Just a stream of thought that came about as I try to get back into Darkest Dungeon. We all know the blueprint of Cosmic Horror: shambling grotesqueries from beyond the stars who are too massive and powerful to notice our meager existence, and whose presence induces madness and despair until our minds shatter like fragile glass.
And I guess I'm at the point where it's just totally played out.
Speaking as someone without a particularly high opinion of himself, it just feels like the root of the fears it's supposed to inflict on you is that you live in a big scary world that doesn't care about your life which... no shit? I know I don't matter to such a degree that the world will stop spinning without me. Why is that supposed to scare me? I am assuming, with or without cause, that this was a bigger deal to, say, English white dudes in the early 20th century as opposed to now, where the grind of fascism has made me abundantly clear that I am not the master of my own destiny.
It also seems to just infect every corner of sci-fi and fantasy these days, especially Urban Fantasy, where The Elder Gods of the Blackened Cosmos wait as some kind of final boss to significantly undermine all the conflict that lead up to it. They can't be beaten because That's The Point, only you can't end your hotshot paranormal detective's story by having his whole planet get smooshed by a passing Shoggoth, so they just end up being there as window dressing.
And I guess I'm at the point where it's just totally played out.
Speaking as someone without a particularly high opinion of himself, it just feels like the root of the fears it's supposed to inflict on you is that you live in a big scary world that doesn't care about your life which... no shit? I know I don't matter to such a degree that the world will stop spinning without me. Why is that supposed to scare me? I am assuming, with or without cause, that this was a bigger deal to, say, English white dudes in the early 20th century as opposed to now, where the grind of fascism has made me abundantly clear that I am not the master of my own destiny.
It also seems to just infect every corner of sci-fi and fantasy these days, especially Urban Fantasy, where The Elder Gods of the Blackened Cosmos wait as some kind of final boss to significantly undermine all the conflict that lead up to it. They can't be beaten because That's The Point, only you can't end your hotshot paranormal detective's story by having his whole planet get smooshed by a passing Shoggoth, so they just end up being there as window dressing.