Thinking about how Marco has this Thing with social insects, how he hates them the most of all the group, and trying to puzzle out why they scare him more than the others. Cuz it’s like... he says it’s loss of control/loss of self, but that seems weird, right? That’s sort of a looming anxiety for all of them, that’s what yeerks do, and Marco doesn’t seem more scared of the yeerks than the others.
But Marco “clear bright line” is able to do what he does by keeping an emotional distance from almost every area of his life; his ability to maintain ironic detachment is a crucial element of #35. We see him easily joke about everything, it’s his whole deal; he’s only really sincere about his family.
And Marco always mentions how social insects make you lose control specifically in the context of serving the hive. From #40:
Honeybees, like ants, are social insects. Just not to the same extent as ants. But they function as part of a greater whole. Not individuals. Machinelike in their dedication to the survival of the colony. Devoted one hundred and fifty percent to the hive.
Social insects absolutely do not allow distance from your goal. It’s not just the loss of control, it’s that the loss of control is mandatory, all-in, 150% devotion and dedication, no ironic detachment possible. The loss of self, for Marco, is that barrier he’s always building between his actions and his feelings.
And Marco’s absolute worst moments during the war (at least up through #41) are all times when his family (the one thing he cares about with absolute sincerity) is affected by/sacrificed for the cause. Choosing to push Eva off that cliff, letting her stay infested, even letting Peter marry Nora or just learning that the yeerks were responsible for his mother’s disappearance-- these were all moments when Marco worked for the greater good but really struggled to insert distance between his actual feelings and the cause because it came for the ONE thing he sincerely cares about. The only way he’s able to keep going is by doubling down on that ironic detachment. Social insects take that away, and I wonder if that alone is enough to give him the screaming horrors.
head canon: the igglybuff line as terrestrial cephalopods
So, it’s been a while, but I hard headcanon a handful of pokemon as terrestrial cephalopods. I’ve done some posts in the past about mimikyu, jinx, and tangela and their cephalopod characteristics and other artists have done some amazing artistic interpretations of unlikely pokemon like slugma/magcargo.
But today I discovered this beautiful, weird banded piglet squid (Helicocranchia pfefferi):
Peeps, this looks like igglybuff!
Sort of. First, a few pfefferi facts:
They have tentacles above their eyes and two small, paddle-y fins at the end of their mantle. They can make their eyes glow. They have ammonium ions in their blood that helps keep them buoyant. As they mature they lose their glassy translucence and become a pinkish red.
What really reminded me of igglybuff seeing the photos of H. pfefferi was it’s little tangle of tentacles above its eyes. Then there were the forward-facing eyes on the glassy juvenile. Those tentacles, the big round eyes, the little foot-like fins (see last photo below), its roundular buoyancy-- how could I not think of this cutie?
And, yeah, this is totally a headcanon, but when I try to think of realistic interpretations and taxonomies for the igglybuff line, I’ve always had a hard time. They’re so simple, almost featureless. Even the features they do have are weird-- a little spiral (hair? colouring?), the lumpy head extrusions, bonelessly flopping feet and fingerless arms. Sure, it’s a cartoon, but it exists in the same world as far more anatomically detailed, “textured” ‘mon like, say, inkay or . And unlike other baby pokemon, igglybuff doesn’t really become more complex as it evolves-- wigglytuff is very basic in terms of design and anatomy elements.
But if we imagine that, like tangela and jinx, igglybuff and its evolved forms are cephalopods adapted for a terrestrial environment, the external simplicity make sense. The smooth, balloon-like mantle of H. pfefferi accounts for the skin; the line’s buoyant movements fit well with an aquatic animal’s movements; igglybuff’s squiggle could be a tentacle or maybe a vestigial siphon; the lumpen appendages on the head are modified or tightly curled tentacles; the featureless limbs are fins or, in the case of jigglypuff and wigglytuff’s ears, modified tentacles. Obviously it’s not perfect, but I like it.
OKAY, prompted by Mertil mistaking a disused rail yard for an earth human graveyard, I’ve done a speculative doodle of an Andalite memorial structure. This is entirely based on vibes and the fact that an overgrown rail yard resembles what Mertil would recognize as a place of the dead.
- I don’t think the body and the memory of the deceased would be closely connected. Dying in battle is a Whole Thing with them, but battles don’t take place on the Andalite homeworld, and often the manner of death (Dracon beam, ship decompression/explosion) doesn’t leave a body behind. At some point in their history they were prey animals; culturally, I think they’re used to not having a body around after death. Even just going off what we see in canon, I think Andalites would value memory of names and deeds independently of the location of a body.
- I’m imagining parks of memorial structures, grouped by family/nearby community or by military service; maybe you can memorialize someone at multiple structures (eg, Elfangor would be honored at a family memorial and official military parks). Multiple paths would run through memorial parks. Visiting a memorial structure would be a ritual, and maybe the route you take through the park would vary based on who you were memorializing and how? Maybe there are pools a patch of a specific type of grass only eaten as part of the memorial ritual. (Something bitter or maybe something especially nourishing?)
- The structures themselves are a core of sci-fi concrete mounded over with earth; grasses and other significant plants are planted on these mounds. They have no interior; instead, there are nooks with a holo-projecter displaying images of the deceased and a readout/engraving with the names of who should be memorialized, to be expanded as the generations pass. If neglected, I imagine that the projectors would eventually run down and go dark, and the list of names fade.
- In theory they’re tended by the families and comrades, or by dedicated gardeners in an official military park. However, if someone is disgraced or a family neglects the memory of their deceased, the structures become overgrown and can eventually be entirely consumed. I imagine that whole parks are sometimes forgotten for various reasons-- a small family or community dies out, e.g., or an entire family is disgraced and no one tends the structures anymore.
The real snag with this speculation is that Gafinilan specifically says that Mertil thinks he’s in a “graveyard,” which usually means there are bodies buried there. I don’t know what Andalites would do with bodies-- they value their physique so highly that I think there’re arguments for preservation of the corpse, but they also have intense ties to their planet, so I’m torn. Do they preserve the body as much as possible? Do they prefer the memory of the deceased as young and strong and cremate or just bury in the earth without preservation, circle of life style? (That’d give memorial grasses that are eaten a new significance, which I kind of like.) Maybe early “memorial structures” were initially berms formed by accumulated burials over generations?
So I’ve been in the middle of a kind of massive life shift, transitioning from being a grad student to working an office job. One of the first things I did when I got the office job was get a few plants (clado algae, a Tillandsia ionatha) for my open cubicle workspace. I’d love a planted nano aquarium, but that seems like a stretch because of desk space, maintenance, and also because I’m not sure it would fly with the supervisors.
As I am wont to do, I started thinking about workplace pokemon. Do you think professional office spaces would limit what pokemon were allowed? Would office workers naturally have smaller, more docile pokemon to accommodate their lifestyle? Desktop bellsprout bred to grow to around 6″ max, maybe, or tiny tangela? Would workspaces limit pokemon by type (grass type produce less/different forms of waste, e.g., and so are acceptable), or would office spaces in the pokeverse be made to accommodate all types? Would there be an office daycare or a special courtyard park for lunch break exercise?
It’s Halloween! The best day of the year! It’s all downhill from here until next October. Live it up while it lasts!
Fittingly, the last fairy-type post is about candy puppies! Ever wondered why swirlix/slurpuff are dogs and also they’re candy and also they’re fairies? I have, and cuz I’m a nerd I did research to find out how all these design elements connect. thoughts under the cut!
Let’s start with their dog-like design.
-- Fairy dogs are most often large hounds. The cu sith (pron. coo shee) of the the Scottish Highlands, one of the most frequently encountered examples of fairy dogs, is usually “dark green in colour” with “a long tail coiled up on its back, or plaited in a flat plait” (Briggs 83). Many other fairy hounds are spectral and terrifying— the headless, ravening yeth hounds or the haunting harbingers of doom like the trash or the padfoot. But there are vague mentions in folk lore of unnamed fairy dogs that sound more like our little pokepups. After addressing the more well known fairy dogs, many texts remark something to the effect of, “other fairy dogs are generally white with red ears” (Briggs 82). White with red ears is a fairy colouring found across species, including small, white/red eared canine messengers that announce the arrival of their fae masters. (Shoutout to @ponies-and-pokemon for mentioning the white/red ears fact yesterday. This post has been written since August, but it was nice to know that there are people out there who’ll know if a fairy animal shows up.)
This is our best bet, aesthetically, for connecting our fairy puppies to fairy lore. And, sure, swirlix and slurpuff are white with pink ears, so maybe it’s a stretch; but I like to think that just as these fairy puppies are smaller and gentler than the rough and fearsome hounds of fairy lore, their colouring is correspondingly softer and less aggressive.
- Food is always important in fairy stories. Eating fairy food is risky, and when swirlix uses its sticky, thread-like excretions to entrap enemies, it’s possibly a reference to the recurring trope of mortals eating fae food and becoming trapped in their realm.
- Slurpuff’s cake-like appearance calls to mind a fairy cake that shows up in British/Irish stories. In the most common version, a farmer on his way to the fields hears disembodied weeping and stumbles upon a broken ped, or child’s shovel, which he fixes before going on to work. Returning home at the end of the day he passes by the spot once more and discovers “a fine new-baked cake” (Briggs 43) where the shovel once was. Against a friend’s warning the farmer eats the cake, pronounces it pretty good, and continues on his way without incident. The story is an exception to the rule that fairy food = disaster.
If swirlix’s entangling fairy floss threads represent the danger of fairy food, then maybe slurpuff is about cooperation and co-existence. It’s also interesting that just as the fairy cake was given as part of a transaction, slurpuff is only obtainable through a trade-- there are few things fairies like more than a good and fair trade.
- I like that this line is a reversal of the usual evolutionary development where something cute/harmless becomes something fierce or mighty. Just as swirlix and slurpuff represent a gentler kind of fairy canine, this evolutionary line may reference less dangerous fairy lore as it progresses— not unlike the way that more fearsome, utilitarian dog breeds were selectively bred into smaller, gentler lap dogs, or even the way fairy tales and beliefs become tamer and less horrifying over time.
- The way swirlix and slurpuff are inspired by light, insubstantial foods may also reference the way that food offerings left for fairies at the end of the day were thought to be drained of nutrients in the morning. These offerings were “said to have no real substance left in it… fairies extract the spiritual essence from food offered to them, leaving behind the grosser elements” (Wentz 44). That is, the food is nutritionally null and insubstantial, not unlike refined sugary foods like meringue and cotton candy.
- There may be something that connects the food and canine elements. Slurpuff’s meringue-like design elements calls to mind the meringues made in the Loire region of France, which are sometimes called pets (French colloquialism for fart, for some reason?). The Loire region is the inspiration Kalos Rt. 7, and the Loire’s Chateau d’Azay le Rideau is the inspiration and real-world twin of Kalos’ Battle Chateau.
Rt. 7 is also the only area where you can find wild swirlix. The coincidence of pet meringues and swirlix the wee meringue puppy appearing in the same place just can’t be ignored, and I have to believe the designers were aware of les pets when they designed swirlix/slurpuff. (And as long as we’re making purely speculative leaps, I enjoy the coincidence of the multi-lingual pun on the word pet and the fairy cake given in exchange for a repaired ped.)
References
Briggs, Catherine Mary. An Encyclopedia of Fairies: Hobgoblings, Bronwies, Bogies, and other Supernature Creatures. Pantheon, 1976.
Evans-Wentz, W. Y. The Fairy-faith in Celtic Countries. Oxford UP, 1911.
Sherman, Josepha. Storytelling: an Encyclopedia of Mythology and Folklore. Taylor and Francis, 2008
Varner, Gary R. Creatures in the Mist: Little People, Wild Men and Spirit Beings Around the World: a study in comparative Mythology. Algora, 2007
It’s Halloween weekend! The best time of the entire year, the most eerie and unsettling season, the time when the walls between this world and the unseen are thinnest. Halloween is time not just about “evil spirits” but about fae in particular; and what better time to talk about fairy types?
Fairy lore is filled with some truly horrible happenings; most of the Fair Folk are really, really dangerous! So why all the bows and prettiness for our fairy type pokémon? This is the first of a few posts where I talk about how the design elements of fairy type reference strange, unsettling, or overlooked lore that puts the designs of my favourite type in a new light.
Today: spritzee and aromatisse!
Spritzee and aromatisse’s designs are pretty straightforward, and most people know how they reference images of plague doctors. In pre-modern medicine one significant theory of disease transmission was that illness spread through miasma— that is, bad air. Today we know that smells and germs are carried by the air, separate from the oxygen we breathe, but miasmic theory held that heavy humidity and bad smells indicated that air had been corrupted to its very essence. This theory informed practices of disease prevention; possibly as early as the 1300s, European doctors tending to plague victims would wear a beak-like mask (along with a full body suit, gloves, and boots). The “nose” of this mask was lined with aromatic herbs; by infusing the air with healthful essences, these herbs were meant to purify the air of its miasmatic corruption.
Spritzee and aromatisse, then, reference not only fancy perfumes but also much darker imagery of those risking their lives to treat very sick, very contagious patients. Fairy types are often associated with good health and purification, and this would be a sufficient, if straightforward, reason for spritzee’s fairy typing. But Aromatisse’s ballroom dancer design elements, especially, adds some complexity and darkness that I haven’t seen anyone discuss in depth. In early modern Europe, plague doctor masks became culturally iconic in both Italian theater and Venitian Carnival/masquerade. Aromatisse’s exaggerated eyelashes and plague doctor nose are references to carnival masquerades— i.e., costumed dances. This connection really connects the plague doctor mask to the typing because courtly dances are straight out of fairy lore.
European fairies are constantly associated with dancing. Nineteenth century folklorist Wirt Sikes writes that, like their European counterparts, Welsh fairies “are most often dancing together when seen. They seek to entice mortals to dance with them, and when anyone is drawn to do so, it is more than probable he will no return to his friends for a long time” (70). Fairies were thought to be from a place of boundless wealth and prosperity and longevity, so it makes sense that they have an enduring passion for dance, a favourite pastime of the beautiful and wealthy; but part of fairy strangeness is the way their love of leisure and mischief can become dangerous to mortals.
So many fairy folk tales are focused on either avoiding fairies or, failing that, how to be polite enough to escape harm. Mortals unlucky enough to fall in with a dancing troupe of fairies were particularly unlucky; according to Sikes, “In the great majority of these stories [of escape from fairy dances] the hero dies immediately after his release from the thralldom of the fairies—in some cases with a suddenness and a completeness of obliteration as appalling as dramatic” (72). He offers one example of a man who is drawn into a fairy dance and kept there, continually dancing, for years. At long last he is noticed by a passerby who interrupts the dance. As soon as the dance stops the man “instantly crumbled away” (Sikes 72).
But not all dancing deaths were so sudden— there are folktales of people who are stolen away nightly to dance with the fair folk and who grow so exhausted that they waste away over time. These nightly abductions were sometimes associated with tuberculosis, a disease that (in the 19th century, at least) slowly and progressively weakens the afflicted. One author even says that it was sometimes thought to be a kind of “fairy vampirism” (Silver 169). (A really great example of this trope in contemporary fiction is the novel and the adaptation of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell.)
Spritzee and aromatisse, then, evoke contradictory imagery. One the one hand, you have the reference to plague doctors— creepy, maybe, but ultimately helpful, courageous, benevolent, a purifying force. But that same imagery has a flip-side, a reference to fairy balls that are dangerous, alien, and associated with illness. The fact that both spritzee and aromatisse reference plague masks (conventionally creepy and unsettling) while also being feminine and pretty (pink, long lashes, graceful movements) is a fitting contradiction. Like the fae folk, they make the unsettling and dangerous seem attractive. They walk that line separating blessing and curse, sickness and health, horror and beauty. They are, like all fairies, in-between.
References:
Sikes, Wirt. British goblins : Welsh folk-lore, fairy mythology, legends and traditions. London: Low, Marston, Searle, & Rivington, 1880.
Silver, Carol G. Strange and Secret Peoples: Fairies and Victorian Consciousness. Oxford UP, 1999
So you know that post that’s been going around that’s like, “Ugh those theories that catching pokemon is wrong keep your edgy shit away from my franchise?” (Most recently seen on my dash here.)
I hate that post. Sort of lengthy reasons why under the cut.
First off, I don’t believe that there is sucha thing as overthinking a piece of media, and I’ve blogged about the first half of the Indigo League anime at length, so I may be biased. That said, I hate that the post so definitively dismisses this interpretation as valid and ignores the fact that the treatment of pokemon is an open question. (I find it... amusing that it also suggests that the interpretation that all pokemon live to beat the crap out of each other isn’t itself kind of edgy and ott.) The OS anime itself constantly invites us to question and thoughtfully consider the failures and possibilities of how humans live with pokemon. That’s Ash’s whole deal-- he’s the one willing to ask questions, try things that no one else will for fear of being stupid.
More specifically, the post is bad at supporting its own claims. Let’s get into some things it... selectively overlooks.
1) Its evidence is based on uncritically accepting what human characters say. Sure, Pokeverse culture is really big on the idea that Pokemon want to be caught; sure the pokedex says that spearow is “jealous” of trained pokemon. But, like, we can all agree that in our world humans construct narratives, stories about the world, that shape what they see as real and justify and enable exploitative behaviour, right? (E.g.-- people saying cows/chickens are dumb as a way to suggest that they deserve/don’t mind horrifying treatment in factory farms.) Of course a field guide given to new trainer is going to interpret pokemon behaviour in a way that encourages him to catch and train rather than fight for pokemon rights. Like, they wouldn’t have given him the radical environmentalist ‘dex!
And, as the anime makes clear, there is a HUGE merchandising/sports industry that relies on the belief that catching and battling is unproblematic.
2) The post is selective in its evidence. There anime, especially, shows us evidence that there are at the very least exceptions to the idea that every pokemon wants to be a trained pokemon. First, that same spearow that the pokedex claims is “jealous” only attacks Ash because Ash hit it with a fucking rock. He literally, physically attacked it, and it retaliates in self defense, mobbing him and Pikachu not unlike crows who recognize and untrustworthy intruder. Mobbing is an aggressive, self-defensive move that indicates a lack of trust, a fear of Ash because of his earlier violence. The ‘Dex’s explanation is, even in world, fishy as hell and ultimately doesn’t make sense with what actually happens. (Why mob a trainer you’re trying to impress?)
Second, the oddish in “Bulbasaur and the Secret Village” shows us that there are ‘mon who simply do not want to be caught, and shows us that trainers (in this case, Misty) rarely notice or care. After all, if you believe every pokemon is willing and available, consent to capture isn’t something you even consider.
3) Butterfree (as well as many of Ash’s other pokemon across the years) shows us that sometimes pokemon have desires that conflict with and outweigh their supposed desire to be a “bloodknight”/gladiator-- i.e., normal species behaviours. The hate Ash so often gets for releasing his pokemon when they want to leave shows how few trainers probably understand or pay attention to these desires. (There is a butterfree release festival, but it’s a voluntary and species-specific event-- trainers can and do choose to keep their butterfree in captivity.)
4) Goodra in XY shows us how complex pokemons’ social lives are. Goodra eventually returns to the swamp because it wants to protect its friends, to keep them safe, and again, Ash lets it stay there. After all, Ash only encounters because it was dramatically separated from its home in the first place.
Ash is, I think, the exception in his haphazard, contingent style of training. I say the exception because Ash’s thing is that he’s unconventional and understands his team in a way that is surprisingly deep and unique. Ash’s willingness to let his pokemon live their lives on their own terms is one of the clearest ways he shows his extraordinary abilities to care about and listen to his ‘mon. The point of all of this is that many trainers may not have listened to their pokemon’s desires or considered releasing a team member they’d spent so long training.
So. I personally like to think of the pokeverse as a place where humans and ‘mon share some supernatural bond that draws them to each other- I’ve blogged about that here. But this recent “lols stop ur edginess” post just straight up ignores evidence. It’s not only unfair to those thinking critically about the series; it’s also against the series’ constant urging to make better worlds by remaining open remain open to questions, possibilities, and new kinds of thought.
So the other night I listened to the latest @thehindsightanimorphspodcast ep, which was about Book d was thinking about Book 16: The Warning. Since then I’ve been thinking about how Evil Twin! Esplin can consume yeerk yogurt while in a host and somehow benefit from it. The hosts were wondering why no yeerk scientists had devised this method. What if the benefit is only possible because of the way a human host body metabolizes yeerk bodies? I’m not sure where the prominent yeerk scientists are located, but many or most of them are probably in nonhuman hosts since humans are relatively new and probably aren’t sent off-planet in large numbers.
The only reason I bring this up is because Animorphs as a series is so invested in concepts of consumption-- a few examples being Visser 3 chewing Elfangor to death, the recurring difficulty of morph-hunger, the acquisition of DNA (which our heroes often compare to predatation as a way to justify the necessity and “naturalness” of using nonhuman bodies), and so on.
And if a human host’s actual eating of yeerk paste is a necessary part of the process it would really underline the idea of how bodies are confused. The process already requires that a human host be effectively butchered so that Twin! Esplin can get at those tasty yeerk bits. If another human then has to eat and metabolize that yeerk liverwurst it adds layers of cannibalism and body confusion in there that would really make this book so much more grisly and disturbing and, just maybe, make it feel less like a one-off just because consumption and body confusion are so integral to the series’ overall aesthetic.
The necessity of a human host to this cannibalizing process would really undermin the yeerk’s discourse of infestation (i.e., that yeerk bodies are inferior and unfair and hosts are a necessary and natural if a yeerk to fulfill their full potential). If humans in particular are necessary to the process, a human host would be the only thing in the galaxy that could’ve allowed Twin! Esplin to be so horribly depraved.
