do you ever stop and think about The Narrator from Slay The Princess for a moment? because I do.
in most other stories, a man who sacrifices his own life to save the entire world from doom is considered a hero. here, he is the antagonist. your antagonist. he is your Creator, he's the first other entity beside yourself that you first meet. and yet, he will never love you, not truly. his "affection" towards you is always conditional, and he is quick to switch up his approach the moment TLQ doesn't do what he wants. he will berate you, guilttrip you, outright insult you. he will directly take the autonomy from your own body. and yet, despite everything he puts him (and TSM) through, TLQ still has the option to mourn him. to miss him.
he is a bitter, pathetic little asshole, and yet. and yet he is also so full of love. he loves the world, he loves the people in it, and he was willing to give up his own life (which, from a man who is so profoundly scared of death, it's a pretty big thing) to save everyone and gift the world what he thought would be eternal happiness. eternal life.
he purposefully tears his soul apart and stores a part of himself forever in the eternal Construct, just to make sure that it gets the job done. he shatters in half the bedrock of the world in his desperate pursuit of escaping the terror of death.
maybe he had a lover, a family, or even children of his own he wanted to protect/save. maybe he suffered a terrible loss, and it radicalized him against death so deeply.
and at the end of the day, we will never know. because The Narrator is dead. he has always been dead, he died to create TLQ and the Construct and what is left of him is not the real him, it's not even a real person. he's just an ideal, a point of view, a conglomeration of human fear. he is not something you can reason with. the Echo cannot change its mind, because that's all it is. a feeble shadow of a dead man's belief, about to fade away, who does fade away the moment we inevitably see him in the end. he's "narrating of borrowed time", as he himself says during The Cage.
and TLQ can resent him, can love him, honor him, miss him, hate him, but he will never be able to actually meet him, because the man that used to live who became The Narrator doesn't exist anymore. TLQ will never know who his Creator is.
Replaying the Nightmare -> Wraith route and I'm realizing...
Jesus fucking christ, The Cold hates the narrator. Honestly, I think he might just give Smitten or Contrarian a run for their money.
He:
Doubts every word the narrator speaks
Insults the narrator whenever he gets the chance
Actively suggests killing the narrator, even stating that the princess could help do that
Not only suggests killing the narrator, but also suggests that—no—actually, death is too good for the guy. They should lock the narrator in a void just like the fake good ending. Mind you, this route doesn't even have the narrator do that!
Mocks the narrator when he finally gives up on trying to make you slay the princess
Seems happy that the narrator is gone, saying he had a feeling The Wraith could deal with him
I'm pretty sure Cold over here'd rather be playing Slay The Narrator.
Really though, upon further reflection, The Cold's hatred for The Narrator is also prevalent in The Spectre, where one of the few things he actually seems to have a firm stance on is "We should kill the Narrator". In the Greys, though he's arguably at his most nihilistic, he still seems to oppose the Narrator. He joins the Skeptic in his suspicions, and though he mostly just seems to be having a time provoking Smitten during the Burned Grey, he still does take the occasional second to spite the Narrator.
And honestly, come to think about it, it makes sense. After all, the Cold manifests not necessarily from slaying the Princess, but more specifically, from killing yourself. But not just from killing yourself, slaying yourself in The Tower at the hands of the Broken doesn't manifest him, but specifically by killing yourself to spite the narrator. I mean, other than Empty Cup and Moment of Clarity (Where we don't actually know how he manifested due to the timeskips), each iteration of Cold's manifestation checks out.
Spectre: You slay her, get the good ending, but then decide "fuck this and fuck your contruct", and stab yourself even as the narrator repeatedly urges you not to.
Burned Grey: You kill the Damsel, and in a fit of rage against both you and the narrator, the Smitten kills you, even as the narrator urges him not to. (Funnily enough, this means that, despite the Smitten's line of "you killed her, and so I killed you", it was the opposite, and the Smitten manifested the Cold)
Drowned Grey: You kill the Prisoner, and, just like in the Spectre's route, you kill yourself even as the Narrator urges you not to. If you refuse to kill yourself, Skeptic does it for you, seeming apologetic towards you, but definitely not towards The Narrator.
Wraith: You kill yourself as the Narrator urges you not to, and Paranoid also spends this route doubting the Narrator.
These routes involve various levels of emotion for the Princess, ranging from "My love! Still gonna kill you though" to "So scary! Still gonna kill you though", and an overall perception of the Princess as a corpse. But the Narrator? In all of the routes leading up to Cold's manifestation, the Narrator is met with hostility, usually leading to you killing yourself out of a mix of spite and suspicion.
So Cold's manifestation has two constants:
Some level of apathy towards the Princess, regardless of your previous interactions with her. Whether she's your perfect damsel or your worst nightmare, you don't care. You stab her.
Disregard for your own safety. You're just going to stab yourself, cool. It's better than this hell. Sometimes it's another voice fulfilling this requirement for you, like Smitten in the Damsel, or Skeptic in Prisoner depending on whether or not you willingly die.
Distaste towards the narrator. A conclusion that the Narrator is untrustworthy and distinctly not on your side. No matter how you manifest the Cold, it is clear that you do not like this pesky raven one bit. The Nightmater -> Wraith route shows this through Paranoid's constant suspicion of the Narrator. This distaste frequently, thought not always, occurs due to the Narrator attempting to force you to live out your life in the void, though it can also occur due to the Narrator attempting to make you live a life without the one thing you cherish (Damsel route).
Apathy towards most things, but one thing's for certain: You don't trust that Narrator guy. He tried to make you live out a crappy, boring life for eternity.
Cold's attitude makes sense when you look at how he was created. Just like Smitten was made by deciding the princess was an immediately trustworthy damsel in need of rescuing from the pesky narrator, or that the witch is a gorgeous woman whom you can save by giving your blade in spite of the narrator's wishes—Cold is made through deciding that neither your nor the princess's safety particularly matters, but fuck that narrator guy. He sucks. As apathetic as the Cold likes to act, he reacts to Smitten's threats and the Princess's murder attempts with "interesting", and reacts to the Narrator's explanation of the timeline with "we should kill him".
So, my point?
Well, I think that—not only does the Cold hate the Narrator—but hating the Narrator is part of him as a voice. He's cold, apathetic, and he hates the Narrator. It's been baked into his very being through the choices that you make. The princess doesn't matter, your physical well-being doesn't matter, but know that the Narrator is an untrustworthy little prick.
TLDR: Replaying Wraith made me realize that the Cold probably hates the Narrator very very much, and he does so because it is baked into his very being because of the choices you made to manifest him. You go, king. Let your inner hater run free.
"There are few things more terrifying than one's own heart, and there is almost nothing more terrifying than sharing it with another."
They cry. From their right eyes, they cry. Single tears dripping from their eyes. The Long Quiet cries as the Princess drives stake after stake after stake through their heart [Damsel]; they cry as their burning passions kill them and the Princess both [Burned Grey]. As it consumes them alive. In radiant light. They cry as they are Smitten. They cry from pain. The Nightmare cries as she removes her mask, a single tear, from that same eye. As the darkness of her desires swallows them anew.
Your exposed heart, framed by jagged ribs, thumps rhythmically in your raw, bloodied chest, the loosened… threads? of your body unfurling to cover the surface of the room. "If we just showed her the contents of our heart… she'd be happy here."
She raises a hand to her mask and pulls it down. You don't get the chance to see what lies beneath before it envelops you. "LET. ME. OUT!"
"This one is a songbird in a cage of gilded shadows." –HEA
"I can even make you a little cage if you want! Gilded and everything!" –MOC
"But the most terrifying thing of all is to leave one's heart unshared. You are the only thing like me, and I am the only thing like you."
The contents of the Long Quiet's heart are exposed through visceral and violent self-harm. Quiet opens up their ribcage so the Princess may reach in and accept their heart. The desires of their heart are safety and routine (dinner, game nights).
What is beneath the Princess's mask is exposed through psychic deterioration. Her unmasking is not as viscerally violent as Quiet ripping open their own ribcage because the Princess is not sacrificing herself in opening up, like they do; she's being vulnerable, but she's not harming herself. Instead, she's harming them. She exposes them to her internalized existential terror. Nightmare takes off her mask so the Long Quiet can stare into her eyes / bear the sight of her face. The desires of her visage are escape and significant life events (children, a career).
Both are invested in "a good life" and an element of companionship, implicitly marriage.
In both instances, following the opening up, the darkness in each of them (Quiet's threads and Nightmare's abyssal maw) spread out. Quiet's threads cover the surface of the room (covering the walls, obscuring the exit). Nightmare's darkness envelops Quiet specifically (attacking their body, compromising their safety).
Quiet covers his face at the sight of Nightmare (just like he covers his face when looking into the mirror, where he watches himself decay). Damsel covers her face in shock and horror as Quiet first begins to tear themself apart in front of her.
Both are bids for connection and both are triggered by rejection (perceived or otherwise). Smitten wants to stay with the Princess, and she hesitates. Nightmare wants to leave with Quiet, and they refuse / run away.
The whole "gilded cage" thing is also prevalent in both. Both Smitten and MOC want to trap the object of their affection and torment with them forever, and have them completely surrendered to the desires of their heart: stay with me safe in the cabin forever, stay with me free outside the cabin forever. Smitten entertains us with endless distractions and whispers sweet nothings in the Princess's ears. Clarity talks about herself and Quiet "exploring the world and spreading fear wherever we go," in endless travel, refusing to ever settle down or stay put for any length of time. Smitten promises complete safety, as long as the Princess never gets up from her too-comfortable seat. Clarity promises escape, as long as Quiet stays always at her side.
Both keep the pristine blade out of reach. Hung in a golden chain around the Princess's neck, or fallen away into an abyss before it can be taken.
The subject steals the object's will.
[Chapter II – The Nightmare]
The Narrator – Your lungs pull in a desperate gulp of air as your eyes shoot back open.
…
The Narrator – And then experience stops once more as your body reapproaches death.
…
The Narrator – Again, your eyes shoot open as you gasp for breath.
The Nightmare – Can't decide what you want to do, can you?
– Oh, well. Standing there gasping like a fish is more fun than dead, even if you look ridiculous.
[The Moment of Clarity]
Voice of the Paranoid – At least I keep you breathing around her.
[Epilogue – Happily Ever After]
The Narrator – The Princess starts to hyperventilate, her quick breaths punctuating the uncomfortable silence between you.
The Princess in HEA hyperventilates like how Quiet "gasps for breath" in Nightmare.
[Epilogue – Happily Ever After]
• (Explore) "I don't think you did anything wrong. I think you just said something you wanted to say."
The Princess – But it was wrong. I took away a piece of our light. I'm not supposed to do that. I don't want him to be upset with me.
[Chapter II – The Nightmare]
• (Explore) How hard is it to throw a knife?
Voice of the Hero – It can't be that hard.
Voice of the Paranoid – But then we'd lose our weapon. We'd have to make it count. Otherwise she'd be furious and we'd be defenseless. If a knife is enough to even do anything against something like her in the first place...
And both Voice of the Paranoid and The Princess feel a need to tend to their abuser's emotional state — for their own safety. They fear too much to retaliate, be it physically or emotionally, with weapons or with words.
"A picture of a life in a picture of a life in a picture of a life. How deep must repetition still our movements until even the air we breathe is stale?
"You doused the flames of false devotion, and in my despair you lifted my chin, and the two of us danced beneath the stars."
"But the stars can't be seen unless the flames go out and the walls come crashing down. Can you not do for all things what you did for us?"
Damsel emits light; Nightmare is obscured in a smog of darkness. Damsel's cabin is well-furnished; Nightmare's cabin doesn't even have a door.
[Chapter II – The Damsel]
The Narrator – The interior of the cabin is clean and elegant, its stone walls draped in fine-threaded tapestries, a prison befitting a royal prisoner. The only furniture of note is an ornate wooden table with a pristine blade perched on its edge.
– The door to the basement creaks open, revealing an intricate stairwell. Gold-trimmed carpet glimmers in the light of the torches positioned along the walls. The basement almost seems welcoming in the dim firelight.
– But it's still a stone basement. If the Princess lives here, slaying her is probably doing her a favor.
[Chapter II – The Nightmare]
The Narrator – The interior of the cabin is plain, the smooth wood of the walls almost featureless. The only furniture of note is a lone table, knocked on its side in the corner of the room. A pristine blade stands between you and the open, inviting basement doorway.
– You cross over the threshold, and onto a series of isolated steps suspended in darkness.
– The air seeping up from below reminds you of fresh lightning and static, as if you're descending into a place that isn't meant for a creature of flesh and blood. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favor.
The basement of Damsel's cabin is welcoming. The basement of Nightmare's cabin doesn't feel like it is meant to contain organic life. In the latter case, "slaying [the Princess] would probably be doing her a favor" is a crass if not wholly inaccurate way of evaluating the Princess's predicament in her isolated captivity.
"The stars are so beautiful." –HEA
"It's so beautiful. I can't wait to ruin it." –Nightmare
When faced with the beauty of the outside world, the Princess in Happily Ever After cherishes it, wishing to dance under the starlight. The Nightmare cannot wait to ruin it. In their freedom, the Damsel and Clarity both question what it is they should do now; in the former case, because she has had so little time to consider herself, and in the latter case, because she has spent so long exclusively tormenting the Long Quiet, and now does not know what she'll do with herself since her project is complete.
The Long Quiet
"We still have a way out clutched in our hands." –VoT Paranoid
"The blade. We can use the blade to get out of this." –VoT Hero
"In a sense, we'd die, but looking at things from another angle,
are we even really alive anymore?" –VoT Hero
"We still have a blade. Let's use it on ourselves and start over." –VoT Skeptic
"I'm insinuating that we could kill ourself. Ruin this whole thing." –VoT Skeptic
"Spit me out or I'll kill myself and nobody gets to leave." –The Decider
"Are we still here? Can we not actually off ourselves? Boo." –VoT Contrarian
"My passions contain titanic depths, and if you try anything that might harm our dearest I will end our life without a second thought." –VoT Smitten
"Rash? The only rash decision we've made was running our cursed blade through her heart. This is far from rash. This is measured. This is the only thing left for us to do now that she's gone." –VoT Smitten
"Do you want me to die? Do you want me to kill myself to satisfy some sort of sick revenge fantasy? Because I already did that and it wouldn't be hard to do it again." –The Decider
"I'm back in here, but you should do it. Kill me. End this and save yourself." –The Decider
"I'll just die then." –The Decider
"I care about you, and I don't want to hurt you anymore." –The Decider
"Because death doesn't matter anymore, does it? Fighting, not fighting — what does any of it matter if it all ends the same way?" –The Decider
"Because there's more to this than just fighting each other. If letting you kill me is how I can show you that, then it's worth it." –The Decider
"I don't know what I want. I never really chose to come here." –The Decider
"I just want to talk. Really talk." –The Decider
The Princess
"You bastard! If I have to kill you to leave this place, I'll do it." –The Princess
"I'm going to kill you." –The Princess
"I'm done asking. The next time I see you, I'm taking everything I'm owed. Starting with your body. If you won't choose to give me my freedom, I'll just have to make you give it to me." –The Spectre
"I want to swallow you whole. And I will get what I want. You have no exit. You have no hope. You live and die by my whims and my whims alone." –The Beast
"I'm so very, very patient. If it takes lives and lives and lives to swallow my way to freedom, then that is what I'll do." –The Beast
"Submit now. Submit later. It makes no difference, because in the end, no matter how vainly you struggle against me, my will triumphs over yours." –The Tower
"What draws you back here beyond the empty halls of death?" –The Tower
"Take that knife in your hand and slit your throat." –The Tower
"When I see you again, you'll free me from my chains, and deliver me to the destiny that lies beyond this place." –The Tower
"Don't think that I'll allow you death here. I've made that mistake before. No. You will suffer until you see in me what I have seen in you." –The Fury
"I wonder how many times I'll get to play with you before you break." –The Nightmare
"And then, when you die, I'll find myself somewhere new, and before too long, you'll be there too. That's how this all works right? This doesn't end until you let me out." –The Nightmare
Both
"I don't know where we'd go, but as long as it's not here, and as long as I'm with you, that's all I want."
"I want that, too."
"I'm free! And you're not trying to kill me this time! Thank you, thank you so much!" The Damsel jumps up and smothers you in a joyful embrace. Eugh.
"Hahahaha! You actually went for it! Oh you're going to regret this! I can be so much more terrible for you than I am now!" In her final moments, the Nightmare lunges forward, tackling you, and you both plunge into the endless abyss of her basement labyrinth.
Implications regarding the Long Quiet's and the Shifting Mound's hearts, their inherent desires, and how those desires conflict in the narrative:
The Princess is inherently interested in escaping the cabin. The Long Quiet is positioned in the narrative to be concerned with her life and the fate of the world.
They're both concerned with living life, but in very different facets:
To the Princess, staying in the cabin conflicts with her core interest (leaving; symbolic of freedom).
To the Long Quiet, staying in the cabin manages to satisfy both of their conflicting interests (they don't have to kill anyone, and the world is safe; symbolic of safety).
The Princess is willing to commit violence, because violence is means to an end for her.
For the Long Quiet, violence just is one of their ends — and, in doing so, they violate their other principle (don't hurt people — but she's a person!).
So, their main bargaining chips manifest as:
The Princess will first hurt others (pursuing her wish).
The Long Quiet will first hurt themself (denying the wishes of others).
They can be pushed to commit the mirrored action against their first inclination*
(suicide: HEA, Thorn)
(murder: MOC/Nightmare, Fury)
In Cage their opposite reactions actually perfectly mirror each other, allowing the Princess in The Riddle of Steel to commit suicide-by-bird.
* Yes, the Long Quiet can commit murder without significant push in order to achieve Spectre or the Greys. But in that case, they are actively valuing one of their two interests over the other (the world/their purpose over the Princess). In both MOC and Fury's leadups, Quiet seeks compromise through self-sacrificial pacifism.
The Long Quiet is self-sacrificing because they have no inherent internal motivations. Their primary directive in their first iteration is to follow others' commands. They don't have anything to live for; they have no strict goals, and nothing to specifically yearn for. The first thing they see is a path to walk, but there are no walls, and no conflict they're immediately bombarded with to set their mind straight.
The Narrator – You're on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a princess.
– You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.
You are seated in a room that is empty. A chain digs into your wrist, binding one arm to the wall. It is quiet, and you are alone.
This is what you deserve.
The Princess is self-motivated because she only has an inherent internal motivation. She has a goal which she's immediately confronted with from the first instant she gains consciousness: the shackle around her wrist digs into her uncomfortably, and there are stairs at the other end of the room she needs to ascend. This is a room she must escape.
A thank you to Black Tabby Games from the system community
Black Tabby Games doesn't have asks on, so I'm making this post directed towards them in a general sense.
As a DID system, it is very difficult to find characters that represent how I feel with my disorder in a way that doesn't make us seem like villains or ticking time bombs.
When I started Slay the Princess for the first time, the instant that the Voice of the Hero appeared, I knew this game would reflect my experiences in a way nothing else ever has.
Every time TLQ died traumatically, a new part of himself split off to protect him and keep his goals aligned. These parts of him communicated with each other and with him, and could take control when they felt it was necessary. This is similar to how I experience DID.
And the voices (parts, alters, etc) were not treated as horrifying! Splitting these parts was just another mechanic of the game. And while some were antagonistic at times, none were outright evil (except Opportunist most of the time but that guy just sucks).
While Black Tabby Games may or may not have intended for a DID system reading of TLQ and the voices, it is one of the best depictions of traumatic systemhood I've ever seen.
So on behalf of the system community, I want to thank Black Tabby Games for their depiction of DID, even if that was not the intention of the character(s).
What if we look at prisoner's routes as a metaphor for generational trauma
To leave with the severed head is to cut ties with the roots. It's painful and cruel, most of the close ones won't understand the decision to leave such a big part of yourself behind, - but it's her plan and she's sure of it. It's her life now. No turning back.
To wait with the prisoner is to overgrow the heritage. She saw leaving as a weakness she never could afford. That's fine - she'll wait. She'll see this place fall apart and she'll build something new on these ruins. She finds fortitude in resilience, but the responsibility for the restoration of her homeland lingers like heavy chains on her hands. It's freedom but with a bitterness of debt.
To kill the prisoner is to fall into the cycle. She never overcame her family burdens. She knew the pattern and decided there was nothing to do but to follow. And oh how well she'll return the favour to the next generation. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't see drowned grey as an old widow in some distant godforsaken village.
And the cage is about giving up. Her last hope failed. And she needs rest as long as life could give. She'll stay not to hope for the better or to fight for the worst, but to save the pain from trying any further. It's the only thing she knows. There's no power in selfhood or in adherence, so she chooses the indulgence of detachment. She is that distant relative with big sorrowful eyes and the quietest voice, who saw the most. There's no leaving for her now. She's shattered to the core. At least she thinks so.
You know, I love all the analyses the fandom is making about the Pristine Cut and Slay the Princess in general, but I haven't seen a lot of people talk about the nature of the Construct. Sure, we all know that the Narrator created it somehow to contain both the Long Quiet and the Shifting Mound, but the actual “fabric” of the Construct is these two gods. An attentive eye might catch very early in a playthrough that the trees, the sky, the ground - they’re all shades of dark grey and black, with a feathery texture that is unquestionably Quiet. The new Apotheosis showcases this very well.
But the cabin is different. It’s all light grey and white - Shifty’s colors. I believe that the most notable way this is shown is during our encounters with Shifty’s incomplete form. When we are “at the cabin”, all we can see is her mass of hands and the vessel we brought her - which implies that Shifty is the cabin itself.
And that’s fascinating to me, because the cabin is also, by the Narrator’s design, her own prison. Just as he establishes in his opening monologue that we are on a path in the woods, he also cleverly says that the Princess is within that cabin, and that if she escapes it, the world ends. And, except in the Wild, none of these two statements are ever refuted by either the Hero or the Princess, because to do so is to unravel the very fabric of their false reality.
So even though it seems like the cabin should bend to the Princess’ will, being quite literally her domain, it remains her prison in every other route.
In many Chapter 2’s, but especially in the Nightmare and the Beast, the Princess emphasizes the fact that the cabin will not let her leave - very ironic, since we’ve just seen how the interior of the cabin has been completely reshaped by the Princess’ influence.
I love this line from the Beast, because you can so clearly see how the Narrator’s beliefs have bled through the Construct. I was reminded of it the first time I played through the Princess and the Dragon, because the repetition of “this is what you deserve”, as other people pointed out, seems very much like something the Narrator would tell her.
Speaking of the Princess and the Dragon, I've recently noticed a very interesting line in the lead-up to this chapter! Once Spectre possesses you and you decide to slay her, the Narrator says this:
Here, our very flesh imprisons the Princess in the same way the Narrator imprisoned the Shifting Mound - the cabin - within the Construct - which is, of course, the Long Quiet itself. I almost can't believe the Narrator would make such a direct comparison like this, but I suppose that in this route we never come to question our surroundings like in the Wild.
Notably, however, the Princess can escape the cabin when you are accompanying her. On a meta-narrative level, this makes complete sense: the characters can only escape the cycle of violence they are trapped in when they work together. But within the narrative of the game, this doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the Construct’s rules. The Narrator would never allow such a thing if he could help it, so this must be Shifty’s influence coming through, right?
And this reminds me of another two routes, the ones I’ve seen people describe as the most genre-savvy ones: the Damsel and the Tower.
If in Chapter 1, you don't question how you should get her out of her chains, in this variation of the Damsel route the Voice of the Hero will ask why the Princess hasn’t escaped already if her shackle is so loose, and Smitten replies with this line: “we’ve yet to present her with her freedom”.
On a surface level, this seems like a pretty arrogant, even demeaning line, a trend in this chapter that robs the Damsel of her agency. On a meta-narrative level, this is commenting on how the “damsel in distress” archetype is often a shell of a character that simply exists to reward the “hero”. But I also think this hints at how the Princess, either subconsciously or by the Narrator’s influence, doesn’t believe that it’s possible for her to escape alone - and therefore, she can’t.
Tower, arguably the vessel most aware of the extent of her powers, is even clearer when she tells us that she could easily break her chains and escape the cabin - and she does so in the Apotheosis - but that’s not the story she wants to tell. As much as they yearn for freedom, all the Princesses, by their very nature as beings of perception, want to be perceived, to connect with someone… especially with the Hero, of course.
(this line makes me go feral every time btw, it's so simple and yet so effective -)
Anyway, this was a very long winded way of saying that the Narrator somehow managed to make the Shifting Mound’s “body” into her own prison (which is insane if you think about it) and she can only be freed with the Long Quiet’s help. I’m not sure if this is like, super obvious, but I still wanted to talk about it, soooo if anyone wants to add to this, I'd love to discuss more!
(Edit 11/01/25: Added a missing Damsel screenshot with the help of @quicksilversnails, and rambled a bit about the lead-up to the Princess and the Dragon.)
Okay I want to do a quick Slay the Princess rant, specifically about the Damsel. Prepare for yapping.
I often see quite a bit of art making Damsel have a more 'realistic' body shape. This is nothing new obviously, people do it for all sorts of characters, and I'm all for it. Got an issue with a harmful stereotype in games? Change it yourself. Great! However, I think doing this with Damsel specifically is missing the point just a little.
Yes, she is absolutely a stereotypical 'damsel in distress', like early Princess Peach or Zelda; a flat, hollow character who only exists in the narrative to get 'saved' by the hero, and whose only likeable qualities are that she is kind and pretty and A Girl™. She's the friendliest of the Princesses, she has the daintiest physique, she has the biggest eyes and, at the risk of being crass, she has the biggest tits. (Proportionately, at least. Obviously Apotheosis has a bigger chest than her, She is the size of a mountain.) She is a living plot device, a beautiful McGuffin for you to save.
But I think we're forgetting, that is basically half of Slay the Princess' whole deal? The exploration and subversion of narrative tropes, particularly when it comes to fairy tales. The core gameplay loop revolves around how you as a person chose to interact with that kind of narrative. If you choose to treat this like a generic Princess-in-a-Tower fantasy, the game, and in-universe the Princess, will react and change accordingly.
And that is not a justification, that is the intended effect. Deconstructed Damsel practically beats you over the head with this idea. The moment you take a second to question how agreeable and nice she is, she immediately collapses into a two-dimensional parody of herself, without real thought or emotion. Her body is even sketchier than the rest of the game's art style, like she was drawn in two minutes by someone who didn't care enough to make her feel real.
And this is not presented as a good thing. It's treated like the quietly horrifying fate that it is. She loses all personhood; Voice of the Hero outright says that 'it feels like we're alone. Like we're the only ones here,' directly saying that Deconstructed Damsel is no longer a person.
Pristine Cut clarifies this even further with Happily Ever After, showing how she recovers from that loss of autonomy and sense of self. She has to relearn that she not only wants to leave, but is capable of having wants that don't necessarily match the wants of those around her.
The Damsel IS the Deconstructed Damsel. The only difference is whether or not you choose to stop and actually think about her, and therefore realise that there is nothing there to think about. The Damsel is unrealistic. She's a stereotype. She's a caricature of herself. And that is the point. Her character design reflects her character, which is boring, uninteresting and clichéd because it is saying something about that cliché.
I wouldn't be talking about this if it was 'Damsel gains more personhood and changes to be more realistic to show that', because yes, that makes sense, the more real the Princess acts, the more real she is perceived to be, the more real she is. And I do see art like that.
But comparatively, I see more art that 'fixes' Damsel like she's a genuine Sexy Woman Who Is Sexy™ character, and not a commentary on that trope. And just... no?? With all possible respect, did you actually play Damsel's chapters?
It's just weird to me that the Princess that people choose to change to be more 'realistic' is the one whose entire deal is being unrealistic. She is not an unreachable standard of beauty. She is a statement on how unreachable those standards are.
Also, doing this with Slay the Princess?? Yeah, not every body shape is present in the game, but it's not like there's no variation, despite the fact that technically all the women in the game are different copies of the same person. Especially when Happily Ever After (and arguably Thorn and a few others) is literally right there, with an arc centered around how she grows and changes outside of your perception of her, make her the most 'herself', the most 'real' out of all the vessels.
I don't know how to end this. It's just something that annoys me.
He seems like a very shallow character, and, to some extent he is. But then he shows up in other runs, specifically the ones where you keep dying in universe, showing that his love for the princess isn't because of her innocence, but because loving the Princess is in his nature, no matter what form she takes.
And then you get Happily Ever After, where he becomes a truly terrifying and controlling force, his desire for the Princess to be "happy" causing him to try and turn her prison into a more gilded cage, but holding even tighter the bars.
The sheer power and terror he exudes in Happily Ever After makes me wonder how fucked things might get if, say, the Opportunist, or God forbid the Cold were in that sort of position.
