Monday, September 12, 2022

Let the Past Die, Kill It If You Have To

The Last Jedi was this mess. An ugly, horrible, messed-with mess.

But there is one quote in here.

A good one. One the series should have taken to heart. One I feel the director was trying to do, and he failed miserably. This is like an ice skating routine, like at the Olympics, and the pair of skaters fall and fall again. At a point, you feel sorry, but at least they kept trying. The end was thought-provoking, too, like anyone could have the force. Instead, we got this typical" blood of kings" story from the last movie, and it wasn't empowering or engaging at all.

We should all feel like potential Jedi knights; that is where the fantasy was when we were kids.

It should never be a "royal bloodline." The prequels and the sequels got it wrong. Let it be a mystery. Let us dream. Let us be kids again.

But the biggest issue is holding onto the past. We all go back to nostalgia, even if it kills us; we want it so bad it is like a heroin addict should we ever be parted from our drug.


Nerrath, Greyhawk, The Realms

I was trying to start my Low Fantasy Gaming campaign the other night, and I wanted to set this world as "Nerrath 900 years after," which was the default D&D 4 world. I started the game with a young researcher looking into the past, fascinated by it, and trying to get as much information as she could...

And it sucked.

I quickly realized that despite any character I introduced into this world, my experiences with the past version of Nerrath I had in D&D 4 would always hang over this campaign.

She would never be able to escape it, either.

She would never be able to make the world "hers," and the specter of the past would always haunt me, these characters, and my entire experience with this world. There would be no great mysteries we unlock together. We would never get to discover a new world. The shadows of past heroes would always be what she stands in. Even the high-magic age of D&D 4 would be "a greater time" than the one we have today.

And it was grossly unfair to me and the characters I wanted to play.

If I have a shelf full of retro modules and a world I have never played in, like Lost Lands, that is cool. I got a thousand stories on that shelf, all waiting for a moment to be told. If all I got was a world that was never developed, abandoned by its creators, and all I have are fond memories of us trying to make it work - then that is not enough.


Bigger Issues

It reminds me that we keep wanting to reinvent the same superhero or storybook character by putting a new actor in the old clothes. Yet, this is unfair to both the audience and the hero.

There comes a time to move on.

To let go.

To look towards a future.

To discover somewhere new, tell a new story, discover a new world, or let a fresh group of characters enjoy their own destiny without a past chained to their ankles. What you are doing is telling people, "nothing new or fun will ever be created," and "stop creating." Diverse creators with original characters are getting shut out of the conversation or handed an old character's superhero costume and told, "here, fill this."

It is unfair.

I want to hear new stories with new characters.

And everything about our nostalgia-driven present sucks.


New Worlds Only

From here on, I am playing in worlds I have not experienced yet (Lost Lands) or making up my own. I am done with retro modules and world books. I am done with them.

It is time to move on.

Because the person I am shortchanging is myself.

No comments:

Post a Comment