alastor was a deer that was so fucked up that it was the first animal soul to ever go to hell. you cant hide the truth from me vivienne
this account quickly morphed into near exclusive vox-posting but i refuse to change my icon/header bc an alastor-themed vox blog is really in character if you think about it
im an electrical engineer and i have opinions on this character. moral of the story: don't fuck with CRT capacitors, shits scary
i have a lot of Vox thoughts, or Voughts, and i will be rambling about them at legnth under the cut.
TLDR: he invented zuckerberging. also i see his "canon" death date of 1950s and respectfully disagree. its way funnier if he died the year widespread television became a thing. the fruits of his labor were all for naught etc etc
1928: Vox was in college as an electrical engineer when the first ever live TV Demo happened, and I think he was immediately obsessed with it. Decided he'd do anything to work with TV. He and his friend/roommate at the time went full tilt into learning about TVs and working on them, and by the time they graduated, they had the beginnings of what would be a very profitable company.. together.
1930s: Out of the two of them, Vox has the better social skills(relative), so he's the one who talks to investors and handles that part of the business, though he still works on some tech. He decides he likes talking to people, marketing, manipulating, being a little showman. I like to think this ties into that one trivia fact that he likes watching commercials.
early 1940s: He starts wondering why he's splitting half of this company(HIS company) with some guy who can't even bother to attend business meetings. Tensions start rising, he starts using some of that handy manipulation skill he honed in business on his friends
1945: Tensions break. Through less than legitimate means, he steals the company out from under his partner. His partner threatens to go start his own, since he did the majority of the tech work. We can't have that. Vox doesn't kill him himself, imo, because he is kind of allergic to getting his hands dirty. He revs up that media training and uses it to create a smear campaign so brutal and widespread that his former partner offs himself. Problem solved
Late 1940s: Vox starts getting paranoid about people trying to steal his empire from him, funny that. He starts trying to do everything himself, because he doesn't trust anyone. Starts losing a lot of sleep, getting a little insane but its fine man. Don't worry about it.
1947: Sleep deprived, paranoid, and working on a final prototype model due soon, he electrocutes himself because you shouldn't fuck with CRT capacitors. Wakes up in hell with electricity powers and a CRT head because it's hilarious.
Alastor: Yeah we all know what we're here for. I don't think they ever met in life, but I definitely think Vox knew of him. Alastor was actively broadcasting during the 20s up until his death in 1933, and college student Vox I think listened to a lot of radio while studying and working. I also think in the later years, Alastor was never technically caught as a serial killer, but "hey I think that radio guy was that one killer, cuz he stopped broadcasting right after he stopped killing" was like one of those insane conspiracy statements you'd say to get a laugh at parties, but Vox always secretly kind of believed it, and was VERY vindicated in hell.
I am fully prepared for actual canon to contradict all of this but that's fine because it means they finally had to get season 2 out.
anyway i hope season 3 has even more violence and blood and gay sex and gender fuckery and moral ambiguity and jarring tone shifts and stupid jokes and bdsm and tooth-achingly sweet love songs and self indulgent moments and arguments where no one is fully wrong or right and blasphemy and mental illness and flawed characters making messy choices
Continuing the Hell Doesnāt Make sense agenda, I think they should have some absolutely bizarre, magically dependent, completely recursive supply chains. The wrath ring is supposedly the bread basket of Hell but letās be realāthat desert is NAWT producing enough food for multiple metropoli. Maybe 30% of the food is grown or raised, 20% is someone sufficiently powerful willing food into existence (Beelzebub pulls her weight here but any overlord or sin can pull it off), 10% is internal cannibalism, and a full 40% is a mystery. The chicken in the chicken nuggets at your hellish fast food restaurant isnāt technically chicken. Actually, no one is sure what it is. It appears in the industrial freezer at the start of each shift. Donāt question it or it might stop working. Where does the fabric for Velvetteās fast fashion clothing lines come from? Umm, the warehouses. Where do the warehouses get it? Fuck you, donāt play games. Asmodeusā business is sourcing their silicone from *wiggly hand gesture*. Look, the chemical vats donāt run out as long as you believe in the power of sex toys.
Not unrelatedly, they have a significant trash issue and absolutely overflowing landfills. Hell is a lot less forgiving with the reality of consequences than it is with indulgences.
iām actually shocked how itās been taken as a given in the show so far that everyone would want to go to heaven if the option was made available to them and they were convinced to redeem themselves. imagine your mom is murdered in an extermination or something and then two years later the princess of hell is on tv pitching her hotel like āif you work really hard to be a good person then one day you can be sent to live in the place that facilitated that murderā like I would start swinging
i love you vox you're my favourite obligate parasite! my favourite virus in a petri dish! my favourite actor on the silver screen! my favourite shark in a boundless aquarium! my favourite surveillant monitoring every camera! my favourite algorithm curating the network! my favourite dead eyed smiling mascot plastered on my favourite brand! my favourite news host! my favourite voice of the people! my favourite panopticon guard! my favourite consciousness trapped behind a glass fourth wall!
