Wednesday, October 24, 2012

The Fate of the Chosen Undead (Dark Souls Lore - UPDATED OCT. 31)

Ever since Dark Souls came out, there's been a somewhat muted debate in the community over which ending is the "good" ending and which one is the "bad" one. Having spent an embarrassing amount of hours playing the game, watching Let's Plays, and delving into lore on the wikis, I'm going to toss my hat in the ring and offer my two cents. Warning: The vast majority of my evidence is anecdotal and relies on memory. I'll link to pertinent information if I find it necessary, or if I remember to do so. There's a TON of speculation here. Buyer beware.

To Link the Fire

Many Dark Souls players in the first days after release were puzzled by the game's abrupt end. After defeating Gwyn, the hollowed out god acting as a sentinel guarding the dying First Flame, most players accessed the bonfire in the center of the arena. That the bonfire would be there was no surprise: a bonfire appears after the defeat of each Lord, allowing for immediate succor after a hard fought battle (also, for warping the hell out). However, the Kiln's bonfire is not accessed by a command to "Light Bonfire," but, rather, "Link the Fire." Immediately upon doing so, the player is treated to a cutscene in which the character lights the bonfire and then self-immolates in a brilliant and quickly expanding fireball.

Now, in hindsight, none of this is particularly surprising. Dark Sun Gwyndolin (speaking through the illusion of Gwynevere) and Kingseeker Frampt both exhort the player to take Lord Gwyn's place and link the bonfires, thus perpetuating the Age of Fire. Some players may have interpreted this as the player character defeating Gwyn and inheriting the throne of Anor Londo and reigning over healed world, but it's quite clear that what the proponents of linking the fire intended was for the player character to sacrifice himself as Lord Gwyn had, offer himself as fuel for the First Flame, effectively buying another thousand years or so of light.

There's a lot of justifiable anger toward this ending and the NPCs that urge its execution, as it feels like player manipulation. Essentially, linking the fire, and learning the truth of what that means, amounts to a trick. It's not an outright deception. It's mostly a series of lies by omission. Frampt repeatedly says that the player character is chosen to succeed Lord Gwyn, but never says what that succession entails.

The Dark Lord

The other ending is the one that is most en vogue. In fact, I'm not sure I've seen an LP end with a Link the Fire ending since Rurikhan's Artorias playthrough. It's entirely understandable from an aesthetic point of view. Instead of linking the fire, the triumphant player character emerges from the Kiln of the First Flame to meet the worshipping gaze of the primordial serpents in the darkness of Firelink Altar. It's certainly the more badass of the two endings, with the character striding down the stairs, the white light of the Kiln framing his form as he advances into the darkness, the music swelling, and one of the serpents saying, "Let true Dark be cast upon the world. Our Lord hath return'st!"

One of the most telling things about the Dark Lord ending is that the player is never quite sure which serpent is addressing him. The voice makes the point that both Darkstalker Kaathe and Kingseeker Frampt are present and waiting to serve the new monarch. This is quite a reversal from the rhetoric Kaathe delivers when the player first encounters him in the Abyss. There, after defeating the Four Kings, the player is told by Kaathe that Frampt is a deluded deceiver who befriended Gwyn to the detriment of the human race. Kaathe weaves a tale of the pygmy (hinted at in the game's opening, Kaathe refers to him as "your progenitor"), who found the aberrant Lord Soul in the First Flame: the Dark Soul. He extols the player to end the Age of Fire, which he claims has been holding back the Age of Dark.

When the player decides not to link the fire, he is essentially opening the Abyss to swallow the physical world, removing the barriers erected by Gwyn and the other Lords to prevent this from happening. This is a somewhat controversial reading of the Dark Lord ending. Many players prefer to interpret the Dark Lord ending as heralding an age where the world is ruled by mankind, unfettered by the controlling hand of the gods. However, I believe this to be an idealistic and wrongheaded interpretation, especially considering details brought to light by the new content.

The Souls of Lords

First, an analysis of the genesis of the world of Dark Souls is needed. This won't be exhaustive, but it will provide a foundation for what is discussed later.

The game's opening cinema establishes some basic history: Great stone dragons ruled the world, but it's not exactly clear who they ruled over. The landscape appears to be something like the landscape of Ash Lake, archtrees stretching as far as the horizon, the land gray and featureless. It seems, from implication, that humans were not numbered among those ruled by the dragons. Non-humans fought and defeated the dragons, using the power of the Souls of Lords found within the enigmatic First Flame. Each Lord Soul appears to have magnified the power of god-like beings, rendering them strong enough to destroy the dragons and take the world for themselves.

What emerged was an odd power structure, centered in the Mount Olympus of this world, Lordran. Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, seized the mantle of supreme lordship, probably because he was the only one who desired it. I have no solid evidence for this other than implication. Gravelord Nito's sole focus, implied in his Lord Soul's item description, is in the administration of death to all manner of creatures. In fact, my posit that the Lord Souls magnified the exisiting powers of the Lords rather than conferring power is based on a line found in Nito's Lord Soul item description, which states that the soul is powerful enough to satiate the Lordvessel, even though much of its power had been given up to death. The Witch of Izalith, similarly, would have been an unlikely candidate for godhood, as her focus seems to have been in the refinement of flame sorceries (replaced by pyromancy during the time of the game).

Now, for a long while it seems that this power structure was sufficient to adminster the day-to-day world. Humans emerged from the darkness and began to multiply. The gods, led by Gwyn, asserted lordship over the humans, and many humans worshipped them in return. Then, eventually, everything started to go to shit.

The Fall of the Lords

At some point, the First Flame, and all other fires emerging from it, began to fade. The reasons for this, considering the new content, seem fairly obvious, but will be discussed at length a little later. The Lords' reactions to this were highly consequential in forming the world the player encounters during the game.

It seems that Gwyn and the gods in Anor Londo approached the problem of the fading flames with some denial at first, and then growing concern. It is probable that Gwyn knew the fading to be substantially irreversible, but devised a method by which the Age of Fire could be perpetuated. The interplay of humanity, the bonfires, the darksign, and the undead strongly suggests that Gwyn's plan was to combat the spread of the Abyss and the growing power of the Dark Soul by causing portions of the Dark Soul to be consumed to feed the flames. This logic seems sound on its face: bolster your own power by reducing the power of your enemy. However, signs point to the intractability of the Dark Soul. In the new content, the anthropomorphic mushroom, Elizabeth, opines that the Abyss may be unstoppable. But more on that later.

As established above, Gwyn and Anor Londo, facing the appearance of undead humans seeking to unite pieces of the Dark Soul, reacted by devising a scheme by which the Dark Soul could be destroyed in the flames one piece at a time. Gravelord Nito appears to have been entirely passive in this, which is unsurprising. As the administrator of death, Nito would understand the finity of his own existence, and likely would have done nothing to aid or hinder Gwyn's efforts. But what about the dragons, you say? Why would a passive creature such as Nito have stirred to fight them? I submit that Nito fought against the dragons because of their immortality. Nito would have chafed at the unnatural existence of such beings, and aided the other Lords to establish the natural order of death among all creatures. While Nito continued to deal in death deep within the Tomb of the Giants, the Witch of Izalith was anything but passive.

The Witch of Izalith seems to have disagreed with Gwyn's plan and decided to attempt her own solution to the problem of the fading flames. Having devoted her life to the study of flame sorceries, the Witch used a soul to attempt to recreate the First Flame. Her Lord Soul description clearly says "a soul," rather than "this soul," was used as the catalyst for her ritual. The item description also states that she failed horribly, mutating herself and her children into hideous creatures, transforming her newly built kiln into the Bed of Chaos, and producing the Demon Firesage, the first Chaos Demon.

The new content has shed some light on this event as well. The essential question is: what went wrong that caused such a catastrophe? A parallel happening can be found in the spread of the Abyss in Oolacile. According to item descriptions of the bloated heads of the denizens of Oolacile Township, these twisted creatures were humans whose "humanity went wild," thus deforming them. Similarly (and, indeed, originally), Manus, Father of the Abyss, is described as a primeval human whose humanity went wild. Since humanity is merely a bequeathed shard of the Dark Soul, I submit that the Witch of Izalith caused the flame of a typical First Flame soul to "go wild," thus producing the force of Chaos. Notice that the power of Chaos is detemined by the amount of humanity possessed by the user. In this way, it operates much as the bonfires do, but instead of manifesting as a protective, stable force, it "goes wild," using the humanity as fuel for an uncontrollable force of destruction.

Gwyn and his knights appear to have entered Izalith in force to attempt to snuff this new threat forever. The knights that learned to fight the Chaos Demons were distinguished by their huge weapons and charred armor; hence: the Black Knights. It's a common misconception that the Black Knights' armor was charred when they were burned by Gwyn kindling the First Flame, but the item descriptions make it clear that they were burned to ashes by that happening, and that their armor was charred during battles with the demons. It seems that Gwyn and the Black Knights were able to bottleneck the demons at the swamp, but could achieve no lasting victory. In any case, it's clear that Gwyn was unsuccessful. Despite his efforts, his old allies had fallen away, one to passivity, one to self-destruction.

Facing the encroaching threat of undead humans, the weakening power of the flames, and the irrelevance or corruption of his strongest compatriots, Gwyn bequeathed much of his power to his remaining allies (Seath the Scaleless and the Four Kings of New Londo), and set out to the Kiln of the First Flame to commit the ultimate sacrifice.

The Ballad of Knight Artorias

[Section temporarily redacted for revision]

The Dark Soul

All of this begs the question: what the hell is going on here, and what, if anything, does all this have to do with the Undead? I'm so glad you asked.

The opening cinema reveals that some people bear the curse of the Darksign, which condemns a living person to, upon death, persist as an undead, driven by an inexplicable need to travel to Lordran before hollowing. Again, I have very little in the way of evidence to back this up, but I speculate that the Darksign was caused by the inception of the Abyss. In essence, I believe that, just as the extreme proximity to the heart of the Abyss condemned the citizens of Oolacile to mutate, their humanity having been driven wild, the birth of the Abyss triggered a kind of clarion call, a beckoning for the shards of the Dark Soul to reunite. I think this, and not some mystical call from Dark Sun Gwyndolin, is why undead with the requisite strength make pilgrimage to Lordran: because the Abyss is there, and so are the barriers to its ineluctable spread.

The reasons I believe this are entirely subjective. Judge the evidence and decide for yourself.

1. The heirs of Gwyn have invested a lot of energy in locating and exploiting undead who have the capacity to withstand massive amounts of humanity. They clearly fear the Dark Soul. Seath's experiments on immortality and sorcery may have driven him mad, but the purpose of his prison tower, the Channelers, and his campaign of kidnapping humanity fertile maidens has but one purpose: to recruit new fire keepers. We've always known that the Pisaca Demons were maidens subjected to awful experiments, but the purpose was obscured. Well, look at where the Pisacas are. In the cage behind them is one of the rare Fire Keeper Souls. Rhea of Thorolund, the only untransformed maiden in the game, possesses 7 humanity - more than any one NPC. Knight Lautrec even makes mention that she's brimming with humanity. These maidens are kidnapped, jailed, and forced to absorb more and more humanity until they qualify as fire keepers, or they mutate into horrific aberrations. I'll let you guess which is the (much) more common result. By locating these maidens (Anastacia of Astora is one of the "lucky" ones) and converting them to fire keepers, the servants of Anor Londo have fashioned devout receptacles of infinte humanity, and have assured their life's purpose is devoted to destroying humanity to feed the flames.

2. Point 1 examines the purpose of the fire keepers and the bonfires, but doesn't explain why undead are revived there, again and again, until hollowing. I suspect that, much like other creatures, undead have both light souls and humanity. One needs the other. A human soul is uniquely fit to interact with humanity, where non-human souls are overwhelmed and infected by it. When an undead is subdued, if his soul remains intact, it is drawn back to a mass of humanity. The Darksign probably initially caused all humanity to be drawn to the Abyss, until Gwyn devised the bonfires as a means to redirect the vessels of humanity (i.e., the undead) to predetermined points. It's important to note here that the humanity does not seek to join the Abyss per se, but seeks to exist in its pure, completed form within a single entity powerful enough to contain it. Undead are responding to an urge to gather humanity and bring it together. They are urged in the opposite direction by religion, which teaches the virtues of kindling the bonfires.

3. I believe the Abyss is a byproduct of this concentration, the Dark Soul blotting out all around it, calling more shards back, growing in strength, devouring more of the matter surrounding it, ad infinitum. That Manus created the Abyss is incidental. His true purpose was to serve as a drawing point for all humanity to gather. However, he was an imperfect host, mutated and twisted, focused on ancient memories of a life no longer recognizable (see: Broken Pendant). Eventually, his soul became so overwhelmed by humanity that the original soul ceased to exist. His weakness was that he could not resist reaching across time itself to recapture his past, thus sealing his own fate. The Darkwraiths are seeking to become the new Father of the Abyss. According to Kaathe, they all failed. The Darkwraiths can be correctly identified as the opposite of the fire keepers, but none of them proved strong enough to serve as the ultimate vessel for the unified Dark Soul.

Of course, this leads to another question (don't all of these points?): What role do the primordial serpents play in all of this? What's their end goal?

The Serpent Was Subtle

I'll state it again, so I'm not misunderstood: The serpents are on the same side. Their end goals are identical. Follow the bouncing ball.

Only two items in the game mention serpents (the Covetous rings). They are identified as imperfect dragons, and they are the symbol of the undead. This is very telling. Frampt was apparently buddies with Gwyn way back when. It's not a stretch to imagine that this goes back to the dragon wars. By definition, these primordial serpents are the oldest beings around. They likely predated the everlasting dragons, and were imperfect precursors to their fearsome cousins. With the dragons in control, the serpents were probably like red-headed stepchildren, cast away to some lonely burrow, festering with anguished jealousy. And then fire came and changed everything. New Lords emerged and cast down the dragons. Suddenly, the serpents saw some hope.

Now, let's step back a moment. Being primordial, the serpents were around when nothing else was. They existed in an empty and formless template world, older than the archtrees, older than the dragons. When the dragons evolved, they were born with the scales of immortality. The world, and all creatures within it, was subjugated. The serpents could never hope to fight against their nearly invincible cousins, and, being immortal, the dragons would never die. The serpents could not simply outlast them. So, when the god-beings seized the Lord Souls, the serpents chose sides. Frampt allied himself with Gwyn, Kaathe with the furtive pygmy. Both serpents saw their champions as the conduit by which the the serpents could rise back to primacy. The gods would rid them of the dragons. The humans would rid them of the gods. The Abyss would swallow the humans. Game, set, match.

Short version: The serpents are playing the long game, and the Dark Soul gives them the opportunity to do so.

Think of the Dark Soul as a kind of reset button on the world. The serpents are the only beings that appear to be able to survive in the Abyss. In fact, they seem quite at home there. So, if Kaathe and Frampt both want the Abyss to swallow the world, why the duplicity?

Because the Lord Souls are still out there, holding back the Dark. While they exist, there will always be a counterforce. The serpents are playing the numbers. Kaathe is consistently trying out new recruits to take assume the mantle of Manus. Frampt has been whispering in the ear of Dark Sun Gwyndolin, who is now completely isolated and paranoid, convincing him to go along with the mad plan to seize the Lord Souls and have an undead champion link the fire. Consider:

If Frampt succeeds in convincing an undead sufficiently strong to collect the Lord Souls to do so, and then eliminate the last being capable of defending the flames, it doesn't really matter if he links the fire. The Abyss will find a new vessel, and, without the Lord Souls in the hands of powerful beings, the path to snuffing the flames for good has been cleared. What's another thousand years, anyway?

On the other hand, if Kaathe succeeds, a human vessel sufficiently powerful to collect the Lord Souls and kill Gwyn should be strong enough to serve as the vessel for the Dark Soul. The Dark Lord, natch.

So, if you link the flame, you become the new Gwyn, a hollow mad god stalking the Kiln of the First Flame, and the serpents win.

If you become the Dark Lord, you become the new Manus, a vessel for the united Dark Soul, the Father of the Eternal Abyss, and the serpents win.

In Conclusion

So, according to my analysis, no matter what the player character does, you've been played by the serpents. Even if you eschew the patronage of either serpent, they're still waiting for you if you choose not to link the fire. The cake is baked.

It's like the mushroom says: "The Abyss may be unstoppable."

 

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Thoughts on Megan is Missing

This has been rolling around in my brain in some form or another for more than a week, and I feel I need to unburden myself of it. This seems like a proper venue.

Last year, a little indie film was released. It was shot over the course of eight days for less than $40,000. The acting is often laughable. There is little by way of technical expertise to recommend it. There are no known actors in any major or minor role. And no one who has seen it will ever forget it.

I'm talking about Megan is Missing.

Let's be clear about my intentions here. I'm not sure I'm writing a review. I'm not evaluating the merits of the filmmaker's craft, though some discussion of the merits will inevitably occur. I'm trying to reason with myself. I'm trying to justify what I've seen, to analyze and deconstruct it. I'm trying to peer into the motivations of evil.

For the uninitiated, a little background. Megan is Missing is an 86-minute film in the ever-growing "found footage" genre populated almost entirely by recent horror films. It follows video documentation of several weeks in the lives of 14-year-old Megan and 13-year-old Amy. Much of the video comes from dubious sources, such as webcams during online chat and video chat over smartphones (the film is set in 2007, which calls the latter into serious question, never minding that these sources do not record as a default and would likely have never been recovered). Ignoring structural missteps (we'll be doing that a lot), the format does what it's supposed to do: it establishes a believable friendship between the two girls, and sets some basic ground rules for what's to come.

Megan is a troubled girl, having been sexually abused at a young age. Her mother fits into that singular category of terrible parent in that she attempted to protect her convict boyfriend while having full knowledge of her daughter being abused, and, subsequent to the boyfriend heading San Quentin way, blamed her daughter for, let's face it, allowing herself to be raped. The resulting teenager is unsurprising, a girl seeking to bury her guilt and pain by drinking, doing drugs, and fucking and sucking her way through middle school. Accordingly, she's one of the most popular girls in school.

Amy is diametrically opposite to her best friend, shy, virginal, openly intellectual. She has religious and devoted parents. She still sleeps with a battery of stuffed animals. She's demure and self-depricating, though this is owed less to modesty and more to actual low self-esteem.

At first blush, these two would seem unlikely friends. As someone with three younger sisters, two of whom are in their twenties, one of whom is currently 14, I can say that this kind of pairing occurs quite frequently. They're both looking for something, you see. As is reinforced by the haunting scene that plays over the end credits, both girls want to be the other. Megan wants a loving family and freedom from memories of abuse. Amy wants to be desired and wants to be popular. The girls provide important safe harbors for each other. Megan gets to be an honorary member of a healthy family unit. Amy gets to be popular by proxy.

So, to the point of the film. Many spoilers follow, and I don't care. Read it or don't. We're going to get into the nasty bits in detail.

Megan spends a good deal of time looking for reinforcement of her good looks and desirability by seeking out high school guys online that she can chat with over webcam. Eventually she is recommended to a sketchy character by the name of Josh (chat handle "Skaterdude," natch) whose own webcam is conveniently out of commission. He manages to sweet talk her in his own slightly slimy way over the course of a week or two, and, of course, arranges a meeting with her from which she never returns.

Over the course of the next three weeks, Amy provides some key information to police about Josh's online courtship of Megan and, as happens sometimes, her cover is blown by a Nancy Grace style crime show. This results in Josh threatening Amy. Amy is stalked, and, after making a particularly stupid decision (very common in this film), is abducted.

Before the film veers into the Abyss, we are treated to a prelude. Title cards appear on the screen, informing the viewer that two pictures submitted anonymously to a fetish porn website were turned over to the FBI. They are of Megan. She is nearly naked, emaciated, locked in a pillory, her head and hands protruding from the top of a plywood table. Hooks have been inserted into her nose, connected to a strap of plastic or leather, fastened to a buckle behind her head. Her mouth is forced wide open by metal wire guards. Her eyes are wild. A trail of blood trickles from her supine nostril. The effect is arresting and immediate. Having just been witness to Amy's abduction, it's clear we have a rough road ahead.

A short scene documenting the media's reaction to Amy's disappearance follows. Contrary to the majority of commenters, I found the crime channel footage to be effective. Yes, it was poorly done. Yes, the acting is terrible. That having been said, watch Nancy Grace on HLN for ten minutes and tell me you don't get the same creepy, morally bankrupt vibe. It is opined, without any evidence, that maybe the girls have run away together. I think this is important. It says something about society's view of teenage girls. When Megan fist disappears, the media goes ape displaying pictures and launching into heavy-handed paeans about her virtues. However, look at the way the reaction spreads. Megan was 'that kind of girl," the kind that is asking for it. There is a pervasive sense from the adults involved that Amy is not really in danger because she's "not that kind of girl." In essence, the media suggesting that the girls ran away together is both a coping mechanism against the Occam's Razor dread of their actual fates, and a subtle insinuation that Megan has turned Amy into "that kind of girl."

Okay. To the pièce de la résistance, the infamous final 22 minutes.

I'd like to take this moment, before we enter the basement, to offer my opinion as to the intentions of this film. Much has been made, by both the filmmakers and the actors, of the preventative qualities of Megan is Missing. It's a warning, they say. In fact, in cast interviews, the answer to the question, "What is this film about?" is met with near identical responses. It sounds canned. It sounds rehearsed. It sounds like something they're supposed to say. So, let me disabuse these notions. Megan is Missing exists to facilitate the final 22 minutes. It is as much a warning against the dangers of online predators as Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer is a warning against home invasions. The knee-jerk reaction to this analysis is to conclude that if there isn't some higher meaning, if there isn't some blatant social value, then the things we see in the final 22 minutes must be exploitation. It must be torture porn, and therefore not of any value in and of itself. I reject that analysis. There is something to be learned from the closing scenes, but it has nothing to do with the internet. In addition, these scenes are frighteningly effective. No additional justification should be required.

I'm going to proceed with a description of the final scenes, burned as they are into my memory, before attempting analysis of the real subject: Josh, our friendly neighborhood hebephile. I'm going to write in detail, because if you're curious, but are too squeamish to watch, reading about it is far preferable to seeing it.

The title card informs the viewer that the following is the final 22 minutes of tape recorded by Amy's camcorder. Josh is filming. He is careful, throughout the rest of the action, never to reveal his face or any other identifying marks. The scene is an old cellar with odd vaulted arches, which lend even more of a dungeon feel to the place. Amy can be heard screaming in the dark, shouting for help. A dim flashlight lights the way. The camera pans slowly past a blue barrel. Amy's hands and face are pressed against a small barred window in a sturdy metal door. As Josh approaches, she recoils. Josh removes the lock, which is not a standard pin or padlock, but an antler or bone of some kind. He opens the door and sets the camera on the ground. An iron collar is affixed to Amy's neck, a long chain extending from it to the wall. She is dressed only in her underwear. Josh tells her to shut up. Amy continues to shout. She demands to be set free. She demands to see Megan. Josh tells her she can see her friend, but only when he decides. She again demands to be set free. His footsteps can be heard moving away. She continues to call him Josh, though he has told her several times that it isn't his name. He comes back into frame suddenly and douses her with a bucket of cold water. He says, "My name's not Josh, bitch." She calls him crazy. He closes and locks the door, walks past the blue barrel and the disassembled table from the previous photos, and the camera cuts out.

The camera turns back on. Josh peers into the cell through the barred window. Amy is curled in the fetal position against the wall. He wakes her. She immediately withdraws into a defensive position and begins pleading again to be set free. Her tone is less defiant. She has begun to beg. Josh places a dog dish of food (what it is is totally unclear) in front of her and tells her she has to eat to stay healthy. She begins to pick up the food with her hands. He objects. She is to eat using only her mouth. She initially refuses. Josh takes the camera with him to another room in the cellar. There is stashed Amy's prized teddy bear, stolen by Josh prior to the abduction. He returns to the cell and taunts her with it. She eats the food with her hands behind her back, sniffling and gulping. As promised, Josh gives her the teddy bear. She hugs it tightly and crawls back to the corner, sobbing. Josh backs out of the cell, locks the door, passes the barrel, and shuts off the camera.

The camera turns back on. It has been placed on the pillory where Megan was once a prisoner. The cell door can be heard screeching open. Amy can be heard asking what's going on, whether she's going home. Josh says nothing. Amy's face enters the frame, Josh's hand pressing it down on the table top. She begins to scream frantically. Out of frame, Josh has begun to rape her. Her cries are a mix of pain and humiliation. Soon, she stops screaming. Her eyes glaze. Josh's grunts and faint slapping are all that is heard. Without warning, Josh's hand palms onto the table top next to Amy's face. It is smeared with fresh, red blood. Josh can be heard climaxing. When he is finished, he pulls Amy away from the camera. She makes no sound of protest. The sound of the cell door closing can be heard. A few seconds later, Josh returns and shuts off the camera.

The camera turns back on. Josh walks the familiar path past the blue barrel to the cell door. The view through the bars reveals Amy, who is no longer cowering. She is asleep sitting up. He opens the door, sets the camera down and squats next to her. He wakes her gently. She instantly recoils, but is too exhausted to move. She asks what he is doing. He tells her not to be afraid while unlocking her collar. She asks, now hopefully, if she's going home. He asks her if she'd like to see her parents again. She nods enthusiastically. He asks her if she'd like to see Megan again. She again nods. He helps her up. She clutches her teddy bear. He leads her to the barrel and explains that he needs her to get inside so he can transport her out of the house without her knowing where he lives. She agrees warily. He opens the barrel and points the camera inside. Megan's dead body, half-putrefied, is slumped in the barrel, waist deep in water. Her skin is blue-white, her eyes without pigment, her upturned face caught in a twisted slack-jawed grimace. Amy screams and tries to run. Josh drops the camera. A struggle is heard off camera. Soon, the screams become muffled. Hollow pounding on metal accompanies Amy's cries. Josh picks up the camera and focuses on the barrel for a few seconds. It can be seen rocking back and forth as Amy struggles within. The camera shuts off.

The camera turns back on. Our view is of the barrel in extreme foreground. Josh's feet can be seen. Leaves cover the ground and trees can be seen. He has a shovel. He begins digging. Amy's voice, now soft and quavering, can be heard. She is pleading for her life. She tells Josh she loves him, that she will care for him like no one else, that she'll be the best wife or girlfriend he could ever want. He keeps digging. Amy can be heard intermittently coughing and vomiting in the barrel. She tells Josh she knows he can hear her, and asks repeatedly what he wants her to do. She begins sobbing and says that she doesn't want to die. He keeps digging. She tells Josh that he's the master, the king. He can do anything to her, she says. She promises she'll never ask for her teddy bear again. She says that she'll never see her parents again, and she'll be good and stay in her cell. He keeps digging. She starts asking him just to open the top of the barrel, not even to let her out, just to open it once. He stops digging. Amy's breath speeds. Josh moves behind the barrel and strats moving it toward the hole. Amy's resolve breaks. She begins screaming frantically for help. He kicks the barrel onto its side in the hole. Amy keeps screaming, shouting, "I'm gonna die!" Josh begins shoveling dirt onto the barrel. Amy's struggle becomes very violent within the barrel. She screams and screams. He keeps shoveling, grunting in a way that sounds far too much like his grunts while raping her. Gradually, as the dirt covers the barrel, Amy's cries become more muffled, fading, fading, until there's nothing but the sound of the shovel and Josh's heavy breathing. He finishes smoothing the ground, and becomes very quiet, listening. No sound is heard. He makes his way out of the woods. The morning sun is about an hour from rising. As he hikes out of the forest, he stops, scans the tree line with his flashlight, waits a moment, then continues. After a few seconds, the camera shuts off, this time for good.

Okay. Breathe.

I've written this down because, frankly, I'm still not sure what to do with it. It is a collection of scenes that effectively swallows all hope. It is, without a doubt, the most stark, bleak, nihilistic ending I have ever seen put to film. It made me think very hard, not about the dangers of internet chat rooms, but about the pathology that would drive a man to do something so vile. I read about serial killers. I looked into the actual cases that inspired the ending (none were quite so awful; this was a composite of several crimes). Men abducting girls, raping them, killing them, burying their bodies. Men abducting girls from their own homes, hiding them, raping them, dismembering them. Men abducting young children, raping them, burying them alive in garbage bags. It happens. It is not an abstract concept. These things occur.

It's because of this that I find an analysis of Michael Goi's film as a simple warning to be insufficient. It is a commentary on evil. It is a reminder that when an evil man chooses to lay waste to innocent lives, he can do it and escape punishment. The final 22 minutes of Megan is Missing do not gleefully depict torture or death. They serve to show how pointless and banal it is. They exist to provide a window into the mundanity of evil.

If I had to guess, I'd say that Megan was Josh's first kill. A few things suggest this. First, the photos. Josh was clearly proud of his work; the pillory and headgear were obviously items of his own construction. He wanted to show off. He was careless. Many killers are the first time. Second, all signs point to him having kept Megan in the basement for a lot longer than he kept Amy. I'd guess this primarily because Megan's body, while in bad shape once we see her in the barrel, had not yet advanced beyond putrefaction to decomposition. This suggests that Megan had probably been in the barrel no longer than a week. If one assumes that he kept Amy in the basement for about four or five days, and Megan was missing for three weeks prior to that, well, do the math. Additionally, Megan appeared to have been the victim of slow starvation in the second photo.

It would be wrong to assume that Josh abducted the girls to satisfy his sexual desire. It certainly is a factor. He raped Amy, and likely raped Megan multiple times. However, his actions do not suggest a man motivated by lust. If that were the case, he would have abducted the girls, raped them, and killed them almost immediately. Since the evidence suggests he kept Megan for weeks, this is not a sufficient explanation. Amy herself actually stumbles upon Josh's true motivation while she is pleading fer her life within the barrel. She calls him master and king. She cedes the power to him. She admits that he is supreme. Her suspicions are correct. Power is Josh's motivation. What he does to Amy he does because he can. Amy's pleas speak to this compulsion, to his desire to impose his will. But she's just a young girl. She doesn't understand that by burying her alive, he is exercising the ultimate power over her body. She will die in darkness and terror. She cannot escape. He has done this. If not for him, it would not be. This is why Josh is excruciatingly silent during the entire 12-minute digging scene. Nothing she could ever say would dissuade him from completing his task. He kills her because it is possible to do so. He does it in the most awful way imaginable because he can, and because she is powerless to stop him. This is the truly frightening aspect of this film that cannot be easily articulated. It is not that Amy dies, or that Megan shares her awful tomb, it's that it was preventable, and the actions of one man made it inevitable.

It is when we lose all control that the Abyss seeks to swallow us. Amy's time in Josh's custody pulls back the curtain and removes the illusion of barriers and control. It exposes the raw, reasonless fear that exists within all of us: the knowledge that, despite all our attempts at civility and safety, the actions of one amoral individual can lay our worlds low, bring us to heel, and break us.

That's all I have to say. I feel somewhat relieved of the heavy dread that had settled on me. There's just one, horribly practical issue I have with the final 22 minutes, and, if Michael Goi stumbles across this lonely corner of the internet, I'd really like to know:

HOW THE FUCK DID JOSH GET THAT BARREL INTO THE WOODS, LET ALONE OUT OF THE BASEMENT? I mean, it's got to be a 40 to 45 pound drum on its own, with about 20 to 25 gallons of water in it, not to mention the bodies of two teenage girls. Now, with my math hat on, let's see here. Let's assume 20 gallons of water, just to be generous. At 8.34 pounds a gallon, that's 166.8 pounds of water. Now, let's assume that the girls weigh about 100 pounds apiece (again, being generous). That brings us to 367 pounds. Add to that the weight of a metal drum, let's be generous and say it comes to 35-ish pounds. That, ladies and gents comes to FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS. So, either Josh is a super-villain with freakish strength, or he spent hours and hours pushing that damn thing to some kind of dumbwaiter, out of the cellar, across a field, and into the woods, all while Amy was kicking and screaming and coughing and crying and banging her fists inside.

So, forget about the realism of the first hour. This is the real mind bender. What about it, Mr. Goi? I'd really like to hear this one.