Perhaps it is time that I share of my favorite Ultra Space World I have visited so far: Ultra Hive. As is to be expected, it is the most numerous homeworld of Naganadel but it is also filled with innumerable cultural traditions coexisting with one another.
I have only been there once as a mission alongside Seira. She was there to observe Naganadel in their natural habitat instead of the artificial Rookery and I was there to take note of the cultural practices of the “hive-clans”, as they are called that are scattered about the planet. These clans are descended from the people who first travelled through Ultra Wormholes successfully and those who fled from the Blinding One’s first rampage where its very being was shattered. They have a long and storied history, one that is a far cry from that of Ultra Megalopolis.
Instead of fearing Ultra Beasts and seeing them as threats to all worlds, they walk among them. Most of their settlements are even in close proximity, and sometimes inside, large Naganadel nests that have been maintained over several generations. One of the main things that sets this place apart is the presence of a leadership figure that is a Naganadel themselves that is somehow present in all the currently observed clans, known as a “hive-mother”, in addition to leaders that are of my kin that is chosen by the UB matriarch. Though an unconventional hierarchy, it is indeed quite fascinating.
As for what truly captivated me about this world was their rich oral storytelling tradition and emphasis on the arts in addition to the advanced technology brought over from Ultra Megalopolis. Their creation myth states that the planet on which they live on is actually the long since dormant heart of the legendary progenitor of the Naganadel species and that the twin suns it orbits are in fact its eyes, watching over its inhabitants from beyond the heavens.
Another tradition is whenever someone new is born, whether it be a child or hatchling, their handprint goes on a stone wall mural where others who have come before them have done the same; the mural is continuously updated whenever eventful milestones in an individual’s life have happened. Other murals represent moments in the clan’s history or folk stories. They are filled with intricate patterns that all hold meaning and it is quite the sight to see.
For so many reasons, I wish to return to this place. Even though it is a culture I should be familiar with since it is that of my own species, it couldn’t be farther than what I am used to. Perhaps there are even human cultures that are parallels to these hive-clans to an extent, but for now I am unsure.
5 notes
·
View notes
REVELATIONS
NEWS ❖ COMMENT ❖ HEAVY FUCKING METAL
HOT NEW BAND
Sleep is not just for the weak, according to Vessel and co
STAY TOKE
The gimmick may be goofy, but Sleep Token’s music is no laughing matter
“My favourite 90s album is Fantastic Planet by Failure. It’s devastatingly bleak in a way that resonates into our deepest self.” – VESSEL (VOCALS)
SOUNDS LIKE an intriguing and shadowy blend of atmospheric post-rock and tech
FOR FANS OF Meshuggah, Bon Iver, Explosions in the Sky
LISTEN TO Calcutta
Over the years Metal Hammer has heard all manner of bizarre sonic coalitions and watched bands emerge from the deepest, weirdest corners of our scene, yet mysterious collective Sleep Token are up there among the most unique and ‘WTF?’ propositions so far. Not only is their music a fairly unclassifiable fusion of brutal tech-metal and atmospheric post-rock, but the band, driven by masked and cloaked frontman Vessel, claim to live in thrall to an ancient deity called Sleep. OK…
Much like Ghost’s Nameless Ghouls, the remaining members of Sleep Token have chosen to remain anonymous in order to retain their shadowy presence— only agreeing to answer our questions via email.
“They go hand in hand,” explains Vessel when we ask if the band’s sound and image are simply an exercise in gimmickry. “Sleep Token serves to add a visual dimension to our journey. A world without texture isn’t a world at all.” The story goes that Vessel first encountered Sleep in a dream where he was promised glory and magnificence in return for his worship. “He is the oldest God, a primal majesty that has endured the ages unperturbed by the morality of a flawed and chaotic human race,” says the frontman helpfully. “He is everyone. He is you. There’s a power in music that binds us all, every note relates to another. He showed me a vision of a world filled with depth and texture.”
OK, so their ‘backstory’ is silly. But as far as the music’s concerned, Sleep Token are an undeniably intriguing prospect, inhibiting a sparse world of heart-breaking beauty and intense heaviness where start, and sometimes sinister skeletal soundscapes build to throbbing climaxes with mesmerising effect. Recent single Calcutta, which premiered on Hammer’s website, builds like a storm: violent, djent-tinged destruction erupting amid Vessel’s ethereal and vulnerable Bon Iver-esque vocals.
“We sculpt, build and craft these sounds with an aim to deliver the emotional magnitude of His words,” says Vessel. “Destroy and rebuild over and over until what is left is what His followers shall hear. The influences come from the physical and emotionally charged world at large. Dreams are textural, so is music and much like life; they bring both darkness and life, beauty and ugliness— it’s our job to translate and convey those complexities as best we can. Each of these songs is an experience, but to find the real details you’ll have to explore them yourself. The music will ring out and people will continue to follow, for that’s what people do best. Follow. Stay with us and we’ll show you the whole world through His eyes. What a magnificent sight that is.”
“WE WORSHIP THE OLDEST GOD, A PRIMAL MAJESTY”
SLEEP TOKEN’S NEW EP, TWO, IS OUT NOW VIA BASICK
METALHAMMER.COM
(This is in my Google Drive also, here.)
109 notes
·
View notes
Part 1: what's lost can be found
"She won't make a sound, alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering if she stands she'll fall down. She wants to be found, the only way out is through everything she's running from wants to give up and lie down. So stand in the rain, stand your ground. Stand up when it's all crashing down. You stand through the pain, you won't drown. And one day, what's lost can be found." -Stand in the Rain by Superchick
Regent Masterlist Part 2
The decayed ghost siren echoed through the abandoned streets of Amity Park's Witching Hours. Its residents were well acquainted with what that sound meant, fear and exasperation a potent (strange) mix to keep them tucked in their homes, their beds, as the Fentonworks building seemed to come alive.
Of course, figuratively speaking.
(Nothing was truly alive there anymore.)
Jasmine Fenton had just arrived back from the Infinite Realms, muscles pleasantly sore from training with Pandora and very much looking forward to hugging her little brother before he begun his nightly patrol. The siren caught her attention before she’d stepped fully out of her portal, dread filling her gut like a rock dropped into a lake.
Oh no.
Team Phantom were young, no one could ever argue that, with some scars to show for all their battles to protect Amity from those that would claim their haunt- but no one outside the team understood just how paranoid they’d become since Pariah Dark and Dark Dan
The contingencies had begun when Jazz started to remember bits and pieces of a timeline that Danny himself had erased using the reality gauntlet. He’d never told anyone of what had happened, with Freakshow’s plan to make himself ‘ringmaster of all reality’ and all, but Jazz had somehow recalled flashes of sheer panic at watching her little brother accidentally reveal himself as Phantom on live tv, in the Fentonworks kitchen on that little box set. The white rings of light that emerged from his core to switch from half-alive to half-dead and vice versa damned him.
The elder fentons had gone on the offense immediately, Jack’s screech of ghost! Echoing in the house and they raced down to the lab to get whatever latest weapon they’d built to capture Phantom.
It didn’t matter that their son was dead, that he had died, that their ‘greatest work’ was Danny’s grave. That Jasmine was…well, she wasn’t entirely human anymore, not when she turned on her heel to follow her progenitors down down down into the darkness, sword tightly grasped in hand as her teal eyes glowed a sickly green.
She hadn’t hesitated then, to protect her little brother.
One slash, two, three
Danny hadn’t known she killed their parents in that timeline. She would never tell him.
She would never tell him how they hadn’t even noticed her presence, her ever loyal weapon Faithkeeper about to take their lives, how she hadn’t even needed to summon her armor. She would never tell him how they begged for their lives, not to protect their children, but to kill the ghostly menace.
Danny never knew she’d dumped their corpses in the landfill.
(Right where they belonged.)
WIth the rewrite of the timeline, reset to the same day of the ill-fated Humpty Dumpty concert, Jack and Maddy Fenton’s deaths were undone, but not the blood on Jasmine’s hands.
With Danny’s defeat of Pariah Dark, came another revelation.
Jasmine was still mostly alive. Somehow she’d survived her childhood, but Danny hadn’t. She’d looked away for five minutes, forgotten to lock the lab after their parents left and he’d died for it.
With the weight of being schrodinger’s hero, could her little brother withstand becoming king of the infinite realms?
Perhaps not while he was still learning, still gaining his own grip on his strange existence. In time, he would become a great king- one of mercy and benevolence, but he still had a long ways to go.
Jasmine had borrowed ancient ghost law books from Ghostwriter and locked herself away for three days, cycling between crying for her and Danny, reading through the complicated laws of ye olden times, and writing down her findings- just in case another reality rewrite was due.
Jasmine had accepted Regency on Danny’s behalf with a grace she didn’t know she possessed.
It had been a small ceremony, with Danny and his friends present and Pandora, Jasmine’s mentor, acting as sentry as she accepted the Crown of Fire.
She knew it was a long road till she could pass it down to its rightful owner, but Jasmine was prepared to shoulder the burden for her little brother.
Pandora had simply laid one of her many hands on Jasmine’s shoulder with a solemn air, in understanding.
There was work to be done before any of them could have peace.
(Not even the afterlife was safe from paperwork.)
Her favorite journal contained the scraps of her hope and dreams bound in maroon leather, soft with age and imprinted with every emotion Jazz had unwittingly (and later knowingly) poured into every word.
Its pages were a kaleidoscope of her life.
Sure, it began with the soft tinge of curiosity-exasperation-fondness, some sentiment of better times before her progenitors began working on that damned portal, constructing the future grave of their son without the slightest clue.
The emotions began turning a darker turn when the work turned into an obsession. Jazz had plunged into her schoolwork and part-time jobs to afford whatever was needed for the siblings to survive, fondness becoming slowly poisoned by anger. Anger for the portal. Anger for the food other kids had, that they didn’t have to work so hard for. Anger that she knew what starving felt like.
Anger that she was so weak.
Then the day of Danny’s death.
The darkest part of her history, the last embers of her hopes and dreams, of the siblings escaping smothered. Danny’s death scream forever etched into her brain.
(It should’ve been her.)
She hated those pages of her journal, the emotions of grief-anger on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to rip them out. No more than she could destroy the confessions of protect-rage-grief, the confessions of the darker timeline she shouldn’t remember.
On very last page was the contingency plan Jazz herself had created.
Code Graverobber.
That siren wasn’t any ordinary ghost siren, no, it was the one Tucker had programmed himself- it was the quickest way to alert every member of Team Phantom and Tucker had made sure that none of them could mistake it for a Fenton ghost alarm. No, Code Graverobber was in effect.
Phantom had been captured by the elder Fentons.
(Fate has a way of setting itself right.)
(Death wants its due.)
With a bleeding, sobbing and vivisected Danny cradled in her arms, Jazz left Amity Park behind for what she prayed to the Ancients was forever.
The Fentons died that night, though the official records would claim they were killed in a explosion due to the highly unstable inventions they created, taking the lives of their children as well. No one really dug around in the wreckage of Fentonworks, not for the bodies of the family within, with the chance of another explosion happening should rubble be shifted the wrong way.
Jack and Maddie Fenton died..
But Jasmine and Danny Nightingale lived on, in Gotham City.
The last of those three days she spent locked in her room, Jasmine wrote a letter to a future version of herself, tucked inside one of her favorite books now lost in the destruction of Fentonworks.
To my future self,
Forget me in your happiness.
Love, your past
A/N: BEHOLD!
Ahem. This is the original chapter 1 that I never finished or published.
It's not my favorite or my best, but I unburied it for the 300 milestones. Thanks for reading!
60 notes
·
View notes