Midnight Sun Drinking Game

Midnight Sun Drinking Game

Every time Eddie thinks about killing, maiming, or general negative thoughts against poor Mike Newton

...That’s it. That’s literally all you need to get blackout drunk.

Reflections on Redemption Arcs

When I think of some of the best redemption arcs I’ve seen in fiction, I’m struck by the fact that so many of them are for Ineffectual Sympathetic Starter Villains. There’s Jamack in Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, Orange-kun in Code Geass, Tae-jun in Yona of the Dawn, and Yoki in Fullmetal Alchemic. And I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

When writing a redemption arc, the writer needs to really understand what drives the villains to their villanry. For literally all of the above, it’s the desire for power and the willingness to hurt others to obtain that power. (This isn’t the only villain motivation possible, of course, but it’s a tried and true one.) Now, for villains motivated by the desire for power and their willingness to hurt others to obtain that power, three things need to occur for a successful redemption arc.

1.) They need to have a moment (or moment(s)), where they have to take a good hard look at themselves and recognize that they need to change their behavior. For Jamack, it’s when Kipo tells him he needs to do some self-reflection. (And then, later, when she kicks him down that hole.) For Orange-kun, it’s learning that Lelouch and Zero are one in the same. For Tae-jun, it’s him discovering that Yona isn’t dead and him (for the first time in his privileged life) seeing that peasants are a.) people who b.) are lacking basic necessities. Yoki’s is probably the haziest here; it’s less one specific moment and more a gradual change as he finds he has no where else to go except for with Scar. But there are two moments of note here. One is when Yoki emphasizes with Scar’s loss (the first time we see him think of anyone other than himself). And the other, of course, is when he chooses to fight Pride despite the dangers. (To make it clear, this isn’t a criticism of the writing of Yoki in Fullmetal Alchemist. The points I’m describing are a summation. Specific variations are going to occur.)

2.) They need to give up the power they were willing to hurt others to obtain. Jamack joins the theatre, Orange-kun retires to an orange farm (which, in his eyes, has gone from being a Fate Worse Than Death to being a Happy Ending), Tae-jun gives up on trying to force Yona to marry him, and Yoki joins the circus.

3.) They need to be useful. Jamack rescues Kipo and her friends, Orange-kun joins with Zero, Tae-jun improves things in the Fire Tribe and helps Yona prevent a war, and Yoki saves everyone from Pride . (Ineffectual Sympathetic Villains automatically get +10 to competence upon becoming good guys.)

The nature of Starter Villains is that they don’t have to function as villains after the initial story arc. That frees them up to engage in 1.) Self-reflection. It’s exceedingly difficult to have a villain both engage in self-reflection and serve as the primary antagonistic threat at the same time.

The nature of Ineffectual Sympathetic Villains is that they suffer gloriously for our entertainment, which means they basically are halfway to 2.) Giving Up Power just as a matter of course.

So it’s just a matter of writing 3.) Being Useful.

Thus, Ineffectual Sympathetic Starter Villains are primed for redemption arc, simply by their function of being Ineffectual Sympathetic Starter Villains.

There’s something else that works to the benefit of Ineffectual Sympathetic Starter Villains, and that’s that their list of evil deeds usually isn’t too extensive, which comes from a combination of them being incompetent and them only needing to function as villains for a short time. See, the eviler a villain is, the more time needs to be spent on their redemption arc.

Let’s look at other varieties of redemption arcs. Both Tacroy from The Lives of Christopher Chant and Dr. Marcoh from Fullmetal Alchemist have solidly written redemption arcs. And in both cases, they aren’t required to function as the primary antagonistic threat for the duration of the story. Dr. Marcoh’s evil deeds occurred in the past. Tacroy is a minion with too many bosses.

What about villains that are the primary antagonistic threat? Well, if I look at the ones that are well done - Shuri from Basara, Zuko from Avatar: the Last Airbender, and it looks like Scarlemagne from Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts - all of them cease being the primary antagonistic threat at just about the time their redemption arcs kick into gear. And that’s important because, having been the primary antagonistic threat, they require more attention for their redemption arc. Shuri gets ten volumes of content. Zuko gets a solid season and a half. Scarlemagne, it looks like, is getting the third season. (I haven’t finished Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts at the time of writing this.)

And when I look at villains who got badly-done redemption arcs - such as the Snow Queen in Once Upon a Time or Kylo Ren in the sequel Star Wars trilogy - part of the issue is that they’re tasked with being the primary antagonistic threat for much of the story. For the Snow Queen, she’s the villain right up until the very end of that story arc, which is why her half-assed redemption arc is probably the worst I’ve ever seen. And with Kylo Ren, the writers first killed off Snoke to make Kylo Ren an even more primary antagonistic threat and then had to resurrected Palpatine so that someone else could take over the primary antagonistic role from Kylo Ren. (The Star Wars sequel trilogy had a major problem with not having a cohesive vision. This is also why Kylo Ren is Supreme Leader in The Rise of Skywalker…and then spends much of the movie ignoring his job.)

Tam Lin retelling??????!!?!

I love Tam Lin, and I love Janet, but there are no retellings that take advantage of the fact that a) Janet was the kind of weirdo who set out one morning to lose her virginity to the mystical creature squatting on her land with a reputation for having sex with and/or demanding tolls from maidens, b) Tam Lin is what you get when a fairy queen takes a changeling, i.e., a badly-socialized, magic-addled waif of a Romantic poet, with more dramatic instincts than common sense.

All I want in my life is for to Janet march into the ruins of Carterhaugh, yanking up roses by their roots, and for Tam Lin to show up, demanding her kirtle green or the price of her maidenhead—

Only for her to—stay? afterwards???

And there’s this weird three-week span where Janet just…doesn’t leave, but keeps having sex with him, and looks at him with her serious dark eyes and a scowl, and then laughs at him—at him! Tam Lin, beloved of the Fairy Queen!—and Tam Lin falls inexorably and horribly in love. (He likes her ankles, and the unlovely knob of her knees; he kisses the pox-scars at her cheek and though Tam Lin is beautiful and fair beyond measure, he is jealous of her, the scar where the shears cut into her hand.)

She scoffs when he shows her magic. “What use is it?” she asks as he offers her the dazzling armful of jewels. “I can make cheese and parse a contract, speak a little Latin for the church-men and add up my father’s yearly taxes. Can your magic do that?”

She is different than everything he’s ever known, and Tam Lin is in love. Then she leaves.

She leaves.

Tam Lin spends exactly eight months pining, panicking, wondering if she will ever come back—and yes, writing epically bad poetry about Janet, His One True Love, Whom He Shall Tragically Pine For His Whole Life Long. He compares her to a dove. It’s bad. (The Fairy Queen has him sit beside her at Midsummer, and studies him with cool eyes, flat and lovely as silver. He shudders beneath them, he didn’t used to.)

(Afterwards, he is sick in a bush, his stomach trying to empty itself of the rich fairy sweets, the meats he loved in his youth, that taste of ash and nothing more on his tongue. Is it real? Janet had asked. I want nothing that is not real.)

Tam Lin pines so long and so longingly that he’s shocked when Janet herself shows up on the even of Halloween. “Are you sick?” he asks, because he’s never seen anyone’s middle swell up like that, like she swallowed something huge, and it sits in her stomach still.

“No, you ass,” Janet, His One True Love, says. “I’m with child.”

Tam Lin blinks. “Oh,” he says faintly.

……and she held him fast and feared him not, and afterwards, he’s curled up against her side in the weak morning light of All Souls’ Day. He’s still shivering from the feeling of his skin tearing off and then twisting up around him, twisting him into another shape. It’s fine, it’s fine, he just has to keep his paws—claws—hands fisted in Janet’s kirtle. Until he remembers that his throat is human can only make faint guttural noises, that he cannot purr. He cannot wind himself around her, coils of—no, no.

“Come on,” Janet says, not unkindly. Her fingers are very gentle, where they comb through his fur—hair. “Come. Come with me.”

She helps him to his feet, and Tam Lin is dizzy with how light he is, absent the Queen’s geas. He could detach from the earth and float away. 

Except Janet is there, holding onto his hands. “Well?” she asks, and it is the first time Tam Lin has seen her uncertain—her arms full of lion, a snake, and still she’d held tight, but now he is a man, and that is a different sort of animal.

“I follow you,” Tam Lin says, and he does.

my desire to read every tam lin adaptation versus my complete lack of desire to read acotar

Y'all can't tell me that the night before the wedding, after the whole deception thing, Claudio didn't listen cry while dramatically listening to "Mr. Brightside" on repeat

Tam Lin coming out from between the trees with his shirt open down to his stomach and the chiseled jaw of a greek god: do you not know the dangers of wandering this forest alone, fair maiden?

Bonnie Janet, who knows exactly what she’s doing: