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16 Great Things about ‘The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power’ Season 2

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In my last article about The Rings of Power, I talked about my 15 favorite things about Season 1. Here – in no particular order – are my 16 favorite things about Rings’ second season. Be warned that this list contains spoilers for not only Season 2, but also future events in the series, and the Lord of the Rings as well.

*All pictures in this article are the property of Amazon.*

1. Sauron’s Death

Season 2 opens with a flashback to Sauron trying to take command of Middle-Earth’s orcs following Morgoth’s fall. Unsurprisingly, the orcs (and Adar) don’t take kindly to being told that they’ll be sacrificed to achieve Sauron’s goals, so they express their displeasure by stabbing Sauron a few hundred times until he explodes, turning the surrounding terrain into a winter wonderland.

Many fans of Tolkien’s works have decried this scene for contradicting Sauron’s character (he tries to reason with the orcs, where he dominates them in the books with fear and terror), but I think this scene is a clever look at Sauron’s journey as a character. Originally, he was a being who loved order and perfection, but during his time as Morgoth’s servant Sauron was corrupted into being willing to enslave, torture, and kill others to get what he wanted. With Morgoth gone, some of Sauron’s original goodness is poking through, and this scene shows him at the halfway point between the good spirit he was originally, and the hate-filled tyrant of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Despite contradicting Season One of Rings’ (Adar said that he killed Sauron after the latter experimented on so many orcs; here, he and the orcs kill Sauron before those experiments begin), this prologue is a great way to open the season.

2. Sauron’s Rebirth

Something never elaborated on in Tolkien’s works is how Sauron creates a new body for himself each time he was killed, saying only that it took Sauron longer and longer with each subsequent death. Rings lets us see how the process might have gone: after being killed by the orcs, Sauron slowly rebuilds himself from a few drops of blood, taking the lives of insects, rats, and eventually people before he can finally create a new body for himself and resume his quest to conquer Middle-Earth.

What I like about this scene is that, compared to everything else we’ve seen of Tolkien’s world onscreen, this is something out of a story by H.P. Lovecraft: we’re watching the birth of an abomination from the dark, moldy depths of the earth, something that doesn’t belong to the natural order of things. And while this putrid mass of cancerous growth may look weak and frail, it’s still one of the most powerful and evil things in existence. And in a nice nod to Tolkien’s mythology, the whole sequence ties into his recurring theme that evil cannot create new things, only corrupt what has already been made: where Sauron could once manifest a beautiful form before his fall, now he is forced to take life from others to create a body for himself, one that may seem normal, but is only a mask to hide the evil within.

3. Choose Good

Sauron may have created a new body for himself, but he is now at the lowest point of his entire existence: he’s lost his position as Morgoth’s right hand. He has no armies to command, he’s been exiled from his home in Valinor, and his dreams of creating a perfect, orderly world are in tatters. But being humbled presents him with an opportunity to realize what he’s done and turn his life around, something that he seems to seriously consider when he comes across a group of refugees, one of whom unknowingly offers him the chance to leave his destructive path and choose a new, better one.

Later, when talking on a ship, the same man gives Sauron a brief, but perfect summary of what it means to turn from evil and become good:

I like to imagine that this meeting isn’t due to chance, but actually an act of fate: in The Fellowship of the Ring, Gandalf told Frodo that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and that Frodo was also meant to have it. During the events of The Hobbit, Gandalf and Thorin seem to have been guided to meet each other in Bree, which ultimately led to the Quest of Erebor and the death of Smaug, saving Middle-Earth from his wrath.

With all that said, I believe that Eru subtly guided the old man into meeting Sauron and inspired him to say the right things in hopes of helping the fallen Maiar find his way back to the light… but, alas, Sauron chooses instead to be a big meany butt and be evil (and confirming that he was lying to Galadriel about trying to redeem himself in Season 1).

Had Sauron listened to the man and chosen differently, the fate of Middle-Earth would have been very different, indeed.

4. Rhûn

If there’s one thing The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and The Silmarillion has in common, it’s that we don’t get to see a world outside of the standard European fantasy environment (tall mountains, forests, castles, and the like). That’s why it’s such a delight in Season 2 that we finally get to see the deserts of Rhûn – the homeland of the Easterlings – on screen for the very first time.

While we don’t get much outside of rocks, dead trees, barren canyons, and lots of sand, it’s great to finally see something other than European climates, and remember that Middle-Earth is so much bigger and varied than what we’ve seen in Tolkien’s books.

5. Celebrimbor

Though he had an important role to play in Season 1 of Rings, where he forged the three rings of the Elves, Season 2 is where Celebrimbor gets to come into his own and shine as one of the most famous elves of the Second Age. As the descendant of the famously fiery and temperamental Fëanor, Celebrimbor is an elf who doesn’t desire fame, power, or ruling others, but only in creating beautiful things and trying to undo the mistakes of his ancestor… a desire that makes him him all-too vulnerable to Sauron’s manipulations.

While he has all the qualities of being a noble hero like Gandalf, Aragorn, and Galadriel, Celembrimbor is unfortunately like Isildur and Bromoir: beings who fight and strive to do what is right at great personal cost, but who’s tales are told as tragedies by those who come after them. Celebrimbor’s a noble and kind-hearted elf, but his determination to make his mark on the world has catastrophic consequences for the world at large.

Yet, his noble intentions, determination to do what is right after realizing he’s been lied to and deceived by Sauron, and only wanting to do good makes him endearing and likeable. Like Diza, he’s an elf you’d be happy to share ale with at a tavern after a long day’s work.

6. Celebrimbor’s Anvil

It’s only onscreen for a few seconds, but when Celebrimbor is doing some paperwork in his office, sharp-eyed viewers will see that he uses a tiny anvil as a paperweight, implying that the mighty Celebrimbor, greatest Elven smith of the Second Age, has a good sense of humor. Plus, the image of noble and graceful elves going through the effort to craft, shape, and forge an itty-bitty, widdle anvil is hilarious. Why haven’t we gotten this thing as an officially licensed collectible yet?

7. The Hammer and the Crown

Middle-Earth has its fair share of historical objects that Indiana Jones would be happy to track down, and ‘Rings’ has two big ones in Season 2: Fëanor’s hammer, and Morgoth’s crown.

While fans who have only watched the films or seen the show can understand that these are important artifacts, readers of Tolkien’s works will get the most enjoyment out of seeing the hammer forged the most beautiful objects in all of creation (the Silmarils), and that crown that was worn by the most evil being who will ever exist (and that held the aforementioned jewels in its spiky embrace). Both go a long way to help make the world of Middle-Earth feel ancient and lived in, and that they played huge parts in changing the course of history long before the show began.

8. The Nameless Thing

One of the most fascinating parts of Tolkien’s world are the nameless things: eldritch horrors that live in the deepest, darkest fissures deep beneath the mountains of the world that are even older than Sauron. They are only mentioned briefly in Tolkien’s works, but are apparently so frightening that even Gandalf refuses to describe these abominations after encountering them when pursuing the balrog after their fall into the pit of Khazad-dûm. Season 2 gives us a glimpse of one in the form of a giant, grotesque worm-thing that tries to eat Isildur and Arondir before being sliced up from the inside and being (presumably) turned into nameless thing-burgers for dinner.

Is this a scene that doesn’t really add anything to the overall plot? Yes. Could it have been cut out without any effect on the story? Yes. Is it cool to see one of the most mysterious, dark, and vicious things that Tolkien ever wrote about? Heck yes.

9. Mirdania Sees Sauron’s True Form

One of Tolkien’s smartest decisions in writing The Lord of the Rings was not describing what Sauron looks like: he’s an unseen evil, a force so powerful and so dreadful that you don’t even have to be anywhere near him to experience the power of his malice. And despite having more screentime in Rings of Power than both the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings films combined, Rings has never shown Sauron’s true form, only his armor from the First Age and the disguises he wears to interact with others.

The closest we get to getting a glimpse of Sauron’s true form is when one of Celebrimbor’s assistants, Mirdania, accidentally enters the unseen world and sees Sauron as he really is (without realizing who she’s looking at), the experience shaking her to her core… but we don’t see that. All we get is Mirdania describing a tall being with pitiless eyes and skin made of flames. By describing the moment, but not showing it, Rings follows Tolkien’s example by leaving it up to the viewer’s imagination to visualize what Sauron’s true, malevolent form must look like.

One last little twist about the scene: after Mirdania describes what she saw, who’s the first one to comfort her? Sauron himself.

10. The Raid on the Temple

One of season 2’s strongest storylines is showing Numenor’s gradual downfall. While season 1 hinted that the greatest kingdom of Men in Middle-Earth was starting to crumble from within, season 2 brings this rot out into the open as a power-hungry Ar-Pharazôn begins his campaign to take control of the island empire and persecute those loyal to the Valar, the elves, and their ways.

The one scene that perfectly embodies Numenor’s descent into evil is the raid on the Faithful’s temple. Starting off as a peaceful funeral ceremony bidding farewell to all who died on the mainland in the last season, it devolves into Pharazôn’s sniveling weasel of a son – Kemen – gleefully interrupting the ceremony and announcing the destruction of the temple, destroying sacred artifacts for the fun of it, and then emotionally manipulating Isildur’s friend Valandil into starting a fight to justify using lethal force against the faithful, ending with Kemen stabbing Valandil in the back.

This scene, more than any other in the series, showcases the cruelty and moral rot of Numenor. What’s more chilling is that there are no orcs here, no supernatural monsters or ancient evils emotionally manipulating everyone present. It’s just humans being evil to one another, and it’s arguably scarier than any demon Tolkien could conjure up. And the worst part is that this is only a taste of the evil that Numenor is going to unleash upon Middle-Earth at large in the years to come.

(As an aside, I think there’s a very good chance that Kemen will end up being one of the Ringwraiths: Tolkien’s writings strongly imply that at least three Ringwraiths were of Numenorian descent, and it’s easy to see Kemen being nasty and power-hungry enough to accept a ring of power by Sauron. And if he wants to take the throne of Numenor, only to be denied, then Sauron might offer to make him a great lord and promise him a kingdom of his own to rule… Angmar, perhaps?)

11. Sauron’s Deceptions

One of Sauron’s greatest strengths is his ability to deceive and manipulate almost anyone he encounters, including the smartest, wisest, and most powerful elves in Middle-Earth. Yet, the books are vague about how he does this beyond his ability to take fair forms and cast illusions. While most of his manipulations in Season 2 follows the pattern of narcissists abusing others (lovebombing, gaslighting, ignoring boundaries, victim blaming, etc.), we get to see Sauron’s supernatural abilities at work when he conjures a vision of Eregion to subtly trap Celebrimbor. Like the holodeck from Star Trek, Celebrimbor can walk around in this vision, touch things, interact with other elves, and continue his work… completely unaware that the real Eregion is being bombed into rubble by orcs.

This illusion is a fascinating demonstration of Sauron’s power and his ability to deceive others, and makes you wonder how he’s used this ability on others throughout his time in Middle-Earth: It’s one thing to resist lies and flattery, but it’s much harder to resist when the very world around you is a lie and you don’t know it.

12. Who’s Will Is Stronger?

So often in fantasy stories, dark lords and evil-doers have all the power and all the advantages over their good counterparts, including the willingness to do whatever needs to be done to achieve their goals. But Celebrimbor gets a moment to prove that the good guys can be equally as strong-willed: shackled to his desk and unable to stop Sauron from taking the rings that he will use to enslave men and create the ringwraiths, Celebrimbor realizes the only way he can get free is to cut off his own thumb so he can slip through his shackle. But doing so means that he will never again be able to use a hammer, an anvil, and a forge to create things. Celebrimbor’s Eru-given gifts of forging and creating will be forfeit, and his dreams of making Middle-Earth beautiful will be gone.

Knowing all that, Celebrimbor still cuts off his thumb.

While gruesome, this is one of Celebrimbor’s best character moments: when everything is on the line, he is willing to give up his life’s dream for the chance to stop Sauron and save others. While it is, unfortunately, all for nothing in the long run, never let it be said that Celebrimbor did something most of us wouldn’t have the courage to do.

13. Celebrimbor’s Death

Celbrimbor’s death is one of the more gruesome in Middle-Earth media: tortured by being shot repeatedly with arrows from Sauron himself, threatened with supernatural means to ensure he doesn’t die, and then being impaled with a spear through the gut before finally dying, it’s a gruesome spectacle. Yet, one thing that’s puzzled me ever since watching it is why Sauron cries after Celebrimbor’s death. He wouldn’t see Celebrimbor as a friend, nor would a being such as himself be frightened at a prophecy that his rings will one day destroy him. So why the tears?

After mulling things over, I’ve come to think that the reason Sauron cries is because he’s realized he’s crossed the point of no return. All throughout Season 1 and 2, Sauron says that his greatest goal is to heal Middle-Earth of the hurts he helped inflict upon it. Yet, when staring at Celebrimbor’s corpse, Celebrimbor’s words cut through all the lies he’s told himself:

“I go now to the west, blown forth on a wind that you can never follow.”

I think Sauron realized that Celebrimbor was right: After all he’s done, and after all the times he’s rejected the chance to turn away from evil, it now hits Sauron that he can never go back to Valinor, his home. If he did, the Valar would imprison him, find him irredeemable, and thrust him into the void to join his master in endless darkness.

In my opinion, this is the moment where the last piece of good in Sauron dies. From here, he will fully embrace evil to achieve his goals and abandon any attempt to kid himself that he’s doing this to help others. Celebrimbor may have died here, but so did a tiny, flickering spark of light that will never be re-kindled.

14. Adar Turns Back to the Light.

One of my favorite storytelling tropes is when a villain sincerely and truly repents of their ways and turns their backs on evil. That’s why one of my favorite scene in all of Rings – tied with Sauron being offered the chance to turn from evil, as described above – comes with Adar turning back to the light.

Having obtained Galadriel’s ring, Adar seems poised to use it as a weapon to turn the tide in his war against Sauron and finally defeat him once and for all… but that’s not what happens. Though exactly what happened isn’t shown, it’s logical to assume that Adar’s mind was healed by Galdriel’s ring, making him realize how much evil, death, and destruction he had caused since beginning his quest to create a homeland for the orcs. But instead of giving into despair and hopelessness, or telling himself even more lies to cover up the pain as Sauron did, Adar instead chooses to pursue a path of peace.

While his quest for redemption only lasted a few minutes, Adar holds the unique distinction of being the only true villain in Tolkien’s universe – whether in books, films, games, and TV shows – to sincerely repent, something that Sauron, Saruman, Grima Wormtongue, and so many others never did.

While his ultimate quest to have the orcs live in peace was doomed to never succeed, I hope Adar can return in future seasons (due to Elves being able to reincarnate in Valinor if they are killed), and become of the good guys fighting against Sauron.

15. “Dwarves!”

Dwarves!

16. Sauron vs Galadriel

In Tolkien’s writing, an interesting paradox is introduced regarding Sauron: Despite his overwhelming power, strength, and innate magical abilities, he always loses whenever he gets into a physical fight with someone. That trend is played with at the climax of Season 2, when we get our very first scene of the Dark Lord going toe-to-toe with an opponent onscreen when he fights Galadriel for the 9 rings of power. For the majority of the fight, Sauron easily has the upper hand, toying with her mind and easily deflecting her blows before finally defeating her with a stab from Morgoth’s crown, and taking the 9 rings.

While I enjoy the fight for being able to see my favorite fictional villain getting to show off his fighting skills (and using Morgoth’s crown as a weapon is an ingenious and clever idea), I also like how the fight shows that even if Sauron defeated Galadriel, destroyed Eregion, and got his rings, he still lost: Galadriel escapes, and his potential ally and slave will instead be a thorn in his side for the rest of his days, giving hope, comfort, and aid to those who fight against Sauron, and will be one of the major players in his final and permanent defeat.

Sauron may have won this battle, but though it will take centuries for it to happen, he has ultimately lost his war to enslave Middle-Earth, and Galadriel escaping is just the first of many twists of fate that will finally lead to his final and ultimate defeat.

That’s it for Season 2, which I think is a big improvement over Season 1; come back in 2027 when we’ll take a look of my favorite moments from the third season of ‘The Rings of Power’.

My Favorite Fictional Places To Live In

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If you could choose one fictional place to live in, what would it be? Would you go live in Hogwarts? A penthouse somewhere on Coruscant? Or maybe getting your very own Hobbit-hole in the Shire is more up your alley? Anyone who’s fallen in love with a book, a movie, or a game has fantasized about living in a particularly loved location; here are ten of my favorites.

10. The Matrix (The Matrix franchise)

Image created by me using Deviantart’s DreamUp AI art generator.

Why I’d love to live there: Wait a minute! you might say; why would you want to live inside the Matrix?! Isn’t it a prison for humanity? Well, the first six were, but the Matrix I’m referring to would be one that takes place after the film series, where humanity is aware that they live in virtual reality, but they and the machines are no longer at war. While the machines work to rebuild the surface of the Earth to make it habitable for humans again, humanity chills out in the Matrix to give the machines the power they need, and thanks to their world being virtual, people can now alter it so that they can choose how they look, what clothes they wear, and have increased physical abilities, including – if you’re lucky – flight! And since real estate isn’t an issue, humanity could finally reach a state where everyone is housed and poverty is eliminated forever. Yeah, it may be all digital trickery, but as Morpheus pointed out, your mind would make it real.

Potential drawbacks: While I think everyone would love being able to bend the laws of physics, the possibility of people abusing these new abilities is very high. While most people would be content to be able to fly around in the digital world, abusers, criminals, sociopaths, and bullies would abuse their new powers, and conflicts could become even more dangerous than they are now. So while the Matrix would be very cool, it could also be very dangerous.

9. The Enterprise D (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

Image: Paramount Pictures

Why I’d love to live there: The Enterprise D is a huge spaceship filled with all the wonders the 24th century has to offer, including one of the greatest fictional devices ever created: the holodeck, a place where almost any fantasy you can dream up can come to life. And when you’re not living out your favorite daydreams, you can visit the arboretum, watch the stars from Ten Forward, enjoy a stroll through the ship while listening to the hum of the engines, and visit the onboard dolphins. (No, really, there are dolphins on the Enterprise.) Accommodations are nice, too; if you can snag one of the officer’s quarters, you get a lovely view of space and funky iridescent bedding! Coupled with the ship’s enormous size, and the timeless 80’s sci-fi design, you’d have a nice place to call home.

Potential drawbacks: As Q so memorably pointed out, space is no place for the timid: Being assimilated by the Borg, being dissolved by giant crystal entities, encountering space anomalies that turn you into monkeys or trap you inside a never-ending time loop, and any other number of galactic hazards are some of the things you might encounter, so if you want to live on the Enterprise, maybe do so when it becomes a museum ship.

8. The Glass Tower (The Towering Inferno)

Image: 20th Century Fox/Warner Bros.

Why I’d love to live there: The Glass Tower is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful skyscrapers ever to appear in film. Not only is the gold exterior a beautiful, simple, timeless look, but the interior has a wonderfully charming 70’s decor, right down to the interior elevators. But the big perk is the views: no matter where you live in the tower, you would get breathtaking views of the city, the bay, and the surrounding areas.

Potential drawbacks: Well, there is the itsy, bitsy, tiny fact that the tower catches on fire due to faulty wiring due to cut corners and cost saving measures during construction. And considering that the tower is in San Francisco, your monthly rent would be about 18 trillion dollars. So unless you magically get a free, lifetime lease, you’d have to be quite rich to live there.

7. Mêlée Island (The Secret of Monkey Island)

Image: Lucasfilm Games

Why I’d love to live there: As a night owl, the never-ending nightlife of Melee Island (It’s always 10 PM), is a big plus for me, as is the peaceful town and wilderness to explore: nothing can hurt you here, there are plenty of shops to visit, and the island’s vast forests are beautiful to walk through without fear of wild animals and other threats.

Potential drawbacks: As this is also a pirate town in the 1700’s, you don’t have things like electricity, the internet, movies, or TV shows to keep you occupied on Melee Island, so once you’ve explored and seen everything, there’s not much else to do.

6. Equestria (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Image: Hasbro

Why I’d love to live there: Who says you have to live somewhere with nothing but humanoids to keep you company? Equestria is a land filled with adorable ponies who are happy to be your friend, and there are plenty of places to live with them, from towns to deserts, palaces and islands, and even floating cities, all but guaranteeing that you’ll find somewhere you like. Plus, Equestria is watched over by a benevolent monarch who has ruled it for over 1,000 years without succumbing to madness or becoming a dictator; if only we were blessed with leaders that good.

Potential drawbacks: Magic is real in this universe, and while there are beneficial spells, there’s also plenty of harmful and destructive spells that can brainwash you, turn you into other creatures, or kill you. And despite having lots of friendly ponies to live with, there are also lots of unfriendly ponies and monsters who either want to eat you or conquer the world, and have the ability to do so thanks to aforementioned magic. Oh yeah, and there are flying spiders.

5. Cape Suzette (Talespin)

Image: Disney

Why I’d love to live there: Saturday morning cartoons of my childhood had lots of cool fictional places where adventures took place, but the only one I’d like to live in as an adult would be Cape Suzette from Disney’s Talespin. Set in a fictional 1930’s inhabited by anthropomorphic animals, Suzette is a sequestered, art-deco metropolis nestled in a towering mountain range and a beautiful cove, making it the perfect hub for the adventurous type. But the biggest draw is the apartment of Rebecca Cunningham:

Image: Disney

Even as a little kid, I thought her place was incredible, and as an adult it’s a strong contender for the most beautiful fictional apartment I’ve ever seen. Assuming money wasn’t a problem, this is where I’d love to live!

Potential drawbacks: Aside from being the only human in the city, you’d have to contend with raids by air-pirates, and every trip outside of the city’s boundaries is fraught with danger. There’s also the fact that the city’s de-facto ruler is a ruthless tiger who isn’t afraid to do anything and everything to increase his own wealth and power, so if he decided to ruin your life, there’s a strong chance he could get away with it.

4. Valinor (The Silmarillion/ The Lord of the Rings)

Image: Amazon Studios

Why I’d love to live there: Valinor, the land of Middle-Earth’s gods, is one of the most fascinating places to me in JRR Tolkien’s universe, and the one place I’d love above all others to visit, or, better yet, live in: being free from evil, you could explore all its wonders, from the tallest mountains in existence, to the most majestic trees in creation, and the magical Gardens of Lórien, the most beautiful place in all of Arda. And if you wanted to, you could even visit the Halls of Mandos, the dwelling place of the dead; that sounds fun, right? But one of the most amazing draws would be living amongst elves and the gods themselves, beings who helped shape and create Arda and have seen the creator god – Eru – face to face.

Potential drawbacks: It’s said many times throughout Tolkien’s mythology – and by Tolkien himself – that mortals cannot live in Valinor because their lives would be greatly shortened due to the overwhelming magical power of the island, and they’d die cursing that they alone aged while everything around them seemed to never change. Yet, Frodo, Sam, and Gimili lived there in a state of peace and healing, suggesting that mortals can stay in the blessed realm if they accept death and don’t seek immortality. Thus, any would-be-mortal-resident would have to decide if living among elves, gods, and all their wonders is worth a greatly-reduced lifespan.

3. Dinotopia (The Dinotopia series by James Gurney)

Image: James Gurney

Why I’d love to live there: IT’S A UTOPIA WHERE HUMANS LIVE SIDE BY SIDE WITH DINOSAURS HOLY S**T THAT IS AWESOME.

Ahem; sorry.

To tone down my inner child, Dinotopia is one of the most wondrous, peaceful, utopian places I’ve ever found in fiction. A place where dinosaurs have survived to the present day and live peacefully with humans in cities, towns, jungles, mountaintop temples, and seaside communities, all brought to life by James Gurney’s beautiful artwork. For children and adults alike, it’s a place so many would love to call home, myself among them.

Potential drawbacks: Encountering carnivores who are not afraid to embrace their more savage side. Thankfully, you have to go out of your way to encounter them, so the threat is minimal, meaning that most of Dinotopia is one of the safer places on this list.

2. The Culture (The Culture series by Iain Banks)

Image created by me using Deviantart’s DreamUp AI image generator

Why I’d love to live there: When it comes to utopias in fiction, The Culture is arguably the one that probably gets closest to making one that you’d actually want to live in: A highly advanced, post-scarcity society where benevolent AI’s keep society running, allowing citizens of the Culture to do literally anything they want, as long as it doesn’t hurt or harm other individuals. With a high value on personal liberty and freedom, as well as technology that allows individuals to live up to 400 years (or even longer), people living in the Culture have it made: You can pursue all your passions, dreams, and hobbies as much as you want without worrying about having to pay the bills. Sweet!

Potential drawbacks: While the Culture does run into occasional problems and even more advanced civilizations dwelling in the cosmos, there really aren’t any hazards or drawbacks its citizens have to worry about; some would say that the Minds (the aforementioned AI’s that keep the Culture running) run a surveillance state, even if it is a completely benevolent one, but when you look at all the benefits the Culture’s technology can offer, and almost unlimited freedom everyone enjoys, the Culture is as close to an earthly heaven as you can get. And speaking of paradise…

1. Heaven

Image created by me with Deviantart’s DreamUp AI image generator

Why I’d love to live there: While we will likely never know for sure if there is continued existence after death (though considering the volume of near death experiences and other otherworldly phenomena reported throughout the centuries, I’m in the ‘there’s probably something after we die’ camp), Heaven, as seen in countless books, movies, TV shows, and video games, would be the absolute perfect place to live: a realm of peace, joy, and bliss, where all your dreams can come true, and where you can live without any of the negative parts of Earthy life, like death, aging, paying the bills, late-stage capitalism that puts the acquisition of money above human well being, etc. Plus, assuming the Supreme Being is benevolent and all-loving, you can chill out with God; who wouldn’t want to do that?! (I’ve always loved how in the book, ‘David Vs. God,’ you can even go surfing with God!)

There are countless versions of Heaven in fiction, but I especially like the version presented in the online webcomic, ‘The Order of the Stick,’: essentially, you get to enjoy every earthly delight you want, and when you’ve had your fill you get to go further up into Paradise to greater and greater joys.

Potential drawbacks: Depending on the rules of which universe you’re in (such as the movie, ‘What Dreams May Come’), the worst part of living in Heaven is the possibility that your loved ones don’t make it in, which would make living there hell. But since stories featuring getting into Heaven at the end tend to be more on the positive side, the odds of that happening are low, and the possibility remains that said loved ones can still eventually get there, even if they have to be rescued/fight their way out of Hell/the Underworld, etc.

Those are my favorite fictional places to live in; what are yours? Tell us your favorite fictional living places in the comments below!

What we can learn from the world’s shortest horror story

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KnockCover

Quick: Name the shortest horror story you’ve ever read.

Done? If you’re like many people, this probably came to mind:

‘The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…’

This tiny, Twitter-sized tale – Fredric Brown’s ‘Knock’ – is possibly the world’s most famous short horror story. Although it’s a condensed version of a longer (though not by much) story, the two-sentence version is a masterpiece of lean, efficient storytelling. So much is said, and implied – in just two sentences and seventeen words – that it becomes one of the best examples of ambiguity in fiction.

In my opinion, what makes ‘Knock’ so memorable (aside from its length) is that while it sets up an entire fictional world, it doesn’t tell us anything about it or who is outside the door. What happened to the planet? Why is there only one man left? Did everyone else die off? Did they evacuate and leave him behind? Likewise, who or what is knocking? An alien? A demon? An angel? A large duck? We don’t know, and like every great horror story, ‘Knock’ forces us to rely on our imagination to fill in the blanks, creating things more terrifying than anything Hollywood’s CGI maestros or an author’s prose can bring to life.

Not revealing the evil force menacing a character is a simple concept, but as countless horror tales have proven over the centuries, it can be chillingly effective.

The Takeaway

When writing a horror story (or a mystery/thriller) consider never revealing who, or what, is menacing a character or a group of characters. For extra points, leave this entity’s motivations ambiguous, such as if it’s malevolent or just neutral/curious.

What we can learn from ‘The Ritual’ (the film)

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Last week, we took a look at the book version of ‘The Ritual.’ Today, let’s take a look at the film adaptation and see what writers can learn from the big (small?) screen version of the novel:

Consider starting your story with a lighthearted touch, then immediately shifting to horror

‘The Ritual’ begins with Luke and the others (and newcomer Rob) having a typical guy’s night out with drinks, joking, and taking in a city’s nightlife. I first thought it was going to be a predictable scene of the group wanting to get away from their boring lives, but was quickly proven wrong when Luke and Rob stumble into a robbery, and Rob is killed. Only then does the film cut to the outskirts of Sweden’s Forest of Death six months later.

The brilliance of this sequence is how it plays with our expectations: We expect it to be another buddy-movie opening, but by then shifting into horror, it grabs our attention like a slap to the face. Consider doing the same subversion in your story: while the first part risks having the viewer say, ‘Oh great, not another cliched opening,’ the unexpected always gets their attention, letting them know that this isn’t going to turn out the way they think.

Consider having your characters learn to overcome fear

It’s standard advice for writers to have characters change and grow throughout their stories, giving readers the sense that their heroes are capable of learning and growing from both triumph and failure. But what kind of arc should they have? Here, Luke’s arc takes him from being a coward (not helping Rob when he’s being beaten by thugs), to learning to face fear (in this instance, a forest god who will turn you into a flayed flesh-flag if you don’t worship her).

One advantage of having your character learning to stand up for themselves is that everyone can relate to it. Who among us hasn’t felt small and afraid when faced with bullies, angry parents, or enraged employers? And who hasn’t felt the elation of finally standing your ground and fighting back? Having your characters do the same is almost guaranteed to be a fist-pumping, ‘hell yeah!’ moment because we know the struggle it takes to get to that point.

(In all fairness, though, you can’t blame Luke for not stepping in to help in the market; a glass bottle wouldn’t do much against two thugs who aren’t afraid to kill to get what they want.)

Consider having the victim make everything worse for everyone else

After injuring his knee early in the hike, Dom wants nothing more than to get out of the forest. But while his pig-headed stubbornness to get out as quickly as possible is understandable and relatable, it has the side effect of leading almost everyone else to their doom. Had the group just turned back, they probably would have gotten out of the forest alive. Such a contrast creates mixed emotions for your audience: they can sympathize with the victim who just wants to live, but also be angry at him/her for making things worse for everyone else by refusing to listen to reason.

Consider having a small mystery that’s never solved

About halfway through ‘The Ritual,’ Luke and the others find an abandoned tent that belonged to Anna Erikson, a woman who went missing in 1984. While this mystery is never solved, it does engage our imagination: What happened to Anna? Did she escape the forest? Did Moder kill her? Or did she join the cult and worship Moder? It may be possible that the villager who explains to Luke who Moder is Anna. Either way, the ambiguity behind the mystery helps reinforce the fact that Moder has been active for a very long time.

It’s important to note that this mystery is a small one, and not important to the plot. Had it been the main focus of the story, where Luke and the others heading to the forest to find this woman, then it would need to be solved.

Consider hearing something horrible instead of seeing it

It’s common to hear a monster in a creature feature long before it’s seen, and for good reason: Hearing an unearthly beast allows the reader’s/viewer’s imaginations to run wild, and making them lean close the screen or the page in hopes of catching even the smallest glimpse of the monster. However, using sound instead of visuals can also be effective in many other situations. In ‘The Ritual,’ it’s used to chilling effect when Phil is dragged upstairs where we hear him shrieking. We don’t see what’s going on, which makes us wonder what’s terrifying him so much. Torture devices? Other captives who fought back and were mutilated? A big, fat, naked man trying to seduce him?

By leaving something unseen, even if it’s not a monster, you can turbocharge your audience’s imagination… and make their skin crawl as they debate whether they want to see the unseen horror or not.

Consider having your characters sacrifice something for their freedom

In many stories where a character has to escape a location (a cell, a locked room, etc.) they manage to get out of their restraints without any pain. But if you want to turn up the tension, and make your audience squirm, consider having your characters sacrifice something to achieve that freedom. Here, Luke has to sacrifice his thumb by breaking it in order to free himself from his bindings.

Part of fiction’s appeal is imagining ourselves in the place of our heroes and imagining us accomplishing what they do, escaping from impossible situations included. Why not make them squirm by having them wonder if they’d be able to sacrifice a body part to escape. Would they be willing to break their arm? Lose an ear? How about an eye?

Consider having your final confrontation be a battle of wills, not physical strength

In my opinion, the most interesting thing ‘The Ritual’ changes from the book is the final showdown between Luke and Moder. In the book’s climax, the two collide in a van, and Luke drives her off with a pocketknife. Here, however, Moder tries to force Luke to worship her, presumably so she can continue to live from the strength of his prayers. In a physical fight, Luke is no match for Moder, but she’s in a difficult situation: if she kills Luke, she loses her last chance of getting a follower. Thus, Luke finally gains his resolve and refuses to kneel. And thanks to an axe-to-the-face moment, he manages to defeat Moder: not by killing her, but by leaving her powerless, alone, and trapped in a prison she cannot leave.

It’s a fascinating twist on the standard climax of having hero and monster fight in a duel to the death. Here, both parties survive, but Luke is still the winner. ‘The Ritual’ is proof that not every confrontation needs to involve weapons, fists, and pitting strength against strength. Sometimes the most amazing duels are fought with words and wills, where even the weakest in body can stand up to the biggest of bullies.

The takeaway

When writing a story about monsters, a good way to quickly suck viewers in is to start off with a familiar plot, only to quickly swerve into horror territory, setting up a story where the main character has to learn to stand up for himself and face his fears while dealing with injured companions who make things worse for everyone due to their stubbornness, creepy mysteries that they’ll never solve, unseen horrors that he doesn’t want to face, enduring great pain to gain freedom from captivity, and facing the beast and defeating it with courage and their will instead of weapons and strength.

BONUS: When all else fails, punch the evil old woman

What we can learn from ‘The Ritual’ (the Book)

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The Ritual Book Cover

Monster horror stories are everywhere these days, and for good reason: There may be no better way to get the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing than knowing that you’re being hunted by a unseen creature, and ‘The Ritual’, by Adam Nevill, joins those ranks.

‘The Ritual’ made quite a splash when Netflix aired its adaptation of the book last year, with acclaim given to the design of Moder, the story’s monster. I wanted to read the book before seeing the film, so let’s see what writers can learn from this tale of horror in Sweden’s forests.

Consider making your protagonists anything other than hot teenagers

Unlike so many horror victims, the protagonists of ‘The Ritual’ aren’t attractive youngsters in their 20’s with fantastic bodies, but middle-aged men, two of whom are in poor physical shape. Furthermore, they’re not out to get laid or do drugs; they’re on a hiking trip to try and rekindle their friendships that have been fading with time, and dealing with various problems:

      1. Not getting anything out of life

      2. Being overweight

      3. About to loose everything in divorces

      4. Trying to restore old friendships that have clearly run their course

      5. Being dirt-poor

These out of shape, depressed underdogs are far more interesting to follow than young people who are having pretty radical lives. Even Luke, the youngest and most carefree, has to endure the silent scorn of his companions for refusing to take any initiative with his life (to the point that he realizes that if he went missing, it’d be months before anyone would bother to look for him, which makes us wonder if he even has a future to look forward to if he escapes), and it isn’t long before all four are at each other’s throats.

These are not happy campers, and their struggle to deal with depressing lives while tying not to become gutted flesh-flags hanging from trees makes for gripping reading. In our own stories, consider making your protagonists the last kind of people who should be dealing with monsters. Why not try released inmates who can’t get a job or acceptance? Or try senior citizens who’s tour bus broke down in the middle of an abandoned city. (Admit it: You’d pay to go see the Golden Girls fight zombies.)

Make your environment an antagonist

Much like the Moder, the forest our protagonists stumble into is a threat as well. While many horror locations are far from help (Space, the ocean, or a crumbling mansion in the center of a forest far from civilization), the forest seems to have a malevolence to it, as if it’s working with Moder to disorient our protagonists and making it impossible for them to just turn around and leave the forest, as any sane person would do.

It’s left ambiguous if the forest is malevolent, but having an environment seemingly working with the monster is a great way to make survival even more challenging for our characters.

Have your characters face ethical decisions when it comes to survival

The forest our heroes find themselves trapped in strips away all the niceties and rules of civilization, reducing everything to a simple formula: Survive or die. In the first half of the story, Luke has to decide whether to abandon his out-of-shape companions so he can make a break for safety. Then, in the second half, he faces an even worse dilemma: Does he kill the teenagers who have taken him captive so that he can survive?

In the former example, Luke comes very close to abandoning Phil and Dom, but ultimately doesn’t. However, he does end up killing two of the three teenagers, but not before debating whether he should or not. The teens are cruel vagrants who are willing to torture and sacrifice Luke for their own pleasure, but their gung-ho toughness vanishes when they have a gun pointed at them.

Putting these dilemmas in our stories is a smart move for two reasons:

1. They reveal what a character’s true personality. What do they do when all their defenses have been taken away and they have to make a hard decision? Do they choose to spare others? Do they save themselves? Or do they try a third option? Furthermore, how do they deal with their choice after it’s been made?

2. They make the reader ponder what they would do in such a situation. Would you have it in you to kill teenagers who would otherwise kill you?

It’s a sign of good writing when dilemmas stay with the reader long after your story has been finished.

Consider having your characters made amends in the face of death

Though they’re trying to mend their old friendships, it’s clear from the beginning that Luke and the others just aren’t a good fit anymore, and that their hiking trip was an exercise in futility before it even began. What few connections they have are strained and then shattered when stress makes them snap at each other and permanently destroy their relationships. But, in a smart move, Mr. Nevill makes it so that they still have to work together to get out of the forest alive, even if they hate each other, which only adds more tension.

Then, in an even better twist, Luke and Phil, the last two survivors, realize that they’re almost certainly going to die and try to make amends to each other in the book’s most heartwarming moment. Death, in fiction and in real life, has a way of cutting through all our anger and self-righteousness and makes us realize what truly matters: each other. After all, when faced with a horror beyond human comprehension, we all want someone by our side, even if it’s just to hold our hand when the end comes.

In our own works, we should consider giving our characters the chance to make amends and heal any hurts they’ve had with other characters. While Phil dies in ‘The Ritual’, you could make it so that your characters survive, giving them a chance to go on in life with a newfound appreciation and respect for one another.

Be careful when stopping your story halfway through

‘The Ritual’ is a gripping read (I read through all of it in one afternoon), but I was caught off guard at the halfway mark, when the story shifts from Luke surviving against an unseen evil to Luke being kidnapped by homicidal teenagers and trying to escape becoming a human sacrifice. It was as if in ‘Jaws’, Chief Brody and his companions went out to hunt the shark, only to run out of supplies and food and pass out, then wake up on a deserted island with natives who worship the shark and want to sacrifice them to it. While Brody would still end up killing the shark, the straightforward story of three men vs a really big shark would become needlessly expanded.

In a way, ‘The Ritual’ is like a roller coaster ride: it’s a fast, gripping adrenaline rush, but suddenly stops halfway through before starting up again. And while we do learn more about Moder during the slower-paced second half, it takes a long time for the gripping survival story to come back to the forefront.

In our own work, it’s understandable if we want the audience to have some breathing room. How that’s implemented, though, is vital. If, for example, we want to have protagonists in a survival story to get a break from a monster, we can try the following:

*Have our characters be captured by natives, but make them as threatening and alien as the monster: They don’t speak a language anyone can understand, have customs that make no sense, etc.

*Have our characters stumble into the village of cult members, who are all long gone, but there are clues left to be found that will help our protagonist realize what they’re going up against. For bonus points, you can have the village only seem to be deserted, and then have the locals come back. (Walt Disney’s ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ did this well with the crew of the Nautilus.)

*Have our characters meet the villagers, but they’re as terrified of the monster as our characters are, and a constant life of fear makes them lash out at anyone and anything they don’t recognize (like the tribe in the 2005 King Kong film).

Consider having a morally ambiguous ‘ally’ help your characters

One of the most interesting characters in ‘The Ritual’ is the old woman in the house where Luke is kept captive. Seemingly helpless and useless throughout the story’s second half, it’s gradually revealed that she’s the only one who can summon Moder (who is secretly her mother), and while she’s kind to Luke, we learn that’s only an act, as she intends to sacrifice him after he helps her by getting rid of the teenagers (and all without her saying a word we, the reader, can understand).

Such moral ambiguity keeps readers invested in a character, as they will want to figure out if he or she is a hero, a villain, or someone who’s neutral. A good example of this is Severus Snape from the Harry Potter series, who kept people wondering for years just who’s side he was on.

Be cautious when your protagonist fights the monster

Moder, like all great monsters, is only glimpsed and heard throughout the story, not making her full appearance until the very end. And like so many other great monsters, Luke finally faces her at the climax. However, Moder’s buildup is popped when, for all of her speed, strength, and cunning, this ancient god of the forest is driven off by a pocket knife to the throat. While she’s in rough shape at the time (tangled up in the wreckage of a van after ramming it head-on), it feels almost anti-climactic to have her defeated (but not killed) by such a tiny weapon.

If our character/s are finally facing the monster, how they are defeated should be relative to how powerful they are. If your character is fighting a T-rex, have them use a spear or an axe. For a large monster like Moder, a shotgun, machete, or other large weapon is appropriate. Or, if our character doesn’t have any weapons, have them resort to traps, similar to Dutch during the climax of ‘Predator,’ or Nancy in ‘The Shallows’. And even then, the trap doesn’t have to kill the beast; it can just slow the monster down enough for our protagonist to get away.

Consider having an uncertain, but hopeful ending

‘The Ritual’ doesn’t have a happy ending: Luke has managed to escape Moder and kill all her followers, but he’s naked and far from civilization, with a low likelihood of survival. But even in his lowest moment, he realizes that all the labels he has, all the things that he has – his job, his check, his living spaces – don’t matter. All that matters is being alive, and free to do what he wants.

It’s not a clear-cut, happy ending, but there is still a glimmer of hope, leaving us to imagine what happens to Luke. When doing horror stories, pulling off a happy ending can be very difficult, as it’s easy to make it sappy or unearned. Bittersweet ending, however, feel more logical: Things can be bad for our protagonist/s, but there’s still hope that things can or will get better. And as a bonus, leaving it open-ended allows the viewer to imagine for themselves what happens next. Personally, I like to think that, against all odds, Luke does make it to safety, and returns home.

The takeaway

When doing a monster horror story, try having the victims be down on their luck underdogs who have to make brutally difficult choices when trying to survive, but be careful not to interrupt the flow of the story to introduce a new plot idea, nor make the monster easy to drive off or defeat at the end before having an uncertain but hopeful ending.