect example of this, featuring a protagonist stuck in the same day over and over. While everything is new to the player in Deathloop, the protagonist was smart enough to leave notes from his past iterations in the world around him. This essentially serves as a tutorial that helps ease the player into a complex game literally one step at a time. In that same vein, the game Prey has an amnesiac protagonist who is dependent on historical recordings and artificial intelligence based on their personality. It’s a lot easier to navigate a derelict Space Station when you have an simulacrum robot telling you what to do.

Next time, we’ll talk about narrative endings and worldbuilding’s impact on them. How do you bring a story home in a deep world?