Viceking's Graab is a big deal. Magreat went to great lengths to establish this in the reader's mind long before we even start reading. If you check any source, be it the forum thread, the Wiki page, or its TVTropes article, you will find conflicting information. Publicly, the Graab was hyped up with two posters and two works of Flash.
Note the eyes inside the doorway, note the vaguely 9-shaped nothingness (The Quiet?) in the sea of stars.
Note the names: Butt and Taff, and the Russian General. These are the first instances of names that will manifest again and again throughout the maze. Note the faces: From left to right, it's Aidan, alliterator, and myself. Note the suit and tie under Aidan. Note the blank masks (Pink Floyd The Wall), note the grotesque corpse (Wake in Progress) that we'll soon grow increasingly familiar with. Note the instant association with usurpation that the text provides.
The first Flash, titled "Graab_demo.swf," consists of an imperfect loop: The Jack of All, formed in collage, asks what the reader would give for a bit of safety (reference to The Fear Mythos: The RPG), and text informs us that the Graab will come "SOON," all while static builds and builds indefinitely until our computer's speakers are sure to break.
The second Flash, "graab_preview.swf," shows off Hexillith's drowning slender man picture set to the Vitamin String Orchestra's cover of "Everything in its Right Place" (a song whose significance in early Rapture does not go unrecognized) as text assures the reader that the Graab will come. (And if you wait around long enough, there's a particularly significant easter egg.)
This promotional campaign focuses on preliminary feelings of mystery, meaninglessness, and death. Above all else, what it established was the knowledge that something was coming to the blogosphere, something Magreat wanted us to know was titled Viceking's Graab. The name, in particular, features prominently both in the promotional works and in the maze itself, so it begs some analysis:
"Viceking's Graab," upon first glance, looks like pure gibberish. But it comes from James Joyce's post-holy necronomicon Finnegans Wake (in fact, one could argue that "Viceking's Graab" basically means "Finnegan's Wake," but that doesn't give us any elucidation beyond a confirmed reference), and as such, the full context of the quote-- which appears in some form on Butt and Taff's Blogger profile, as we shall see-- should offer more assistance.
(From Chapter I.1, pages 17 and 18)
Jute. Boildoyle and rawhoney on me when I can beuraly
forsstand a weird from sturk to finnic in such a pat-
what as your rutterdamrotter. Onheard of and um-
scene! Gut aftermeal! See you doomed.
Mutt. Quite agreem. Bussave a sec. Walk a dunblink
roundward this albutisle and you skull see how olde
ye plaine of my Elters, hunfree and ours, where wone
to wail whimbrel to peewee o'er the saltings, where
wilby citie by law of isthmon, where by a droit of
signory, icefloe was from his Inn the Byggning to
whose Finishthere Punct. Let erehim ruhmuhrmuhr.
Mearmerge two races, swete and brack. Morthering
rue. Hither, craching eastuards, they are in surgence:
hence, cool at ebb, they requiesce. Countlessness of
livestories have netherfallen by this plage, flick as
flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of
whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges
to isges, erde from erde. Pride, O pride, thy prize!
Jute. 'Stench!
Mutt. Fiatfuit! Hereinunder lyethey. Llarge by the smal an'
everynight life olso th'estrange, babylone the great-
grandhotelled with tit tit tittlehouse, alp on earwig,
drukn on ild, likeas equal to anequal in this sound
seemetery which iz leebez luv.
Jute. 'Zmorde!
Mutt. Meldundleize! By the fearse wave behoughted. Des-
pond's sung. And thanacestross mound have swollup
them all. This ourth of years is not save brickdust
and being humus the same roturns. He who runes
may rede it on all fours. O'c'stle, n'wc'stle, tr'c'stle,
crumbling! Sell me sooth the fare for Humblin! Hum-
blady Fair. But speak it allsosiftly, moulder! Be in
your whisht!
Jute. Whysht?
Mutt. The gyant Forficules with Amni the fay.
Jute. Howe?
Mutt. Here is viceking's graab.
Jute. Hwaad!
Mutt. Ore you astoneaged, jute you?
Jute. Oye am thonthorstrok, thing mud.
(Emphasis mine, these are things you might recognize as the maze proceeds.) This context, itself, stands within the fuller context of Mutt and Jute's discussion of the land on which they tread (this dialogue, itself, falls under even greater context-- but the Wake itself is a far denser and scarier maze than the Graab, so let's stop here). The point is that two opposing characters discuss the sanctity of the burial ground upon which they stand.
Furthermore, from one look at the title, we can deduce a pun or two. "Viceking," that's basically a viceroy upon first glance-- someone who acts as proxy for a bigger ruling power. Phonetically, it's closer to "viking." And then there's the implication of a king of vices. "Graab," however, is a simple phonetic transcription for the German grab, which is "grave."
The grave of the multifaceted power, the power having many interpretations, the grave being heavily obfuscated by language. Some consider the power a king of vices, some consider the power a foreign one, some consider the power a subordinate.
That, upon analysis, is what the title Viceking's Graab promises. And as we begin to explore the 60+ blogs deep within, I think we'll find this analysis rings true.
In the next post, we will begin our descent proper.
No comments:
Post a Comment