#the pathos of things

[astrology-bf]

The Pathos of Things

Chapter 1: In Spring Sunlight

General | WoL/Hancock | ~4.2k words | CW: Stormblood Spoilers

AO3 | Index | Next Chapter

“In these spring days when tranquil light encompasses the four directions, Why do the blossoms yet scatter with uneasy hearts?” Ki no Tomonori, ひさかたの Hisakata no

In the employ of the richest man in all Eorzea (and possibly all Hydaelyn) there was among the many gentlefolk a man who, though he was not of any noble birth, was favored beyond all the rest.

So great was the confidence invested in him by his master that the man was given charge of his affairs in the far lands beyond the eastern seas. They had their methods of communication, naturally, but the vast distance between Ul’dah and Hingashi meant the gentleman often had broad discretion when it came to executing his employer’s star-spanning plans.

If Lolorito Nanarito was something of a merchant-king, then young Hancock Fitzgerald was no less than a prince. And the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company was ever-dutiful when it came to securing the advantage of its chairman.

Such was the reason for his present heading: to the Shiokaze Hostelry, down by the docks of Kugane. It was a fair day, and though the last remnants of winter had faded into memory under a warm spring sun, the air still carried a light chill brought by a southwesterly over the Ruby Sea. Some of the city-goers found it pleasant, others muttered that it had no right to be so cold given the season... but all thankful that it kept the clouds over the Ruby Price from staining an otherwise pristine blue sky.

Ordinarily, Hancock liked to take his time on days like this. It was perfect for a stroll down to the markets, or through the gardens, or even simply taking in the salty air from the great bridge spanning the city’s center. But the direction of the wind ensured that those he had been tasked to greet on their arrival in Hingashi would almost certainly make port in timely fashion, and it was critical that Hancock be the first to greet them when they made landfall in the Far East. Haste was necessary.

Even so, the merchant chose to make his way on foot; taking a brisk but steady walk down through the market of Kogane Dori, rather than traveling by aetheryte to the Tenkonto Plaza. He’d left sufficient time for it, being easily able to calculate the time it took to disembark down to the minute (and the gil); and even if it was a bit of stolen pleasure, Hancock could justify the walk as giving him the chance to think.

It was an opportunity to run over the many facts that his nearly eidetic memory had gleaned from his employer’s dossiers regarding the Scions of the Seventh Dawn; facts with which he’d need to arm himself, if he had even the remotest chance of making his master’s hospitality more attractive than holding on to grudges - which were admittedly quite justified, if everything he'd read was true.

Hancock’s pace was even and his hands hung loosely at his sides as he passed by the clustering of people at the city's market boards. His eyes were hidden by his red-tinted spectacles, as always, masking his habit of frequently glancing to the sides with the occasional lingering of his gaze on passing folk of possible interest. To onlookers he merely had a calm and thoughtful look, though a few faint furrows could be seen etching his brow as he reviewed what might be useful.

Names, dates, places… even banal facts like preferred foods and what entertainment might be pleasing to them. They were certainly a curiously diverse group, based on the files: two Elezen prodigies from Sharlayan and grandchildren of Louisoix Leveilleur himself, an Ala Mhigan woman who had until recently been masquerading as her departed sister, a Lalafellin woman from Ul’dah who Hancock had been warned not to underestimate, and…

No less than the Warrior of Light, himself.

Hancock’s chin rose slightly as he crested the red-painted arch which bridged the two halves of the city. To his right, the graceful spire of the Tenkonto gleamed in cyan crystal as it acted as a beacon for those traveling by magic, while to his left the statue of Lord Zuiko shone with burnished verdigris under Azeyma’s radiant face. It was a sight he’d seen more than a hundred times before, but now it seemed a little fresher to him. Less a familiar vista, and more a sunlit prelude to an uncertain but exciting meeting with a myth made out of flesh, rather than carved in crystal or sculpted in bronze. A myth... but also a man.

The merchant’s mind began to loop upon the dossier of Ifan Kaleid as he descended from the bridge’s peak, lingering upon the details of his early life in Thanalan. An early life which coincided with his own, in terms of years, and though Ifan was raised outside the city proper he was for all intents and purposes Ul’dahn… just like Hancock. And, much like the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company, the Warrior of Light had within his calling obtained favor beyond all the rest - despite having no blood family to gift him rank or fortune. What he’d earned, it seemed, were the dividends of his own virtues, hard work, and a willingness to take a risk when the rewards were worth it. In short, Ifan’s life read like that of a man who Hancock Fitzgerald was more than a little keen to meet in person.

So keen, in fact, that his eyes began to drift away from where he was going.

Not far, but enough that his attention slipped and he failed to take notice of a man leaving the hostelry who paying even less attention to his heading than the gold-haired merchant. Hancock caught himself at the last moment, but he couldn't prevent his right shoulder from lightly colliding with the man's bicep.

The stranger let out a rough grunt, then turned an irate gaze towards Hancock.

“Watch it!” he snapped, issuing an irritated scoff. He was a local, by his garb, and one a little far into his cups if the color in his cheeks was anything to go by.

Hancock straightened up immediately as his expression shifted to a calm, respectful smile. He gave the man a polite bow at the waist, choosing not to point out that neither of them had been paying attention.

“Apologies, my good sir,” he said.

The man merely returned a sneer. He leaned towards Hancock with his lips parted, an insult clearly ready on his tongue… then paused as caught sight of the pair of sword-wielding men standing near the hostelry’s entrance. The blood-red cloth of their haori, made all the more vivid by their white hakama, was enough of a reminder.

Instead he gave a simple huff, and let his cursing go unvoiced as he eyed Hancock up and down contemptuously.

“…Ijin.” The word was dripping with barely concealed derision, made even more obvious by the curt nod the Hingan gave him before turning and departing.

Hancock bowed again, but both it and the brief frown which twitched its way across his face both went unnoticed. He didn’t dwell on it too long, however; he took in a slow breath, spared another moment to make sure his irritation wasn’t showing on his features, and then turned to make his way into the large, open entrance of his destination.

Shiokaze Hostelry was as busy as could be expected given the season and the time of day. The air was filled with both the smells and sounds of folk from nearly every corner of the Three Great Continents taking their ease, set against the salty breeze and distant cries of gulls wafting in from the establishment’s harbor-side entrance. Though most patrons went about their business on the hostelry’s ground floor, the upper floors were still busy with folk seated or standing… watching, too, from the high vantage point - as if the inn were in truth a disguised theater in the round.

But it was the group of foreigners who stood by the harbor-side entrance who immediately caught Hancock’s eye. Five of them, speaking among themselves as they gaze up in wonder at the hostelry: a pair of adolescent Elezen twins with pale hair and a preference for red and blue respectively, a Lalafellin woman wearing a red cap, a blonde Highlander with strong arms and scarlet attire, and a bearded, brown-haired Midlander arrayed in white.

Hancock let out a quiet sigh of relief and indulged a faintly smug cast to his smile at his good timing, before he descended to the ground floor of the hostelry and made his way towards the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.

The Lalafellin woman - Tataru Taru, Hancock assumed - had her back turned towards him as she was speaking to one of the twins with an airy, teasingly dismissive tone.

“-and a tavern is a tavern, Alphinaud, here or anywhere else!” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to do what I do best.” Then she turned and, without looking, began to run at a brisk pace that almost took her directly into Hancock’s shins before she skidded to a halt.

Hancock’s smile vanished for a moment as he blinked behind his spectacles. His lips pursed, but then smoothly slid back into a polite expression as he once again chose not to dwell on nearly being run into for a second time that morning.

“A thousand pardons, my lady,” he apologized, offering Tataru a short bow at the waist before he straightened up. “The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I presume? I hope your voyage was not too trying.”

He followed his greeting with a light smile as he cast his eyes over each of the Scions, observing them in greater detail. It was simple enough to put names to faces, even if only by written description: besides Tataru, the Scions’ “receptionist”, the Highlander was certainly Lyse Hext, while the twins were obviously Alphinaud and Alisaie Leveilleur.

Hancock was about to speak again, but the air escaped him silently as he laid eyes on the man in white standing beside Alisaie.

The Midlander - who could be none other than Ifan Kaleid, the Warrior of Light - stood with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised as he wordlessly stared back at Hancock. His bearded face was set in a faintly distant expression despite the obvious signs of curiosity at the merchant’s unexpected appearance. The other details went largely unnoticed, however, as Hancock found himself unable to avert his eyes from the dark blue of Ifan’s irises.

Yet ‘dark blue’ seemed insufficient to describe them. The color edged on grey in the same way as the vast expanse of the Ruby Sea directly behind Ifan; like indigo desaturated in white mulberry paper, or glazed cobalt overlaying porcelain. It had a mournful quality, however, seeming more likely to run into a stain of tears than remain coldly affixed upon ceramic or a page.

The grin on Hancock’s face widened by a fraction of an ilm as he watched Ifan’s eyes drift over him. That sodden well within his gaze was briefly stirred into a bright eddy of interest, and the prince of the East Aldenard Trading company felt a slight tightness in his chest at the way the Warrior of Light tilted his head… as if he indeed liked what his wine-dark eyes beheld.

It was Alisaie, however, who broke the awkward silence.

“…And you are?” she asked, cocking her head inquisitively.

Hancock nearly jolted as he blinked behind his spectacles, and sharply shook his head. “Ah, yes, of course! Forgive me,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hancock Fitzgerald, of the East Aldenard Trading Company, at your service. On behalf of Chairman Lolorito, I bid you welcome to Kugane and invite you to take refreshment at our local offices.”

He followed his greeting with another deep bow at the waist before he stood upright, and gave the Scions of the Seventh Dawn a rather fox-like grin; one made all the wider by the slightly horrified confusion on all of their faces.

“Lolorito?" Alphinaud said, nearly exclaiming. "I was aware his interests extended beyond the borders of Eorzea, but not so far as Kugane." The disbelief in his expression soon receded, however, and he frowned sternly back at Hancock as he crossed his arms. “Regardless, I am disinclined to accept the hospitality of grinning merchants,” he said, crisply. “Especially those who serve a master with whom we have such a difficult relationship.”

There was a pause as Hancock’s grinning eased into a teasing smile. He lightly threaded his fingers together in front of him, and gave the Elezen a respectful half-nod. “My my, such naked suspicion! I do hope that business with the Crystal Braves did not rob you of all faith in your fellow man," he said, airily. Then he tilted his head, and wiggled his chin faintly. "Or do you really think the chairman is plotting to drag you into another one of his grand schemes?”

Alphinaud blinked rapidly as his breath caught in his throat. He began sputtering, but Hancock’s attention was instead caught by the smirk Ifan was doing a poor job of hiding - much like Alisaie, who was whispering to him with equal amusement.

“I daresay Alphinaud has met his match…” Alisaie muttered, earning a barely audibly snicker from the Warrior of Light.

“I… beg your pardon?!” Alphinaud uncrossed his arms and glared up at Hancock indignantly. “If you are trying to win my trust, you are failing quite spectacularly.”

Hancock’s eyes returned to the young Elezen, and he was unable to conceal the chuckle in his voice. “Oh dear, have I offended you? Once again, I must apologize. Too much time in the Far East, you see. One is compelled to talk in circles around everything here, and one finds oneself longing for the invigoratingly candid speech of the Ul’dahn markets… though I see now that this is neither the time nor the place to indulge said longing.”

His words carried an air of affected wistfulness, though one which became genuine as his eyes went again to the magician. He saw now that Ifan wore a ring on his right finger, bearing the sigil of the tipping scales of Ul’dah. Hancock was sorely tempted to spend precious moments trying to recall if it had been recorded where the ring had come from, but the crest of Nald’thal’s city was itself a sufficient reminder of his task. So he straightened up, and gave Alphinaud a much more conciliatory nod.

 “…Might I suggest that we continue this conversation at the company offices?” he suggested. “Too many eyes and ears here, you understand. ‘Twould be decidedly reckless to say any more.”

He followed this with a quick canting of his head towards the upper levels of the hostelry, but the gesture and the warning seemed a touch too subtle.

Alphinaud answered with an imperious sniff. “If I may favor you with the invigorating candor you apparently crave,” he said, curtly, “it would be decidedly reckless to follow a man I neither know nor trust. Give me one good reason why we should accept Lord Lolorito’s invitation.” He crossed his arms again, and tilted his head while looking at Hancock expectantly.

Hancock grinned again. “Now there’s the young diplomat I was told to expect!" he laughed. "Very well, then, I shall explain.”

His grin settled, and he took in a slow breath as he stepped forward towards the Scions. When he spoke again, the coy amiability had been replaced by casual seriousness.

“You understand that you are come to a most reclusive and secretive nation, yes?” he asked, lowering his voice just a hair. “One whose borders are closed to foreign trade save at this single port?”

“Only the one?” Lyse asked, lowering her voice in turn.

Hancock nodded sagely. “Indeed,” he said. “So it should come as small surprise that a great many parties have vested interests here. Merchants like myself are a given, of course, but for every one of us you may be certain there is also an agent of a foreign government.”

He paused to let his words sink in. The indignation in young Master Alphinaud’s expression receded under realization, mirrored by the sudden shift to wariness in both Lyse and Alisaie’s faces. But Tataru seemed less surprised, and more sternly resolved; as did Ifan, who had closed his eyes in a look of weary frustration.

For whatever reason, Hancock felt his chest tighten again… though unpleasantly, rather than the headiness of when Ifan seemed interested in something. Nonetheless, he took in another breath before finishing his explanation.

“Many notable nations and empires have embassies here, you know. Including a certain Empire with whom you have such a…” Hancock paused again, searching for suitably diplomatic phrasing, then hummed mirthfully before mirroring Alphinaud’s earlier words. “…difficult relationship.”

After another long and awkward pause, it was Alisaie who again broke the silence: this time, with an irritated clicking of her tongue against her teeth.

“To paraphrase,” she said, as delicately as she could. “Kugane is teeming with Imperial spies, one or several of whom could now be listening to our every word.”

Hancock chuckled once and nodded gracefully at Alisaie. “Something to that effect, yes. Beneath this veneer of bustling trade a war for supremacy is being waged between world powers. One might say we are standing on the front lines… just not in public.”

Alisaie inhaled quietly through her teeth as she began glancing around, mirroring the wary looks that Alphinaud was trying not to be too obvious about.

“Imperial spies everywhere,” Lyse said, letting out an aggrieved sigh. “Great. Just… great.”

Though the ambiance inside the hostelry had barely changed since they’d begun their conversation, there was a distinct frostiness tainting the otherwise pleasant air. The Scions had their faces set in varying looks of watchfulness; all save Ifan, who had his gaze cast thoughtfully off to the side.

After a brief silence, he gave a nod before looking back at Hancock with a polite half-smile. “Would you give us a moment to talk it over, Master Fitzgerald?” he asked.

The smile Hancock returned was just as polite, but he couldn’t stop a slightly boyish tilting of his head at the look Ifan was giving him. “But of course.”

With that, he took a few steps back and turned to idly look around… but not quite far enough that his excellent hearing couldn’t pick up the Scions’ whispered conversation.

Ifan was the first to speak. “What do you think, Tataru?” he asked. “You deal with merchants the most out of all of us.”

“I don’t trust him one bit, and neither should you.” Tataru’s voice was nearly a hiss, making her displeasure evident.

A concurring hum left Ifan’s chest. “Not saying we should,” he agreed, “but we may not have a choice when it comes to accepting help. We’re at a disadvantage.”

“Indeed,” Alisaie said, voicing her agreement in turn. “I still have my doubts, but he may have a point. I say we accept his invitation… for now.”

There was a lapse in conversation, and Hancock spared a glance towards the Scions to see Ifan was looking at Alphinaud with a concerned frown. The young Elezen had his arms crossed again, and was looking at the floor with a pinched grimace on his face.

“…You all right, Alphinaud?” Ifan asked.

Alphinaud blinked as he was stirred from the mire of his thoughts, and looked up towards Ifan sheepishly. “…Forgive me. The mere mention of the East Aldenard Trading Company is enough to-“ The next few words came out as a mumble before he uncrossed his arms, took a breath, and then nodded up at the magician slowly. “I am fine, truly. You need not worry,” he said, offering a strained smile.

Ifan smiled back, though Hancock noted it was similarly strained. “Nothing to forgive. What do you think?” he asked.

The Elezen gave a quiet hum, mulling it over before issuing a resigned sigh. “At the very least, I cannot see the harm in at least hearing him plead his case. Alisaie has the correct idea,” he answered, nodding at his sister.

“Right, then. Seems we’re in agreement.” Ifan took in a deep breath and straightened up before looking at Alphinaud fondly, and reaching over to give his shoulder a light pat. “I’ll take the lead for now,” he said. “Just take a break.”

Alphinaud blinked, seeming to hesitate, but he voiced no protest. Instead, he gave Ifan an equally as fond and very grateful smile as he reached up to squeeze the back of the magician's hand and nodding back at him.

Ifan’s smile widened, and expression remained warm as he glanced at Lyse, Tataru, and Alisaie in turn before it settled back into that casual yet slightly distant look Hancock had first seen him with. He turned to face the merchant, casting his eyes over him once more, and then approached before giving Hancock a polite bow at the waist.

It was a far from perfect gesture, by Hingan standards, but Hancock nonetheless felt an irrepressible grin begin to creep across his features.

“Hancock, was it?” Ifan asked. His gaze settled on Hancock’s grin, and his cheeks rose in a soft look of mirth as another interested gleam danced through his eyes.

Hancock’s grin grew even further, and he indulged another moment of staring at Ifan from behind his spectacles before he returned an equally deep bow.

“At your service,” he greeted, his voice surging with enthusiasm. “And you must be Ifan Kaleid! Slayer of Gods, Rider of Dragons, Savior of Ishgard…”

The thrill within his voice started to fade somewhat as that unpleasant tightness pinched within his chest again. Every title seemed to cause the mirth in Ifan’s eyes and face to ebb away, so on a whim the merchant took in a light breath and gave the Warrior of Light a coy, teasing smile.

“… Stealer of Pants, if some of the more puzzling rumors are to be believed,” he finished.

Ifan blinked. There was a pause, and just as Hancock felt the urge to swallow nervously… Ifan snorted, and chuckled as he tried to hide a grin.

Hancock inhaled audibly as the pressure in his chest released. A giddy warmth began to prickle on his cheeks as he took in the sight of the magician’s face when it was lit up with humor, matching the light tingling in his ears at the musical but rough-edged sound of Ifan’s laughter.

The magician took in a slow breath to compose himself. He was still grinning slightly as he eyed Hancock up and down again, and his expression took on a teasing edge as he returned a sagely nod. “When they have pants to steal,” he replied.

Hancock blinked behind his spectacles as he tilted his head curiously. “Oh?”

“Mm.” Ifan returned a noncommittal hum before his face settled again. “You’ve the right of it, but just ‘Ifan’ is fine,” he said, inclining his head in a more casual greeting.

The merchant’s grin eased back into a polite smile as he nodded in turn. “Of course, Ifan. May I say what an honor and a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. I just know you and I are going to get along famously,” he said.

Ifan gave another chuckle. “Likely so,” he said. “You do seem fairly interesting, Hancock.”

Much as earlier, Hancock’s lips twitched briefly as he fought back an expression: but rather than a scowl, he struggled to hold down a dizzy half-grin at the way his name sounded with that rough edge to Ifan’s voice accentuating it. To say nothing of being called interesting by such a man.

But unlike earlier, it didn’t go unnoticed. Ifan’s eyes flicked downwards to Hancock’s lips, and the grin began forming anyway.

And it kept on growing, as the Warrior of Light began to smile at him in turn. That distant look, which had been weighing down his handsome face, now seemed itself far distant. The lightness in his eyes was as bracing to Hancock as seeing the expanse of the Ruby Sea from atop Kugane’s airship landing, and he felt ten thousand questions about Ifan’s life and thoughts start running through his head.

But his excitement soon found itself tempered. A light breeze from the hostelry’s port-side entrance drew his attention, and the sight of the four other Scions in his peripheral vision served to remind him that he had a task of utmost importance. Though it was difficult, the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company managed to pull his gaze away from the Warrior of Light's

Hancock composed himself with a light clearing of his throat, before casting his eyes at each of the Scions from behind his red-shaded spectacles.

“Now, then…” he said, gesturing towards the hostelry's city-side entrance. “Without further ado, allow me to escort you to the company offices. This being your first visit to our fair city, I shall make an effort to point out various landmarks along the way. If you would be so good as to follow me.”

[qcafu]

I WISH ruian was real

Ti's literally my first time reading an event story and turning out to like it somehow.. Then I loved it when an had gone through the literary they were learning, like "The pathos of things." (Mono no aware) during study sessions with her companions huhuhuhuhu

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Geraint Smith: Today in northern New Mexico. My most favorite cottonwood. Arroyo Hondo, Taos Co, NM. (Oct 24, 2023) :: [Robert Scott Horton]

* * * *

Mono no aware (物の哀れ),literally “the pathos of things” Rich with meaning and subtlety, the soul of Mono-no aware is often difficult to successfully describe in words. However, the almost untranslatable term refers to the melancholic realization that everything is temporary. It is the awareness of the fleeting nature of things. Literally translated to “the pathos of things”, it means an empathy or sensitivity towards things that transient and last only for a short period. This Japanese phrase for awareness of impermanence involves both feelings of joy and sadness as this is the truth of life.

Whether it’s the changing of seasons, the fading of youth, or the impermanence of love, all things should be cherished for their transitory nature instead of being mourned. When we learn to do that, we learn to appreciate the true beauty of everything.

Mono No Aware can be best explained as “the ephemeral nature of beauty.” It refers to the subtle bittersweet feeling you experience when you are aware that nothing is meant to last forever, no matter how good or bad. It is characterized by our appreciation and heartache of the transient nature of things, people, love and even life

[Vanja Vanja] (Buddhism Tao Zen and Meditation)

[rsmrnn]

Pathologic x Morphine (Bulgakov)

Inspired by this fic!!

[zeiinoviahh]

D. Dankovsky. Capital, 18XX

(he/him)

[hlebopecc]

da utopianss

[when-sanpape-arts]

some pathologic doodles from like 2022(?) that i forgot to post

[fennelwasp]

He has misinterpreted the tradgedians

[tommynb]

[seventeendeer]

this isn't at all meant to be condescending or finger-waggy because 100% we all have blind spots like this, but I'm really, really hoping that the people who never found Gaiman's approach to his own fandom concerning in any way will take this all as a learning moment.

he was an older, hyper-famous author engaging directly and frequently with an online audience of largely vulnerable young marginalized people. he presented himself as cultured and worldly, and made himself approachable as someone to go to for advice, encouragement and "wisdom." his manner of speech was extremely pathos-heavy and clearly intended to be comforting and encouraging in exactly the way his target demographic needed it to be to swallow every word. the way he spoke about stories and creativity was designed to make young creative hopefuls feel special and important, while sweeping real analytical techniques under the rug - in hindsight, likely so no one would think too critically about the disturbing amount of patriarchal abuse played for cheap shock value and voyerism in his own body of works.

Gaiman saw a target demographic that was desperate for an older creative role model to tell them they were worth something, and he exploited that pain to twist a narrative around himself where he was king and any critique leveled at him or his works were the enemy.

to be clear, he could have been innocent. he could totally have been just an out-of-touch old man saying nice things to people because he wanted to be kind and he thought he was a lot smarter than he really was. red flags are warning signs, not a surefire way to tell if someone is actually "secretly shitty."

but if you used to look up to him, PLEASE take this moment to revisit the ideas you absorbed from him. did you take his words to heart because they seemed to have objective merit? or did you take them to heart because it felt good to believe what he said? do you still hold these values? does knowing he was intentionally manipulating his online audience make you less certain? do you need more information from a different source before deciding one way or another?

again, I'm just really, really hoping people on here will take a moment to reevaluate the ideas and opinions he's injected into tumblr fandom culture, because his reach is immense and he has absolutely been manipulating popular perception of relevant topics to gain further influence and control the narrative around both his own and Pratchett's legacy. please, please take this moment to notice what he's been doing - and next time someone tries to pull the same shit, hopefully we'll be able to apply what we've learned from experience.

[mapsofnonexistentplaces]

honestly the older ive gotten the more ive become disillusioned with 'xyz white character but now they're brown!' and it sucks because i absolutely do not mean it in the usual 'weh weh making everything woke' way but rather that many people who seek to diversify casts of mostly white/pale people never think through the cultural implications of what they're penning down yknow. like to be honest if you just pick up a white character and go 'theyre brown now look at my awesome redesign' i kind of feel nothing because textually that is just a white person wearing the skin of a poc and it's not like. representation. at worst it gets straight up tokenising. maybe it's just because it's actually very easy to find 'diverse' media that is not written by some white dude that is writing every character from the perspective of a white dude (there are so many brown characters that just read as white because the author does not put any effort into distinguishing lived experiences) and i find it much more fulfilling to take somewhat underdeveloped characters that are clearly meant to be ethnic and rightfully elaborate on them rather than slap a stamp of approval on some white guy. Not to mention the fact that sometimes a character being white is actually very informative of their place in society and their inherited cultural bigotry but then people turn around and contradict that which is like, not something i'm critiquing from a "how dare you ruin this white character" standpoint but from a "you have to make very convoluted steps and bounds to explain why this brown character acts like a white bigot and it quickly gets very uncomfortable" one. yknow. and tangentially i think the same thing with people randomly headcanoning characters as trans. like sure you want to project but sometimes i think its worth asking yourself 'is this character a critique of cis white men and how does making them marginalised change the implications'. like people can have their fun but damn man sometimes it just gets in the way. does that make sense.

[astrology-bf]

#wipwednesday

[scandalousadventures]

Town-on-Gorkhon map carpet! This is what the Powers That Be were playing on the whole time

Who is YOUR 🫵 favourite Pathologic building???

[funky-solaris-time]

||JADE SHADOW SPOILERS||

Me: Jade Shadows was a beautiful story about one man grappling with the hardest choice a person expecting a child can be given. To chose between his love and their child. And when he realizes she cannot be saved, he instead saves their child, and his future. Choosing to renounce the hatred that he had formed to fill the void in his heart.

Tennoblr: the quest wasn’t what I wanted. Terrible, horrible. Absolutely nothing of value was experienced hear.

[thanatika]

yeah i agree with your point about survival mechanics and i feel the same way about the lack of combat mechanics. "why would an educated city doctor need a weapon" because shit is hitting the fan in every way impossible and pretty much everyone is walking around armed... also why am i supposed to believe the the fact that he's a man of intellect will somehow provide him with food? i don't think anyone is going to be too eager to share food during an outbreak intellectual or not...

+ follow up for the previous ask but actually my favorite quest from the original pathologic is the day 11 bachelor quest that involves shooting down soldiers. i think it really drives the point home about how this random fuckass guy who is supposed to be battling a plague doesn't even have the time to do that anymore because the people in charge are asking completely irrelevant things of him now and he's at a position where he cannot refuse what is being asked of him. like i think it was good storytelling that even as the guy who lowkey wants to deal with the plague and solve its mystery you still have other, more pressing, less interesting and or pleasant tasks to complete

i agree! honestly, i feel this way about the combat mechanics even more than i do about the physical survival (food, health, illness, sleep) mechanics. because sure, i can see how it makes sense for daniil's position of authority to mean that his basic needs are somewhat provided for -- although i don't think it makes more sense than what we got in the original game. i've never seen anyone bring up "isn't it kind of unrealistic that the bachelor isn't given lots of food during a massive food shortage?" as a plothole that needed to be resolved. the townspeople generally don't like him much, and most of the people with power don't either, except for the kains. sure, maybe it's kind of weird that you can go see the kains while broke and on the verge of keeling over from hunger, and they won't do anything to help you, but... the kains are pretty self-centered, and they're so goddamn weird that maybe they forget that you need to eat food to live anyway. and it's half-implied that the powers that be are ultimately giving daniil this role as a convenient way to kill him, so it makes sense that they would put no pressure on the town authorities to keep him alive.

(and honestly, artemy is taken under the olgimsky's auspices as much as the kains take daniil's under theirs! which is to say, selfishly, with ulterior motives that are more important to them than the well-being of their healer, but... the olgimskys are set up as the wealthiest of the 3 families financially, as well as the ones with the most access to food, given their control over the meat industry. so if anything it's "weirder" that artemy isn't more materially provided for, though to be clear i don't think there's an actual plothole there either way.)

but anyway, you could handwave it and say that daniil's position of privilege and authority gives him more perks than he got in the original game, but the amount of fighting you have to do to get through town is... kind of an unavoidable physical reality? like you're given so many sidequests that you often wind up walking around town after dark, and that's when the bandits come out. is the idea that the bandits would be too scared to attack him because he's so important? because that doesn't make a lot of sense to me, and even pathologic 2 establishes that he's seen as a valuable target by the bandits:

and then there's the quests where combat plays a more direct role in the story itself, like getting involved in saving andrey from the firing squad, or killing guards to break artemy out of prison, or the quest where you have to kill var in attempt to stop the arsonists (which i include on the same tier as the other ones because i really like the quest journal entry he has if you complete it where he blames himself for willow's death. it's a good character moment.)

hell, even in pathologic 2 itself, one of the biggest Bachelor Moments is on day 11, when you have that big dramatic convo with him after he killed a soldier for the papers he was delivering. plus one of bad grief's idle dialogues in patho 2 is commentary on the bachelor being "quick on the draw" and that he "already shot someone". like he just straight up is not living a combat-free existence. and overall, combat isn't just a good tool from a mechanical perspective, heightening the stakes and placing pressure on the player (though it is), it's also pretty important for him on a thematic level imo, almost as important as artemy and his "rivers of blood". in patho classic, daniil has this early interaction with the inquisitor:

which, thinking about it from a doylist perspective, was probably the writers' attempt to make it sound more plausible that this random medical researcher from the big city was competent with multiple types of guns. and i appreciate them coming up with that hint of backstory to cover their bases a bit, but with those bases covered, i think the fact that daniil ultimately spends more time shooting people than he does prescribing medicines for them actually does a lot for him thematically? i mean, if his whole thing is that he's this "tempted destroyer", someone who frames his career as a combative battle with death rather than a quest to save people's lives, whose "default" solution is to raze the town with artillery because he's too limited by his rationalist worldview and military upbringing (and bitterness over being manipulated and sabotaged) to come up with a solution that saves the any remaining infected survivors on his own. plus the way that clara frames artemy and daniil as two sides of the same coin in being violent destroyers and killers, who without player intervention will immediately devolve to running around chasing each other down in what's either an insanely dedicated tom and jerry LARP or some really elaborate foreplay. imo, that whole dichotomy (which is pretty core to the game, as the idea of dichotomies are core to it in general) works so much better with the way they're both presented in classic, stalking around with gun/scalpel in hand. hell, not to mention the effect that spending 12 in-game days trying not to starve and getting killed by bandits or guards or worms or soldiers every day would have on the player, and the way it would make them feel about the town and their natural projection of those feelings onto dankovsky, who is a perfectly fitting vessel for them as the avatar actually undergoing those virtual experiences.

ultimately i think they are mainly going this direction out of a desire to do something more creative and original, which is fine... it just seems a bit silly to me that they keep saying "well obviously that doesn't really work for the bachelor's scenario", when, well... even as recently as patho 2 in 2019, they seemed to think it fit his narrative pretty well! i'm also guessing that a lack of combat won't be that bandits are just no longer roaming the streets at night. it sounds more like pathologic 3 is set to be more of a nonlinear experience, where you'll probably fast travel from place to place instead of having to walk across town so much? so you'll be avoiding bandits just in the sense that the gameplay will be avoiding them. i guess i'm hoping that at the very least, there's still the implication of the crunch of not getting enough sleep or food and the threat of being stabbed to death while trying to get through town occurring to dankovsky in the background, even if those mechanics are deemphasized in favor of more macro-level town resource management, time control, and sherlock holmes fruit ninja or whatever the hell they were on about back in 2022 lmao.

[likopinina]

I like to imagine that the plot of the Bachelor's route in Pathologic 1 does not include a lot of moral novelty for Dankovsky. All that bribery, extortion, and murder? Been there done that. Nihil novi sub sole, if you'll excuse the Latin. Gotta keep the lights on in Thanatica and that lab ain't runnin on kindness alone. This headcanon was sponsored by my first night in town when there wasn't much to do, but there was a guy throwing knives at me, so I went: