Powered Gentle Giants @poweredgentlegiants - Tumblr Blog

Turians and Disability Culture: Part 2 Societal Expectations and Norms

So I spoke about how in the more general view Turian society has of disabled individuals here in my last post: Turians and Disability: Part 1

In this post, I want to go over some of my headcanons about disability in Turian culture in ways that don't pertain to the military but the average person. In addition, to lifelong military careers and veterans, those who are born with disabilities are generally also held in a certain regard. There's a certain societal and even family pride in those disabled from birth, as they're often seen as in the best translation from most turian languages to have "strong spirit." It's viewed that to conquer the limitations of one's own body, and to find understanding and peace within such limits is highly admirable and respected, be it mentally or physically. Turians believe in the strength of understanding and accepting one's own limitations and working peacefully with the body, rather than forcing the body to the brink of exhaustion.

Turian society is focused less on eradication of disability, and more on accommodation and support for the disabled, caregivers, and family units. Young disabled turians are often integrated into society, through specialized programs and early education alongside their able-bodied or neurotypical peers to encourage understanding of disability rather than fear. There is a lot of focus on what an individual can do, rather than what they lack. In addition, there is also the taught expectation that the strongest Turian is only as strong as their weakest counterpart to encourage companionship and camaraderie amongst those who're different from one another. Adults with disabilities often go into fields such as engineering, medical, or even teaching, and more than a few disabled Turians have been prominent in the arts. Because Turians are largely a family and group oriented species, the treatment of other species' of their disabled or those with differences can seem almost barbaric to Turian mindsets, and they often find the lack of accommodations and access to medical care deeply disturbing. They also generally find views about the survival of the fittest to be less advanced thinking and barbaric. (An example of this is in my opinion: When Garrus, Javik, Cortez, and Wrex, are discussing things with Joker near the bar in the Citadel DLC, Garrus is the only one who doesn't engage in the discussion whatsoever about how Joker needs to be a better shooter, nor does he say anything when Wrex and Javik discuss the weakest being left behind) Turians value civil freedoms and liberties too, as seen in the codex entries particularly in ME2-ME3, so there are not any particular limits on the freedoms a person with a disability might face, unless it's detrimental to their health, and those around them. Turians who've been in contact with humans or seen human behaviors around those with disabilities also find the infantalization quite bizarre, and generally it's considered standard politeness to not assume help is needed, and rather, will wait until asked for assistance, but more often than not be more happy to provide help. I might also do a 3rd part of this, though I'm not sure on what topic just yet!

anoia

what if krogans sleep in a lump. kroglump. like their legs tuck under and their crest goes under their back shell.

lambentwarg

@sharkiisha

mandala--moons

Turians and Disability Culture Part One - Disability in Societal Structure

One of the best things about fanfiction and fanart, and just these personal worlds we have in our head is that we can create headcanons and personal thoughts for how we think the world functions which in my opinion is super neat. Mass Effect is very near and dear to my heart particularly for how inclusive it is, especially in terms of things like disability and tackling social issues. It's imperfect of course, but as a disabled person myself, what's perfect? I think it's simply more important that you try. Strangely enough, my Shepard is disabled and though I've been disabled my whole life, I've never been brave enough to make a disabled character that was like me until now! These are just some of my personal headcanons and you're of course, totally free to disagree with them. Now, onto the post! ------ Turians in general don't have a concept of disability in the same manner that humans do, and it at times, causes great confusion especially in their relationships with other races, particularly humans. It's stated in the codex entries: While turians are individuals with personal desires, their instinct is to equate the self with the group, and set aside personal desires for the good of all.

This would dramatically change how they'd both treat, and interact with the disabled amongst them. Unfortunately, human culture as we see it in the game seems to have progressed medically, but perhaps not socially. Given, that Joker is called slurs repeatedly, and automatically assumes when he speaks to Shepard in ME1 that he's seen as less competent due to to his Vrolik's Syndrome as a pilot, even though it has little impact on how well he does his job. (We really only see the lens of disability through Joker, the Mindoir Survivor, David Archer, and it's vaguely mentioned with military members with PTSD such as the cult leader etc.) Turians in general value strength and discipline, and it's clear in both their military structure and how they think of the greater whole, rather than just the individual. Given also, that Turians boast the best and most powerful military in the galaxy, I believe that becoming disabled in either training or in active duty is commonplace. As such, accommodations for disability in Turian society are seen as mandatory, and a right, as opposed to discretionary. Ramps and elevators in buildings, military outposts, and generally every building in Hierarchy space is required. Turian science also is one of the most advanced when it comes to accommodations for various disorders when it comes to mobility aids, relying on combinations of cybernetics, exosuits, and other training and uses. (In the original concept art for Saren, he also was disabled, using a biotic cane to walk) Rather than discharging disabled soldiers, Turians will simply accommodate them to ensure they are still able to serve the hierarchy in some way. Those disabled in action often later become advisors, serve in research and recon bases, and advise generals and captains on the best course of action. In fact, it is relatively uncommon for high ranking Turians in the Hierarchy military to not have some form of disability be it scars or cybernetics, and mobility aids, as such signs of disability are seen as markers of experience and a willingness to "die for the cause" as the Turian anthem proudly states. This also ties into why Garrus is so reluctant to fix his scars, as Chakwas states in ME3, as it's seen as a mark of his bravery. As such, disability isn't seen as something shameful or "less than" in Turian society, but simply a fact of life that must be strengthened or built around, rather than something hidden away. Most turians view disability as an inevitability, something that eventually occurs in some way for everyone. Next post I'll go over the social and emotional models of disability for Turian culture and how this works within their society.

mandala--moons

Sketch of what I imagine some traditional Turian clothing might look like. I love draping fabrics. Featuring everyone's fave boy Garrus ofc!

palavenmoons

Starshine & Sunshine.

Sometimes I feel like drawing cheese and they are naturals at it.

topbanana-art

I don't even know what to say.

My brain connected Shepard and Garrus to that one post and I was simply possessed to draw it.

relay314

Ref sheet, Lilus Demim for @gibbsgryph!

writing-prompt-s

You are a villain famous for “killing” heroes. In reality, heroes come to you to fake their deaths.

doyourdrafts

They call you by many names, some more melodramatic than others. None accurate or kind.

Death. Endgame. Unmaker.

Every death is personal. Every end well-documented and attested to. Impeccable witnesses, unimpeachable evidence.

You’ve been tried in absentia so many times they carved your casefile number on the wooden seat back in the dock. It was impossible to catch you, impossible to stop you.

Granthar, mowed down while he accepted a medal for saving yet ANOTHER orphanage. No one asked him what nightmares he faced from all the kids he hadn’t been able to save. You hope he finds the peace he begged you for when you resettled him on that remote steppe after the furor died down.

Priat, killed along with her mortal enemy Donal while they were locked in another fight in their seemingly unending war. You went to their wedding two months later, pleasantly surprised to see them both enjoying retirement now that no one but themselves expected anything from them.

They said you had no morals. They said you would kill indiscriminately. In a way, perhaps, that was true. Heroes, villains, antiheroes, you would end them all. You had a few lines, though.

No collateral damage. No children left behind. Any family that relied on you taken care of. No one underage without a vetted guardian.

Venerable Mrs. Turner in Alliance, Nebraska had a Roth IRA with a guaranteed minimum lifetime withdrawal benefit that would keep her in style till the end of her days when you were done with her baby boy. And so The Machine exploded while picking up Starbucks for the League of Heroes, before he then retired to a monastery in Nepal.

Inevitable. Obituaris. Murderer.

One journalist had gotten to the truth, connected dots you didn’t think were visible. You’d had a choice; kill or risk the entire operation.

In the end, they asked you to help them as well. Once they saw the entire pattern, they couldn’t betray those who you’d helped before then. They’re raising sheep or something on a Shetland island now, writing books under their new name that sell mildly well. They’re happy, and that’s what mattered.

Their newspaper ran a black banner when you killed them, and has been dogging your trail ever since. One of their own, after all. You don’t grudge them their hate, someone has to stand guard at the door.

No powers, no abilities. Just money, a lot of it. Everyone you helped contributed to the cause, and some of them were very well-off indeed. Buying new lives took money, and good organizational skills. You’d already had the latter, and the former had come easily enough when Dr. Deathwish had been killed, leaving you alone, of all his minions and henchpersons, alive. Bad luck being stuck in traffic just then, you’d thought at the time, but maybe everything happens for a reason.

But people forget that heroes and villains are, underneath the spandex, masks, and makeup, just people. And people get tired.

The sort of tired a red bull and a day at the gym can’t fix. The sort even a month in bed can’t cure. A bone-deep weariness of the soul that no amount of public praise or civic medals can salve. Sometimes they just need to stop, and can’t or won’t explain themselves to the public or their employers.

You’ve always believed no one is owed your labor, so why should heroes and villains be any different? Not everyone will let them go, and that’s where you come in.

You’d started out Nameless Minion #467 in a generic evil lair, and now you were Death Incarnate for anyone who needed your specific brand of help. It was almost admirable, a self-made villain.

Really, you’re still a henchperson. Just helping everyone that needs it, not beholden to one villain or hero. Someone needs to be there for them to kill their pasts so their futures can live.

You stand at the doorway, evil murderer to those looking in, and kindly guardian to those passing through.

A guardian of change. Protector of new identities. That’s why your victims call you what they do, part humor based on the modern misunderstanding of the name, part description.

Janus.