originally posted at https://canmom.tumblr.com/post/762567...
the gods in narrative podcast The Silt Verses cover an enormous variety of motifs and subjects - and indeed, we are told how new gods are invented all the time, researched and tested by the government, competing to be the patron of companies and individuals, broken down and dumped when they’re no longer needed. but they are all unified by two things: they all demand human sacrifices (‘a god must feed’ as Carpenter puts it in the opening episode) and they all inflict dramatic body-horror transformations (a process known as ‘hallowing’), associated with their theme.
nevertheless, the idea of not following a god seems to be pretty alien to the people of this world. and you don’t really get much choice: if, as in episode 7, your advertising company’s restructuring decides that the weakest performers need to be sacrificed to their new ‘sponsor’, you don’t get to opt out, it’s in your contract and no doubt the police will catch you if you run. we see over and over how the gods (and their chief devotees) pick out the vulnerable, drive their believers to spiral down into life-defining obsession - by stringing them along with vague promises of some kind of final answer or fulfilment, then turn away and discard them as soon as they’ve served their purpose.
it is a very, very productive theme, and the writers have a gift for furnishing it with evocative words and nasty details so it doesn’t get stale. so of course I reflect on the metaphor.
in nier automata, the childlike machine lifeforms search for purpose in a world that doesn’t seem to offer any. the answers they find are their ‘treasures’: small, seemingly insignificant objects which individual machines devote themselves to protecting.
for example, one machine may devote itself to cultivating a flower (as in the second episode of the anime), or looking after a broken doll (as in the story of pathetic failmachine Plato 1728 seen in the DLC/the Deserving of Life single by Amazarashi). other sidequests lead you to encounter machines who obsess over fighting, or travelling fast (easy challenges to implement in a game engine).
the machines’ behaviour seems inexplicable and even random to others, but the pointlessness is kind of the point: somewhere the chain of ‘why’ has to terminate. i choose this one.
sometimes i think about ‘art’ in the sense of a set of behaviours exhibited by humans. i don’t have any interest in demarcating art vs non-art, just to understand what this phenomenon is, why it should be so compelling.
one definition that keeps sticking around in here, despite it not really working, is that ‘art’ is a word for the thing we devote ourselves for no other reason. you could spend your time drawing, but equally you could spend it speed cubing. we are obsessively optimising creatures so, presented with a defined scope of an activity—something like the rules of a game—we refine our skills within it, pushing the bar further and further, changing the rules as we go to keep it interesting. the art forms that stick around tend to be the ones that continue to be productive and evolve. but it’s all, in a sense, pointless—and that’s why it’s the most important thing, because it’s done for itself, not in service of some other goal.
this is not actually a good description of the thing it claims to describe. many things we celebrate as ‘art’ are done for extrinsic, not intrinsic motivations, like commissioned paintings. indeed, far from being purely intrinsically motivated, there are many extrinsic functions that the various activities we call ‘art’ perform: communication, entertainment, distraction, a tool to reason with, a safe zone to explore emotions, ideological propaganda, historical memory.
nevertheless, the idea of a thing done for its own sake, defying justification, continues to compel somehow.
art does not escape the logic of sacrifice. if you sacrifice your time, your health, your social connections in pursuit of your art - why, does that not prove the art is more important than your time, your health, your friendships? there’s a romance in the narrative about burning up in pursuit of something ‘great’ - and if you want to undercut that narrative, you likely claim that the object is not particularly worth the effort. it’s just videogames. it’s just cartoons.
the slogan of The Silt Verses is the sarcastic line of Carpenter (originally her friend Vaughan, part of episode 7’s corporate hecatomb): “you get to choose the thing that eats you”. a very succinct statement! don’t we, indeed.
not that sacrifice is always for some abstract intrinsic goal. in the story, the feeding is often done in exchange for some straightforward, material advantage - and in a sense that is the same in our world, with the threshold adjusted so you have to sacrifice a certain amount to just stay alive.
here’s a calculation, because i’m fond of numbers: if you start working full-time at, say, age 21 (a conservative assumption, most people start earlier) up until the UK retirement age of 66 (currently, set to rise), working 40 hours a week (conservative, but then again most people don’t actually work the hours they’re paid for), the current price of a full human life is 114,793 hours to the gods of capital - pick your fave. if you sleep eight hours a night, the god of sleep gets 160,710 during that same period. harder to fit parameters on the demands of the gods of food, cleaning, caring for others, travelling to and fro, and ‘being too tired to do much of anything’, which certainly have their own demands.
that leaves you with a certain number to use for your own arbitrary ends. in theory, you get to choose what will eat those ones. in practice? a unified will? consistent intentions? ya joking mate. how many hours go to the god of ‘responding to the thing in front of me’, known by its sacred name, Aydeeaitchdee?
i used to feel jealous of people, some of them my friends, who seem to have some kind of unique vision, some sort of captivating identity to the creations that they express. the ‘spark’ that makes that special. i wondered—still wonder—if i will finally find my spark, a reason i’m here, a unique contribution i’m poised to make to the world, the value over replacement—the thing that all this mess was building towards all along, the thing that will make all the efforts so far feel less faltering and haphazard. but why should there be such a thing? if one day i live long enough to, by chance, find something that feels like it’s an answer, it’s just a retroactive reframing of the chaos - because that’s what brains do. convince someone they made a decision they didn’t, and they will justify it to you.
there is a song by Sassafrass, an incredibly nerdy a capella band who otherwise largely sing about norse mythology, called ’somebody will’. when i first heard this song i honestly kind of hated it (you can probably find that post if you dig hard enough). it felt like a tragic cope: facing the blatant reality that you will never be an astronaut as you (apparently) desire, to insist on narrativising your life as being part of the great project of space colonisation—even if it’s so remote as clerking a funding organisation or working at a scifi bookstore or attending a convention (it’s from quite a specific milieu), you can claim to be one of the ‘sailors’ helping to ‘conquer’ that ‘ocean’. i hated it, because why should the space program be all that? somebody will walk on mars someday—so fucking what? what then? job’s a good ‘un, everybody? is that really worth sacrificing shit (‘sacrifice something i don’t have for something i won’t have’) for, here and now? surely your life is about more than putting ‘somebody’ on Mars one day?
but considering it again today - i mean it might as well be the space program as anything else, right. you need a direction to move in. it doesn’t matter what the direction, as long as it keeps you moving. change is life and stillness is death, don’t you know. perhaps you drag others along with you and you get a current flowing that way for a while, until the energy driving it runs out, or it runs up against the overpressure around an as-yet uneroded bank. so we all move around and the dynamics of it all, invisible to us, build a delta, which becomes a rock, and against that flows another river one day, grinding down the rock to move it to another delta, all by the nearly-random movements of the water molecules. shit i think i lost the thread of the metaphor and now i’m just talking about geophysics
it seems… almost laughably tedious to be circling this existential drain still. in my milieu: douglas adams cracked his joke about ‘the ultimate question of life the universe and everything’ 30 years earlier in 1977. randall munroe uploaded ’i’ll get the super soaker’ in 2007. but navel-gazing has been a joke for much longer, surely at least as long as there have been people to question what the point is.
funny how it always comes back to water metaphors.
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