Jealous Rage

Improper processing and undying desires

Hey! Who are you?

There’s a lot that’s hidden between the lines when it comes to what we share about ourselves. Some of that is strategic in how we handle awkward situations. The result, though, is a tendency toward the bland in an effort to become nothing at all.

What if they think I’m weird?

A fear of what the proverbial other might think as an excuse to deny oneself of enjoyment and pleasure. These are the necessary restrictions built into a social contract, but it can feel like a bit of a raw deal.

This push and pull that defines our everyday personal existential crisis is at the core of Dorus at a mythic scale.

That fear of being seen.

Of being judged.

Judgment

Being a prequel to a prequel, the fate of the protagonist must be predetermined. The narrative playing field cannot rely on any plot twist or in the revelation of a yet unknown conspiracy.

Or it can, but I feel like that would be incredibly contrived.

Instead, I chose to make Dorus an exploration of my world and a few of its unknown parts. Whether it’s a fuller history or a more filled-out map, all that is secondary set dressing to what really matters.

The weight of what I hope to capture is well presented in a powerful spoiler-filled scene from Final Fantasy XIV:

“For eons have I measured your worth and found you wanting.”

Now, in the story I’m writing everything is centered on Dwolmarik’s entrance into the ultimate war of good and evil that continues through Rhean and Maneus.

Dorus, the character, has always had a strangeness to his appearance. Described as a short and flamboyant man, his very existence is a manifestation of stunted growth. A child who was dared to touch a big blue door and reaped the rewards in a devil’s debt.

That makes Dorus someone whose judgment has already passed. The old god Dwolmarik will not humor human emotions after his betrayal from a long, long time ago.

A god’s downfall leading to a rather childish, emotional reaction. But an almighty deity is forever bound by his own infallible judgment.

Forgiveness

For mere mortals, I find this plays out more in hiding who we really are. The fear of any retribution is enough to make people act accordingly. Ringing the bell feeds Pavlov’s dog, even when the food’s long been gone.

For a corrupt soul, this easily leads to madness. A confusion of what is and what ought to be, with the latter being the voiced opinion on every matter and the former being the silent action of every prayer.

And whether it be man or god, what a conscious being often really searches for is forgiveness. An excuse to let go of all the pent up rage and bottled emotions. Absolution of sins committed, even if they’re only in the mind!

And perhaps a path to healing the flesh of its rotten state. A diseased flow of blood dammed by wounds, poor health, or just medication.

Spiraling out of control in search of a guiding star. Wishing for an answer to finally reveal itself and then finding nothing but darkness inside.

Where this painful feedback loop is absent is in innocence.

Where we find innocence tends to be in an idealized childhood.

So, Dorus is a mortal with the appearance of a child. A gift bestowed upon him through a curse — a pact with Dwolmarik and his scheme for revenge.

In other words, Dwolmarik cannot forgive humanity because he has already passed judgment. Dorus, as a reflection of human innocence, only seeks forgiveness, but is forever caught in between.

Honest Courage

There is an irony in a deity being susceptible to the woes of emotional outbursts and relishing in the chaos. Dwolmarik is a mythic example of improperly processing jealousy and other negative thoughts.

And in our human history, there are no shortage of similar stories. The one that jumps to my mind is in the Book of Job.

How many are mine iniquities and sins? Make me to know my transgression and my sin. Wherefore hidest thou thy face, And holdest me for thine enemy?

—Job 13:23-24

The way Job has his faith tested as a bit of a bet between the divine council seems particularly cruel in an almost human way, if you’ll excuse my quasi-blasphemous phrasing.

While the story now ends with a reward for what was lost, that doesn’t change the fact that there was a high price for such frivolous questioning.

But the moral is more about the honest courage it takes to be human. We will never understand everything and we should never expect anything for submitting to divine will. The nature of the universe is inherently beyond our comprehension.

Or so I interpret the story.

That makes Dorus something of an unwilling corollary to Job. Someone who is marked by a god without his knowing.

How this ultimately plays out is where a moral distinct from the ending exists. A way to create a compelling narrative without worrying whether or not the future is already known.

At least, that’s more or less, what I’ve been working on.

Until next time,

—JMB