A Test

This is an experimental test.

Simply trying out a few things.

oh yes.

this is medium-blending at its finest.

1. hot damn

"damn" - shadow the hedgehog

Character Analysis: Lelouch vi Britannia and Power Fantasies

Spoilers for the entirety of Code Geass.

Lelouch vi Britannia (or Lamperouge) is loved by many. For good reason. For one thing, what’s not to love? He’s ambitious, charismatic, audacious, philosophical, intelligent – plenty of good qualities to have in a protagonist. There’s something about his character the fans and creators alike adored – after all, Code Geass is invariably written around him, written around his actions. His actions drive the plot, move it in different directions. If he was some unbearable, stuck-up, megalomaniac teenager with his head up his ass, then the show would not have gotten very far with him as a protagonist. Certainly not fifty episodes’ worth.

But here’s the odd thing. He is unbearable, and stuck-up, and a megalomaniac kid with his head up his ass. As Zero, he has a killstreak a mile long, and a list of sins a mile longer. He can be ruthless when it comes to the pursuit of his goals. He is sadistic, emotionally so (look at his smirks and body language whenever he takes out his enemies, especially in the first season). He claims to stand up for the concepts of righteousness and justice, but has very few (or at least deeply-buried) qualms about committing considerably unrighteous, criminal actions. He claims to have the mindset of “A Million Is A Statistic”, but the moment the collateral damage hits close to home, it upsets him, demonstrating his hypocrisy.

Here’s the thing. Suzaku Kururugi, the deuteragonist of Code Geass, has these flaws as well. Suzaku and Lelouch spend as much time opposing one another as they do complementing. Suzaku is a hypocritical, haughty, stuck-up, megalomaniac teenager with a killstreak a mile long and a list of sins a mile longer. And yet, he is largely despised by the fandom. Mind, not everybody hates him (just like how not everybody likes Lelouch), but there’s a whole lot of Suzaku hate, a far cry from the amount of love Lelouch receives.

But the show itself takes pains to demonstrate how similar Lelouch and Suzaku are. They both want the same goal (even if their reasons for doing so differ), and even though their methods are different, at the end of the day they both commit some seriously atrocious crimes for the sake of said goal. So why does Lelouch get off scot-free in the eyes of the fandom? Why is he loved where Suzaku is despised?

Well, he really doesn’t get off scot-free, does he? To look at why Lelouch is so well-loved, you have to look at audience psychology, and the way people react to fiction. People like to live vicariously through others, like when somebody else’s life feels like your own when it really isn’t. Vicarious living often takes place when Person A sees Person B living a life Person A wishes they had. You see it all the time, like with parents who send their kids to beauty pageants, or people who try to take advantage of celebrities – people like to delude themselves into believing their lives are glamorous, or exciting, or whatever fits their ideal of being “the perfect life” by associating themselves with others they deem to be “above” them. Why? Perhaps to validate their existence, perhaps to get out of the funk of an identity crisis, perhaps to satiate their fragile ego.

In addition, a lot of people want to change the world, or make an impact on the world, for largely the same reasons (existence validation, identity confirmation, ego satiation). Everyone’s had an anarchist wet dream at some point, whether it be something as major as rebelling against the entire world, or as minor as rebelling against their parents (which, in Lelouch's case, happened to be both. Two birds with one stone!).

Lelouch, on the surface, is pure escapism, pure wish-fulfillment. He lives a life of excitement, of purpose, of constant action and moving-around. His “Geass” power (which allows him to compel anyone to do anything he wants, seemingly no strings attached) resonates with people, because who hasn’t wanted to be respected, and followed without question? Who hasn’t wanted to be the one giving orders? Lelouch experienced those same kinds of power fantasies on a day-to-day basis, and that’s why his Geass took the form that it did – it allowed him to achieve those revolutionary wet dreams of his. His Geass allowed him to transcend other human beings (as was prophesized in C.C’s monologue in the first episode), to become Emperor of the entire fucking world, all because of his inner desire to lash out and stick it to “The Man”.

Of course, however, there’s so much more to Lelouch than just that. Lelouch is tremendously flawed. In addition to the vast array of flaws I listed above (pride, hypocrisy, greed, hatred), he’s destructive, self-absorbed (at first), physically weak, and something of a savant, unable to see the good that was right in front of him until it got ripped away. Lelouch had a safe home, a curriculum for his education, friends who loved and cared about him, especially his sister, and an incredibly intelligent mind. He could have gone anywhere he wanted, done anything he wanted (maybe not bodybuilder, but still) – he could have lived a meaningful life. Hell, he could have even inherited the throne if he played it safe.

Well, he did, but I meant... legally.

But Lelouch isn’t the type who’s easily satisfied. He threw all of that away to pursue a life of war, violence, deception, and power. In his normal life, as a student, he was depressed and apathetic (at least, I believe he was depressed – he shows subtle signs of it), who looked at life with a grand, triumphant “Meh”. It’s why he has a thing for gambling – not because he’s a bad boy, but because it gives him purpose, allows him to do something exciting (of course, gambling is also a metaphor for strategy and risk-taking in Code Geass, but still). Even when interacting with his friends, whom he clearly adores, there’s a certain kind of emptiness inside of him that’s impossible to deny. Perhaps it is the emptiness of a fallen Prince, finding difficulty adjusting to life as a civilian. Perhaps it is the emptiness of an orphan, the emptiness one feels when their mother passes away. Perhaps it’s the emptiness of someone who feels trapped by fate. Perhaps it’s all of the above. He would have thrown that all away in a heartbeat… and he did. He never had to do anything with his Geass, but he did. And only once he began pursuing his goals did he show signs of genuine levity and confidence.

Lelouch’s philosophy about justice and heroism and the notion of doing “good” was really just him trying to justify the political and war crimes he committed on a moment-to-moment basis, him trying to justify his Oedipal rage against his father, Emperor Charles. He was trying to justify his actions to the world, but also largely to himself. His Geass – the power of oppression, of subverting someone’s will – was his strongest weapon in fighting against an Empire notorious for oppression and subverting the will of others. Sad, futile, beautiful irony, and he’s fully aware of that. To rub salt in the wound, this is pointed out to him by a number of characters – Kallen, Mao, Charles, Suzaku (though he has no right to talk), but especially C.C. – she saw right through him, and that’s why she was the ideal mentor for him. She made him face the facts, made him face the enormity of what he was doing. But only once Lelouch was deep in the thick of war, of terrorism, of Zero, did he realize what a fine line he was treading. The moment he killed Clovis was the point of no return.

It’s why he named his alter ego Zero. Zero – nothing. Without value. A being of nothing. To Lelouch, Zero was the ideal, the vessel with which he would achieve his goals. Zero. “Without”. It’s something he wishes to be, subconsciously or otherwise. He wants to be what Zero looks like to the public – unflinching, without fear, someone who never wavers when making choices, when giving orders. Cool, collected, unstoppable. It’s what he wants to be… but he’s not. He hesitates, often. His conscience and his heart drive every single one of his actions whether he’s aware of it or not… for better or for worse. And his conscience and instincts can lead him to make some seriously poor decisions.

So, he really isn’t wish-fulfillment, is he? If he was a wish-fulfillment hero, he’d answer to all of the audience’s unconscious hopes and dreams and expectations of what a hero should be. He’d defeat the bad guys, win the girl, save the world, and look tremendously cool while doing it, and he wouldn’t have a flaw to speak of. But Lelouch’s life is full of constant ups and downs – and because Code Geass is a tragedy, the downs are emphasized to humongous degrees. The cosmos love fucking with this kid. For every plan that goes off without a hitch, there’s ten other plans that blow up spectacularly in his face. He has been persecuted and hunted his entire life all because of choices he made. By the end of the series, he’s practically on his own. He dies, abandoned by almost everyone, save for a select few.

In spite of all this, people are compelled by Lelouch anyway. It’s his flaws that make him relatable, and human. Thus: he is compelling. Seeing him overcome his flaws and achieve his goals, against all odds, is inspiring, especially when he has to face against the wrath of the world. Overcoming adversity is inspiring – overcoming adversity in the face of certain failure is doubly inspiring. He’s a cast-down, fallen prince fighting against the Empire that betrayed him. Powerless vs. the powerful. It’s why siding with the Japanese is pure, poetic justice. The Japanese people were betrayed by Britannia, just like Lelouch.

There are a multitude of other reasons why people love Lelouch. He’s intelligent, clever. He’s handsome. He matures over the course of the series, changing from a stuck-up, ridiculously ambitious teenager to a young man who understands human nature, who understands the consequences of choice. His goals change, to benefit others rather than himself. He drops his stoic façade, becoming more emotional and open with others (trust has always been an issue with Lelouch, for good reason). He loves his sister, and shows signs of similar love and devotion to Kallen, C.C., his friends at school.

Some people are compelled, and even relaxed, by his death. His death, though tragic, was logical – it made sense. His death brought completion to not only his goals and the story (without Lelouch, there is no Code Geass), but to his character arc. After two years of bloodshed, and sabotage, and power struggles, enough was enough. He’d achieved almost everything he wanted, but he realized that eventually he’d have to pay up for his many crimes. Thus, he decided to make the best of it by doing what he believed was best for the world. It might not have been, but the important fact was that it was what he believed in. It was Lelouch’s choice. He died, convinced that what he was doing was the right thing. Even after everything he’d done, his loved ones (and even his followers that abandoned him) mourned his loss. And the fans did too.

Whether Lelouch is alive or not is a hot point of debate inside the Code Geass fandom. Personally, I believe he is dead. There’s solid evidence that proves he could be alive, but I feel like it’s far more poetic and logical to have him dead. Having him alive would render his decision to die (and the point) useless, and it would also invalidate all the buildup to his death.

Ultimately, people like Lelouch because he answers to all of the audience’s expectations, and yet he manages to defy them as well. He is heroic, but he is also villainous; he is intelligent, but impulsive and opportunistic; he is charismatic, but he distances himself from others; frequent moments of levity are joined by frequent moments of tragedy. He does everything you’d expect of a hero, and yet he doesn’t do a single thing a hero should do. He gets what he always wanted, but only after immense suffering.

And that’s largely why I like Lelouch. He’s the quintessential tragic hero, but also something of a deconstruction of a tragic hero. He’s a fascinating look into the mind of a commander, of a royal, of a gambler, and of a troubled teenager who’s far too young and inexperienced to handle the enormity of his choices. He is powerful, and he is inspiring, but he is human, and that is why he is loved.

Steven Universe - "Super Watermelon Island / Gem Drill" THOUGHTS (Super SRS)

AHJAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAGHQW36YXHFHISOGHFOGB

Oh man the craziest fucking twenty-three minutes of Steven Universe just happened guys. I mean, fuckin WATERMELONS!

And EXPLOSIONS!

And MEMES! Smashing so many watermelons tonight.

So the whole thing begins with Steven dreaming he’s a watermelon LOL WUT

And before anyone says it, yes, I saw "Watermelon Steven"

and then there’s a whole lot of other watermelon people lol WTFFFFFFFFFF

Dapper ass boy with that tie

And then fuckin’ Malachite is freed from her chains and then Garnet, Pearl, and Amethyst all fuse together to make this YuGiOh reject.

Malachite proceeds to kick some assssss but then the watermelon people rise up against Malachite and let me tell you never before has the phrase “a species of humanoid watermelons waging war against a big, green kaworu” flown through my head before this episode, and it was gloriously retarded to see it in action

THEN MALACHITE EXPLODES ANFIADGKADKGAKGHAGHAGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH BURSTS LIKE A FUCKIN BALLOON. THIS EPISODE IS LIT AF

I'm BURSTING with laughter

Lapis and Jasper separate and then the Cluster thingamajig starts making the island tilt. Amethyst grabs Lapis because she, too, ships Lapidot like I do, but Jasper just sort of falls down a cliff. Bye bitch! It only lasted one second but the amount of memes that came up from that one second was unprecedented.

And then fuckin’ Peridot and Steven have to do some drilling. And let me tell you, they’re gonna drill tonight.

"DRILL ME!"

Then they find the cluster, but instead of drilling them – sexually – Steven decides to bubble EM. ALRITHTHSRUHFUGHF

YES BUBBLES

BUBBLES

BUBBLES

this show is awful btw

NO DEATHS HERE, NO SIRREE, JUST BUBBLES

Day’s saved yay

This episode was incredibly entertaining, kinetic, and fun, and it’s by far one of the series’ most jam-packed, exciting twenty or so minutes. Lotta stuff happens in these twenty or so minutes. If you really want to know if you’re going to enjoy “Super Watermelon Island / Gem Drill”, you have to ask yourself this very important question: how much bullshit am I willing to stomach? And there’s a whole lot of bullshit going on here! The whole “weapon of mass destruction” getting bubbled… was bullshit! Jasper’s wholly anticlimactic death was bullshit, but funny, because god damn, that’s the saddest thing ever. The fact that the watermelon people instinctively knew what was going on, and what to do to solve it… was bullshit! The bullshit parade is loud and clear tonight, yes sir!

But that’s okay! My bullshit meter is so broken I can’t even tell if it still works anymore or not. The episode is a rushed train wreck; it’s impossible to look away from it, and completely impossible to take seriously, but that’s okay because there’s epic explosions and deep visuals and AN EXPLODING MALACHITE LOL

 But honestly, this was pure fun from start to finish. Maybe it’s because I was baked as hell, maybe it’s because I don’t care anymore, maybe it’s because there’s a WATERMELON DOG, I’m not even sure why I enjoyed it (I’m sure in a few days I’ll be able to look at it more critically, but the only way I could do that is if Malachite’s explosion wasn’t so fucking funny), but I did. What a fascinating start to this 4-week special over at CN. What a summer this is gonna be for those folks.

Skies of Arcadia Sequence Analysis: The Soltis Sacrifice

A sequence analysis (or close analysis) in a film is basically where you take a particular scene or sequence and then analyze the details, blowing up the actual scene in question to enormous proportions, probably more so than it actually deserves. These are fun to do, even if you’re fucking around (purposefully picking a bad movie scene or intentionally overanalyzing and faux-masturbating over a bad movie scene), but they’re especially fun to do when you have something to say. This week’s topic is going to be based around one of the penultimate scenes of Skies of Arcadia.

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

SPOILERS

If you don’t care, or have already played the game, then you can freely proceed. But don’t say I didn’t warn your ass!

If you don’t know what Skies of Arcadia’s overarching plot is all about, then Google it. I'll try my best to explain it, but people that actually know what's going on will get it more.

It basically involves the standard “young, diverse group of heroes go on an adventure to save the world from destruction using magical artifacts”, only to wind up playing with that genre in interesting ways. It’s not so different that it’s a deconstruction, but it’s different enough to warrant attention. The things that are different are striking in their broadest strokes: the Prince of the Evil Empire is actually a very noble-hearted guy and probably one of the most complex characters in the whole game, the resident Magical Artifacts are actually weapons of destruction that caused the apocalypse years ago (I warned you there’d be spoilers), the destruction of the Evil Empire’s capital is one of the most tragic scenes in the whole, otherwise-lighthearted game. And when I say lighthearted, I mean it. Even when the story gets dark (and it can get dark), it never stops being hopeful and optimistic.

But since this is art, and art is suffering, I’m going to be doing a sequence analysis of one of the more tragic scenes in the whole game, and it’s also an example of absolutely brilliant directing (there are other scenes in the game, but this one has probably the most going on).

So, some exposition. The grand villain of the story – which is actually not the Empress of the Evil Empire, but Galcian, the Commander in Chief of the Empire’s Imperial Army – has all but won. Galcian has used all sorts of deceit, sabotage, and destruction to get his gloved paws on the Moon Crystals (the Magical Artifacts I mentioned earlier). He has used the incredibly destructive Moon Crystals to rain down destruction (literally; the Moon Crystals summon the power of the moon to start raining down debris that totals almost everything in its narrow path, and it’s called the Rains of Destruction) upon Valua, for a wide multitude of reasons – to show off his power, to get revenge on the Empress, to settle some grudges, list goes on. He also managed to steal some of the best weaponry in the whole game right under the deceased Empress’ nose. Our protagonist, Vyse, along with his motley crew of pirates, declare war on Galcian in order to stop him from basically conquering the planet, or destroying it, because Galcian still has the Rains of Destruction under his sleeve.

Well, actually, had. By the time the picture above comes up, Galcian has actually been killed, not by our heroes, but by one of his subordinates, Belleza, who’d showed signs of being in love with him beforehand until he destroyed Valua. Deciding to atone for both of their sins at once, she rams her ship into Galcian’s escape pod, killing them both, leaving Vyse and co. shocked (there’s a whole wide list of reasons why Belleza committed this murder-suicide, and it’s definitely one of the most interesting sequences in the whole game from a psychological perspective, but let’s not get too carried away) but still prepared to fight.

Who are they fighting, though, if Galcian is dead? Simple – Galcian’s fanatically devoted Vice Captain, Ramirez, who is all sorts of fucked-in-the-head. Ramirez, broken by Galcian’s death, has decided to summon the Rains of Destruction once again.

And that’s what that “something bad” is.

The blue-grey futuristic ship is the Delphinus, the Valuan Army’s most powerful flagship (currently under the ownership of Vyse and Valuan Prince Enrique). It is a ship that dwarves all others aside from Galcian’s flying fortress. However, even the mighty Delphinus is small fry in comparison to the hulking, barrier-protected mass in the background. That’s Soltis, which is basically Atlantis in the Skies of Arcadia world. Soltis is important for a wide variety of reasons, key among being the fact that it’s the vessel that summons the Rains of Destruction. Compare that shot to this one:

The Delphinus is puny in comparison. These shots emphasize just how imposing and foreboding a place like Soltis really is.

The crystal spheres that encircle Soltis Tower begin to charge up power to call down the Rains of Destruction.

One of the few scenes where our hero, Vyse, doesn’t have a grin glued to his face. It’s hard to notice, but note how tightly he’s gripping the wheel. He normally doesn’t do that unless he’s stressed out as all hell. And right now he has to live with the fact that there’s nothing he can do to stop Ramirez from summoning the Rains of Destruction once again. Up until this point, Vyse has had more successes than failures (a good share of failures, mind you, he’s far from perfect, but still) – he’s circumnavigated the entire world, became a seasoned fighter, team player, and a fairly sharp strategist given his age, and he’s outwitted the Valuan Empire more times than once. Usually with help from other people, but still. Right now, though, all he can do is sit back and watch. Vyse has always been given at least a fighting chance to stand up against his enemy before, but he’s not in a position to do anything right now. Prince Enrique barely survived the first Rains on Valua. The atmosphere is tense as all hell.

And, in spite of everything, Fina still prays for Ramirez to stop, hoping that she can through to him.

First, a few aesthetic notes. Notice the regal, Valuan purple decoration in the upper left, and the pirate flag right next to it? That actually symbolizes the Delphinus Crew. Vyse’s crew is a wide mix of people from all over the world, a variety of influences, tastes, and demeanors, but they’re still all working in tandem in spite of their aesthetic, societal, and cultural differences, all underneath the Delphinus’ armor-plated roof.

Second, Fina is a Silvite, and Ramirez is also a Silvite. They aren’t related, though. The Silvites were an ancient culture located primarily on Soltis, the aforementioned lost continent. You see, the Rains of Destruction are older than you think – it’s what caused the original apocalypse in the Arcadian world so, so many years ago. The Silvites were the ones that summoned the Rains of Destruction, and unlike Galcian, they weren’t biding their time or strength. They destroyed the world because it didn’t meet their elitist expectations, escaping into outer space and waiting for their opportunity to return to Earth so they could refine it into their own twisted image, preserving their existence for thousands of years via life-support machines. When they finally decided it was time, they first sent down Ramirez to collect the Moon Crystals so they could summon the Rains of Destruction for the last time, but then Ramirez joined Galcian’s crowd, and things escalated from thence. Fina was sent in as Ramirez’s replacement – however, she is completely unaware that her civilization did all this… until Ramirez tells her just so, and it breaks her heart.

To put things into perspective, Fina and Ramirez’s relationship is… troubled, to say the least. They were very good friends when they were younger, with Ramirez acting as sort of an older brother to her – until he was sent on his mission, that is. Here’s the thing – Fina was supposed to either find Ramirez and help him in his goal or follow in his footsteps if he turned out to be dead or corrupted. The reason she didn’t find Ramirez was one of circumstance. He wound up joining Valua, and Fina wound up in the company of Vyse’s Blue Rogues, pirates that oppose Valua. Because the Blue Rogues are good guys, Fina is pretty much as incorruptible and pure as she started out, albeit a little more jaded and cynical thanks to the reveal that her superiors are total twats. Ramirez, however, is long gone, and he treats Fina accordingly. It’s obvious there’s still a little bit of friendship lurking underneath the surface, but it’s all bitter and twisted in Ramirez’s eyes – he tries to kill her, as point of fact. But Fina still sees Ramirez as the good-natured older brother that looked after her while the Silvite Elders were off being elitist assholes.

Hence, this moments. Even after everything, even after all the bitterness and pain that outlines Fina’s relationship with Ramirez, she still prays to the Moons above, believing that Ramirez can be redeemed yet. She, in fact, tries to reach out to him later and convince to surrender, something that even the eternally optimistic Vyse doesn’t do.

“Elders?! Oh no…”

And then the realization that something is going to happen.

Something big.

What appears to be a comet hurtling towards the sky…

…is actually a strikingly familiar shape. The perilously austere, hexagonal Great Silver Shrine, the last bastion of the dying Silvite Civilization. For Fina, there are a lot of good memories of this place mixed in with a lot of bad ones. So, seeing this is an understandable shock.

The Silvite Elders, preserved in their cyan life support machines. All of them are here, save for one, the recently-deceased Elder Prime, once the most corrupt of them all. Look carefully, and you’ll notice little white dots that look like snow in the room. Those are actually particles coming off the wall because the Silver Shrine is falling to pieces.

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away.

Elder Orbis, the only Elder that spoke out against the Rains of Destruction (“If he [Ramirez] has turned, and he has all six Crystals, he may release the seal on Zelos. That would be tragic…”) during the big confrontation scene at the climax – where Fina learned about the history behind her people – begins his speech, somberly. He is smiling, albeit sadly – he, along with the other remaining Elders, knows what has to be done. Fina’s broken heart, Ramirez’s betrayal, and Elder Prime’s death has shaken them all, forcing them to reconsider the very principles for which they stood for thousands of years ago.

He’s actually paraphrasing Vyse here.

A realization that came too late – only when everything went wrong did they realize the breadth of their mistakes.

A quick cut to Ramirez’s room. The particles falling from the walls turn into snow as they hit the ground and bed. A metaphor, obviously. Snow is usually indicative of change, of the turning of the seasons. The fact that snow is falling in Ramirez’s room signifies two things: A.) How much Ramirez has changed for the worse after everything, and B.) How much the Silvite Elders are changing for the better in part because of Ramirez’s disillusioned actions, further accentuating just how deeply the events of the storyline have struck them. Collateral damage hits hard.

Now Fina’s room. Two snowflakes land atop the doll and the plant on the left.

The doll falls over but the plant remains standing. This is symbolic of two things. One, it symbolizes how Fina is crumbling under the weight of realizing that she is a member of the civilization that caused the apocalypse so many years ago (which draws a thematic link between her and Enrique, who has a huge guilt complex because of Valua’s increasingly morally bankrupt actions, god the writing is so fucking good). However, the fact that the plant (greenery is often indicative of life in fiction) remains standing is symbolic of Fina’s increased self-esteem and determination. Even after everything, she’s still working with Vyse and his comrades to save the world, still carrying on. She still has hope to be happy.

None of the other elders are speaking. The reason Elder Orbis might be so blasé about his impending demise is because… well, he’s old. They’re old. They’ve lived for a very long time under the mad direction of Elder Prime. With him dead, and their plans essentially ruined, what else can they do except the right thing?

By this point, there is no music playing – all you hear is a repetitive, brief, atonal ringing sound.

We all know what is going to happen, but it doesn’t make this shot of Soltis powering up a charge any less powerful or tense.

All sound has stopped. There is only silence.

Even as the Great Silver Shrine collides with the Soltis ray, preventing the Rains of Destruction from being summoned for the time being, not a sound is heard. The power of silence makes the seen all the more impactful.

The way the Shrine collides with the ray makes the picture look like a magic staff – specifically, a Red Magic staff. In the world of Skies of Arcadia, Red Magic is indicative of power and courage. The Silvites are assuredly powerful, but up until this point, they have been cowardly as hell, sticking to the shadows and using ancient relics to solve their problems. Now, however, they’re willing to sacrifice their lives for a cause. Power and courage ties into the story’s themes about power and how people rightfully use it (Vyse, Enrique, Fina) and how people wrongfully use it (Galcian, Silvites, Ramirez) – it’s why Vyse starts the game out with a Red Magic sword.

The ray transfers an outrageous amount of heat and energy into the Silver Shrine. Still no sound. In these series of frames, the Silver Shrine begins to look like a supernova – “a star that suddenly increases greatly in brightness because of a catastrophic explosion that ejects most of its mass.” Once again, this represents change and death, as personified beforehand by snow.

Notice the numerical consistency. The Silver Shrine is hexagonal, and there are six stray rays of energy beneath it.

A silent collision; the Great Silver Shrine slams into the Soltis barrier.

A single noise, cutting the silence. It’s actually the atonal ringing from beforehand raised in pitch, used to signify the Elders dying. Fina’s tears are falling much like the snow in her room is (it looks better in motion).

Which logically leads to this hazy shot of her room, with the plant and the doll. The doll is still knocked over, but even after the tremendous impact, the plant is still standing strong, which actually foreshadows the happy ending (spoilers: everyone wins) this time. Even if the circumstances look hopeless or tragic or hazy (yes, this picture is a visual representation of the current mood of the situation), a glimmer of hope still exists.

A silent explosion, one that looks like a rising sun. A new day is dawning – the Silvites’ sacrifice has paid off, and Vyse and his crew can finally save the day like they were meant to.

A little girl happily giggling is the only sound you hear as the Silver Shrine explodes. We can assume the little girl’s voice was that of young Fina’s. The giggle neatly juxtaposes Fina’s tears.

And finally, after minutes of virtual silence, noise returns, the shock radius of the explosion shooting in all directions.

The individual electromagnetic pieces of the Soltis barrier begin to break apart into hexagons. The Great Silver Shrine was in the shape of a hexagon. This breaking apart of the barrier thematically and narratively symbolizes the Silvite Civilization’s demise. Fina and Ramirez are the only Silvites left in the world…

And then fade away into the wind (into obscurity), never to be seen again (never to be remembered again) except in the fleeting memories of those who participated in the fight against Galcian (except in the heavy heart of Fina, the only Silvite with goodwill and kindness left).

Soltis begins glowing blue. Blue Magic represents agility, motion, and fluidity, primarily focusing on air and water. Water is often used as a metaphor to “wash away” sins or crimes or past actions, which is exactly what the Silvites were trying to do here, which also draws yet another link to one of the themes in Skies of Arcadia, which is trying to amend or patch up mistakes (mostly personified through Enrique, but also shown in Gilder, Fina, Belleza).

And even after everything, the Delphinus is still there, standing tall like the plant in Fina’s room. Even after all the damage, even after all the shock and awe, it’s still there, and the crew piloting it is alive and well, if a little bit shaken.

This incredibly well-directed sequence uses imagery, color, and the power of silence (or unexpected sounds, like the giggle instead of an explosion, or the uses of chimes and lush-sounding instruments to present the Soltis barrier pieces flying away) to get the full impact across, and it works brilliantly. There are many other scenes and places in this game worth looking into and worth talking about, but this sequence meshes tone, atmosphere, theme, and sound together perfectly.

If you haven’t played this game, do so. Watching it isn’t the same as actually experiencing the damn thing.