Review of Judgment (5-17-2017)
(Original article: http://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/magic-story/judgment-2017-05-17)
It’s quite the barn burner I’ve chosen to kick my reviews off with. In this week’s article by Doug Beyer and Alison Luhrs, we come to the climax of the Amonkhet action. Last week, we finally learned about what made Samut as heretical as Thalia. As the second sun approaches its final resting place, things look grim for our newfound heroine.
The story starts off innocuously enough. With our previous story also being pointedly Gatewatch-less, I was pleasantly surprised to see the Samut/Djeru plotline be the focus of this story. It is refreshing to see that the Creative team at Wizards is listening to the community; it would be relatively easy to tell more (or most) of this article from the viewpoints of our intrepid (and increasingly stale) protagonists, watching as they continue to fumble about a new plane, trying to piece together a mystery that Samut herself has been gnawing on for around a decade. The concession of the Creative team to the fact that, ultimately, it is the denizens of a plane that deserve to have the acting power in their own narrative is a breath of fresh air, especially after the events of Eldritch Moon, where the sole actions of Jace and Liliana delay the total assimilation of the plane of Innistrad by Emrakul (who is honestly my favorite alien threat in recent pop-culture).
Even on Kaladesh, the success of the rebellion is largely dependent upon the cooperation of five suped up mages who happen to show up, even if one of them is native Kaladeshi (Kaladeshian?) Chandra. Personally, I believe the rebellion would have succeeded without the interference of the Gatewatch, but hey, I suppose they need to feel important every now and then.
Back to Amonkhet, the writing style starts off fluid and descriptive, a nice tempo and dialog drummed up that carries through the first segment. Lines from Samut and Djeru are natural and difficult to misinterpret, and the first author even manages to fit in a Chandraism (patent pending):
“Maybe he would ... ask her forgiveness - that was possible, wasn’t it? She managed to believe that for three entire seconds.”
The second segment of the story continues the well-wrought wordplay between Samut and Hazoret, easily the most characterized of the gods we’ve seen so far. We are given a hint that the gods, as they existed pre-Bolas, still exist, buried within, as we learned during Nissa’s battle with Kefnet. We also learn of the alternative roles the gods presumably held before the culture of Amonkhet was turned to the gladiator-like striving for eternal glory. It is interesting that even before Hazoret thought of herself as the chosen-daughter of Nicol Bolas, she was seen as the mother of the citizens of Amonkhet, or at least of Naktamun. After the Heliod-lead pantheon of Theros, it is intriguing to see the red-aligned god hold what we can assume is the highest position among the Amonkhet five (and even possibly the eight that were before).
The dialog between Samut and Hazoret is entirely believable, the tortured pleas of one longing to believe falling on the deaf ears of the indoctrinated. The least believable part of this segment is Samut’s utter shutdown following Hazoret’s dismissal. As a fiery warrior, it is strange to see Samut simply allow herself to be taken away, though perhaps in the presence of what we can assume is the speedster’s patron god, she was unwilling to actively dissent.
We come, finally, to the third segment, the portion that proves this was a two-person job. I’m not sure who wrote which parts of this story, but the sudden shift in writing style, and honestly, the increase in errors proves that the story changes ownership here.
As Samut is imprisoned within the gruesome sarcophagi alongside other dissenters, we have a shift from the consistent past-tense storytelling to a singular slip-up, as:
"I think we'll be the last," says the one to Samut's right. "The second sun is hours away from its zenith."
Sure, something that proofreading should have caught. But less than a dozen lines later:
They'll come in the morning. They'll take her to the arena. She'll finally convince Djeru, they'll leave alive, and the two will fight off the trespasser that ruined their world in the first place.
This paragraph jerks us unceremoniously into the future tense. Even if this was Samut’s inner monologue (which, if we’re following the style of the rest of the article, should be in italics), I would personally have still used the past tense, e.g. “They’d come in the morning, etc.”
The remainder of this segment feels rushed and barely structured; entire introductions and sharing of knowledge are glossed over in summaries of dialogue. When we finally do return to quotations, it is simply to restate facts that should have been included in the glossed over dialogue, and then, of course, to give the Gatewatch its limelight, as the group gets rightfully annoyed with Liliana and Jace for hiding Razaketh’s presence on Amonkhet. We end the segment with the arrival of the pantheon, summoning the dissidents to stand as the final trial for those who would ascend to eternity.
As we open on the final trial, we get some meaningless mind-talk between Jace and Nissa, I guess just to remind us that Nissa, a newly blue mage, is already better than Jace at controlling magic? The few lines of dialogue are instantly shown to be pointless as the cartouches immobilizing them simply fall off. Sometimes, less is more.
Another thing - the stands are supposedly filled with the Anointed. Just where did the remainder of Naktamun go? I’d imagine the Trial of Zeal is a very publicized thing, as none of the contestants leave alive, and everyone seems to know what happens there. Yet there appear to only be a bunch of mummies in the crowd. Odd...
The fight sequence is actually some of the better combat writings I’ve read in a while. There is a nice tempo and simplicity to the phrases, and the lack of complete sentences mirrors the rushed moves all combatants take part in. Yet another momentary tense lapse after Hazoret hears Djeru’s prayer:
The battle magic dissipates.
If the next two lines had been present tense, as well, I could have understood it as the artistic representation of blood-rushed senses returning to normal. As a single sentence, it sticks out like a sore thumb.
Directly following that, a cringe-worthy use of “was” over “were”:
Around them was spatters of blood, the bodies of three initiates (head turned sideways, throat parted, thrown body discarded into the crowd).
Again, something I caught the first time I read the story, something any proofreader should have noticed, as well.
The next bit has Djeru crying like a baby after Samut sort of saves him from being impaled (Gideon does a Gideon thing and manages to end up in front of the pair before Hazoret realizes), Hazoret rethinking her life choices (which is awesome and a great move, continuing to humanize the character that I’m sure will play a pivotal role in Hour of Devastation), and the Gatewatch standing around waiting for something to happen.
As the sky begins to darken and six of the seven mortals dash for the Luxa, we are given quite a treat - prophetical plot development! Not only that, it is given to my personal favorite member of the Gatewatch, Beefcake - I mean, Gideon.
The last few lines are simple, powerful, and sent a shiver down my spine the first time I read them. For a mortal who literally face-tanked Ulamog’s assault (I want the name of who signed off on that, by the way), being told, simply and directly, “You are no god” is an uber powerful way to foreshadow what I predict will be the downward spiral and ultimate doom of my favorite Planeswalker (minus potentially Ugin, if he ever does anything again). I love you, Gideon, but I love the Magic story more, and the death of its most noble hero is exactly what it needs.
I’ll end this review with arguably my new favorite one-liner, a fitting end to the story of Amonkhet:
The indestructible man felt only a bleak and empty horror.