(Blood: To Draw Their Power From The Bonds Between Them And Others, Along With Getting Strength From

This time we dig into Gamzee’s recurring links to the masks of Comedy and Tragedy, historical worship of the Greek god of Theatre, Dionysus, and what all of this tells us about Gamzee’s arc and, potentially, even the Rage aspect.

Today’s question is: Can you think of other trolls with strong ties to figures in Greecoroman/Egyptian/Judeo-Christian mythologies?

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“For the very essence of a troll becomes sallow when devoid of love and of truth, which are often the same spiritual element,” Exodus said, gesturing emphatically with one hand as his other trembled against the podium upon which he leaned, projecting his rich voice to the very back of the slim and somewhat stuffy room he had managed to transform into some approximation of a church. The air was made stuffier by the excited breaths of his followers, gathered en masse on benches and below his feet, and he felt sweat or condensation cling to his brow and seep under the bridge of his glasses. “It may not seem readily apparent, but love is the pursuit of truth. Truth is the expression of love. While not inextricably linked, it is improper- or, rather, inadvisable to deny that in the absence these two gleaming facets, life loses its meaning and its justification. One must recognize the relation between truth and love, and their pertinence to life itself.” 

Exodus’s sermons were improvised nearly every time he gave them. While he was finding it harder and harder to sift through the dichotomy between what he truly believed and what beliefs he had fabricated for the sake of others, he did find it somewhat amusing that when he stood in front of the slick wooden podium, it truly felt as though a spirit compelled him to speak. The words were delivered to him, and with surprising competency - they had to come from some outside source, he thought, because rarely what he said he agreed with. That, or he agreed, but he could never realistically apply his tenants to himself. He was utterly contradictory, but of course this needed to be kept under wraps to stave off his doomsday, when it all would come crashing down. 

What strange things he was saying today. Utter drivel. He was making himself sick, describing some hypothetical state that was his direct opposite. Truth and love - he wanted to scoff, to spit at himself, as he lacked both in equal measure: untruthful, loveless, a contradiction of all he claimed to stand for. No more than a living lie. 

“It… ah.” He faltered. That wasn’t good, he wasn’t supposed to falter. He lowered his hand and clung to the structure before him, looking down. Long, heavy seconds passed. 

“Why are you crying, my Lord?” Someone said. Similar inquisitive, adoring murmurs rose from the crowd he had assembled. It sounded like birdsong to him: “Why? Why? Why?” 

Quickly now. Make something up; truth isn’t an option, it never has been.

“Fear not,” he said, trying to keep the thickness in his voice at bay. “I have simply thought of a troll I intimately know, an unfortunate soul, who I have known to lack the virtues I just described. I have become emotional, thinking of his life and the consequences of his deficiencies, and I… I weep for him.” He performatively wiped away a tear, though his anguish was real. 

He did something he knew the crowd would appreciate, and stepped out from behind the podium. Wide eyes searched his entire body. 

“Will you join me in prayer?” He asked them. 

“Yes, Lord,” was the resounding response. He continued to walk forwards, down the few stairs of the stage, into the thrum of his following. They crept closer to him with a shy reverence. 

“Together we must tell him, and all trolls like him, that we forgive him. Through this we will deliver him peace. Please join me.” He took a deep breath, and the collective did the same. 

“I forgive you.” He heard their parroted response echo, amplified by the high ceiling, and he felt the sound hum in his chest. He willed himself to glow, tears spilling onto his uniform, and the open faces that surrounded him were alight with a rose wash, petal-tender and hushed. The Heart symbol appeared, shimmering close to the rapid thumping of his own blood-pump adrenaline, and tentative hands ran over him, pressing palms to the pink curved sign, shaping themselves to his warm body. His shaking legs gave out, and, taking this as yet another sign, his collective supported his weight, lifting him above their heads, safe in their arms. 

“Say it with me,” Exodus whispered to their eager ears. 

“I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you,” they said. It was all he had ever wished to hear. 

DOOM

All Hail Shadow / Good Riddance

https://medium.com/@Arrghus/doom-7f99a8b4c4a4

The Aspect of Finding Out.

Thinking back on the idea that sprites represent the Platonic “geists” of their associated heroes, when we consider that both Roxy and Calliope contain “Nepeta-ness”, it starts to look a lot like the theory put forth in Plato’s Symposium that humans, having been created with two heads and then split into two, search for a romantic partner who literally completes them; Roxy and Calliope both contain different parts of Nepeta, and they attract each other because these different aspects of Nepeta-ness want to join together into a whole Nepeta.

Which makes complete sense in Homestuck, because that’s exactly what the cherubs are: “two-headed” beings who split in two upon reaching maturity, and spend their lives seeking out a mate who matches their missing half!

you are not alone but im curious to hear your view of how they're intertwined

a Seer of Light who can read the future and a Thief of Light who can steal "luck" are fundamentally interacting with the same force, "fortune"; one just happens to be a fortune teller while the other is a fortune stealer. and that's not just wordplay, the two meanings of fortune are literally the same! being "lucky" is just the name someone like Vriska gives to the idea of having a "good fortune"; literally just having a positive destiny or fate, which a Seer of Light would be able to read.

the synonymity of fate and luck are evident in the language we use to describe them; moira (as in moirallegience) and kismet (as kismesissitude) both mean "fate" but also "allotment" or "portion", to be lucky, or to be someone who steals fortunes, literally just means to take the good allotment for yourself and leave the people around you with the bad ones. this should be particular obvious in Homestuck, where possibilities are represented by branching timelines; if you're lucky, that just means the alpha timeline is the one where you got the best fortune, and if you're a fortune teller that means you can read these "fortuitous outcomes" into the future. this is only driven home by Aranea's plan, which does not involve "luck" or "knowledge" as we tend to think of them but rather the very literal twisting of fortune to make one timeline more fortuitous than the others.

*rubs my greasy little hands together* time to get my ip address banned through sharing possibly my most disturbing headcanon heheheh

For a while, I was thinking about the jades. Specifically how damn weird Hiveswap's lore about them is. From very young, they're condemned to the caverns to help raise grubs... But only certain, arbitrarily selected jades are picked to be cloistered? So that means there are other jades allowed to do whatever. And instead of joining the workforce like literally every other troll, SPECIFICALLY the cloistered jades are sent to be space nuns, hidden from everyone. It... Doesn't really add up if you think about the kind of place the Alternian Empire is. They're all about making as many warriors as possible, why bother with a tradition like that? Doesn't help anyone. Just seems hard to imagine Meenah coddamn Peixes tossing funds to a useless sisterhood, is all I'm saying.

So! Mothergrubs. There's the headcanon that they share an evolutionary root with trolls to explain how they can produce grubs, but what if we go one step further? Let's say the trolls are neotenies (an "adult" species that actually has another stage of life past the one they're in, like axolotls). Perhaps once upon a time, they could turn into mothergrubs naturally, but for whatever reason, they can't now.

Or so it'd seem.

Uhh yeah tired of the suspense: the cloistered jades are "special" because they actually might possess the rare gene that turns trolls into Mothergrubs. So the space sisterhood? It's actually some Bloodborne shit. Horrific cult antics that literally strip away all personhood, in all meanings of the word, turning them into nothing more than slurry-processors to be sent back, furthering the troll race. Possibly a fate worse than death to some.

Idk. Figure it makes sense the Empire would keep that under wraps from the jades, y'dig

Blocked blocked blocked blocked i hate this

but honestly that's a really really interesting perspective because I do agree that the mothergrub is a troll. Just a different type of troll (much like if you were to look at the life cycle of a fern) so I think you hit some interesting points especially with the de-trollization of the mothergrub into something to be revered but never considered a troll, an equal

also here is the lifecycle of a fern for funsies (where the mothergrub is essentially the diploid phase and normal trolls are the haploid

Im just going to throw this hat of mine into the Classpect Analysis ring and see what happens, and a blank version for this if anyone wants it

The recent discussion of the-character-sheet-as-a-soul led me down a very strange mental rabbit hole which ended with “could the character sheet be a piece of origami?”

I do not know nearly enough about origami to continue

(With reference to this post here.)

There's probably some design space to be explored in using flexagons as character sheets.

To illustrate, imagine a martial arts RPG where a character's stats vary depending on what stance they're in, with each of their stances' traits being written on one particular face of a flexagon, and some cost – probably an action economy cost – associated with changing stances (i.e., reconfiguring the flexagon).

Consider the traversal network of a hexatetraflexagon, for example:

Presuming a character's initial stance is represented by face 1, at the start it would be possible to transition to the stances contained on faces 2, 3 and 5, while the stances contained on faces 4 and 6 would be inaccessible.

Lots of fun tactical possibilities there, assuming you could find a way to express a sufficiently rich set of mechanical traits in such limited writing space!

Cut content

The following content was cut from the essay DOOM for purposes of thematic consistency (that is, it didn’t add much to the reader’s understanding of the Doom Aspect’s symbolism) but is preserved here for posterity.

Mental illness

It takes a certain kind of person to bear up under all this pressure. Sollux’s visions, at one point likened to a chronic pain condition, leave him fatalistic and irritable, with a temperament that can change from calm to angry, from proud to self-recriminating, in an instant. Accordingly, the narration dubs him bipolar. This is precisely backwards. While Sollux’s fatalism is reminiscent of depression, the key characteristic of depression is listlessness, a lack of feeling and motivation, and Sollux is anything but unmotivated. Similarly, though mania (and the less well known hypomania) can take many forms, it is most commonly associated with a feeling of euphoric joy, another trait largely absent from Sollux’s emotional makeup.

More importantly, bipolar mood swings are measured in days, not instants. Because of this, it is actually impossible for a story that packs nearly all of its action into discrete segments of no more than 24 hours to convey the full experience of bipolarity in any meaningful way. Ultimately, Homestuck is a work designed to challenge both reader and author, and with that challenge unfortunately comes the possibility of failure.

Mituna continues this theme of authorial challenge. Like most of the dancestors, he is presented first as a joke, a mockery of the psychologically disabled, the full weight of his story and sacrifice only reluctantly hinted at by Aranea after the fact. He is part of the Hussnasty Hell (medium link), a complex, artistically lofty experiment that by design can be very difficult to properly digest after enduring the bitter, unpleasant first bite.

Now THAT’s what I call a fusion aspect!

I got a request for one of my first fusion aspects, so I decided to redo it with new colors, and fix those pesky stray pixels. Here it is! Denial Remastered.

Request courtesy of @whimsicalpaws