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Prequels and Pitfalls
The Three Canticles on this site are intended to be fully standalone stories while also serving as segments of a greater story with some underlying themes that transverse literally millennia in the same universe. Writing these stories has forced me to think a lot of why sequels/prequels work and why they often fail. Failures are particularly interesting to think about because they are more instructive for would-be writers like myself. I can’t guarantee that I won’t fall victim to these failures as the story proceeds, but I believe an awareness of the pitfalls is useful. This most recent episode with Zel and Vitova is an example of the temptations and common pitfalls that I wish to avoid while writing Lost Noise.
Pitfall #1: Explaining things that don’t need explaining
Prequels are especially prone to this pitfall because this can be incredibly cool. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade does this particularly well with the opening scene that shows how Indiana got his iconic hat. Was this scene necessary to understand or advance the story of Indiana Jones? Absolutely not. If this question was never answered, fans wouldn’t be clamoring for a source or getting into great debates about the provenience of Indiana’s fedora. The hat is Indiana’s hat. That’s all we need, really. In the case of Indiana’s hat, this scene does a good job because it also introduces a source of narrative tension between Indiana and his father that we will explore later in the film. The story is neat, but what it adds to the story is what makes this scene work.
I feel this is precisely why this pitfall is so dangerous. It can be fun and engaging to add backstory to significant items or motifs in a story, but the scope of this must be narrow. This is easier to do for Indiana Jones partly because Indiana Jones movies are essentially serialized stories that can be watched in whatever order you please without difficulty (this website does not recognize Crystal Skull). Conversely, this exact same thing does not work well in the Star Wars prequels. Explaining that Anakin Skywalker built C3PO- and intertwining this fact with other important plot related events- makes the universe smaller (see pitfall #2 below), isn’t particularly interesting, does not expand on any of the greater themes of the series of this point, and rips open a bunch of plot holes that are big enough to skydive through before they are sloppily patched over two movies later.
“No one likes this.”
Most times, things are better left to the imagination of the audience. This is why horror films know to incorporate a Monster Delay because the persistent dread the audience gets from the idea and threat of the monster is much more meaningful than the monster itself. When the monster itself is finally revealed, the imagined dread collapses into a clearer reality, and the result is almost always less scary than what was in the audience’s head.
The same is true for these “fun facts” and connections that tend to crop up in prequels. If these connections don’t provide an expansion of a theme, a new perspective, or a critique of previous point, then the author should be cautious about adding them to a story because they usually collapse a universe of interesting possibilities into one that is clearer but much more boring.
In the Fortuna Saga, the Guides (magic users typically able to transport people and materiel over distance) are shown using giant glass balls as a way to contain a city that had fallen to the the enemy. These balls were never explained in Fortuna Saga because they didn’t need to be explained. The scene that introduces them adequately shows that they are stationed strategically around the city, the city has been at a stalemate for months, and it shows exactly how the Fortunans use them and what their vulnerabilities are. Going into a metaphysics exposition about it would only have detracted from the story at that point.
So, after saying all of that, why did I choose to include a metaphysics exposition about these glass balls over ten years after I wrote the first page with them? I thought about this a lot, but I ultimately decided that this was a good place to make a connection because the goal isn’t to finally explain what those glass balls actually did or where they came from. This wasn’t a plot hole that has been bothering me for years that I’m hoping to retroactively cover up (to be honest, I have and will continue to do that in other places in the story). More importantly, the connection isn’t a simply a connection to this one scene from Fortuna Saga. It also buttresses some of the larger themes and motifs of the Three Canticles. For example, consider some of the late-story dialogue between Arlia Janet and Jazira El-Vrijer about cycles of violence, escalation, and loss. In this way, I feel this call back/call forward adds some real-world examples of these motifs that we will continue to experience in Lost Noise and have already experienced in Fortuna Saga and Hymns of the Apostate.
Pitfall #2: The Universe Starts to Revolve Around a Lucky Few
Granted, this is a little bit easier to avoid for these Canticles because the timelines are centuries apart from each other, but the risk is always present. Sequels or prequels are fun because characters are already established and we can then move on to putting an interesting cast in a brand new situation to see what will happen. The risk here is that the universe will start to turn around these characters instead of the other way around.
Fans will actively push against the introduction of new characters or previously unrelated parts of the universe because they’ve already done the work of understanding the main character and the thin slice of the universe that they inhabit. It’s easier to frame anything new in terms of how it relates with the old, which is inherently self-limiting. “Who is this? It’s Indiana Jones’ new love interest.” “Him? Oh that’s Biff Tanen’s great grandfather who lived in the Old West and had the exact same personality and is played by the same actor.” “Mr. Bond, the Crown needs you to be the last line of defense in this mission that will decide the fate of the free world… why? Because there wouldn’t be a movie if a massive organization like MI6 had proper internal and external controls and competent people in charge to prevent situations from deteriorating to the point where everything relies on the actions of a single super spy… No, there will not be an internal investigation about the failures after you complete your mission, Mr. Bond. We need to set up the sequel.”
Ironically, a series of stories tend to get more myopic with the more time it spends in the a universe. Really compelling stories expand their universe as they go on. While this is tougher to do, it is magical when it is done well. To explain both good and bad examples, I’m going to pick on Star Wars again.
To oversimplify a cultural juggernaut, the original trilogy was a tale of a young man who was thrust into a much larger conflict that he didn’t quite understand at first. For this discussion, Luke Skywalker’s universe got bigger as he learned more about the truth of the Empire, the Force, the Rebels, and the relationships between his friends and family. The Empire Strikes Back is a masterclass in expanding a universe while also staying connected and expanding established characters. The emperor, Lando, and Yoda all have direct connections with previously established characters, yet they bring in new perspectives and depth to the universe as well.
Conversely, the universe of the prequels and subsequent films and TV shows typically make the universe much smaller because most events are framed around how they directly lead to the events of the original trilogy. In a galaxy of billions or trillions of characters, most characters we spend time with can be summed up in terms of how they are related to Darth Vader or Boba Fett. Even the Knights of the Old Republic games, set 5000 years before the events of a New Hope, can’t help but fall victim to this. You can find armor belonging to Cassus Fett- a famed bounty hunter. In the Star Wars universe, the Fett family have all been famous and feared bounty hunters throughout the galaxy for about as long as Stonehenge has existed on Earth. It’s absurd, and I’m glad that many Star Wars fans recognize this absurdity.
“My name is John Stonehenge, from the same family that has built every monument on Earth since forever. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
For the Canticles, I have chosen to side-step this problem. Arlia Janet/Valens didn’t show up until halfway through Hymns of the Apostate and Ms. Blail is still absent from Lost Noise after 100+ pages into the story. This is intentional because I want to explore new aspects of this universe with different characters while also keeping the themes consistent. It’s hard to deconstruct or comment on a motif using characters with perspectives that we’ve already explored. Frankly, it’s not going to be interesting seeing what happens to Nyle, Balen, and Karen because we already know what happens to them. We don’t know what is going to happen to Zel, the Chieftess, Marie De Ralse, and the Xin Yun’s extended family, and I can’t wait to see where their decisions take them.
Nyle, Balen, and Karen will play a role in this story, of course, and we will see how they change throughout the events of Lost Noise. I am looking forward to sharing some aspects of their lives and personalities that we didn’t get in Fortuna Saga, and we’ve already seen some of this. However, I don’t expect to build a lot of narrative tension from their particular slices of the universe.
Many prequels try to tackle this issue by showing how a character became the character we already know. How did Anakin Skywalker become Darth Vader? These types of questions are usually dissatisfying because Anakin is simply less interesting than Darth Vader. Anakin follows a linear flight path from Chosen One to Fallen Hero. It was never a question of if he would choose the path he chose, and he is constrained by this poorly-structured narrative necessity for him to fall.
We never see any new side of Anakin. After dozens of additional hours from movies, TV shows, and cartoons expanding on the saga of Darth Vader, the throwaway line that Obi-wan said in Episode IV is sufficient. He was a good Jedi who succumbed to the temptation of the dark side and was lost.
It’s less interesting on the screen than Obi-wan made it sound.
Instead, I hope to expand on the world of Lost Noise and provide new context for why Nyle and his friends went the way that they did while hopefully building more tension about how those decisions impact and are impacted by the actions of the rest of the world. The world of Lost Noise does not exist to stuff Nyle into a hole. The world will hopefully feel much, much bigger than that.
Delay between VIII-4 and VIII-5
CW: Depression, Suicidal Ideation
I didn’t intend there to be a many, many month gap between these episodes. I never do. Canto VII was one of the most fun story bits that I have worked on in my decade of making sprite comics. That battle was something that would have been out of my reach during most of the run of Fortuna Saga and Hymns of the Apostate, but it came together in a really fun way. I think Ysane’s story arc (though brief) is perfect.
I came into this episode with a lot of enthusiasm but something unexpected happened… I got sad.
I’ve written about my youth on this site or on Twitter. But I don’t think I ever have talked about how I had suicidal ideation from about age 12 through most of my twenties. During this time, I would always have a few ready-to-go plans for how to kill myself. If I traveled, I would look for tall parking garages that I could jump off of or something nearby that I could use to kill myself “just in case.” I never tried to kill myself, but it was something I felt that I could do. It was something that I learned to either ignore or suppress.
After I got into a serious relationship with Jessica Mora, a contributor to Fortuna Saga, got married and had a kid, those thoughts became distant memories that I associated with the stress of my childhood and then the stress of serving in the military. I genuinely feel lucky to enjoy the type of life that I have now. It’s beyond what I could have imagined what was in stock when I daydreamed as a child.
Shortly after I updated the VIII-4, I noticed that I was starting to eyeball tall parking garages and other “good” locations to kill myself. I noticed I was getting frustrated easily when I normally laugh at frustrations. I sat down to work on this comic so many times and just felt an overwhelming sense of ennui before I made a single new brush stroke to a panel background.
I have a therapist for the first time in my life, and it has made an important difference. I haven’t had a suicidal thought for months, but I am not confident that this is something that I can ever be free from; however, it is something that I feel that I am finally getting tools to understand and control rather than suppress and ignore.
I don’t want this to come across as an excuse for a delay. It’s not an excuse. I guarantee there will be more delays. I can’t commit to a twice-a-week update schedule like I had with Fortuna Saga because my life is completely different now. Any future delays will (almost certainly) not be indicative that I’m suicidal again. I’m busy with my kids, my relationships, and my job. Delays will happen. This specific gap in updates was particularly hard for me, but I’m grateful that I was able to use it as an opportunity to address something that has been hounding me for the vast majority of my life.
World Building Vs Story Building
A postmortem of Hymns of the Apostate lead me to believe that I forced myself to streamline some aspects of the plot that I would have rather developed a little more during the story. In retrospect, I wish I had built up the importance of the Runeam Library and it’s impact on international politics, and I wanted to comment on how a large portion of the Alvaran population was living abroad as mercenaries and cheap labor. When I think about some of my motivations when I was actually making the pages of HotA, a lot of these points were streamlined because I was unable to update regularly due to my deployment schedule and then afterwards when I was working for the DoD in Japan. I felt pressured to “move the story along.” A lot of these plot points are eventually tied up in the Cast page (which I encourage you to read), but they also come to a head in Canto XXXVII which is arguably my favorite story beat in the entire series. I fret because a lot of readers overlooked some points when this canto was released, and I attribute a lot of that to the streamlining instincts that I had when making Hymns of the Apostate. For Lost Noise, I will resist the temptation to push the story along because moments like this are important. So, I apologize for the delay. I don’t want to compromise on Lost Noise, and I’m really happy how this episode came out.
Please let me know if you have any thoughts or feedback in the comments sections on this site or by tweeting at me.
Rebel Woman by Chiwoniso Maraire
I’ve recently fallen in love with the album Rebel Woman by Chiwoniso Maraire- a Zimbabwean songwriter who tragically passed away in 2013 at age 37.
This album really hits all of the high points that I tend to gravitate towards as a listener. I was introduced to West African music by a college roommate from Cameroon, and a few of my “desert island album” contenders come out of Mali and Senegal. This is my first real foray into East African music, and, while I lack a lot of the formal and informal tools to truly appreciate this album, it is already a contender for a desert island album. I have been absolutely charmed by this album the past few weeks.
The album is a healthy synthesis of modern, Western instruments like trumpets with traditional African instruments such as talking drums, balafons, and shekere that creates a warm, vitalizing sound throughout the playlist. The kalimba (I believe) is used in lieu of a bass throughout every song, and metal tinniness of this instrument is actually quite evocative and propels my foot to tap along to the beat. Chiwoniso has an powerful voice, and she switches between English and Shona throughout the album with ease. The titular song is performed completely in English, and the lyrics are so well written that I am frustrated that I have been unable to find a decent translation of the other songs.
The whole album is uplifting, inspiring, and would be generally fun to put on at a medium volume as background music at a party or while exercising. I recommend listening to the 3rd track- Gomo– which is the best representative song of the styles used throughout the album. It has a strong female lead vocalist with super deep male backup that creates a compelling contrast. The use of horns throughout the song illustrate the generally jazzy feel of the album and inspires the experimentation and variation of the hooks and refrains. The song is long enough that I feel satisfied after listening to it, but it doesn’t wear out its welcome or become a repetitive earworm.
My favorite song on the album is the 9th song- Pamuromo. However, I do not recommend that you listen to this song first as it is not as good of a representation of the album as a whole. I simply love male/female duets, and Pamuromo scratches that itch in a way that forces me to listen to it a few times before moving on.
Sequels, Prequels, and R2D2’s jet packs
Spoiler warnings for: Fortuna Saga and Hymns of the Apostate, 22 Jump Street, Mass Effect, Star Wars
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Sequels and prequels are odd beasts to tackle as a writer.
Normally, a sequel will fall into one of these categories:
– It escalates the stakes of the original story (“Bigger, better, bolder, and louder.” The Fast and the Furious model)
– It is a different story told in the same world (e.g. the Godfather II or the Mandalorian)
– It is the next part of an ongoing story (Lord of the Rings into the Two Towers)
The Fortuna Saga and its sequel, Hymns of the Apostate, are complete stories and can be enjoyed in isolation. On the other hand, both stories reflect on common themes, questions, and motifs that can provide a deeper understanding of each story. This is most obvious where the stories clearly parallel each other (e.g. Valens and the Hunter vs. The Last Dragon and Ezra) where the same question is viewed through a different schema. Sequels are the most interesting when they iterate, explore, and stress-test their own thematic structures. Doing so risks breaking apart a carefully-worded statement in the original story, but I believe that examining the weak-points or exceptions to these statements, while painful, is not destructive if done thoughtfully.
One of my favorite sequels of the previous decade, 22 Jump Street, uses this entire thought-process as the premise for the entire movie. If you haven’t seen this movie (and the “original” remake), I really encourage you to do so. Sequels often falter because they try to recapture the magic or the “formula” of the original. The script of 22 Jump Street delights in this fact. The characters are literally told to “do the exact same thing as last time.” Whenever the characters in try to deviate from the formula set by the original film, they are berated by their superiors and forced to comply with that formula. This causes the protagonists to focus on the wrong clues and make poor interpretations on what they are seeing because they are using an old lens to focus on a new environment. While the movie ultimately still relies on the established formula, it was refreshing to see the awareness of it.
For comparison, let’s turn to Mass Effect 3 (a sequel to one of my favorite games). Let’s ignore the much maligned ending for now because it’s not relevant for the conversation. Mass Effect 3 makes the same storytelling mistakes that 22 Jump Street lampoons. More importantly, it mirrors the mistakes that the George Lucas’ Star Wars prequels (Episodes I-III) make. Mass Effect 3 goes out of its way to reintroduce basically every single character that we have met so far throughout the tale. You see characters for brief scenes where they usually end up getting killed. These scenes do very little to move the plot forward and, honestly, don’t have much to say. These interactions feel more like a To-Do checklist item rather than a genuine story moment. As a player, it feels like the game leans forward through the 4th Wall for a moment to whisper, “Hey, do you remember Kasumi? Well, here’s a 10 second interaction with here…. OK! Next up is Jack.” The Star Wars prequels make this same mistake where the audience sees explanations for simple thing that do not need explaining. The audience didn’t need to know where C3P0 came from nor did they need to know the troubling origins of Anakin Skywalker’s birth… especially when these facts have almost no bearing on the stories that were ultimately told. If these facts were left unsaid, it would not change the story of the prequels or enhance our understanding of the original versions. Usually, this new information rips open gaping plot holes and weaken the original story.
The existence of a character doesn’t need explanation. The potential origin story is not what endeared the audience to them in the first place. These little bits of fan-service nods and expansions are fun to do as a writer, but they actually make these literal galaxy-sized stages feel smaller. In a universe of near infinite possibilities in Star Wars and Mass Effect, we get smaller, weaker, less-wise versions of characters that we already know. Anakin Skywalker is less interesting than Darth Vader. Anakin is less capable, less competent, less confident, and has less storytelling potential because we know that, no matter what, he has to end up as Darth Vader. All of this is true because of how Anakin was framed in the story.
This is a huge risk when writing a prequel. Balen Frey in Lost Noise, for example, has “plot armor.” He is essential to the plot of Fortuna Saga. I can’t kill Balen during the run of Lost Noise if I want the plot of Fortuna Saga to remain logically consistent… and the audience knows this (Although, if I can figure out how to have an internally consistent Scanners-like scene where I spray Balen’s brains over the page, rest assured that I will do it) We know how Balen’s story ends already, so how do we make the journey interesting for him?
This is something that I want to explore with Lost Noise for the characters with plot armor. It may work or it might be a spectacular failure, but I think there is another option to keep characters interesting in sequels and prequels. A monologue from As You Like It articulates this point better than I ever could:
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
This is an interesting way to view a character. To personalize this thought, I simply am not the same person that I was ten years ago. I might have similar traits, experiences, and preferences, but I would handle the exact same scenarios from my past much differently if I were somehow thrust into them today. Instead of viewing Fortuna Saga’s Balen Frey as the necessary endpoint for the Lost Noise Balen Frey character arc, I intend on viewing this story’s Balen Frey as a unique individual worthy of exploration in his own right. He is one of the many parts that we play. Even if the flesh cannot die, much can happen to this role that Balen is currently playing.
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