#narkina 5

[uwingdispatch]

With the Andor finale out, I wanted to share some of my favorite things I made to celebrate the series, including some of my newer items. I can only fit 30 in a post, so this is going to be hard. But I hope you enjoy this! And remember you can always use code TUMBLR15 at checkout for 15% off select accessories. Shop is here.

Note!

The Aurebesh on the maroon hoodie says BRASSO with the Ferrix Honor Guard Symbol.

On either side of the Sawpologist tee are Ferrix and Ghorman tees.

The Ferrix tee says "Stone and Sky" on the top and "Ferrix · Morlani System" on the bottom. The Ghorman tee says "Call your kin to come and sing" on the top and "Ghorman · Sern Sector" on the bottom.

Shop is here. Love y'all!

[underestimated-shadow]

Sacrifice. Oppression. Rebellion.

[hegodamask]

ANDOR Set Details - Narkina 5 (Level 5)

[andorshitdaily]

Happy Friday, have some shitposts

[saltyseaturtle]

Mount Tantiss x Narkina 5

The Bad Batch x Andor

[cowboylikemorgan]

Andor really proved that some things are universal:

* Cereal

* Chinese takeaway boxes

* beach party vibes

* your parents being disappointed in you

* the prison industrial complex

[darth-memes]

NARKINA 5 BABY!!!!

[elwenyere]

Something that's important to me about the relationship between Melshi and Kino is that they're both exercising the tiny amount of free will left to them to try to help others in a system that maximally constrains their ability to care for each other.

For the Melshi we first see in Narkina, a big part of staying free happens in the mind - in learning and communicating the truth, in refusing to take comfort in illusions and instead naming the dehumanizing operations of the system. By offering to Keef/Cassian the narrative of power he's developed ("never look at the numbers"), he's trying to give Cassian a way to hold onto the relative autonomy of clear, uncompromising thinking: they can keep us here as long as they want, but we don't have to believe their lies. By the time we meet him, Melshi already seems very familiar with Kino's reaction to his brand of shop talk (so familiar that I suspect Kino is not the first authority figure who's found Melshi profoundly irritating), and when Kino throws him against the wall, Melshi doesn't resist or fight back, but he does look Kino in the eye. He knows why Kino needs to do this, and as his little rueful shrug to Cassian suggests later, he's easier on Kino's need for self-delusion and displaced frustration than he is on the guards' willful misrepresentations and casual cruelty.

For Kino, moving people toward freedom is a question of organization, discipline, and management. He runs a tight ship because he's trying to get his guys the best deal he can, and he encourages them all to throw their weight into the work they're assigned because he thinks that's the best chance to get his floor through their sentences as efficiently as possible. That goal makes Melshi into a troublemaker (as his remarks threaten to undercut people's faith that good behavior matters), and Kino seems to be in the habit of throwing Melshi around to manage the expression of discontent and muttering on the floor. But of course the bigger threat Melshi poses is to Kino's faith in the system itself, and thus his belief that by maintaining order he's protecting his men - from more frying or from railing it in despair (thus his much more out-of-control response to Melshi's "they set them all free" after a whole floor's been killed for no discernible reason). Kino wants to get out himself, yes, but he also wants to get his guys out, and that's why it's Ulaf's death and the doctor's confession that provides the final push in his radicalization: he has to admit that he's been enforcing the rules of a bad-faith system, and the way he's been trying to get his men home was never going to work.

This is very compelling to me because the progression of the Narkina arc reveals that the structure of antagonism in which we first find Melshi and Kino (with Melshi needing to speak out to feel internally free and Kino needing to keep his men aligned around a shared purpose to feel that he's fulfilling his external responsibilities) is in crucial ways environmental: it's a manifestation of the forced competition and hierarchy imposed by the distribution of power in the prison. Once Kino accepts that he needs a new set of tactics to liberate the floor, and once Melshi steps up to fight for what he likely on some level still thinks is a dream, any lingering animus is quickly set aside for cooperation. Melshi is the one to throw Kino a wrench, and Kino is the one to hand Melshi a blaster. Their different methods and theories of power put them in conflict while they were still operating within a system that tried to foreclose any development of solidarity; but they share an impulse toward freedom and care for others, and Andor suggests that's finally stronger than their personal differences.

I do think if they'd met outside of Narkina, Kino would still find Melshi annoying though.

[imomnba-x07]

There is something so reminiscent about watching Melshi train rebel cadets at the end. All I could think about was Kino Loy.

Whether we ever find out Kinos fate or not, he lives on through Melshi, and what Melshi likely learned from watching him take charge on Narkina for years on end.

[epicallyepicepilogue]

[starwarstrack23]

Dedra’s fate was an amazing choice, even if it made more sense for her to get killed. Seeing her in that prison, suffering for the death star the way she made others suffer, and Still not wanting her to be there. Season one of Andor showed us that the crime doesn’t matter, No One deserves to be tortured into slavery. And if Dedra doesn’t deserve that, then it brings back the OG trilogy’s themes for redemption and I love it. I hate her, I’m horrified for her, and I want her to be somewhere better.

[uwingdispatch]

Y’alllll we are two months from Andor season 2 and I can’t wait to make more unhinged merch! Here is everything I could fit in a Tumblr post that I made based on season 1 (with some Rogue One overlap).

Tell me what type of goodies you’d like to see, what characters and locations you need merch of, what you like that I’ve made that you want more of! Shop is here. And don’t forget you can use code TUMBLR15 at checkout for 15% off most accessories

Shop is here. I may do a second post with just apparel items, because none of those fit in this post! Love y'all so much and I can't wait to watch season 2 with this community! <3

[hegodamask]

Pictures from the set of Andor Season 1 by production designer Luke Hull

[andorshitdaily]

ANDOR + Unhinged AO3 tags, part 2

bonus:

[sem24]

He’s not running. He’s not armed. He’s not resisting. He’s just walking through a sunlit plaza, surrounded by strangers, near a shop he has no interest in. And then, without warning, he is stopped. Questioned. Accused. There’s a disturbance nearby, they say. He looks suspicious. He’s sweating. Why would he be sweating unless he’s guilty of something? The questions become statements. The statements become charges. And the charges are meaningless—vague phrases muttered by a bored official who barely looks up from her typewriter. He’s sentenced before he even understands what’s happening. A number is handed down. He protests. “Take it up with the Emperor,” says the official, already calling the next case. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 7)

This is the trial of Cassian Andor, in Season One, Episode Seven of Star Wars: Andor.

The prison Cassian is sent to is efficient, sterile, and almost eerily quiet. The walls are spotless white. The prisoners wear identical uniforms. There are no bars or shouting guards. Control is built into the architecture, with electrified floors omnipresent and always ready to punish.

Andor ties power not just to violence but to sound. To be heard is to have power. In Narkina 5, the Empire completely strips prisoners of that. Orders come down through speakers; pain comes up from the floor. The guards remain unseen, the prisoners unheard.

The work itself is grueling but orderly. Inmates spend their days assembling mechanical components without knowing what they’re for. Kino Loy, the floor manager, enforces the system. He’s not cruel, but he’s committed to survival. When someone dies, Kino replaces them. When their team falls behind, he pushes harder. The message is clear: stay “on program,” follow the rules, and wait out your time for release. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 8)

Everything changes when they learn that released prisoners are merely cycled back into the system, and an entire floor is executed to maintain secrecy. Obedience doesn’t earn freedom; it keeps the machine running. Cassian begs Kino to help him plan an escape. But Kino resists; he doesn’t want to be overheard plotting and punished. He believes in the system, even now.

“They’re so proud of themselves,” Cassian says about stealing from the Empire. “They don’t even care. They’re so fat and satisfied, they can’t imagine it.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 3) The Empire isn’t stopping people from resisting; it’s banking on the idea that they won’t realize they can. Its strength isn’t fear, it’s complacency. It doesn’t need loyalty. It just needs passivity. They do not even have to monitor the prisoners. “Nobody’s listening,” Cassian screams. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 9)

As Arendt warned, totalitarian regimes don’t just control people’s actions; they limit what people think is possible. The genius of Narkina 5 is that prisoners believe escape is impossible, so they never even try. On a floor with hundreds of prisoners, how many guards are there? Cassian asks. “Never more than twelve.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 9)

Narkina 5 is the Empire in miniature, a system that hides its brutality behind procedure and relies on silence and fragmentation to keep people from realizing their own power. As Karis Nemik writes in his manifesto: “The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 12)

That’s why it matters so much when Kino finally takes the mic. His voice, trembling, uncertain, rings out through the same intercom that once controlled them. “One way out!” becomes a chant. A signal. A rupture. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 10)

“Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K.,” begins The Trial. (Kafka 1) Words have power. One lie is all it takes to unravel K.’s entire life. But K. has sharp words of his own. He wields language like a master fencer, parrying and jabbing with cold irony and careful precision, verbally sparring with every faceless representative of the court.

What is the difference between Cassian Andor and Josef K., who both face insurmountable odds? For all his cleverness, for all his resistance, K. is alone in the face of unyielding bureaucracy. He was always going to lose. Cassian, unlike K., is not alone, and that makes all the difference.

If Josef K. is an example of one person being crushed beneath the heel of an uncaring system, then Maarva Andor is that rare spark that sets the fire, one that burns down Nemik’s siege, and she does so impressively, from beyond the grave.

Her funeral is announced by the steady, swelling rhythm of the Ferrix band: horns, drums, the slow cadence of grief turned defiance. Then the projection flickers to life, and her voice fills the square. She does not plead. She does not rage. She invites: “The Empire is a disease that thrives in darkness. It is never more alive than when we sleep.” (Andor, Season 1, Episode 12)

The music behind her surges, no longer mournful but militant. On Ferrix, resistance is built on noise, or more accurately, on the refusal to be quiet. Even the instruments are significant. The anvil of Ferrix rings out like a signal flare. In a world ruled by silence, every note is a risk. Maarva’s voice cuts through the complacency on which the Empire depends. And when she says, “Fight the Empire,” when the crowd echoes her words, it becomes more than a cry. It becomes clear that no one will be left to be crushed alone. (Andor, Season 1, Episode 12)

This has been Part 2 of: A Great Organization: Repression and Propaganda in Andor

part 1 < > Part 3

Masterlist of all parts

[colleybri]

A blink and you miss it moment of Cassian becoming an excellent leader in episode 9 of Andor.

Ulaf is slowing the team down, and Cassian (‘Keef’) has the idea to swap places with Taga. Taga asks why and Ham rather brutally tells him “Keef is faster”. Hurt, Taga grumbles “There’s a better way of saying that!”

After Kino comes over to investigate, he asks Cassian whether the swap was his idea, clearly about to compliment him.

Kino is still quite antagonistic towards Cassian (who he has marked as a troublemaker like Melshi) so we might expect him to enjoy receiving some praise but instead of accepting the compliment, Cassian says that the swap was Tagas’s idea. “Are you kidding?” says Taga in respect, and happily accepts the praise, making up for the insult 30 seconds earlier.

Earlier, Cassian wanted to avoid attention for self-centred reasons . Now, this trait is becoming a positive leadership quality . Standing behind others, encouraging them on, freely allowing them to use his ideas and even his words. Motivating them to find their own motivation. 

^^ Kino using Cassian’s words

I think Kino realises exactly what was going on here and comes away with new respect for Cassian. Kino is the figurehead and voice of the prison rebellion, but it’s pretty clear who is the real leader.