I remember when I was reading DOTC when I was around 10, and ever since Misty died I had been waiting for the moment where Birch and Alder learned about her murder, how everyone in their lives has kept it a secret. And then it just didn't happen.
I also remember obsessively re-reading the part where Quiet Rain blows up at Clear Sky.
Birch and Alder are two characters that are just so...
I WANT to say they were forgotten about, but that word doesn't feel right for how they're constantly showing up on the screen. Clear Sky occasionally feels guilty about how he murdered their mother, but for the vast majority of the time, that's described in passive voice. So you're not reminded of just HOW cruel he was, and still very much is.
It's like they're not allowed to be characters.
Like, how does Alder feel about Clear Sky, who seemed to be acting as an adoptive father until he beat her as a child? How did Birch respond later, when Clear Sky was so busy thrashing his sister that he was threatened by a dog? How do they feel about the man who took their mother away from them?
They keep getting cited as "Good Examples Of Non-Campborn Cats," dodging around the fact they were stolen and raised by Petal. Like a lot of the other "adoptions" in the series, she quietly stops mattering to them. But even this fact... like, they're being OTHERED when they were functionally raised SkyClan.
How do they feel about THAT? That their earliest memory is SkyClan, and yet, they'll never be considered truly, fully "clanborn."
Their whole life taken from them, by Clear Sky's cruelty, their formative years spent in his violent shadow, and the narrative is just not interested in that.
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i may be crucified for this opinion but
one of the many reasons i think dds deserves a remake is just how little impact some of the characters have and it’s really fucking sad. unless they’re party members or antagonistic forces they don’t get nearly as much screen time as they deserve and i think that hurts them as characters???
jinana and lupa especially. i get the setting of the first game is a battle royale that turned into a cannibal battle royale so of course not everyone could live but they kinda didn’t get as much screen time as they deserved. i mean think about it they kinda just exist to introduce their tribe, interact with the embryon for a bit, disappear, reappear once or twice, then next time you see them they’ve succumbed to hunger, you beat the shit out of them, and they end up dying. what little they are given does make you like them don’t get me wrong but a lot of that rides on dialogue which, as someone who loves seeing people experience certain plot stuff of games i enjoy, i kinda noticed that it was a really mixed result. it’s either “oh no anyways” with maybe the player getting a little melancholic when they get brought up again or the player doesn’t care. considering how important their struggles and mini arcs are that’s not good???
the fact that they exist solely to develop argilla and gale is a shame since unless you like the exchanges they have their deaths don’t have that big of an impact. they do get mentions and all that in 2 yet it kinda just. makes me question it more from the standpoint of what could’ve been done with them or the giant emotional aftermath that should’ve happened. this isn’t to say they can’t die or whatever but considering the interesting conflicts dds introduces and how it already struggled to explore it as much as it could’ve, jinana and lupa really did have the potential to help remedy some of those issues.
and then there’s fred aka the smokey of dds. i still don’t know why he exists except to explain why lupa somewhat knows what a child is and to introduce the existence of tiny humans to the gang. i’m sorry i straight up forget he was a character at points.
qds fixed a lot of this yes yet i still think it’s important to point out on a game standpoint, since most people who play dds don’t end up reading qds, and i really don’t think actual important contextual stuff or major aspects of a game’s themes should be exclusive to books. it’s not as bad as something like fnaf or other mascot horrors—that shit was over a decade later—but it is a major writing issue and i don’t think the fact that the original lead writer got sick and had to leave means there wasn’t a writing decline. you can tell there was stuff that was going to be built upon only to be abandoned or underdeveloped.
it’s extra sad because this is straight up one of the best instances of world-building the series has ever had, and the whole cannibalistic character drama mixed with spiritual and buddhist + hindu themes is something so inherently interesting while also being in some ways taboo??? there’s not a lot of games out there at least not made by indie developers that get that risky since it’s not marketable, and something like that is next to nonexistent now in the mainstream market. we fuckin need games like the dds duology that challenge the status quo and goddammit if it got expanded upon and had more development for side characters that would be actually perfect.
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I want Maya to win Carina over. I don't want Carina to forgive her just like that. Big speech and move on.
When Maya is 100% healthy, she should invite Carina to dinner, flirt with her every time she goes to the clinic, and surprise her at the hospital with coffee.
I mean, I want to see everything that we didn't see the first time.
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would love to hear more about "to watch a bird in flight"! :D
Now that I'm in my ridiculously late break from work (it's literally midnight I procrastinated for too long this morning), I can finally answer these!!
"to watch a bird in flight" is a canon era (eventual) enjoltaire fic, with the title coming from the first amis chapter:
This is a sweet but angsty pre-barricade fic in which Grantaire is a coward, Enjolras is capable of being terrible, and revolution waits in the wings.
It's inspired by the fact that Grantaire is a huge fucking yapper and I hadn't seen enough book-faithful blabbing in a lot of the fics I'd read. But more because I am charmed and fascinated by working out the pipeline from 'roughly repulsed, rejected' to the sudden and unfortunate realization of being in love with someone so a) male in 1830s France, and b) unlike anything one could have anticipated.
I've not said even half the things I have to say about this fic (more is in the tags) so please do comment if you're interested or have any questions!!
Have an angsty little snippet xx:
Bahorel claps a hand on his shoulder as Grantaire begins to shuffle homewards. “Good man. Now straight home, mind. Don't do anything stupid.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he winces, every inch of him sighs with the realization of his mistake.
Grantaire’s body goes rigid beneath his hand.
“Oh?” Grantaire mutters, facing away from him.
“Grantaire-” Bahorel begins.
Grantaire whirls around with a look of deep amusement in his eyes. His grin is almost manic, offset by a bitterness too wracked with self loathing to ignore. His limbs are quaking with the anticipation of his spiel, as if the words themselves are bubbling up within him, jostling to break the surface.
“Grantaire, you're-” Bahorel says again.
“No, dear Bahorel, you're absolutely right, the deuce! As per usual!” Grantaire cries, his voice dripping with insincerity. “So attentive of you to, to warn me against doing something stupid. Oh, as I am wont to do indeed! Bah, you know me so well!”
He is gabbling now, unable to stop himself as words spew out of him, harsher and louder with the rush of the Seine in his ears and the sympathetic grimaces of the blank faces passing him by. His hands flail wildly, desperately, in vast gestures fit for the opera. His performance is all bravado, undercut by deep hurt. Already, the guilt is rising like bile in his throat.
“Ah, alas, without you I would topple into the river! Without you I would, ah whoopsadaisy! And fall in front of every trap I see, I should be so lucky. Ever so sorry, my lord, I didn't realize you'd called for the fool! No matter, no bother, I'll just skip on over, shall I? Yes, you call for the fool, and here I am! In my red stockings and my JANGLY HAT!”
“GRANTAIRE!” Bahorel's cry silences him.
Bahorel is not an astute man by any means, nor is he concerned with the ‘how’s and the ‘why’s of the world. But he is kind. And it does not take him more than a moment to see through Grantaire's hollow little show.
His friend's wandering eyes are guilty and exhausted, and full of despair. He envelopes Grantaire in an embrace.
For a moment, Grantaire is still, then his weight shifts almost imperceptibly against Bahorel's sturdy form.
“You're not a fool,” says Bahorel carefully. “I know that's what this is really about. But I don't think that. And I'd never say what he said…I'm not even certain he meant it himself.”
He holds Grantaire at arm's length, staring him in the eyes. Grantaire shifts uncomfortably and looks at the floor.
“Go home, Grantaire. Okay? Get some sleep. Have some fucking water for God's sake. And tomorrow you can watch whilst I punch that pompous bastard in the mouth.”
He says it with an easy smile on his lips, but Grantaire does not laugh. He just sniffles, wipes his nose on his sleeve, and looks at the floor.
“I'll go home,” he mumbles.
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