Memento Mori Theatricks

The Freak challenges our preconceived definition of normalcy.  When freaks are feared and believed dangerous, the community ostracizes them. Human society lacks the tolerance to integrate the extraordinary into its midst. Monstrous births, like comets and eclipses, presage dire events. Madmen spout unnatural opinions and behave irrationally. Curiosity only overcomes fright when freaks can be viewed in relative safety, such as inmates in an asylum, as preserved specimens in curiosity cabinets or as exhibits in carnival sideshows. Conversely, when freaks are feared and deemed useful, the people revere them as prophets and miracle-workers. The ancients consulted these seers, such as the Sibyl of Cumae and the Pythia of Delphi; deciphering their mysterious utterances revealed not only the future, but divine wisdom. In the Odyssey, Menelaus captures and forces the shape-shifting sea god (~700 BCE: Proteus) to reveal the fate of his brother Agamemnon. Most religions require purification and isolation for its rituals, transforming the participants to transform themselves into the “other” in order to separate the sacred from the profane.

In the Pulp and Golden Ages, this metamorphosis can sever the ties between the past and present. Traumatized by the tragic murder of his family, an adventurer’s (1939: Avenger) face and hair lose all color and feeling, paralyzed and lifeless. He learns to mold his corpse-like visage to impersonate anyone in his quest for vengeance. With the help of a kindly monk, a petty thief (1941: Plastic Man) reforms his way of life after being doused with acid, transforming his body into living rubber.

The writers of the Silver Age extend the freak metaphor to represent communists or mistreated minority groups, exploring the witch hunt phenomenon and its impact on society. Aliens (1962: Skrulls) bent on conquering the Earth, use their innate shapechanging ability to infiltrate the human populace. Talented psychics (1963: Jean Grey and Professor X) found a special school to place young mutants firmly on the right path in opposition to a rival philosophy (1964: Brotherhood of Evil Mutants) that espouses domination of mankind. Over the years, Marvel’s mutants have served as proxies for African-Americans, immigrants and homosexuals, based on writers’ specific themes of persecution and prejudice.

Not content with operating in the fringes or hiding in the shadows, freaks embrace active roles in the Modern Age. A red-skinned demon (1993: Hellboy) rejects his destiny to enslave humanity and investigates supernatural events for the American government. Possessing incredible telekinetic and telepathic powers, a time-traveling soldier (1990: Cable) assumes aggressive leadership of the New Mutants.

The capacity to ignore animal instinct (i.e. the beast within) when making decisions is a mark of sentience. With free will comes accountability, but not responsibility. An individual picking up a gun does not automatically assume the duties of a police officer. A person’s actions carry consequences, but these choices are not predestined by an outside moral or ethical code. As an allegorical figure, the Elemental represents our potential to use and abuse power. Power becomes either a gift or a curse depending on the wielder’s perception.

The origins of the elemental lie in animism. The idea that everything in nature has a spirit occurs in many of the world’s belief systems. Ancient druids, tribal shamans and modern spiritualists mediate between the natural and supernatural realms. Whether called kami, numina or totems, spirits tend to be revered in anthropomorphic forms rather than as theoretical concepts. Similarly, allegorical figures, such as those in Pilgrim’ Progress or Lord of the Flies are the personification of the abstract. The alchemist Paracelsus applied the names of  folk creatures (gnome, salamander, sylph, undine) to describe the pure spirits of the four classical elements (earth, fire, air, water).

The most popular hero of Golden Age was a potent elemental, a magical champion (1939: Captain Marvel) with the superhuman powers of six mythological figures. In the Silver Age, three elementals decide to combat injustice, whereas many of their adversaries, who also happen to be elementals, pursue a criminal career. Rogues harness elemental forces (1957: Captain Cold; 1959: Mirror Master and Weather Wizard; 1963: Heat Wave) to slow down a scarlet speedster (1956: Flash – revision of 1940 character). An interstellar peacekeeper (1959: Green Lantern – revision of 1940 character) converts raw willpower into green energy, while his foes counter with yellow anti-matter (1961: Sinestro), magnetic fields (1962: Doctor Polaris) and draining anti-energy (1964: Black Hand). A troubled teenager (1962: Spider-Man) with amazing abilities faces off against a shape-shifting earth elemental (1963: Sandman) and a sadistic lightning elemental (1964: Electro).

In comics, an elemental’s characterization often mirrors the traits of that power. Ice elementals are cruel or pitiless; cat elementals manifest as mysterious loners or nimble acrobats. A Silver Age quartet (1961: Fantastic Four) exhibit the characteristics of the four classic elements: Mr. Fantastic’s elastic body stretches almost as far as his fluid intellect, Invisible Girl’s transparent force fields bend the physics of space and light; The Human Torch’s affinity for fire complements his hotheadedness and The Thing’s stony exterior reflects his rock-solid human soul.

African-American characters (1971: John Stewart; 1975: Storm; 1977: Black Lightning; 1981: Vixen) avoid racial and elemental stereotypes in the talented writing of the Bronze Age. Elementals in the Modern Age ascend into near godhood. A monster of the Louisiana bayous (1984: Swamp Thing – revision of 1971 character) discovers his true role as the defender of the Green, the spiritual community of plant elementals. The sandman of folklore (1988: Dream) escapes from imprisonment to reestablish his mastery over the Dreaming, the realm of reveries and nightmares.

The Construct symbolizes our desire to know the ultimate reason for existence. Essentially, the construct is the personification of these abstract questions. Who created me and for what purpose? What does it mean to be human? How can I become fully human? Through the construct, we also explore free will versus determinism. Must I serve my creator and his intended purpose? Or am I an independent agent in the cosmos?

The earliest constructs are created to satisfy a specific need. Hephaestus, Greek god of the forge, furnished King Minos a giant bronze automaton (~1200 BC: Talos) to defend the island of Crete. The sculptor Pygmalion carves an ivory statue (~250 BC: Galatea) so life-like that it ensnares his heart; Aphrodite transforms the figure into flesh so that Pygmalion may have his ideal wife. According to Talmudic writings, rabbis fashioned silent men of clay (~200: Golem) to act as servants and protectors. An obsessed scientist uses alchemy to create a synthetic man (1818: Frankenstein’s Monster) to conquer death.

Constructs (primarily robots) are simple adversaries in the Pulp Era and the Golden Age. They represent science gone bad, the evil weapons of misguided mad scientists. In the Silver Age, the construct acquires additional dimensions in line with its literary roots. As sentient beings independent of their creators, constructs adapt their primary programming to new stimuli, evolve distinct personalities and take control of their own destinies. An imperfect doppelganger (1958: Bizarro) of Superman cannot adjust to life on Earth, eventually relocating to the fun-house mirror planet of Htrae. An advanced android (1960: Amazo) can duplicate any super powers he encounters, but struggles to understand the human emotions that he has absorbed. Initially designed as an assistant for Dr. Henry Pym, an armored robot (1968: Ultron) turns against its creator after self-programming a malevolent intellect. Ironically, Ultron’s own creation (1968: Vision) rebels and joins the Avengers.

Not content with their creator’s original vision, the constructs of the Bronze Age and Modern Age reinterpret their core directives to establish their own answer to the meaning of life and death. Created by the Guardians of the Galaxy to police the cosmos, an army of androids (1975: Manhunters) decides that punishment supersedes justice and swears revenge against their makers. In a revision of a classic Silver Age villain, a machine intelligence (1983: Braniac) concludes that Superman is the “Master Programmer” (i.e. God) and the principal obstacle to dominating the universe. The ultimate Kryptonian killing machine (1992: Doomsday), bred by accelerated artificial selection, also desires to destroy the Man of Steel to fulfill his purpose. A sentient surveillance satellite and its cyborg warriors (2005: Brother Eye and OMACs) launch an attack to eradicate what is perceived as the greatest threat to the Earth – all beings with super powers.

Concepts in Darkpages are metaphors for the mysteries of human existence. The beast represents the dual nature of man: an animal trapped inside a cage of human civilization and its ethical codes. The conflict for the beast is the struggle between instinct and reason. The beast both admires and fears the destructive potential of the Id unfettered by the restraints of morality. Thus, the beast is apprehensive when forming close bonds, concerned that the hidden monster will bring injury or death. Throughout history, religious and philosophical doctrines have provided guidance on how to tame our impulses, by turning the other cheek or rejecting worldly pleasures. But in the end, the beast shows us that some cannot truly control or repress their savage nature. The mask of civility can only hold back the face of evil for so long.

In folklore, the beast often appears as a lycanthrope – a man who transforms into a fierce creature – or as a hybrid possessing both human and animal characteristics. Werewolves roamed the countryside, attacked

wayward travelers and then returned to unassuming lives. Centaurs and maenads, rational beings when sober, engaged in drunken orgies of sex and violence. Transformation into a beast could be symbolic too:

Norsemen donned animal pelts to trigger a berserker rage during combat. Robert Louis Stevenson introduced a man of breeding who quaffs a potion to free himself from morality (1886: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde). At the end of this allegory of good and evil, the killer Hyde eventually subsumes the gentler Jekyll. In the Golden Age, a disfigured district attorney obsessed with duality turns to crime (1942: Two-Face). To the beast, criminal behavior is justified since it is society that neuters man’s natural virility.

The beast flourishes in the Silver Age, especially the motif of the quiet, rational scientist who becomes a monster: a brute fueled by rage (1962: Hulk), a rampaging reptilian (1963: Lizard) and a bat-like creature (1970: Man-Bat). These men of science may have possessed noble goals, but their experiments backfired horribly. On a certain level, the beast is an offshoot of the mad scientist, reminding us of the consequences of “playing God” or conducting unorthodox scientific research.

The Bronze Age ushers in a paradigm change. No longer a pure good/evil dichotomy, both the human and animal personalities of the beast follow a grayer moral code. Suffering from a hereditary curse, a werewolf (1971: Werewolf by Night) stalks and kills the wicked. A knight who betrayed Camelot is bound to a fiend from hell (1972: Demon). A brooding warrior (1974: Wolverine) with a shadowy past constantly wrestles with his bloodlust.

The beast devolves into an amoral killing machine in the Modern Age. The prehistoric urges of a reptilian brain dictate the actions of a voracious inhuman monster (1983: Killer Croc). Genetically engineered and conditioned by “The System”, an assassin (1992: Azrael) fails to rein in his dark side and eventually loses his sanity. A similar secret experiment develops a female clone (2003: X-23) of Wolverine in order to create an unstoppable biological weapon.