Joseph Hanna – Literary Arts Blogspace

World Building Project pt.16

Tensions were high. The Chitin Empire bolstered their border world’s patrols, with no less than 50,000 soldiers per planet. Even long-held dogmas were swept aside in the face of the postatons rising aggression. After the Night of Red Petals, the centuries-old bans on buboes and black ash storks participating in joint armed forces operations were lifted, and their enlistment became commonplace. While this migration of people had its own negative effects on the empire’s workforce, the cost seemed well worth the risk. Little did they know however that in only two years the postatons control would fall at the hands of their citizens, and no interstellar war would be necessary. In fact, only two battles were ever fought in that time of militarism.

One at the starward end of the empire where a miscommunication between two infantry regiments caused them to open fire on one another, and the battle of scales in the border world of Mattri, which will be the subject of this article.

Prior to the Chitin Empires’ claim to the backwater planet of Mattri, a small colony of lilarianads settled on the planet. Though the wider Lilarianad Federation made no claims to the planet due to the colony’s minuscule size and isolated position, the colony itself (as most lilarianads do) guarded their new home with an untamed fervor. For a long time, the colony went without contact with the greater universe and had not yet been made aware of the rising tensions or the Federation’s new policies which withdrew themselves from foreign affairs. So it comes as no surprise that when Chitin troops landed looking ready for a fight, it would be a fight they would get.

It was a short, but bloody battle. Though the Chiten troops had superior weapons and numbers, outmanning the defenders 4/1, the lilarianads fought with a ferocity the attackers had yet been ignorant of. This is reflected in the losses of each side, while the lilarianads lost roughly 6,200 soldiers the Chitin troops lost 29,100.

Above is a scene in which a surviving chitin soldier depicts the loss of their squad mate. Their squad was composed of 6 individuals, and only suffered one casualty. The group surrounds their fallen comrade, and an abstract symbol of religious iconography is shown dripping from their blood. Despite the societal prejudice against buboes and black ash storks, the three in the drawing (Two buboes on the left and the stork on the right) are allowed to openly grieve. There is a common stereotype that buboes cannibalize and use corpses in dark magic, and the touch of a stork is seen as poisonous due to their nocuous discharge. Yet, the buboes are allowed to kneel in reverence, and a hand of comfort from the squad’s stork rests on the head of the squad’s sibilusian.

I can only imagine that while in the grips of heartache, such intolerance is irrelevant. And maybe it will stay irrelevant.

Undoing an Injustice in Elden Ring

(Trigger warning for death, mass killing, and visceral descriptions.)

I know this is the first time I’ve broken my chain of world-building blogs in a while, but I don’t care. This topic has been boring a hole in my brain and I need to say something about it or else my appendix is gonna combust by the end of the month.

Now, if you don’t know much about Elden Ring or its lore, then this post probably isnt for you.

Anyway, more specifically the topic I wanted to talk about is one of the six possible endings in Elden Ring: the Frenzied Flame Ending.

To sum it up, the ending essentially brings the destruction of the world. Your character inherits the Frenzied Flame, burns down the Erd Tree, and kills almost everyone and everything. It’s implied that nothing will ever exist again, and the world is made eternally sterile.

Obviously, this ending is considered among the worst of the six, and it’s no wonder. Not only due to the blatantly evil outcome, but also its build-up. In order to achieve the ending you need to steal people’s eyes, feed them to an innocent blind girl (who eventually dies as a result), take orders from an insane ghost named Shabriri who is obsessed with destroying the world- who has also possessed the dead body of your friend, and you then need to strip naked and have a giant 3 fingered hand that’s also on fire hug you. If that sounded absolutely nonsensical, then that’s a good sign you’re a sane person.

However, it’s my personal favorite ending. With further context, it becomes the most thought-provoking question a game has ever asked me, and I think it’s criminal that people only see it at its surface level.

This all leads back to the in-game origin of the Frenzied Flame, which is a haunting story both due to its subject matter and how realistic it is.

A religious minority (the Merchants) was wrongfully accused of committing heresy by the standards of the people in power. As a result, they were all rounded up and systematically killed in a mass holocaust. When the people in power realized their mistake, they quietly swept their sins under the rug and sealed whatever was left of the Merchant people in the Catacombs, where the Merchants starved, fell into despair, and eventually went mad. Only a few individuals were able to avoid the wretched fate that befell their kin, and they were thrown to the wind— grasping at the few fragments of their lost culture and eventually piecing together the story I’m telling you now.

What does this have to do with the Frenzied Flame? Well, while the Merchants were locked away in the Catacombs they pleaded for something— anything to save them. They screamed for their suffering to end. And when their brothers and sisters began to die around them, and their vocal cords became too shot to scream they did the only thing left they could, they played their violins. With emaciated fingers, they orchestrated a melancholic tune that told of better days when their race wasn’t doomed to extinction. Their voices of anguish and miserable melodies congealed together and formed something new to end it all. Something to burn away all the suffering and pain of the world so it could never spring forth again, the Frenzied Flame.

The people that follow the Frenzied Flame for little more than chaos and evil like Shabrirri are missing the point. The Frenzied Flame isnt a malevolent force hellbent on killing for the sake of killing, it is a merciful hand turning the final page of a harrowing story that has run its course. It lulls the sick and demented world of Elden Ring into a silent peaceful slumber in the same way we put down an ill dog so as to not extend its suffering.

The question it poses, at least to me is “Does this world where so much untold suffering is able to form justify its own existence? Does the good of it all outway the bad, or is that just what the few comfortable people think so we can sleep at night? What about the children bleeding out in the ditches of a war-torn country? What about the leprose whose wounds are rotting as we speak? what about all the people to have ever died a slow and painful death throughout all of history? Would it not have been better for them to have never lived than to have lived and suffered?”

To conclude this little rant, I want to say I’ve always considered myself an optimist. And while I don’t agree with the Frenzied Flame, I still find it valuable to answer these questions it poses in a way that doesn’t paint the world in black-and-white ink. Because by all means, I don’t think the Frenzied Flame is “evil” just a misconstrued view of morality that is concrete enough to warrant further inspection.

I’ll also leave two links to both the in-game violin song and a rendition of it, as I think it adds to the heightened emotion of this subject.

World Building Project pt. 15

…Following the Night of Red Petals massacre, rumors began to spread of mysterious peoples stalking the narrow alleyways of Mirrelm. Reports described stout creatures vailed in robes that are reminiscent of stereotypical wizard garb. however, underneath said garb appears to be technologically advanced suits. The latter claim points to these alegged peoples being somewhat associated with the postatons, perhaps even their creators.

Though the purpose for their arrival and even their existence is little more than conjecture, that is until an incident at the postaton capital building confirmed a handful of these theories.

Two of these people were spotted convening with an elderly postaton. The public, who was still reeling from the Night of Red Petals massacre became enraged, as it seemed to them that the postatons were entertaining foreigners while neglecting their own citizen’s concerns about the recent tragedy. What was said between the three is unknown due to one of the creature’s warning of flashing their “wand” to the growing crowd (Illustrated above)

Though, before violence was able to break out, the creatures were taken deeper into the bowls of the capital building. After that, reports of the mysterious peoples ceased, and their existence was left as a small footnote in the incidents leading up to the fall of the postatons.

World Building Project pt. 14

…there is one tragic event that can further explain the stigma against aliens, even centuries after the Great Tunnel War. Of course, I use the term “Aliens” as a rather broad word, but I only mean to define differing sentient species which share no common planet, culture, or ancestor, in an unbiased fashion. In order to understand the modern world and its ongoing conflicts one must understand how they were first rooted, and to say that this event did not inspire the ever-present vitriol of today’s society would be foolish at best, and a lie at worst.

Anyway, it began with the celebration of flowers; ironically, an annual festival dedicated to the unity of different peoples through nature, which lasts for five days. While the holiday is celebrated everywhere, it is especially prominent in the Postaton planet of Flux, where (due to the planet’s rotation) the days are longer, thus, the celebration is as well.

Though, as the fifth day turned to night mobs began to form at the Postaton capital of Mirrelm. This could have only been the result of a controversial bill that was passed during the celebration, in an attempt to avoid hostilities on the Postatons part. Specifically, the bill had to do with the conservation of sentient species, through the capture of a few dozen randomly chosen citizens. That may not sound so terrible, but the manner of containment is widely considered… unethical. The captured citizens are put under a medically induced coma and are essentially dissected in order to store genetic samples and such, should the species ever go extinct. These captured citizens range from Lilarianads, Sterges, to even many nomadic peoples like the Buboes, Erucians, or Nule.

As the night went on, the mobs turned into riots and even a few vigilantes broke into the Postatons storage facility to free the captured citizens. This is the falling domino that spurred off the Postaton’s next drastic move.

The Postatons, who had long warned against any mass upheaval in their lands, had finally kept their word. With their complex knowledge of metallurgy and electronics, they set their Titan Enforcers loose on the crowds and the whole city of Mirrelm. While said vigilantes were killed, so too were the captured citizens and 207 rioters. The carnage made in the midst of the festival of flowers would earn the notorious name “Night of Red Petals”

In the following years, this event was used as an arrow in the quiver of many isolationist groups, denouncing the holiday of unity as a demonstration of how different sentient species should never be intertwined.

World Building Project pt 13.

…The only shop in Toile City that remains untended to by children is the Toile Library, due to its owner being one of the few adults not required to serve in the ongoing lilarianad rally. Though, at first glance, you’d be forgiven for thinking of him as a particularly eccentric child. The caretaker in question is a short man whose species is unidentifiable due to the concealment of his garb: an old yellow and turquoise striped coat wrapped around his frame, a modified helmet from the Great Tunnel war adorns his head, and a pram always at his side veiled in fine royal silks.

Colloquially he has earned the title of “Poacher”, but on his non-existent citizenship documents, he is Hiadrance Verol. It may come as a surprise that the surrounding lilarianad towns folk leave him be, what with the current foreign conflict stirring up long-buried vitriol for aliens of every sort. But their blind eye becomes more understandable when taking a closer look at how he earned his name as Poacher.

For as long as it has existed the city of Toile has been accosted by the native wildlife that circles its walls. Under normal circumstances, this is nothing to fret over. Lilarianads are no strangers to conflict with nature itself or the occasional breach of their walls by displaced fauna, but now the severity of such an event is unprecedented. With most of the able-bodied lilarianads being drafted, the city’s only line of defense beyond its barriers are the fledgling men and women that took to running the town in their parent’s absence. If a pack of grinning lards or something of the sort were to scale the city’s walls somehow it would result in what most would consider the worst bloodbath since Lance’s Rout. Thankfully with the Poacher in tow, that will never happen.

Every day after the lights of the city fade into the night he ventures into the woods with his blowpipe and traps in hand and returns the next morning with caged baby animals piled on his back, ready to be sold. Not only does this keep the population of the native fauna in check, but it also serves as a surprising source of income for the city. Most of the captured animals are sold off to birlev gladiator rings, exotic pets, or zoos all around the system.

How exactly he traps the animals, conducts business, or how he acquired such skills remain mysteries, as are most aspects of the Poacher. Even how or when he arrived in Toile City is unknown, it indeed seems as if he dropped from the sky on some quiet night.

All of these questions and more remain unanswered, so the townsfolk often satiate their curiosity with rumors and speculation. Some think him a monarch in hiding, others see a tired war veteran who’s finally settled, and then a small few even believe him to be a cursed god of sorts.

But no matter what gossip the rabble rant and rave about, I’m inclined to believe that the more subtle details warrant further scrutiny. The wedding ring on his finger, the symbol that seems prevalent in his wardrobe, the tiny arachnids that seem to follow him, or the fact that no one has ever seen the infant within the pram. What exactly does all of this entails, I have no idea. But I intend to find out by doing what no one seems prepared to do: ask the man himself.

World Building Project pt.12: Forward.

Jesus, this school year flew by. When I started this whole blogging thing at the start of this year, I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t like it. Mostly because of how forced it was for me, as blogging isn’t exactly my forte. That didn’t change when I came up with the idea of my world building blog, at first that is. I came up with the idea not out of a want to create, but more as a means to an end. Something to get me the good grades I needed. I made it far more laborious than it should have been, and in my haste for results I rushed the conceptual design of my task. Which lead to a good bit of confusion, stress, and missed blogging dates. But as of late, I have come to realize my mistake. I overshot my own capacity for this project, which it suffered for.

But I’m not going to drop the world building project, not now, and probably not ever. I’ve found my creative stride in this, and am genuinely invested in the world I’ve crafted so far. Hell, I think my best creature designs have come from this project. I know that doesn’t mean much yet since I’ve hardly shown any of it on my blogs, but hopefully that will change when fall rolls around.

This post is more for me to reiterate my goals for this project next year. I mostly want to focus on explaining my designs and lore of my creatures, locations, and events in a more linear fashion rather than throwing bits of it and seeing what sticks. I went back and read some of my older blog posts and found them to be way too esoteric for anyone other than myself to follow. I left puzzle pieces for a puzzle that didn’t exist yet, and I was tripped up for my oversight.

Though, I have a question for all of you willing to answer. Aside from my new objective, should my blogs be made from MY perspective, as the creator of it, or from the perspective of someone living in the world? I’ve tried the latter in the past, and it seems to have worked pretty well, but I want to ask all of your opinions on this. Just to make sure that the writing style fits with the content.

other than that, I’m pretty excited for next year, and for once blogging is a part of that excitement. In fact, I’ve been so excited that I’ve made quite the backup of drawings that I just haven’t had the chance to post yet.

World Building Project pt.11

On our way to the rally point at Flux I and my guide passed through the capital city of Tookar, which was extraordinarily grand. Statues of imposing Lilarianad kings, generals, and artists alike stood immortalized by way of stone pillars carved in their likeness. Though, there was one that caught my eye more so than the others, not because it was any grander than the other carvings that surrounded it, but rather the opposite. The thing had a stature of only two feet high, if even that, and seemed to be composed of knickknacks loosely strewn together with twine and wire. I laughed, as it seemed comical that such a thing would brush elbows with prominent figures of Vinkitoo culture, but I quickly held my tongue when my guide told me the importance of its presence.

In 6002, after the loss of the Great Tunnel War many Lilarianad empires were struck by heavy tariffs and burdened with war reparation’s, which lead to strife throughout. This in tern, lead to countries desperate consolidation of power, and crueler treatment of lower social classes. In particular, the surfs and pioneers which were sent to settle recently conquered lands. It was not uncommon for a noble to order the seizure of children from whole villages to be sent to labor, most never to return. Though, these peasants were not alone in their suffering. Native Lilarianads, as well as a race of people aptly named the Jar Heads were unwillingly subjugated as well.

This is were that little creature, whos name was Mittnic, came into the fray. They were a Jar Head forced to work in the mines off the coast of Tookar, extremely hazardous work, in which the life expectancy were little more than days. This was not helped by how their oppressor’s were able to control the Jar Heads. You see, Jar Heads reproduce by some form of mitosis. They pour a piece of themselves into a separate container, and a small section of the parents memories leave them and go into their child. So in order to keep the Jar Heads dumb and subservient all that needed to be done was spread the memories of the parents so far and so thin between generations that it practically did not exist. Now the massive, and stupid labor force needed supervision and direction. This was the job of seized children.

As to why they used children rather than adults, I hypothesize it was because they believed adults were more capable of coordinating a rebellion against them, but I digress.

One of these children took care of Mittnic well, and they became great friends. Her name and identity is not known, only that the child was of great courage and intelligence. She composed Mittnic’s body, and even hid them away so that Mittnic would not be forced to have children, and not lose their memory. She even taught Mittnic of the world far beyond the mines, and the greater importance of life. These great deeds unfortunately, would not be met with equal kindness, As she would in the year of 6005 die from a beating by her supervisors. Not because she was discovered taking care of Mittnic, but rather because she was overwhelmed by malnutrition and to weak to work.

This Mittnic would not forget.

Pushed by grief, sorrow, and scorn Mittnic devised a plan to avenge the loss of their dear friend, and strike at those who slew her. Mittnic had many children in secret, and raised them to be an army. while Mittnic’s memory gradually grew dull, even to the point of forgetting their friends name they did not forget the love they felt for her. This was a sentiment that all of Mittnic’s children shared, as thought they never knew the girl, they could see through memory that she was truly a kind soul. Everyday Mittnic and their children would steal away a pieces of metal from the mines, and underground, away from sight, forge a monster. Little by little Mittnic’s masterwork came to fruition, and on the eve of 6010 the Besmalk Behemoth, piloted by Mittnic and their children, erupted from the ground and reined hellish wrath upon all whom apposed it. Soon, surfs and peasants who had grown rebellious by their sorry treatment joined the Behemoth in its rampage.

Though the Behemoth was eventually destroyed, and Mittnic killed, this was the spark that lit a fire of which set off the mother of all powder kegs. This was the quintessential event that united the people of Vinkitoo and then began the Besmalk route, but that is likely a story all to its own.

I have drawn a depiction of both Mittnic, and their behemoth with a Lilarian next to it for scale. Tales from the Shell Clergy have painted a grim picture of these wild unknown worlds, that everything here is somewhat encompassed in savage disorder, and perhaps they are right. But this has taught me that there may be some semblance of purpose in it all. Through all the tales of pride, glory, and fervor these other statues tell-this one is of more humble and intimate roots, which I now have a silent respect for.

Regardless, these drawings should be brought back to the church, this is certainly not something to be forgotten.

World Building Project pt.10

Thorm’s interviews: The Broken Cyclops.

What is your name?

“Well, the Lilarianads that found me named me Lopside, after the asymmetric quality of my head. But I don’t believe I was given a title at my creation, neither do I think it matters all that much.”

Would you prefer another name?

“… I have always found Sam to be an appealing name.”

What exactly are you?

“I cannot say for certain, as my memories are often fleeting from those youthful times when I was composed. But disregarding the few memories I can recall, I have hypothesized that I am a sibling of the three gods. My head seems to be forged from the deep core, as the others are. It also resembles a piece of the pillars which they wield, broken of course. So I surmise that perhaps my maker created me by accident in one way or another, and casted me away. So I suppose that I am a bastard god of sorts.

Who or what made your body?

“I made it myself, and It was a particularly difficult ordeal. At the dawn of my life I was unable to do much of anything but sink into the dirt like a common monolith, as of course I was nothing but my head. Thankfully, after some time I discovered a small shred of godly power remained within me. So, through sheer force of resolve I influenced the surrounding flora and fauna to do my will. Through that I was able to fashion this marionette you see before you.”

How long have you been here?

“Its impossible for me to pin precisely how long, as for most of the time I had no way of telling it… When did the Lilarianads first set foot on this planet? 5713-ish? It was well prior to that, but their arrival was the earliest and most memorable event I could think of.”

why do you bear that cape of hides?

“Ah, yes. It was an act of desperation for company. You see, when I first encountered the Lalarianads they feared me terribly, and i was as horribly lonely as I am now. So I believed if I wore clothing just as they did I would seem more approachable. I came up with the idea of making an extravagant cape of animal hides. I never hunted the animals myself, but I took them from corpses rather than letting them decay and go to waist. Of course this ended up making them even more terrified of me, as they believed I had slain the creatures myself. though it still hampers my search for comradery I still keep it in memoriam to the animals that now compose it.”

Have you ever been told of the light of Maw?

“I-… I have. By someone dressed in a blue and red cloak a good long while ago. They looked quite similar to you. They did not posses the insignia on your shoulder, were a bit larger, and far, FAR ruder than you. N- not that you’ve been rude to me at all. In fact, you have been the most pleasant company I’ve had in some time. You need not tell me about it again, for they made sure I would never forget from their scathing fervor. Something of my existence being an affront to this “Maw”, and that which was born from the bowls of Maw will return to its bowls Please, ask another question.”

What was your happiest memory?

“Hmm… it was likely the first time I had met a Birlev. I was rounding the corner of a cliff when I noticed a young Birlev explorer hiking upon it. It noticed me too- well, how could it not? I was unable to understand its chatter, but they took a keen interest in me. Even though I payed them little mind they followed me for several days. Every time I would laydown for the night I could see them in the distance making a camp fire not far away. On one of those nights my curiosity boiled over and I approached them, and sat down next to them. They didn’t run, or scream, or… anything like that. They sat there content as ever to my presence. With one finger I began drawing pictures on the ground in an attempt to commune with it. In response it drew steller maps and pictures of its kind facing monsters Id never seen before. We did this until the sun returned, and they headed off into the direction of a Lilarianad village. Where I am not able to follow. After that I never saw them again.

World Building Project pt.9

Arguably one of the most influential figures to come from Birlev society is Worm the Barkless. Worm was found as a child in the forests of south Banya, battered, deformed, and alone with no heritage brands to identify their parents. they were taken in by an Ebony tribe, who found that despite only having one arm Worm was extremely mentally and magically gifted. As Worm grew and matured they climbed the ranks of Birlev hierarchy and would change it forever. Working their way from a serf, to a soldier, to a general, and through a logistical loop hole eventually became the ruler of Banya.

From there Worm wore every cultural taboo on their shoulder like medals of honor. For one, occupations were commonly decided by the amount of stripes on a Berliv. Many stripes meant they were fit for high society, kings, clergy, generals, and so on. the fewer stripes you had, the lower your rank would be, so Worm not having any stripes of their own essentially doomed them to obscurity. But of course, they were not content to have their life ruined by the whims of fate.

There was also a silver lining to worms natural born condition. Most would consider only having one arm to be a hinderance, but it gave Worm a surprising advantage. Worm could not afford to dedicate an arm to have a weapon permanently welded onto it, as was common tradition at the time. so they instead utilized grips, giving them an unparalleled adaptable edge against any traditionalist.

After the great war of 5782 and Worm crowned themselves as ruler of the known Birlev world they bore two children, Sashi, and Vasteler. Since Worm was found as an orphan, and had no heritage brand they made their own, But it was not the common lateral design of traditional heritage brands. instead it was a simple black maple leaf etched above their eye.

Worms final taboo they executed was arguably one they did not do willingly. As with most cultures there is a sacred bond between parent and child, and Birlev are no different in this aspect. So, for Birlev the act of a parent killing their child or vice versa borders on heresy. With this in mind when Worm and Vasteler took apposing sides in the 5811 rebellion they both knew one of them was going to commit a great sin. This came to a head when Worm publicly challenged Vasteler to a duel in order to end the conflict. Whether this was a genuine attempt to regain power over the rebelling forces or a ploy to smoothly pass down the crown to Vasteler, the outcome was the same. Vasteler slew Worm and usurped the throne.

Since then the federation Worm formed has stood the test of time for thousands of years. Whether they were good, bad, brutal, or gentle, their impact on the world, and surrounding worlds is undeniable.

World Building Project pt.8

At the zenith of the Silvia war a peace accord was attempted, thought not by the side you would think. The transcript of said accord is as follows.

“The Pelts gifted unto us their eyes, the Nelards have gifted unto us their southern most feet, the rattlers gifted unto us their flayed skin. The whole of the Myceelies knees kiss the ground and are made one in charity, all except the Larianads. – Thy, the Ones of the speck star hold yourselves as if thyne are the unicorns children! Those who thy desecrated the sanctity of, blasphemous! The spore stacks rally to meet thyne men at Rasmus’s mark for however long thy tithe is left undone. – That being the shards of hard rock be buried and a sea of dew made as recompense. Once every twin toed footprint has left Rasmus’s horn and laid the land bare of your tainted rabble – will every soul upon the great isles sing together. Without fear, without deceit, and rapture reign supreme.”

It was found after the battle of Ivory Valley, scrawled into the bodies of four fallen Larianad soldiers. Due to the vagueness of the proposal and brutality of its composition it was left unanswered.

And so shortly after the Bethmet massacre a ceasefire was finally called that lasts to this day. There was no official end to the Silvia war, but it is widely considered over. Since the rise of the corrupted machines the Larianads have had their hands tied elsewhere, and tempers have cooled over time. Since then no outsiders have dared to set foot east of the Rasmus mountains into Myceelie territory, until now.