Cities that swallow you whole

I remember I've always been completely enchanted by the 1920s-1930s New York, especially the skyscrapers. As someone, who for long had never seen a building taller than a 10 level, it was something equally magical and terrifying. Structures that towered over you, megacities that seem to collapse in on you, it gave me a weird sensation. It didn't help my imagination that I grew up watching Batman: The Animated Series where Gotham seemed to be a maze that keeps your secrets. A living thing that watches and hears everything. Then sometimes, when I was lucky, I could stay up and watch the TCM channel which broadcasted black & white classic (and weird) movies all the time. In older movies, especially from the 1920s and 1930s, cities were always made to seem bigger than they really were and our protagonist was just a tiny human trying their luck in the hustles and bustles of the megamonster that was New York.

Even after that, when the childish wonder disappeared, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something otherworldly about megastructures... Even in my own city which is according to some might be quite small, there are places that just feel like their own little world, their own bubble of reality. I remember walking around in other neighbourhoods of panels when I was a teenager, feeling oddly like an intruder in another universe between these ominous towers that rose until they shielded even the Sun. These neighbourhoods had everything anyone could have needed, apartment parks that had their own shops, services and even stories and urban legends. Everything, so there was no need to venture beyond the conrete blocks. Ever. And as you wonder between these tall buildings that tower over you and discover the tucked away tiny spaces hidden between in their shadows, the sky barely visible, you can't help but feel... small, in a way. And trapped, in a living thing that does not want you to leave.

Then came Metropolis in my life when I was 21. That movie is a masterpiece and took me by storm as I rode the wave of the nostalgia of the roaring 20s and wore Old Hollywood Glamour. I remember I had a picture on my wall, a gift from my dad, it was a black and white print of New York and its metal monsters in the early 30s and I always marvelled at the bone-deep fear of the size of it all. Feeling insignificantly small.

Now I might have finished Blame, just yesterday. Thus this topic but not the feelings. Because the chill that runs down my spine everytime I see a megacity, I can't help but stop and think that it would eat me alive if I ever let it.

Dungeons where your soul haunts forever

There was always something about the 80s fantasy book covers and 90s early internet dungeon arts that evoke a feeling in me that I could describe as weirdly comforting and cosy. The darkness, the neon colours, the pixelated or blurry images of the moldy, dreary dungeons, the final resting place of so many unfortunate souls, the haunting grounds of those who guard the gates against wanderers who dare to disturb the dead... it was always something beautiful in a peaceful, whimsy, yet melancholic way. Maybe it is the adventure that come with discovering these catacombs and its mysteries. Or maybe, the many stories you learn along the way - the stories of those who, just as you, have wondered too far and paid with their soul for their curiosity. For their bravery. Or their stupidity. The many lives you live, through the eyes of those who had been lost to the darkness in that labyrinth. All unique, once with feelings, hopes and dreams of a future that never came. The cruel yet poetic end, a soul that can never find true rest but is damned to be frozen in time, relieving their wrongdoing forever.

And yet, I find these places deeply calming. Because... in a way, it is. It is only you, in the moldy, cold and dark dungeons, alone.

Of course, there is the magic, powerful and all-knowing. It is always listening, always watching. It seeps through the stone walls, runs up your spine like a chill. It is an entity of its own, wise, witty and cunning. It judges however never punishes unjust. It never is cruel without a cause and never takes without being demanded from first. Yet, despite it all, despite the mistery, the omen, the fear that creeps up on you, the only thing you have to be wary of is, in the end, yourself. If anything, the magic is a mirror, a setting that uncovers one's true self. Their character with all their virtues and vices, their hearts' deepest desires. It is, ultimately, not the mystical being or the dungeon itself that corrupts the wanderer but uncovers who is worthy and who should be punished. The good are always rewarded with something valuable, may it be wisdom or glory. And the ones who lost themselves are damned to wander the catacombs and never find their soul again.

I think this is why I find such comfort in these atmospheres. Some have nothing to fear - not the riddles, nor the quests given to them. It is a place that can be peaceful and free, without expectations.

But peace can be difficult to find if the one you have to fear the most... is yourself.