One of the most fascinating figures in William Blake’s mythology is Ahania, the Emanation of Urizen. Like all of the Emanations, she provides the feminine aspect of a concept, in this case reason and the intellect. Where Urizen is a tyrannical figure of single vision and Newtons sleep, deriving absolute and universal law from precise and mathematical measurements and using it to ensnare the world in the net of religion, Ahania represents pleasure and curiosity – the carnal urge to discover and understand. Her separation from Urizen is what dooms him to his fall; her eventual reunion with him his redemption and a fundamental part of Eternal salvation.

Jonathan Blow’s second game, the would-be masterpiece The Witness, attempts to be an extended hymn to Ahania. Its purpose, as Blow stresses in interview after interview, is to explore the experience of learning and discovery. His mechanism for this – indeed the defining mechanism of the game – is a maze puzzle. The basic form is simple: trace a line from a starting node (a big circle) along a path to an ending node (a small rounded nub at the end of a line). The variations are numerous, with the game ultimately having several hundred iterations of this puzzle type of varying difficulties, arranged on panels across a sizeable island to explore.

There is genuine elegance to how this unfolds. Observe the progress of the opening area. You begin at the dark end of a tunnel, an illuminated door ahead and above you. You walk up to it, and find the literal simplest form of the game’s puzzle, and the game gives you one of its handful of actual instructions as it suggests pushing X to attempt the puzzle.

You trace the line, the door opens, and you get a second door.

Which opens into this courtyard.

And when you go to investigate that panel up ahead, it’s a souped up version of the first two doors (shown here at the moment of solution).

Solving it causes the wire coming out of it to ostentatiously illuminate, and you can trace it to a couple other panels of growing complexity, and finally to gate with this panel to the right of it.

A bit of poking at it reveals that you can’t complete the maze through the black bars (what a surprise), but if you trace the other wires you can find panels that will lift the bars, allowing you to complete that maze and open the gate.

Obviously the game gets harder. Indeed, it will in the very next area, which we’ll look at in a moment. But it’s worth explicitly highlighting the step-by-step education given here. Indeed, of particular note is the second puzzle – the little L-shaped path that comes between “trace a line” and “here’s a maze with dead ends.” The truth is that essentially no player actually requires both it and the initial straight line puzzle as preparation for the mazes. As an education in how the game works – which is obviously what this is, being an initial area of a game and all – it’s going ostentatiously slowly.…

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And so begins the last month of the long and terrible WicDiv hiatus.

The Discipline #1

I wanted to like this. I mean, that’s implicit in the fact that I picked up the first issue. Peter Milligan is famously hit and miss, but when he’s on he’s good enough that I have second thoughts about not making him a main character in Last War in Albion. And then there are things like this. 2016 is the right time for a weird fiction erotic thriller comic with a female lead. It’s an on-point, interesting idea for a book. The problem is that Milligan’s lead, while short of a cliche, is visibly taped together from stock characters and stereotypes, seeming to wander around buffeted more by the needs o the plot than by any sort of coherent internal psyche. Right book, wrong writer. Oh well.

Batgirl #49

An artist’s jam of an issue that holds together better than those usually do. There’s a sense in which this feels like it’s building to an end, which would be a pity, as this really is a solid take on the character. All of which said, I’m just not managing to invest in the Fugue as a villain, and this somewhat by-numbers “psychic rescue” issue doesn’t really change that. 

Darth Vader #17

This book’s monumental commitment to the slow burn continues, although at least there’s some actual heat being generated at this point. Gillen is managing to foreground Vader’s interiority without actually going inside it, which is compelling; this is the first time in possibly all the Star Wars I’ve ever consumed where I’ve felt like the angry and impulsive character of the prequel trilogy and the majestic villain of the main trilogy were actually the same person, which is quite a feat. I’m sure once the heat on this arc gets intense enough it’ll move up nicely in the weekly rankings. For now, a solid effort. 

Digital code: FCM5RNYY1KB4

Doctor Who: The Eleventh Doctor Adventures Year Two #6

Snagged on a whim because “River Song and Abslom Daak” was too tempting a combo to reject. Not entirely sure why John Hurt is on the cover, but other than that this was a charmingly overstuffed banquet of continuity culminating in a reveal I saw coming a few pages off and thought “no, they can’t possibly actually be going to do something this gloriously wanky.” They did. I punched the air. Might well go back to this; certainly will be getting Part Two. Still a pity about the art. 

Invincible Iron Man #7

Bendis’s typical style of decompression pays off nicely in an issue that’s mostly a funny and character-heavy dialogue between Tony and Mary Jane. Deodato’s art ends up providing a strange and perverse contrast, as he’s stuck trying to make preposterously talky pages fit his style. The results are the best pages I’ve seen him do in recent memory. The book loses focus on the back half as the need to do plot takes over, but this is still probably the best issue of this eternally frustrating book to date.…

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Go Up, Up The Magical Ice Wall Ahead

State of Play

The choir goes off. The board is laid out thusly:

Lions of King’s Landing: Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister, the Hand of the King Tywin Lannister

Lions of Harrenhal: Jaime Lannister

Direwolves of the Wall: Jon Snow

Direwolves of Riverrun: Robb Stark, Catelyn Stark

Mockingbirds of King’s Landing: Petyr Baelish

The Burning Heart, Melisandre

The Kraken, Theon Greyjoy

The Direwolf, Bran Stark

Direwolves of King’s Landing: Sansa Stark

The Direwolf, Arya Stark

Archers of the Wall: Samwell Tarly

The Stag, Gendry

Stags of King’s Landing: King Joffrey Baratheon

Bows of the Wall: Ygritte

Spiders of King’s Landing: Varys

Flowers of King’s Landing: Shae

Winterfell is abandoned and in ruins, Yunkai is empty.

The episode is divided into parts. The first runs three minutes and is set north of the Wall. The opening image is of the fire Sam is ineptly building.

The second runs three minutes and is set in the North. The transition is by hard cut, from a zoomed out shot of Sam and Gilly around their fire to Meera skinning a rabbit.

The third runs four minutes and is set north of the Wall. The transition is by dialogue, from Joren talking about his vision of Jon Snow to Jon.

The fourth runs eight minutes and is set in the Riverlands. The transition is by family, from Jon Snow to Arya Stark.

The fifth runs two minutes and is set at the Wall. The transition is by family, from Arya Stark to Jon Snow.

The sixth runs six minutes and is set at the Dreadfort, though this is not disclosed. The transition is by hard cut, from the climbing party to Ramsey blowing a horn.

The seventh runs four minutes and is set in Riverrun. The transition is by dialogue, from Theon trying to guess which of Robb’s bannermen Ramsey is to Robb.

The eighth runs two minutes and is set in Harrenhal. The transition is by dialogue, from Catelyn to Brienne talking about her.

The ninth runs four minutes and is set in King’s Landing. The transition is by family, from Jaime to Tywin Lannister.

The tenth runs three minutes and is set at the Wall. The transition is by hard cut, from a broken pen to climbing.

The eleventh runs nine minutes and is set in King’s Landing. The transition is by family, from Jon Snow to Sansa Stark. The second section is four minutes long; the transition is by dialogue, from Sansa to Littlefinger and Varys talking about her fate.

The twelfth part runs three minutes and is set on the Wall. The transition is by dialogue, from Littlefinger talking about chaos as a ladder one climbs to Jon reaching the top of the Wall. The final image is of Ygritte completing a Full Web with Jon Snow after seeing the Seven Kingdoms for the first time in her life.

Analysis

Let’s start with the official short description of the episode, if only because we’ve never done that.…

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I found myself weirdly fascinated in hindsight by the early reviews of Blackstar that praised it while professing a certain bafflement at the meaning of it all, such as a Guardian review of the title video suggesting that it might “just [be] 10 minutes of standard-issue pop promo surrealism.” And then, not long after, Bowie’s death emphatically answered most interpretive questions about the album. It is not merely that the early critics were wrong – the early claim that “Blackstar” itself was about ISIS, for instance, is flagrantly wrong, but not nearly as perversely funny. Rather it is that this particular claim is an almost precise opposite of the truth. Critics claimed the album was a lot of cryptic and meaningless pomposity. In reality, there was a master interpretive key that unlocked almost the entire thing – a simple fact on the level of “it’s about X” that made sense of the entire project.

German sentence structure allows relative freedom of word order; the result are sentences that build towards a climactic revelation as to their meaning, clauses and words carefully piled up in anticipation of an ending that will at last illuminate their purpose. Even in English, writing naturally points towards endings. There’s no such thing as a nonlinear narrative. It always points forward. As Roger Ebert puts it, “Here is how life is supposed to work. We come out of ourselves and unfold into the world. We try to realize our desires. We fold back into ourselves, and then we die.”

Implicit is the existence of a high concept; a grand idea. Everyone is supposed to have a magnum opus. With it, a theme; a clear message to communicate; a subject. But we do not simply communicate the message. We cannot. Instead we half-communicate it, sketching it, alluding to it, gesturing towards it. It is less meaning than direction. We say part of what we mean, and let it stand in for the whole. All writing is foreshadowing.

And nothing is more foreshadowed than death. Strange figures follow us and watch, judging us, recording our deeds and misdeeds, drafting an eventual critical judgment. Dread signs and ominous portents abound. We know, instinctively, constantly, that something is going wrong; some horror is slowly unfolding. It must be, for the alternative – to be directionless – would surely be worse. As Thomas Ligotti puts it, “being somebody is rough, but being nobody is out of the question.”

Ligotti, of course, is an apropos writer to discuss, and not just because he’s ruthlessly trendy. His stories work upon an associative logic, more lyrical than narrative. Things are not said, but alluded to. Niggling illnesses and lost time. In particular, recurrent images of puppets. The faces that look at us are animated by other things. Things we cannot see or know. We recoil in horror.

“Dream logic” is the cliche descriptor of this sort of this. It’s not wrong as such; the unstable identities and shifting locations of dreams to resemble what we’re talking about.…

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