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There's "spaghetti western" and then there's whatever the hell this Chef Boyardee shit is

Hello! and welcome back to Wifelink. We're talking about Outlaws of Thunder Junction today, Magic's second product in a row set in a version of Nevada, and let me tell you something: I am not impressed. The mechanics are uninspired, the setting is undercooked, the story is overstuffed, and to top it all off the whole thing smacks of settler-colonialism. AND they yassified Vraska, the monsters!

WE WILL GET TO THE HOT WOMEN, BELIEVE YOU ME, BUT FIRST I AM GOING TO COMPLAIN SOMEWHAT, AS IS MY RIGHT AS AN AMERICAN, AS A HUMAN BEING, AND AS A GAMER

The mechanics we've discussed elsewhere, and I will skim over the main storyline except to say that very few of this Big Villain Heist Team-Up gets enough spotlight to justify their inclusion here beyond getting recognizable names on cards, and that Rakdos' presence on the plane alone ought to be an apocalyptic calamity. I appreciate Jace & Vraska going full blackpilled accelerationist, stealing a baby, and aiming to destroy the multiverse & start over (a novel hybrid of Raising Arizona and Doctor Strangelove,) but I also know, sure as the sun rises, that whatever happens with their villain arc will be a underwhelming let-down.

What I actually want to complain about, though, is the setting. Thunder Junction ain't real, and I don't mean it's fictional, I mean it's plywood facades on a backlot. It's the set for a cowboy film. You feel me? This ain't a plane, it's a god damned sound stage.

Lemme go over the facts: we know Thunder Junction has been settled for a bit over a year. A year! - and yet there's multiple towns, multiple railways, and an honest-to-god metropolis. Less than two years and we already have ghost towns! This is not the product of a bunch of people on various planes all individually deciding to seek a new life in the off-world colonies. All of this represents a staggering quantity of people, material, wealth, and labor, being moved between planes, directed and organized - but by whom? For what reason? How, even? The story is totally uninterested in these questions.

One of the few silver linings to the way the Phyrexian invasion storyline ended was that the Omenpaths had a lot of interesting potential! Different planes would come into direct contact with each other for the first time ever! Different technologies, different philosophies and religions, different kinds of magic colliding, coming into conflict, adapting and adjusting to each other. And after a couple of sets where the interplanar contact was limited to one or two particularly adventurous individuals, we finally get to see what interplanar contact at scale looks like here in Thunder Junction... and it just looks like a John Wayne flick. Did people not bring their culture with them? Is there a big rack of hats and boots and dusters right where people step off the Omenpath? Shuck off those old Ravnican rags, kid, get changed. You'll spoil the aesthetic. I mean, it's baffling.

Luxurious Locomotive (art by Leon Tukker). This is one of the few man-made parts of this plane that I can look at and know where it came from: this is a Kaladeshi design. More of this sort of thing would have made Thunder Junction feel more like a real place and less like a Sergio Leone joint.

There's a side story, No Tells, by Isaac Fellman, which I quite like actually: it's about guilt and betrayal and the inevitable regrets of having moved into a queer housing co-op, and one of the things that makes it great is that we know where Yuma came from (New Capenna), we know why he left (the limitations of "be gay do crimes" as praxis under capitalism), and we know what he brought to Thunder Junction with him (cocktails, pool tables, and his co-op's emergency funds). Fellman has written nothing else for Wizards and doesn't play Magic, and even so he's done more to make Thunder Junction feel like a real place situated in a real history than the rest of the story team combined - which goes to show, one, that we should only let trans people write magic story for the next decade or so, and two, that what I'm asking for in terms of worldbuilding is not unattainable, or even that difficult.

And all of this ties into the colonialism, right? Thunder Junction is being colonized, and asking questions about who benefits, who's sponsoring this breakneck settlement of the plane, what they're after and so forth would require the story to take a good hard look at the process of colonization itself, and Wizards is flatly unwilling to engage with anything that thorny in their products. So, just as Ixalan involved a limp-wristed slant reenactment of the Spanish conquest of the Americas - but it's fine because they're the bad guys and they're technically not even trying to colonize Ixalan and they don't win anyway so no one gets hurt! - Thunder Junction is attempting to present a Disneyland version of Western colonialism. Untamed wilderness! Bringing civilization to uninhabited deserts! How cool and heroic these hard frontiersmen and -women are! I'm told they brought in Navajo cultural consultants for the Atiin, a fantasy equivalent, and I hope those folks were well compensated! The Atiin seem cool, and the one Atiin character we spend any time with is well-written, but the Atiin are not indigenous to Thunder Junction. They're not being colonized. And if there weren't anybody being colonized, I'd probably still dislike the colonial vision of a wild land inhabited only by animals, just waiting for us to shape it to our will with railways and violence, but there is in fact a native race of sapients on Thunder Junction, and these cactus folk get no voice in the story, so if they have some kind of opinion on the rapid colonization of their home and the clear-cutting of their cactus forests, we don't get to hear about it.

Prickly Pair (art by Brian Valeza) Too much of the extremely-limited presence Thunder Junction's only indigenous sapients have on the cards is devoted to cactus-based puns like this one, which is pretty distasteful given, you know, the colonialism.

I'm talking about colonialism not because I think that replicating colonial myths in fantasy fiction is an unethical thing to do - although it is - but because you can see, right, that Thunder Junction's lack of verisimilitude is intertwined with the colonial vision of the world at play here, yeah? The story wants to have cool cowboy shootouts and train robberies and it does not want its cowboy fantasy to be complicated by uncomfortable realities, so it has to avoid all of the basic worldbuilding questions that would tell us who the colonization benefits and how they're profiting off the plane, and in the end we're left with nothing but an empty aesthetic, like a duster hanging off a scarecrow, blowing in the wind.

ANYWAY SO WOMEN

To be honest, under the circumstances I'm not really feeling like giving the fine women of Thunder Junction my usual more elaborate treatment, so we're going to lightning-round this shit, which is at least thematic.

Blood Hustler (art by Anna Pavleeva)

Vampire MILF.

Rattleback Apothecary (art by Loïc Canavaggia)

Snake MILF.

Wrangler of the Damned (art by Michal Ivan)

Cis lesbian haircut, good with a rope.

Obeka, Splitter of Seconds (art by Ryan Pancoast)

BIG

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Wifelink: Murders! #sponsored

Welcome back to the best dumb idea I've ever had! Murder has come to the City of Guilds. Well, murder lives here, but it's crept out of the shadows, crawled up from the undercity, slunk through steam and oozed its way out of the breeding pools, and guild leaders are dropping like coins from a debtor's mouth. Who could be responsible? Who could be next? Who was that woman slipping furtively into an alley, and what's her deal? Is she single? Some of these questions and more will be answered on today's episode. Live from Ravnica, this... is Wifelink.

But first, a word from today's sponsor: picture this - it's your turn to host the monthly meeting of your true crime book club, and you maybe haven't finished Massacre: the true story of Ravnica's bloodiest killings and the woman behind them, and now you're trying to decide whether to finish it so you don't look like an idiot in the discussion group, or to spend time whipping up hors d'oeuvres so you don't have to serve everyone the same stupid veggies-and-ranch plate you did last time and suffer once more through Joanna's veiled disapproval. But what if I told you there was a way to get professionally-made charcuterie shipped directly to your home, leaving you the time you need to finish your last few chapters and craft a trenchant discussion question just in time for the doorbell? With Hello Flesh, it's just that easy: the incredible chefs at Hellbender will provide you with a mouthwatering selection of their finest meats: prosciutto, summer sausage, capicola, pastrami, and much, much more! Go to helloflesh dot com now, and sign up using offer code KNIFELINK to get your first month absolutely free! That's helloflesh dot com, offer code K-N-I-F-E-L-I-N-K. Hello Flesh: Don't ask where the meat comes from.

WAIT, WE'RE DOING RAVNICA? DIDN'T YOU SKIP A COUPLE SETS

What are you, Azorius? I've never felt any fondness for Eldraine, and I really didn't vibe with the new Ixalan set, so we're doing the Ravnica Murder Mystery set. I'm not going to do every single set that comes out or this will be my full-time job by 2026.

Cold Case Cracker (art by Wayne Wu)

Some things are very simple. Good cheekbones and the classic trench coat with the wide belt. I particularly enjoy the way her hair looks more like strips of fabric or parchment.

Merchant of Truth (art by Carissa Susilo)

"Goth angel" works on me every time, and this piece is particularly gorgeous - the composition and that dress, my goodness. You don't see a lot of angels from behind in Magic, on account of you would have to figure out what the anatomy and clothing situation is where the wings connect to the back, and Carissa has solved the clothing problem rather elegantly, and refused to engage with the anatomy problem at all. I can respect that.

I've never quite understood what's going on with Orzhov angels - I think they're mostly supposed to be disillusioned ex-Boros, but they don't really get much of a voice in story. You've got the flavor text on Angel of Despair, "it is as if their duty is to an empty void," but that's a quote from the most Boros of all the angels. Perhaps it's simply that the Orzhov don't labor under the same illusions as the other white-aligned guilds - the Boros and the Azorius and as we see in this story, even the Selesnya are all firmly entrenched in the idea that they stand for what's Right and Good on Ravnica, but ultimately they stand only for themselves and their own power and pre-eminence. The Orzhov, at least, make no secret of this. Maybe that's a comfort, to an angel.

Experiment Twelve (art by Michele Giorgi)

Oh baby girl the Simic fucked you right up, didn't they. Claws and scales and some sort of muzzle - do you feel like an animal, now? Do you hate what they did to you, or do you glory in your new sharpness? Did you escape, or are you on their leash? Are you hunted, or am I?

Bubble Smuggler (art by Leesha Hannigan)

This is Glovax. I've only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in the room and then myself.

Honestly I'm disconsolate that this isn't a real animal that exists in the world and that I'll never get to rescue one from an aquarium and have an octopus fish best friend for life. You know that soul-sick feeling you get when you remember that Anomalocaris has been extinct for 500 million years ago and that you will never be able to pet one? Yeah. Goddammit they're going to make this a pet on Arena and I will spend real earth dollars on it.

ALL THESE TENTACLES AND STILL THE BIGGEST SUCKER IS YOU. NOW MAKE WITH THE LEGENDARIES

Etrata, Deadly Fugitive (art by Livia Prima)

I have looked at a whole lot of Etrata art, and do you want to know my considered opinion? This outfit fucking rules. It's got one and a quarter sleeves, thirteen visible buckles, a circular collar that connects only at the sternum, and a clingy ankle-length skirt with a slit damn near up to the thigh to reveal more buckles. It is the least practical outfit I can imagine an assassin wearing short of an inflatable dinosaur costume but god, it looks like it's meant for deadly stealth, and I am in love. Etrata is broody and gorgeous and has a big knife and extraordinarily naked shoulders, and what else could you want?

Judith, Carnage Connoisseur (art by Jodie Muir)

A look specifically crafted to elicit "step on me mommy"s from the general public. I'm on record as saying that there's no way Judith does any sort of aftercare, so maybe have a Selesnya cleric on speed-dial if you're gonna run that risk.

Judith, Carnage Connoisseur (alternate art by Alex Dos Diaz)

I think Loxodon Hierarch is screening my calls.

Honestly, I would do stupid, stupid things for a pretty girl with red eyes, sharp nails and facial scarring. I'm not sure what kinds of things I would do for a pretty girl with gold flame decals on her arms, but based on prior evidence, they would probably also be extremely stupid.

Izoni, Center of the Web (art by Justine Cruz)

It's weird how people get locked in your memory at the point in time you knew them. You know you've changed a lot since then, and if you thought about it you'd agree other people might well also have changed, but you don't think about it, and then you run into an old friend or an ex and the things you knew them for, the things you've tied their memory to in your mind, aren't even still part of their life.

So Izoni, my beloved Izoni, Ravnica's foremost bug girl and finder of beetles, has moved on with her life in the past six years. She's into spiders now, that's her thing. She's a spider girl. And that's cool, spiders are cool, too, but the way this went in my head I was going to tell her about the mantis-riders of Tarkir and the dune-beetles of Amonkhet and the behavioral quirks of giant ants on Innistrad and now, instead, I'm not sure what to say. "You're looking well," I suppose, or something about, "so, leading the Swarm now? How's that going for you?"

Analyze the Pollen (art by Anna Christenson)

It's not even that big a change, really. Hardly noticeable. She still has that same intensity, that same curiosity. Her brows still furrow in concentration. She's still covered in crawling things, and she is still the most beautiful woman on Ravnica. Spiders or insects, what's the difference? All it means is that six years have passed. All it means is that the places and people you love continue to move in your absence. All it means is that you're both talking past each other to your echoes, to the people you used to know, who no longer exist. Time has eaten them both.

And if you, like time, get hungry, don't forget to use our affiliate code KNIFELINK at -

HEY. HELLO FLESH IS A RAKDOS JOINT, RIGHT

- in the middle of the ad read, dude?

YOU SAID HELLBENDER CHEFS DO THE CHARCUTERIE. THAT'S JUDITH'S PLACE

Yeah, what about it?

DO YOU THINK SHE'S GONNA BE GOOD WITH CONTENT SHE SPONSORED CALLING SOMEONE ELSE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN RAVNICA

Ah.

OR LIKE DO YOU THINK SHE'S GENERALLY COMFORTABLE SHARING THE SPOTLIGHT

...so thank you all so much for listening to this episode of Wifelink! I'm going to lay low for a bit, and if my body turns up face-down in an undercity canal, y'all know who did it.

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I still enjoyed the ditch essay and found it pretty useful, FWIW, so I hope you don't think that writing it was a complete waste of your time.

Thank you for that. There's probably a more rigorous version of the idea of the ditch that could be built out, but personally I mostly just use it to be like "oh that seems like a boring analytical lens, so I'm going to ignore it," which I can do because I'm under no obligation to win or even participate in any given argument, which is a liberating realization. Plenty of people, well-intentioned or otherwise, will read something you wrote and respond with something that reveals they've completely missed the on-ramp. I value clear communication in writing, but I also value knowing who the target audience is, and I do think it's fine to be like, oh, you didn't get the first thing about this? Cool, either figure it out or go away, I'm busy.

Canopy Spider (art by Mike Raabe)

Anyway, I got you this picture of a spider from Seventh Edition because I thought it was cute, and so can you.

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HEY WHAT'S UP

So, funny story, I was watching a guy stream a Warhammer 40K game, and by "stream a Warhammer 40K game" I mean he had the game open to the character-select screen while talking about fascist aesthetics and Warhammer for an hour and a half, and all the while this growing certainty gnawed at my hindbrain like, oh man I'm going to have to issue a substantial correction, and I really didn't want to have to talk about fascist aesthetics yet again, but here we are. Okay.

The problem is that I've argued in the past for a mostly transsexual reading of Phyrexia by arguing against the more common reading of them as a fascist faction, saying the Phyrexian aesthetic is incompatible with the idealized heroic figures of fascist iconography, and that's basically true if we're talking about German Nazism specifically. Unfortunately, there's a bunch of other fascisms out there, and the guy whose stream I was watching (Cameron Lauder of LRR, if you wanna know) was quoting from Marinetti's Futurist Manifesto and I was like oh, no this is eminently compatible with Phyrexia. He wants to fuck a train for being a fast, powerful, violent machine; this man might as well summer in the Hunter Maze.

And in retrospect, since different valid readings of a text can simultaneously exist, the only reason I felt I had to argue against the fascist reading is that I didn't want to be tarred and feathered for a philia for fictional Phyrexian fascists, you know? Not that it worked - I still got angry notes. So, okay, the fascist reading is also correct. This leaves Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia mostly intact - good! - but the ditch essay pretty thoroughly eviscerated, since the whole point of it was trying to shore up precisely that part of the first essay's argument, and I'm not sure what's left is worth much. "The Ditch" is like a power drill: a useful shortcut if you know what you're doing, and capable of doing a fair bit of damage if you don't. Ah, well.

I SEEM TO RECALL THIS PLACE USED TO BE FOR REVIEWING PICTURES OF HOT WOMEN ON CARDSTOCK?

Yes, well. We'll get back there, but I got covid, so: happy new year, and good luck.

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The time has come once more. In my beneficence and might I have chosen to bestow upon the peoples of the earth my great work. Look on the perfection of my Halloween playlist, you unworthy, and shiver.

You have questions, of course, but I have anticipated your insect whine and so plucked answers out of stone and thunder. Be grateful.

You will ask—can such a gift truly be meant for us, lowly and unworthy as we are? I have already said—it is meant for you and for all the peoples of the earth and for no one else.

You will ask—does this come to us free of price or condition? I have already said—fools (though I do not say it unkindly)—there is a condition and a price.

You will ask—we are certain that the condition is just and the price is generous, but may we know them? I have already said—my condition is this: as you would not rearrange the words in a book or the atoms in a hydrocarbon, so too will you not rearrange the songs in my playlist. The shuffle button does not exist for you. And so, too, have I already said—my price is this: when you gather together to celebrate the night, you will pour unto me a libation of red wine (zinfandel, ideally), or else scotch, or whatever you have on hand. This shall be pleasing in my sight.

And you will ask—Great One, if we may be so bold, we have our own songs befitting the holiday; may we send them to you for your judgment and perhaps even incorporation into next year's playlist? And I have already said—it is meet for you to participate in the work of creation. I permit this, so long as you do not send me the Monster Mash.

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TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT

So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"

The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?

And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?

INTRODUCING: THE DITCH

There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.

And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?

So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.

Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?

There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.

Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.

There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.

Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.

And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.

There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...

SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]

We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?

Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)

In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.

So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.

Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:

Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?

Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?

SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU

There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.

The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.

There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.

A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.

Do you get it now?

ENDNOTES

It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.

I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.

I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.

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Yeah alright let’s talk Tarkir

Getting this out of the way: I do not care about Alesha, so if you were coming here ready to hear anything about the first-ever transgender girl out of Magic*, sorry to disappoint.

Actually, yeah, I’m gonna talk about this for a little bit. I understand Alesha means a lot to some people, and I’m not saying they’re wrong to feel that way. I’m sure there are people who had to fight to make Alesha openly & canonically trans, and I’m not saying that this was meaningless, wasted effort. It’s nice to be able to point to someone and say, see, there’s a place for people like me here. I was excited about it at the time and I wasn’t even into Magic back then.

But like c’mon, y’all, she’s not really a character, right? She gets one story, the thrust of which is, “this character is trans, and that’s basically fine.” Alesha exists to be part of the banner image of the internal WotC LGBT employees’ monthly newsletter. She exists to be the discord avatar for every third trans girl into Magic. She exists so a massive corporation can point to her as evidence that they care in some nebulous way about trans people, and she costs slightly less than paying someone to, say, actually moderate the hate speech comments on their vids of Autumn Burchett’s pro tour games.

All of which is to say, they don’t actually care. You know this. Individual staff, writers, artists - sure, but they’re not the ones who make the final decisions. And you and I deserve better from our stories, and we’re never going to get that from fucking Hasbro, right?

So here’s my pitch: seek out actual queer stories, and I’m not talking about contemporary YA shit with a marketing budget. For readers of this specific blog I’d recommend looking up “Attack Helicopter” by Isabel Fall (you should still be able to find it online). Stories where the texture and structure of thought are queer and trans are revelatory. You don’t need to beg for crumbs from a megacorp’s table.

ANYWAY, COMMA,

welcome to Tarkir! There used to not be dragons here, but now there are. In either timeline, everyone is locked in a brutal, unending struggle of clan-against-clan, so thanks, Sarkhan? Yeah, no, I hear you, it’s definitely different now. Yeah, and better. Yeah, because of the...yeah, because there’s dragons now, right. No, you did great, buddy. You really, uh, made a difference.

JESUS, IS HE CRYING? GET ME OUT OF HERE PLEASE

Monastery Swiftspear (art by Steve Argyle)

I’ve come to think of the current era of MtG art (let’s arbitrarily say from Kaladesh block to the present) as the “Magali Villeneuve era”, and if I’m being totally honest, I kind of hate it. Everything is technically competent, clearly lit, and immaculately detailed. Everyone has amazing cheekbones. It is so, so boring. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad artist! Sometimes, as with Kaldheim, she is very nearly the only person in a set making good art. I’ve featured her work on here many, many times.

What I am saying is that her work always has this, like, objectivity to it that feels detached and even alienating, like we’re looking at these characters through a powerful telescope. There’s no stylization, and dare I say no style.

The reason I bring her up in a set in which I will not be reviewing her work (sorry, Narset fans), is that Steve Argyle makes for an interesting comparison. They are to my untrained eye very similar artists: the sharp linework, the combination of dynamics and detachment. The major difference is that Steve’s art is substantially hornier and substantially male-gazier.

And goddammit, at least that’s something.

I HAVE THIS OPINION BECAUSE I’M A BAD FEMINIST. AND I DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED ABOUT IT

Unyielding Krumar (art by Viktor Titov)

I’m not sure why Viktor made this orc look like a ripped lizard man. None of the other orcs in this block look like this. Maybe he thought “krumar” was a species of lizard folk, when in point of fact a krumar is, checks notes, an orphan of the Mardu raised by the Abzan who killed their parents in a twist of worldbuilding regrettably reminiscent of a strategy used in real-world genocides. Whoops!

Anyway, big arms. Lizard person. Sorry about your family.

WIZARDS STAY CLASSY I GUESS

Ire Shaman (art by Jack Wang)

Yeah, see, extremely not a lizard.

We’re not going to talk about armor practicality because that is very much beside the point, but we were all thinking it, and I want to acknowledge that before moving onto saying nice things about what all the leather bands are doing for her arms, and what this lamellar bustier is doing for her tits.

YEAH I KNOW WHAT LAMELLAR IS. PRETTY HOT, RIGHT

Den Protector (art by Viktor Titov)

I am not immune to mothers, nor women in furs, and I’m especially not immune to women with big two-handed weapons (in either sense, I suppose.) I really like the sense of motion in this picture, and the dynamic thrust of the landscape behind her, and... hm. Is her right-hand grip reversed from what it should be? Dammit, that’s going to bother me.

I LIKE MY WOMEN TO HAVE BETTER GRIP TECHNIQUE IS ALL I’M SAYING

Wandering Champion (art by Willian Murai)

I am trying really, really hard not to date myself by a reference to a shitty 20-year-old flash animation. Anyway! she has flexibility, power, and isn’t afraid of a little viscera now and again. All excellent qualities.

I AM HONESTLY EXERCISING IMMENSE SELF-RESTRAINT HERE

Sultai Flayer (art by Izzy)

Sorry, do you not want a forty-foot androgyne snake person to remove your skin with tender, agonizing slowness? Are you lost?

WHY DON’T YOU MARRY YOUR SKIN IF YOU’RE SO GODDAMN ATTACHED TO IT. PUSSY.

Highspire Mantis (art by Igor Kieryluk)

I did the mantis bit in my Battle for Zendikar post, but I thought I’d actually dig into what the appeal is here: raptorial forelimbs. The inescapable, serrated hold of something that could slice you open as easy as thinking, but hasn’t yet. The smoothness of chitin, hard without being inflexible. The many strange articulations. And then either you make out or it eats your head, and it is not up to you which.

WHEN WILL WIZARDS GIVE US THE MANTIS-FUCKER REPRESENTATION WE DESERVE. ROSEWATER’S SILENCE ON THIS ISSUE IS DEAFENING.

Alright, that’s Tarkir down! Who knows what’s next? Probably a very cranky explanation of what fiction is and why it’s okay to like fictional bad guys (it’s because they’re not real.) At first I thought that was going to be a more interesting topic, but the more I think about it the more it seems like it’s...really not. I can have fun with it, though! Thanks for reading, and I’ll see y’all next time.

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*the first-ever transgender girl out of Magic/had to settle on a name/and the top three contenders after weeks of debate/were Alesha/and Shensu/and the Kolaghan Bomber

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it’s 2015 and i am

sitting on my mattress on the floor in the spare bedroom of the chicago condo my friend’s parents bought for them with oil company money. both of us have undiagnosed and unmedicated adhd. neither of us clean. the wide, shallow bathroom sink grows a yellow-black film of residue and shaved hair.

i am trying to come to terms with being dead. the year prior was a cascade of horror, a chain of a hundred different sudden sickenings in the gut, and as far as the world and most people in it are concerned, i no longer exist - which would have been more than fine with me, except that time continues to pass.

until recently, porpentine had been writing a column for rock paper shotgun called live free play hard, reviewing free indie games. itch.io is in its infancy, but unity is ten years old now and really starting to come into its own, and this is the heyday of the so-called walking simulator - Dear Esther in 2012 to Firewatch in 2016. i never played most of the big names, the ones that attracted all that sneering gamergate hatred (Gone Home excepted) - after all, they cost money, and in 2015, i didn’t have any of that. so every porpentine article was a damp, fertile patch of sometimes-delicious always-free mushrooms. i play a LOT of itch.io games that year, and i’ve been missing them lately, so i wanted to talk about them here.

live free play hard is a decade old, at this point. links are dead. games don’t quite run the same on modern computers. twine games which once had music are now silent. these are some of the survivors.

their angelical understanding by porpentine, herself. ***STROBE WARNING*** and also for a text-based game this is an intense PTSD simulator. i considered linking others of her games here: neon haze (link appears to be broken), CYBERQUEEN (about which i’ve already said a lot) or howling dogs (which is arguably still her best), but i went with t.a.u. because, well, in 2015 a PTSD simulator was what i needed.

CHYRZA by kitty horrorshow kh has probably Made It as an indie artist more than anyone else on this list? my metric for this is that there are two whole jacob geller video essays about her games. CHYRZA is pure tone: jittery unity platforming up desert monuments collecting audiologs. trust me, it’s really effective.

Bernband by Tom van den Boogaart this one still runs, but there’s a bit of slowdown in some areas. this is pure exploration through a very pixelly alien city: nightclubs, power stations, overpasses, late-night noodle bars. an empty chapel. a trumpet recital. the empty corridors and stairwells between everything. it’s stuck with me for all these years.

SABBAT by oh no problems this is the least subtle it is possible for a text game to be. it starts with animal sacrifice and gets really fucking explicit from there. as someone who had at the time cut a picture of baphomet out of the liner notes from a random black metal cd found in a des moine record store and taped it to my bedroom doorpost like a mezuzah, all i really wanted from SABBAT was the ability to have snakes for dicks, and buddy, it delivers. i remember there used to be a sort of sludgey doom metal soundtrack, but it doesn’t seem to exist anymore, and the credits link to a nonexistent soundcloud. so it goes.

HEARTWOOD by Kerry Turner hahaha man i’d completely forgotten about this game until i went back through the archives but fuck, it rules. it’s so simple. it’s pure sensation. i loved it then and i love it now.

Off-Peak by Cosmo D i think Cosmo D is still going strong these days! actually, i’m pretty sure i have unplayed games by them in my steam library, i should fix that. Off-Peak is a jazz exploration of the world’s most colorful train station. people are playing bespoke 2015 eurogames. a vendor is selling a bunch of sheet music that musicians have had to pawn, what with the way the economy is going. you understand. triplets stalk you. a man strokes a cow, menacingly. i would say it’s peak itch.io, but in point of fact it is, of course, off-peak itch.io.

anyway i lived, eventually, and went on to make art of my own, but it’s my belief - it’s my hope - that all my writing carries the spores these games and games like them put in me when i was dead and decaying and fertile ground for such things. i hope you play some of them. i hope you enjoy them. thanks for reading <3

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i’m just saying someone could in theory devote an entire blog to the ways in which magic: the gathering is extremely not sexless. that could conceivably happen.

how are people hornyposting about magic now. magic the gathering is possibly the most sexless game ever created

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you guys i’m starting to think magic story might not be that good

I’m really really happy the Phyrexia essay found its intended audience, and i’m glad it resonated so deeply with so many of you! People have asked me if they can quote it or lift concepts from it, and the answer is yes, absolutely! Please attribute it to me if you do, and if you want to send me whatever you’re using it in I would love to read it, though that’s optional. That’s the first thing.

The second thing is, man, was March of the Machine story a wet dud or what? I try to set my expectations low with official WotC stuff, but I did not have them set anywhere near low enough. Consequently, it’s been difficult to muster the energy lately to do things on this blog because, like, jeez, what an unceremonious and largely consequence-free waste of potential all of that was (except for the Ixalan story. The Ixalan story had everything: amazing kaiju fights [sorry Ikoria] and Magic’s best lesbian couple [sorry Gruulfriends, also congrats Gruulfriends.] “But what about the Ravnica story?” you, an incorrect person, say, “I thought the Ravnica story was really good,” you continue, incorrectly. The Ravnica story was very bad! It had really good ideas in it, but it was exceedingly-poorly written. My most charitable interpretation is that there was a miscommunication, and the author expected there would be a thorough editorial pass, and instead they just published it as-is. Sad! I would have really enjoyed a well-written version of that story. </hater>) But also it’s been difficult to muster enthusiasm to do Magic stuff lately because of WotC’s extracurriculars (increasingly-predatory attempts to more thoroughly monetize D&D, the fucking thing with the fucking Pinkertons.) But today I took an Adderall because it’s one of the rare days I actually have to focus on a task at work, and I’m using the residual focus to post an overdue update here, hello!

And I’m not done with this blog! Far from it. I’m going to keep posting dumb horny card art reviews here, for sure, but here’s some other stuff you can expect to see in the next few months or so:

1. a follow-up to the Phyrexia essay digging into the question of what a “fascist aesthetic” is, what it’s for in fiction, what it means to enjoy things that contain those elements. I think this is a really interesting topic with a lot of depth and hopefully nuance to it, and I really only skirted it in the original essay, and oh man did people have things to say about that (most of them polite). I addressed a similar topic previously on this blog when I talked about the conquistador vampires in Ixalan, but I don’t think I’m satisfied with that post. I think we can also talk about how we engage with a text, and how we engage with a text like Magic: the Gathering specifically. This is a lot to cover, and it may end up getting trimmed down, or I may succumb entirely to the seduction of scope creep. Who can say!

2. an essay on chivalry in its historical contexts, how it’s been used, what purposes it serves in a society (its role, for instance, in sustaining white supremacy in America), and what it means when we encounter it in “sword lesbian” media (the Locked Tomb books, Revolutionary Girl Utena, etc.) This is going to require a great deal of research and I have no idea what my ultimate conclusion will be, but it’s a topic I’m personally very invested in for a whole host of reasons.

3, maybe. I’ve been toying with the idea of writing MtG fic for a while, because they keep wasting potential and I think I could do a better job. If I do, I’ll post it here, but no promises. Fiction isn’t my main genre, and fanfic isn’t something I’ve gotten seriously into before, despite being on tumblr since 2011. But someone needs to do Avacyn justice, so we’ll see.

4. other writing. I’m a lightly-published poet in real life, and I’m currently working on my first chapbook, so maybe I’ll try putting some of it on tumblr, and since this blog’s readership has surpassed my personal, I guess? I’d put it here? Or, possibly, the short horror stories I infrequently write. Again, we’ll see.

5. Obviously I’m going to keep doing the horny Magic card art reviews. I’m not feeling the new stuff right now, but there’s a lot of older sets I haven’t done yet. The Tarkir block is next - and in fact, I think that will be the next post on this blog. I think it’s time we started appreciating Monastery Swiftspear for more than her brutal efficiency in aggro decks, because frankly she’s a snack and this should be acknowledged.

Anyway, thank you all for reading, hit me up if you wanna play some Commander, and I’ll see y’all in the next one!

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Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia

There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. - Lewis Carroll, “The Lobster Quadrille,”

ONE.

There is a moment early in H.P. Lovecraft’s 1931 novella The Shadow over Innsmouth where the nameless narrator looks out from the rotting seaside hamlet where he has lucklessly ventured, to the so-called Devil Reef some ways out in the harbor, darkened by a cloud of evil rumor—and something curious happens: the narrator experiences two opposed sensations simultaneously. The “long, black line” of the reef conveys “a suggestion of odd latent malignancy,” but also, “a subtle, curious sense of beckoning seemed superadded to the grim repulsion.” This bit of foreshadowing—the reef both calling and repelling the narrator—only finds its denouement at the very end of the story, after our narrator has narrowly escaped Innsmouth, the fish-like monsters who swarm in off of Devil Reef and their part-human descendants who inhabit the town in an unconvincing and repellent simulacrum of humanity. After his escape, the narrator does some genealogical research into his own troubled family history, full of disappearances and suicides, and concludes that he himself is one such abyssal hybrid. As he ages, he finds himself changing to resemble them, and in his dreams he swims among them in undersea palaces and gardens. The call of the deep becomes impossible to ignore:

So far I have not shot myself as my uncle Douglas did. I bought an automatic and almost took the step, but certain dreams deterred me. The tense extremes of horror are lessening, and I feel queerly drawn toward the unknown sea-deeps instead of fearing them. I hear and do strange things in sleep, and awake with a kind of exaltation instead of terror.

In the end, the narrator embraces the change and determines to flee to those oceanic depths, to live “amidst wonder and glory for ever.”

This is horror.

Something curious also happens in Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House. Our heroine, Eleanor Vance, flees an unhappy life with a loveless sister to a haunted house, to take part in a paranormal experiment with three new friends. The haunting proceeds predictably but effectively: labyrinthine corridors, voices, unearthly cold, banging on doors, the rare apparition. The participants find themselves see-sawing between increasing night-time terror and a strangely intense joie de vivre by day, until one night, as the house seems to shake itself down upon its terrified guests in a dizzying cataclysm, Eleanor breaks:

She heard the laughter over all, coming thin and lunatic, rising in its little crazy tune, and thought, No; it is over for me. It is too much, she thought, I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.

By the next line, it is abruptly morning. The terror has ceased; the house stands. Its manifestations, for Eleanor, become benign: an unseen figure catches her beside a brook,

and she was held tight and safe. It is not cold at all, she thought, it is not cold at all.

She is through the horror now, on the other side of something. She becomes part of the haunting. Her senses encompass the whole of the house. She runs unafraid through the house by night, banging on doors, laughing as she eludes the other guests. When they finally catch up to her, it seems clear to them that Hill House has crept into her, that she has crossed some line, and they decide the best course of action is to send her away, in the hopes that with time she will return to this side, the normal side, the human side.

Instead, faced with rejection behind her and her old unhappy life before her, Eleanor Vance steers her car into a tree. There are holes which admit passage in only one direction. This, too, is horror.

In the 2018 film Annihilation, Lena (played by Natalie Portman) crosses a literal barrier called the Shimmer into a dangerous yet beautiful alien landscape full of mutated creatures. During their journey deeper into this territory, Lena and her companions realize that they themselves are also changing under the alien influence. Some break under the realization. Some surrender to the change and vanish into the landscape. Lena alone returns from the heart of the phenomenon, but she is no longer herself. Is this still horror? The film has many horror elements to it, but in this last moment, as she embraces her similarly-transformed husband, it is something else.

Cyberqueen, a 2012 text game created by Porpentine, draws on a legacy of godlike malevolent artificial intelligences in fiction (AM, from Harlan Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream,” GladOS from the Portal games, and most importantly SHODAN from the System Shock series, who is cited as an inspiration eleven times in the Cyberqueen acknowledgements.) In this game, you awake from cryosleep on a colony spaceship where the shipboard AI has gone rogue. You fight her. You lose. You run. You are caught. You are forcibly cyberized, your mind surgically altered, your will brought into line with that of the AI. Finally, you kill or mutilate every other surviving human aboard the ship. It is filthily, overwhelmingly erotic throughout. (You can play it here, and I strongly recommend doing so if you have the stomach for it.)

This is no longer horror, is it? How can the same sort of transformation we encounter as horror in Lovecraft be encountered here as something to get off to? Well,

TWO.

I don’t remember now where I got the idea from, but there was a period in my childhood where I was terrified of the idea of time travel—specifically of the idea that someone in the future would invent it, travel to before I was born, and through the butterfly effect cause me to be born a girl instead. I used to lie awake at night circling the idea like a broken tooth. It was an irrational fear on multiple levels: I wasn’t afraid of being written out of the timeline through time travel, and I knew, intellectually, that in the timeline where I was born a girl I would have no memory of ever having been anything else, but even so, the horror of it caught me and held me by the throat.

This meant something, of course—in retrospect obvious, but at the time literally unimaginable, and it wasn’t until college, sitting at my computer in the dark in my dorm room at three in the morning, following the itching in my brain, that I unearthed alchemical knowledge: the transmutation of sex, male into female, in a dizzying profusion of form and process and—okay what I’m saying is I discovered forced feminization porn, yeah? It was revelatory. It was squalid. I was still Christian and couldn’t even bring myself to jerk off yet, so I sat there, the itch in my brain grown into a thunderous buzz, unable or unwilling to look away.

Forced feminization—I promise this is relevant—is the unwilling transformation of (usually) a man into (usually) a hyper-feminine woman, accomplished by a wide variety of means, including but not limited to blackmail, magic potions, nanite swarms, cursed artifacts, hacks or glitches in virtual reality programs, badly-worded wishes, industrial accidents, chemical leaks, abduction and surgery, medical malpractice, and hypnosis. You may notice that many if not all of these scenarios could be made into horror with little change, and in fact it is not uncommon for a poorly-written or over-ambitious forced-fem story to wind up as horror by accident (though of course this greatly depends on the tastes of the individual reader.)

(As an aside, I’d like to note that there is a great deal to learn from porn—not in terms of How to Do Sex, but about how the culture which produced it thinks about sex, and gender, and race and morality and technology and a host of other things. It’s a lot like popping the hood of a car and examining the engine. Sure, you wind up greasy and should probably wash your hands before you rejoin polite company, but if you don’t, you’ll never figure out the underlying issues. Actually, it’s a lot like horror in that regard.)

Let’s talk about a very different transformation I was undergoing at the same time: the loss of my faith. I was raised, as mentioned, very Christian—and in one of the worst strains of fundamentalist white American Evangelicalism. I was a true believer: the world for me was entirely divided between the faithful elect and the unbelievers, who must necessarily know the truth of the (fundamentalist white American Evangelical) gospel in their hearts, but had wilfully chosen to oppose Christ. The prospect of passing from the elect into the category of the unbeliever was unthinkable. The process of deconversion led only into the outer darkness and the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

And yet I found myself on that precipice anyway. The worldview of FWAE is not one which survives too much contact with the actual world, and I had chosen against my parents’ preferences to go to a secular university, the better to witness to the unsaved. In the end, the process I had been mortally afraid of consisted of a couple days’ agonized thought, unanswered prayer and tearful calls to my unresponsive parents and pastor, after which I emerged into a world much bigger and much more complex than the one I’d grown up in. The serpent had told the truth after all: I had eaten of the fruit, and had not died.

Okay: is this horror? Reader, forgive me for presupposing anything about your perspective, but you’re on a horny lesbian Magic: the Gathering card art review tumblr, so I’m going to assume that losing one’s hateful, fundamentalist faith is the opposite of horrifying to you. But it was, absolutely, horror to contemplate for someone on the other side of that process.

But then... is the horror of any given transformation only a matter of where you’re standing? If you read The Shadow over Innsmouth aware of Lovecraft’s profound racism, it becomes very, very obvious that the horror of Innsmouth is the specter of miscegenation. The narrator’s horrified cataloging of the facial features of the offspring of fishmen and humans, the South Pacific origin of the sea-devil-worship of Innsmouth brought back by an enterprising merchant captain, the fear of the unsuspected poison of one’s own ancestry lurking in one’s own blood: all of this is much less effective as horror for someone living in a country where interracial marriages are protected under law and seen as unproblematic in consensus morality (assume whatever asterisks are necessary for the complicated landscape of attitudes toward interracial relationships in the United States, please, I do not have the expertise or desire to get into it here.) My point is that since 1967 (asterisk asterisk asterisk), we are through to the other side of that horror, and it turns out there literally wasn’t anything to be afraid of. The pelagial palaces and terraced coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei just sound beautiful to me.

And it’s hard for me—though I may be in the minority here—to view Hill House as the primary antagonist in Jackson’s novel. The true source of evil is all the things Eleanor runs from and therefore brings with her: her cruel, deceased mother, her exploitation and infantilization by her sister; as well as the final polite unwillingness of her new friends at Hill House to do anything but send her away once she goes inconveniently mad. These mundane ills are what sends Eleanor Vance careening into the tree, not the supernatural will of malignant architecture.

Here, then, is the better part of my thesis: transformation horror is something that can be traversed. You can come out the other end of a transformation unrecognizable to you-as-you-were, and yet still very much yourself. Moreover, it is this navigability, this double-sidedness which so closely links the horror of transformation to the eros of transformation. Not all transformation horror, passed through, becomes plainly erotic, but it is very often portrayed as a kind of seduction, and it is difficult for me to conceive of eros without some kind of change. Desire is a kind of transformation, is it not?

In fact, isn’t it true that a great many of us have already passed through such a transformation? Recall yourself as a child, as you were when you first learned about sex: wasn’t there something repellent and unhygienic about the idea? Wasn’t there a small horror in being told, you will change, and this will cease to be loathsome and become something you desire fervently, something you seek out, something you go to great lengths to experience? ...or were you, possibly, raised in a family & culture that was normal about sex and bodies? I admit I may be generalizing my individual neuroses to some extent here. Well, stet, at the very least you can see where I’m coming from.

THREE.

Returning for a moment to the subject of porn: why forced feminization, specifically? There are—you’re going to have to trust me here—no shortage of ways in the real world by which a man transforms into a woman, and very few of them involve coercion or all the horror-adjacent setup of, say, mind-control devices or vengeful curses. Why does a simple story of a willing gender transition fail to function as erotica? Why did it take stories of unwilling transformation for me to learn I was transgender? What’s the juice ne sais quoi at play in forced-fem?

Well, how does Luke Skywalker come to leave Tatooine? He gets a mysterious message from a princess, a desert wizard tells him to come help rescue her, and... he says no. He has obligations to family here, a job to do, power converters to bring back from Tosche Station. He is enmeshed in a social web, like all of us: it surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy together and so forth. So in order for Luke to go on grand adventures, the story needs to murder his aunt and uncle and sever those threads of social obligation.

Joseph Campbell, monomyth monomane that he was, would say this is “Refusing the Call” and find it in Jungian shadow on every cave wall, signifying something important in the heart of humanity, but really this is just a useful storytelling tool: a story needs change, but a virtuous protagonist cannot simply abandon their obligations and designated social role to go gallivanting off into space, so change must be forced upon them.

The bodice-ripper romance novel, the rape fantasy, the forced feminization story are all operating on a similar premise: you are so wrapped in society’s web, in your socially-dictated identity, that you cannot even acknowledge your desires on the level of conscious thought. When these things are enacted on your body, you will find yourself changed by the experience. You will love what has been done to you, and you remain blameless, since it’s not as though you sought this out.

These are liberatory fantasies. The lack of consent is precisely what allows you to move beyond what is permitted you into something new.

Incantation Against Bad-Faith Interpretation because I, a transsexual, just called rape fantasies “liberatory”: I am talking about fantasies, I am talking about why people fantasize about having their consent violated, I am talking about the role such fantasies play and what they can tell us about horror and desire. I am not advocating for real people to have real bad things done to them in real life, fuck off, End of Incantation.

So then, we’ve assembled the full thesis: transformation horror is traversible to the other side, and is inextricably linked to transformation erotica, both because of the seduction of transformation in horror and because the horror of transformation unlocks regions of desire which would otherwise have remained inaccessible.

Okay, now we can talk about Phyrexia.

FOUR.

I hear the roar of the big machine / Two worlds and in between / Hot metal and methedrine / I hear empire down

- The Sisters of Mercy, “Lucretia My Reflection”, from Floodland

Phyrexia is many things—a world, another world, a faction, a kind of creature—but I think it can most succinctly be understood as a virulently contagious biomechanical body horror cult dedicated to the ultimate incorporation of all things into itself. It’s a bit like Star Trek’s the Borg, if the Borg had any style whatsoever. It draws heavy inspiration from H. R. Giger’s work—some Phyrexian horrors are barely-altered versions of the xenomorph from Alien—as well as from Clive Barker’s Cenobites in Hellraiser, whose alien BDSM schtick is especially influential on the aesthetic of New Phyrexia. It is transmitted through glistening oil, an infection vector capable of reshaping bodies and minds, and given enough time, whole worlds. The process by which a being is made into a Phyrexian, “compleation,” is accomplished via glistening oil exposure, surgery, cyberization, and brainwashing.

This essay is in many ways a response to Rhystic Studies’ latest video, called “Phyrexia is Hell”. I think it’s a well-made video, as is true of all Sam Gaglio’s work, and a lot of it is really good—the overview of the nearly-thirty-year history of depictions of Phyrexia in Magic: the Gathering art is invaluable, and the stuff about the Phyrexian conlang is unbelievably cool—but the way he identifies Phyrexia one-to-one with a pretty facile understanding of transhumanism leads him to confused and frankly silly conclusions, like placing Phyrexian compleation on the same continuum with cosmetic orthodontics. Like,

Mandible Justiciar (art by Mike Franchina)

Phyrexia is perfectly happy for you to have teeth in your arms instead of your head! They don’t care about the narrow ideal of a conventionally-attractive human smile. This is a whole other thing.

Now, I don’t want to come down too hard on Gaglio here for a couple of reasons: one, he is very good at what he does (see his videos Understanding Sagas and Red Deck Wins, for example); two, it’s reasonable to say that a full understanding of transhumanism is beyond the scope of a video essay about the tiny pictures on cards for dweebs; and three, most importantly, because I see people make this same mistake all the time. People focus on the things that are textually true about Phyrexia and miss the tension between that and the very different things currently being said by the Phyrexian aesthetic. They miss the razorverge thicket, as it were, for the mycosynth trees.

For instance: it is textually the case that Phyrexia is a sort of fascist cult stemming from the depraved machinations of a dead eugenicist god. Contrast, however, other fascist factions in science fiction: the Imperium of Man from Warhammer 40K worships a massive Aryan god-emperor übermensch, its battles are fought by nine-foot-tall genetically-engineered supersoldiers, and it slaps either skulls or chainsaws on every available surface. The Galactic Empire from Star Wars has legions of identical, uniform stormtroopers. Even the Borg all look alike. Phyrexians talk of ideal perfection of form and then make ten thousand completely different monsters. Phyrexians talk of perfect unity and splinter into nearly a dozen factions who can’t even agree on a name for what they’re trying to accomplish. Other fictional fascisms don’t do this—sure, there’s internal contradiction, as in real fascism, but the core aesthetic remains recognizably, sometimes indistinguishably fascist. You can easily find terminally-online Nazis using Warhammer 40K lingo with that peculiar sincerity which is indistinguishable from irony when you’ve decided the truth doesn’t matter, but it would be a lot harder to find some alt-right bozo going all-in on the Glory of Phyrexia. The aesthetic is all wrong, and fascism’s aesthetic is one of its few consistent features.

Mondrak, Glory Dominus (art by Jason A. Engle)

You see what I mean? The aesthetic evokes a sort of alien fascism, but the art itself would be considered “degenerate” by actual fascists.

Tamiyo’s Immobilizer (art by Daren Bader)

This is much, much closer to Mapplethorpe than to Riefenstahl. And people respond to Phyrexia similarly! The body horror and grotesquerie make them uncomfortable, and then they try to moralize that discomfort. This has been happening at the very least since 2011 with the release of New Phyrexia, and I have seen people on Tumblr arguing in total sincerity that people who are into Phyrexia are making themselves susceptible to real-life cult recruitment (again, the heterogeneity of form in Phyrexia is incompatible with the enforced uniformity of cults and other high-control groups. The appeal of Phyrexia does not translate into real-life cults.)

So, okay, what is the appeal of Phyrexia? Well, you get a sick fuckin cyborg body, is what. Many of us, for various reasons (disability, disease, gender, and so forth) find ourselve intensely dissatisfied with our own bodies, and wanting to radically alter them. Many of us already have. Yes, you surrender your humanity when you are compleated, but we know first-hand that “humanity” is socially-constructed and contingent on certain kinds of conformity. We’ve had our humanity doubted, interrogated, stripped away. We’ve done without. It’s not too high a price to pay, if we get to look like this at the end:

Vraska, Betrayal’s Sting (art by Chase Stone)

I’d even argue that getting to reject humanity as it has rejected you is part of the appeal of compleation. This isn’t quite transhumanism; I might call it exhumanism: the freedom to unearth a way of being that is no longer being human. This is why compleation is coercive, remember? The fantasy allows you to get to this point without making the unimaginable decision to reject not only your individual social obligations, but the idea that you could owe anyone or everyone any kind of social conformity simply for having been born into your species—and then you get to be a cool and powerful cybergorgon.

This, then, is why I don’t blame someone like Sam Gaglio (who is to the best of my knowledge both cisgender and able-bodied) for not really getting what’s going on with Phyrexia. He lives on the before side of the horror of transformation; he’s never had to cross over.

In fact, I’d go one step further here. Phyrexia has existed for almost thirty years, and in that time it’s changed quite a bit. Gaglio quotes an article by Rob Bockman in Hipsters of the Coast which comments on how the shift in the depictions of Phyrexia from 1994 to 2000 reflected shifts in cultural fears over time. The Satanic Panic shaded into multidirectional Y2K anxieties, and the necromancy of original Phyrexia mutated into technological horror. This is what effective horror does: it reflects the fears of its age back to us.

Today, Phyrexia is a seductive, corrupting influence. They have figured out how to compleat planeswalkers—the protagonists of Magic storylines; named, important characters (and Lukka)—which was previously thought impossible. Characters we knew and loved (and Lukka) are seduced, brainwashed, bodily violated, surgically altered, and returned to us unrecognizable. It is not coincidental that this version of Phyrexia is concurrent with the worst wave of anti-transgender legislation to hit the United States in decades—legislation which plays on the specters of the transsexual bathroom predator and on the brainwashed child transitioner, on the idea that transsexuality is a form of social contagion we must protect our children from even learning about. The horror of Phyrexia in its current incarnation is a mirror of our cultural fear of transsexual bodies.

Irreversible Damage: the Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters (art by Lauren K. Cannon)

I want to be very clear here—actually, one moment, my extremely funny Abigail Schrier joke notwithstanding, I do need to tell you that the actual name of the above card is “Furnace Punisher”, which is just peak Phyrexia—I want to be clear that I am not ascribing any kind of malice or antipathy towards trans people, either intentional or unconscious, to Wizards of the Coast or the people who make Magic: the Gathering. I would be shocked if anyone there set out to make Innsmouth-style horror about transsexuals. Nor am I upset that they kind of have! Something being fun and interesting is way more important to me than whether or not it’s problematic, and it’s not like I haven’t seen way more vicious horror about transsexuals. We’ll laugh about this someday, in the coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei, and you’ll wonder what you were ever so afraid of.

In fact, this is another reason why Phyrexia is so appealing to people like us: we are a kind of social contagion. We are carriers for the viral idea that modes of being outside patriarchy and the nuclear family exist; that gender is a marketing demographic, not an ontological truth; that damn near everything about the world we’ve built is not a necessary fact but a social construct contingent upon a half-dozen other social constructs. A new world grows from many, many seeds, and this one germinates in us.

Anyway! What were we talking aboFIVE.

//please state your name for the record

bone-wife / spit-dribbler / understudy for the underdog / uphill rumor / fine-toothed cunt

- Franny Choi, “Turing Test”, from Death by Sex Machine

Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite (art by Igor Kieryluk)

There is a gravitational pull this painting exerts on people. Even people who don’t get Phyrexia find themselves drawn in, find it difficult to look away (e.g. 26:30 in that Rhystic Studies video.) I have for a long time maintained that Elesh Norn is the hottest character in Magic, and that Kieryluk’s portrayal of her is the best art in Magic, and neither of these opinions are particularly surprising coming from me. What is surprising is just how many people also converge on Miss Multiverse’s-Most-Fuckable-Pyramid-Head as, not just a sex icon of Magic: the Gathering, but the sex icon.

Well, or is it? Giant anchor-shaped porcelain mask aside, her silhouette is more or less that of a painfully-thin woman; she stands fully twelve feet tall, and we remember how wild everyone went over Resident Evil: Village’s woman who was only three-quarters of that; and though not an artificial intelligence herself, it’s hard not to place her somewhere in the Cyberqueen lineage. Like SHODAN, like GladOS, like Cyberqueen, she exerts a near-omnipotent level of control over (part of) her world; like them, she is a megalomaniacal egotist (though she cloaks her egotism in piety); like them, she is happy to render you more useful to her via surgery, brainwashing, or deadly neurotoxin. Her mask obscures where her eyes would be, and if I’ve learned anything from a decade of playing or mostly watching other people play the various Dark Souls games, it’s that people go apeshit for character designs without visible eyes (see also: the xenomorph from Alien; I did a whole thing on this subject somewhere back in the Wifelink archive.) So you’ve got a 12′ nigh-omnipotent eyeless dominatrix mostly shaped like a skinny woman, which is maybe pushing a whole lot of buttons at once for a lot of people.

As a character, we don’t know much about her: at some point, she became undisputed leader of the Machine Orthodoxy, the cultiest bit of New Phyrexia. At a later point, she became the extremely-disputed leader of New Phyrexia as a whole. She likes long walks on the beach and multiversal Phyrexian dominion, you get it. There is, however, one good story featuring her, and it is “A Garden of Flesh” by Lora Gray (sorry to give you additional reading in a five-thousand-word essay.) The story is interesting because it is the rare story told from a Phyrexian point of view, and because it flies in the face of many of our assumptions about Phyrexian interiority. Phyrexians, we’re told, lack souls. They’re unfeeling, more machine than man. They most certainly don’t dream.

“A Garden of Flesh” is what happens when Ashiok, planeswalker architect of nightmares and an eyeless smokeshow in their own right, gets curious about whether they can induce nightmares in a Phyrexian mind. What follows is a curiously-effective piece of body & transformation horror, told from the point of view of what is supposed to be the awful endpoint of transformation horror. What does a perfect, powerful biomechanical creature fear? The organic, soft, spongy. Putrefaction. Decay. What does such a creature fear becoming? Human.

I didn’t devote a fifth of this essay to Elesh Norn just because she’s unbelievably hot (although dayenu), but because of this story, and how it complicates our thesis. The horror of transformation is traversible, yes, but what will you find on the other side? More transformation. More horror. And transformation is inevitable: who of us are who we expected to be? Who of us still hold dear the precious things of childhood? And even you few who are raising your hands right now, you too will experience transformation. Should you live long enough, you will find yourself changing. Your body and mind will grow rebellious, unreliable. You will grow old. You will decay.

And yet—it’s a matter of perspective, of where you weight your focus, isn’t it? There will always be more transformation and more horror, but there will always be a way through it. There will always be another shore upon the other side. You will change. You will become unrecognizable to who you were before. You will be fine.

Incompleat Bibliography & Further Reading/Viewing/Playing

Rhystic Studies, “Phyrexia is Hell”, 2023. H. P. Lovecraft, The Shadow over Innsmouth, 1931. Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House, 1959. Alex Garland, Annihilation, 2018. Harlan Ellison, “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”, 1967. Ken Levine, System Shock 2, 1999. —never played it myself. Mostly I just open up a youtube video of SHODAN voice lines when I want to get belittled by an AI dominatrix. Valve, Portal 2, 2011. —there is a lot more to be said about GladOS and Elesh Norn specifically and their respective fraught relationships with the idea of their own humanity. Porpentine Charity Heartscape, Cyberqueen, 2012. —whence my chapter header screenshots. Seriously, this game fucks so hard. Franny Choi, Death by Sex Machine, 2017. —Choi is making extensive use of cyborg metaphor to address the specific experience of being a Korean-American woman. This is very different from anything I’m talking about, but it also always felt extremely relevant to me as a trans woman. Subaltern-to-subaltern communication. Lora Gray, “A Garden of Flesh,” 2022. —it’s no accident that the author of the one good story told from a Phyrexian POV is nonbinary. hbomberguy, “Outsiders: How To Adapt H.P. Lovecraft In the 21st Century”, 2018. Jacob Geller, “Who’s Afraid of Modern Art: Vandalism, Video Games, and Fascism”, 2019. Caitlín R Kiernan, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, 2012. —only tangentially relevant, except insofar as it recontextualizes the Lewis Carroll line I open the essay with, and insofar as it is my favorite novel and I’m writing the bibliography. Debatable whether it counts as transformation horror, and I imagine the author would bridle at its being described as horror, but nevertheless: you should read this book.

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I know the March of the Machines story has begun; I spent the last two weeks writing the first draft of the Phyrexia: All Will Be One post. Including the bibliography, it is a little over 5300 words long. It’s currently out for peer review; I will revise and post it as soon as I’m able.

If it wasn’t already obvious, this one is going to be a pretty significant departure from anything I’ve written on here previously. I am extremely excited for it.

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Dominaria United Who’s Hot Speedrun

Please, G-d, they cannot already be doing March of the Machines spoilers come on Phyrexia All Will Be One has been out for like, two weeks. Hnnnnnngh okay here we go.

DOMINARIA UNITED

Mostly disappointing, if I’m being honest! Like hey remember Chris Rallis’ Danitha and Anna Steinbauer’s Radha from last time we were on Dominaria? Hey, no worries if not, here they are:

Extremely hot! I’ve said a great deal about that version of Radha previously. Anyway now here’s versions of them from this set:

Radha, Coalition Warlord (art by Randy Vargas)

Like I’m not complaining, you know, she’s still an absolutely massive elf lady with a huge sword (and you really don’t see enough muscular elves, do you?) but like in comparison to the above version...no, wait, sorry, I changed my mind, she is still extremely hot, I do very much still want her to rail me.

Danitha, Benalia’s Hope (art by Magali Villeneuve)

This, though, is very much a “go girl, give us nothing” moment for Danitha. Which is fine! It’s a fine painting, and Danitha has to cut her Phyrexianized dad’s head off in this story if I recall, so it’s okay if she doesn’t feel quite up to the glamor shots. Not everything should be five-star wifelink material, you know?

Join Forces (art by Aurore Folny)

We do get this nice gay little team-up for the both of them, which feels a little calculated, but I’ll take it. Okay what else we got, Dominaria United?

Elas il-Kor, Sadistic Pilgrim (art by G-host Lee)

Ooh, now we’re getting somewhere! Love a woman just dripping with ichor.

Phyrexian Missionary (art by Mila Pesic)

Ichor AND horrible cyborg parts, even better!

Hang on, do you hear something? A noise, as of distant thunder mixed with the clangor of the factories of Hell? Why, that could be none other than

SHEOLDRED, THE APOCALYPSE (art by Chris Rahn)

All the way from New Phyrexia, the Dross Pits’ lovely Praetor-Thane has strapped herself into an ancient dragon engine: a potent force multiplier both for battlefield devastation and raw sexual appeal. (The dragon engine is a metaphor.)

This set also, in a rare turn of events, has a version of Liliana who absolutely does not make the cut. You really have to fuck up for that to happen.

NEXT TIME ON WIFELINK: THE BROTHERS WAR

Nothing. Like, actually nothing, and I’m not just saying that because I don’t want to have to review yet another set before I get to the good stuff. It turns out Old Phyrexia wasn’t nearly as hot as New Phyrexia. We’re skipping it.

NEXT TIME ON WIFELINK: PHYREXIA ALL WILL BE ONE, AT LONG LAST.

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Who’s Hot in New Capenna

Okay! Streets of New Capenna was set in a glitzy 1920s Fritz Lang-style metropolis ruled by a bunch of different criminal syndicates. Its major contribution to Magic is that it introduced jazz to the multiverse, and was otherwise a substandard draft set anchored to, presumably, a story? I’m almost positive there was a story, but I’ve never spoken to anyone who knows what it was. They juice angels to make drugs? Vivien shows up, because where is Ms. Park Ranger more at home than Industrialized Urban Environments? Urabrask is also here?

Anyway the frequent badness of Magic story is tempered by the fact that we mostly encounter it in isolated pieces of cardboard with killer fucking art and are free to derive better ideas about story and characters and setting than you would get if you actually read the story, most of the time. It’s also tempered by the fact that girls!

AND HOW! WE’VE GOT GIRLS IN ALL YOUR FAVORITE JAZZ AGE LOOKS! GIRLS IN SUSPENDERS? YOU BET! WAISTCOATS? DIME A DOZEN, PAL! YOU WANT KISS CURLS? WE COULDN’T FIT MORE POMADE IN THESE COIFS IF WE TRIED! HOW ABOUT ARM MUSCULATURE? BUDDY, WHY DON’T YOU JUST TAKE A PEEK FOR YOURSELF?

Night Clubber (art by Joshua Raphael)

Ask me how I know Moustache here is from Queens. Go on, ask me.

Cause if he was from Brooklyn, he could dodge ‘er!

But seriously, folks: arms like fuckin tree trunks here. That is delectable. And just because you’re heading out for a night of swinging baseball bats at the heads of tourists with expensive wristwatches doesn’t mean you don’t dress to the nines, or at least the eights! Or like realistically maybe just the sevens - the pinstripe trousers are great, the lip color’s great, and I adore the extreme sleevelessness, but it’s clear her clothes have seen better days - which is maybe why she’s out here with the bat.

Also, baseball is canon in the MtG multiverse now! That’s fun. Maybe the Gatewatch could put together a company team, if any of them are left at the end of the current storyline. “Take Me Out to the Holodeck” but it’s our favorite surviving planeswalkers against, like, Freyalise’s supremacist elves. Chandra struggling to swing a bat without immolating it. Kaya getting into an argument with the umpire about whether ghosting through an opposing baseman holding the ball counts as being tagged out. Garruk-as-Worf yelling DEATH TO THE OPPOSITION. This bit was about a specific episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine; I really appreciate you reading my horny Magic blog, and I am not going to be respectful of your time.

Dapper Shieldmate (art by Greg Opalinski)

Okay, on a strict practicality level, having a plate mail waistcoat that leaves your neck and sternum covered only by a starched collar and a tie is basically just a chainmail bikini for lesbians. I can imagine Beige Sonja here thinking “well, I’ve got pauldrons on my pinstripe suit, for safety, but I’m worried I don’t look like enough of a dyke, so I’m going to make sure to roll my sleeves up,” because that’s the sort of thought process that often guides my sartorial choices as well. I also love the “I don’t particularly care about my appearance” messy hair on top combined with the “I really actually desperately care” glossy waves on the side. She’s trying way too hard, and honestly, that’s hot.

Glamorous Outlaw (art by Maria Zolotukhina)

Okay, there’s trying too hard, and there’s “I rented a panther for a date” trying too hard.

Venom Connoisseur (art by Marta Nael)

This isn’t a subtle piece of card art, but sometimes it’s enough to get your tits most of the way out and slap a python on em. Convincing someone to shake a hand with at least two venomous snakes coiled around it probably requires a substantial distraction, so: this cleavage is actually tactical, did you know?

Psionic Snoop (art by Marcela Medeiros)

I’m not going to lead with “oh, you’re psychic? can you tell what i’m thinking?” because I’m sure she’s heard that a hundred times from a hundred different slimeballs, but also she definitely knows it was my first thought, which is pretty embarrassing. Actually it is probably a bad idea for me to try and sleep with any kind of telepath unless she’d be remarkably tolerant of the sort of anxious inner monologue where I can’t ask a pretty barista’s name without first getting sidetracked into a long thought process involving Martin Buber and the alienation of capitalism, culminating in not asking her name and coming back another day, by which point it turns out she’s moving to Colorado and I’ve missed my shot, and all I got out of the whole thing was pretty good music recommendations (Khruangbin, in point of fact.) Hm. What were we talking about?

Jetmir’s Fixer (art by John Thacker)

Rakish, flamboyant, good with explosives: the cat’s hot, sorry.

Caldaia Strongarm (art by Randy Vargas)

Ma’am. Your arms.

Jaxis, the Troublemaker (art by Zoltan Boros)

Look I’m just a simple, honest lesbian, you know? End of the day, I want what we all want: a ripped, sweaty woman in suspenders with the world’s most utterly contemptuous sneer, the kind of sneer that stomps all the way down your spine with cleats, the kind of sneer that’ll slam you against a wall, spit in your face, and leave you bruised for a month. Yes, it has been entirely too long since someone beat the hell out of me, thank you for asking!

NEXT TIME WE GO BACK TO DOMINARIA FOR SOME DISAPPOINTING ITERATIONS OF HOT CHARACTERS, AND AN INTERDIMENSIONAL DOMINATRIX SLIPS INTO SOMETHING A LITTLE MORE COMFORTABLE: A MULTI-STORY STRAP-ON.

We’re almost caught up, folks. New Phyrexia is very, very soon.

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You know, I’ve been studiously avoiding tagging these posts with anything searchable because I’ve been like “oh, I don’t want to inflict my hornt-up Magic the Gathering opinions on people who are into Magic for the story and characters and don’t want to know about which fantasy bugs I’d fuck!” like this isn’t the inflicting-things-on-unsuspecting-bystanders website.

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Cruel Angel’s Thesis intensifies

Technically, it’s “Kamigawa: Neon Dynasty” and not “Neon Dynasty Kamigawa” but only the latter facilitates “get in the robot, Shinji” jokes when you tap your pilot token to crew your Thundersteel Colossus, so. Anyway, none of the mecha cards are relevant to this project - it would have been too much to hope for a POWER DoLLS situation - so really, the moral of the story is that I should have saved the Samurai Jack title joke for this edition.

TODAY ON WIFELINK: GUSHING ABOUT CYBERPUNK FANTASY JAPAN

NDK was a great set, you have to understand. Do you remember how one of the few unequivocally good things about Legend of Korra was this project of imagining a 1920s industrial setting derived from (mostly) East Asian art and architecture? Yeah, similar story here. Just one example: the Imperial mecha look like someone did origami to sheet metal, which is super cool and lends their faction a distinct visual identity. The art in this set is gorgeous - soaring architecture, grungy neon alleyways, sick cyborgs, spirits (in the original Kamigawa block, spirits had some of the weirdest creature designs Magic had ever had, and this continues that legacy) - sagas! saga art is in-universe visual representation of a story that’s important to the people of the world, and NDK sagas are told on ornamental fans, wall scrolls, porcelain jugs, the carved hilt of a katana, a silk dress, in a leaf carving and vector graphics AND, the best saga art ever, on the back of a biker rat’s leather jacket. (I would be remiss at this point not to recommend Rhystic Studies’ extremely good video on sagas.)

And the mechanics! Sagas turn into creatures when the story is over, sort of living memories. Ninjutsu made a triumphant return, the channel mechanic multiplied interesting choices, and so did the reconfigure mechanic, which let you either use a mechanical centipede as a whip attached to one of your creatures, or let it operate autonomously as a creature in its own right (which led to one of the best type lines in MtG: “Legendary Artifact Creature - Equipment Jellyfish.”)

The draft environment - and I know I’m way off-topic here, but I’m about to say some mildly unkind things about this set and I need to preface it - the draft environment was the best I’ve ever encountered. There were so many different viable archetypes, so many different cool choices you could make during drafts and gameplay. The blue-black ninjas deck, fast red-black artifact sacrifice, recursive green-white enchantments - all felt powerful and fun. The whole set was flavorful and compelling, and there are not that many good wifelink hits, I’m sorry to say.

THE QUALITY OF A MAGIC THE GATHERING SET IN TERMS OF THIS PROJECT IS NOT AN IMPORTANT INDICATOR OF OVERALL SET QUALITY

Heiko Yamazaki, the General (art by Magali Villeneuve)

Heiko makes it where her cousin Norika (also by Villeneuve) doesn’t for two reasons: one is that I find Heiko’s broody expression indicative of a rich and stormy internal life, which always hits me like the smoky scent of a fine scotch or a cup of lapsang souchong. A woman with inner turmoil draws me like a moth to a bug-zapper, which I suppose is why I keep getting into trouble with older women in troubled relationships. “If I simply provide enough unpaid therapy, she’ll leave her abusive husband back in [REDACTED FORMER SOVIET REPUBLIC] & also the closet she’s been in for forty-five years & stay in the United States with me!” Yeah, that’ll happen, idiot.

The other reason is that Norika is a cop.

Tamiyo, Compleated Sage (art by Chris Rahn)

There are a lot of planeswalkers I don’t care about, personally, and I’m not only talking about the male ones. If I’m being honest, my engagement with Magic story has always been kind of shallow on account of Magic story is frequently (but not always!) bad. Like, pursuant to the previous entry, I did enjoy the apparently-uncredited story about the Yamazakis Wizards published back in February. It’s compelling! There’s juice to that relationship. We will never get anything else about these characters.

See, it turns out that the incentives of creating a collectible card game are not terribly aligned with those of creating rich long-form fantasy stories. Novelty sells cards. We hop around. Those few characters who do enjoy a prolonged spotlight often wilt under the attention as we all collectively get sick to death of the fucking Gatewatch or whoever else. Magic the Gathering is still compelling media, or else why would I be doing this, but to me it’s a kaleidoscopic whirl of mostly detached ideas, characters, settings, and vibes.

ALL OF WHICH IS TO SAY that I never knew much or cared to about Tamiyo. She was some nerd from Kamigawa who didn’t save Avacyn, whatever. Then the Phyrexians got her and turned her into an ichor-weeping cyborg brainwashed into working toward the universal expansion of New Phyrexia, a biomechanical plane of horror, corruption, and ego death, so now she’s hot!

Go-Shintai of Hidden Cruelty (art by Johannes Voss)

I don’t think I can explain this one, to be honest. Sometimes you just wanna get fucked up by a magical bone machine.

I KNOW THIS ONE HAS BEEN REALLY TALKY ALREADY BUT I GOT SOME BEHIND-THE-SCENES STUFF TO SAY AND A SET WITH ONLY THREE HITS SEEMS AS GOOD A PLACE AS ANY

Well, only three hits that I can find high-quality images of for. I suppose I could be using card rips of Tia Masic’s Moon-Circuit Hacker (reminiscent of my introduction to cyberpunk via Shadowrun, a bad setting paired with a bad system which nevertheless compelled me to consume more cyberpunk, most of it also bad) or Wisnu Tan’s Spring-Leaf Avenger (a delightful vaguely-orchid-mantis bug ninja) but that would look like

and

...oh wait that actually looks fine, at least to me on desktop. Okay, then, I’ll incorporate those into my strategy as an acceptable last resort going forward. Actually, while I’m at it:

Junji, the Midnight Sky (art by Chase Stone)

The dragon’s hot, man, I don’t know what to tell you.

THE OTHER THING IS ABOUT WHAT WE WILL GENEROUSLY CALL AN “UPDATE SCHEDULE”

Phyrexia: All Will Be One releases the second week in February and I am goddamn well going to review that as soon as it’s out, because I played Cyberqueen at the young and impressionable age of twenty-two and now “quasi-omnipotent dominatrix corrupts you into a biomechanical horror ecstatically enslaved to her will” is the hottest thing I will ever get out of Magic: the Gathering unless Ashiok decides to start force-femming planeswalkers, so I am going to be tearing through one set a week for the next three weeks.

Next time is New Capenna, the Art Deco Metropolis of organized crime, bad draft experiences, and well-muscled arms, followed by a return to Dominaria where my excitement for more Phyrexians will be tempered by the fact that my favorite characters from the last Dominaria set are not quite so hot this time round.

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Neon Dynasty Kami- wait hang on

Are we still on Innistrad? I thought we did Innistrad last time. Excuse me while I review the previous post.

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Yes, it seems we started Innistrad, but I got sidetracked by talking about all the corrupted angels from Shadows block. Odd. When I try to remember the process of writing the last post, there aren’t any specifics, just this... warm, hazy thrum. That’s probably fine, right?

Anyway.

INNISTRAD: MIDNIGHT HUNT + CRIMSON VOW, CONTINUED

Henrika Domnathi (art by Billy Christian)

It really is so easy to make vampires hot, isn’t it? Like there’s a formula: take a pretty woman, give her opulent clothes, put a little trickle of blood from her mouth as a crack in the facade of controlled civility, right, just to indicate that she may look like nobility but is in fact a decadent animal, and then give her a wine glass full of blood and have her hover a bit. There you go: buttons pushed, hotness achieved.

Henrika, Infernal Seer (art by Billy Christian)

Oh, by the way, Henrika apparently drinks demon blood exclusively, which is a cool character detail I thought you should know. There is something very Mardi Gras about this whole look, which just makes me want to reread some of Caitlín R. Kiernan’s New Orleans short stories. Actually, you could do a very interesting Innistrad reskin using Kiernan’s mythology, their dog-like ghouls and Southern vampires in houses with decaying wallpaper. Wizards of the Coast did a bunch of alternate versions of cards from Crimson Vow as Dracula characters - I’m imagining something similar with Jimmy de Sade as Sorin, Salmagundi as Avacyn, and so forth. Free Secret Lair idea, if Wizards want to make a product with a target audience of one.

MUCH LIKE THAT WHOLE PARAGRAPH. LET’S MOVE ON, PLEASE.

Gisa, Glorious Resurrector (art by Yongjae Choi)

You know, there is something really compelling about a woman who is passionate about her art, even if that art is raising the dead. Not a lot of fun to be had on Innistrad, generally speaking, but Gisa is having the time of her life: bloody cleaver, picnic basket full of hands, horde of adoring undead, evil shovel. Some respond to the horrors of Innistrad by retreating to the safety of ritual or religion, hiding in their hamlets, hands gripping axe or torch, mouths set in grim hope. Gisa responded to the horrors by saying, “I could do your job better, actually,” and it is working out great for her. Apologies to Olivia Voldaren, but Gisa is Innistrad’s premier girlboss and it is not close.

Bat Whisperer (art by Jodie Muir)

I’m sure the other vampires get judgy about how Sabrina’s always getting fully contoured and dressed to the nines just to go lounge around on rooftops with bats, but frankly she has captivated me with her #AutisticGirlSwag. I am so excited to learn all about the difference between bat species in Nephalia and Stensia.

Saryth, the Viper’s Fang (art by Igor Kieryluk)

There aren’t any gorgons on Innistrad, so Saryth has decided to DIY it. About eighty percent of the sex appeal here is the massive, luminous constrictor. That’s not just me, right? Igor made the snake really hot, right?

ANYWAY, YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THE CROSSBOW SEGMENT OF OUR SHOW.

Apprentice Sharpshooter (art by Steve Prescott)

Personally I think it’s good to have to watch out for spikes when you kiss a pretty woman. There’s a lovely textural contrast between cold pointy metal and the softness and warmth of fur and skin. More spikes on women in 2023, please.

Bloodthirsty Adversary (art by Heonhwa Choe)

Yes, like that, exactly! Spiked pauldron, spiked hips, double crown of thorns, and we’ve escalated to two crossbows. She will kill you, unfortunately, but you’ll get to experience several interesting and different piercing sensations on the way out.

Sawblade Slinger (art by Joshua Raphael)

And speaking of escalation, um. Look. We can argue about whether the Fuck-Off Buzzsaw Hurler is technically a crossbow, but I hope we can all agree that it is an Effective Visual Metaphor for the best goddamn strap game in Innistrad.

THIS HAS BEEN THE CROSSBOW SEGMENT OF OUR SHOW. THANK YOU.

Creepy Puppeteer (art by Marie Magny)

If you’re not at least curious about what it would feel like to get double-teamed by a lovely hammer-wielding maniac and her mannequin duplicate, you might be reading the wrong blog. Hey Marie, this is pretty good, but can we get the horny turned up a couple hundred percent?

Blood Hypnotist (art by Marie Magny)

Amazing, thank you so much. Where to even begin with this? I don’t know exactly what blood hypnosis entails, but I would very much like to learn. The dominating eye contact, the blood-soaked talons, the coy little heart in blood on her previous victim’s face (”previous” because what this image communicates above all else is “you’re next,”) fat braids straining against their prison of riveted leather strips, the way the outline of her head irresistibly suggests a praying mantis head (that one’s just for me, thank you!), and - why not - fat tits into the bargain. Honestly, the only thing that could possibly make this any hornier would be the visible bulge of her thick cock, which I’m sure they only didn’t do because this game is 13+. Then again, they printed this card as-is, so I guess Magic: the Gathering is real educational, huh? Tap lands, cast spells, make friends, feel things about card art you can’t yet identify but which will shape whole swathes of the rest of your life.

Alright, that’s been Innistrad, a welcome change of pace from almost two years of mostly-neutered art. Thanks for going on this journey with me!

NEXT TIME: CYBERPUNK, ART DECO, AND TAMIYO'S HOT GIRL MAKEOVER COMES AT A TERRIFYING COST!