Bystander232

Many YouTubers are expressing their despair about the election of Donald Trump. One young commenter said that she'd decided "turn [her] heartbreak into action", including participation in the Women's March on Washington scheduled for January 21st, 2017. (Official page: https://www.facebook.com/events/2169332969958991/.) Another commenter, politely, questioned the value of marching about an unchangeable situation.

Fair question. Protest demonstrations assert our First Amendment rights to freedom of speech and peaceful assembly. But I think to some extent we default to marches because those are the chief images of the Civil Rights Movement.

The young commenter said that she, personally, was marching to show that does not agree with or condone the "hateful" things Donald Trump said during his campaign. (To note: the protests have centered squarely on the president-elect's apparent bigotry, racism, misogyny and xenophobia.) The questioner had a good feel for this, as she opined that this was not an effective protest because it lacked a specific goal like passing a law or convicting a criminal. It is a tricky question. How do express dissent against something that is palpable but not concrete? (And clearly more "real" to some people than others.

Here is my reply to the original writer.

::hugs::

Another reason people march in protest: it shows the object of those protests, so they can see with their own eyes, the extent of their responsibility. He is the president-elect of the entire United States, not just the half that voted for him. And whatever he truly thinks about African-Americans, Latinos, Muslims, women, veterans (and I pray to all that's holy that it's better than what's been said and implied so far), all American citizens are accorded equal rights [and protections] under the law. He is accountable to each and every one of us.* I truly hope he is a good president.

Mostly Walking is a Twitch-streamed show about classic adventure games (the current pick is "The Secret of Monkey Island"). It's hosted by Sean "Day9" Plott, and his game developer friends/former grad school classmates Bill Graner, and Sean Bouchard, streaming on Mondays then posting to YouTube on Tuesdays. They got together in 2012 for a limited-run series, MetaDating*, on the Geek & Sundry channel, and started Mostly Walking about 2 1/2 years ago. So I've been watching these guys on and off over the last four years, learning how video games work, and while it's gotten less pedantic over time, it's still pretty fun.

Early on Sean Bouchard introduced us all to GNS theory, a way of breaking down tabletop role-playing games into three interacting facets. Roughly (very roughly) speaking, the 1. narrative facet is the story that's being told. The 2. simulation is the world that's been created. The Matrix, if you like. And the 3. gamic refers to the mechanics, how action takes place, how the whole system WORKS. I love mechanics (murder mysteries might be the most mechanic-driven genre in print): using this paradigm to look at video games is fascinating.

The game before "Monkey Island" was "Obduction", a spiritual successor to "Myst". (Same publisher?) The guys have played a number of puzzle-heavy games, and ironically, I find it difficult to stay interested. Checking in for the recap, the guys were NOT pleased with how the game ended: they solved the final puzzle, but there was no emotional payoff because they didn't know what it meant. "Obduction" let them tear through the puzzles (the gamic) without paying attention to the story (the narrative). In fact, when they skipped the narrative cues, the game rewarded them with faster progress. Design flaw. You can say "We expected the player to wander around more, in which case they would have bumped into narrative clues", but if so the game needs to direct that behavior.

Here's what I had to say on YouTube ("Obduction" P15):

Guys, you're talking over each other. We can't understand what you're saying.

The end of "Obduction" provided some insight into what makes puzzles work in video games, a question that's haunted Mostly Walking since at least "Nancy Drew"... Another thing games need to ask is "Why does this puzzle belong in this adventure game?" It's about context, but also player-character identity and identification. There's a big difference between solving puzzles vs. playing an embodied puzzle-solver.** The "King's Quest" games thrive here: Alexander and Graham are dopey, and so are the solutions you come up with on their behalf. If the puzzle itself gains nothing from being in the game, the game probably deserves a more narratively-ambitious puzzle.

Link to the show's YouTube playlist: https://youtu.be/0MT2tn_1XhQ.

That's Sherlock's voice, not Mycroft's. "We were at Bart's", not "Bath". "You're as thin [not "as stiff"] as a rake!" Sloppy captioning.

Glad the acting retains a contemporary sensibility. That's a relationship to the audience, not to the setting's era. The physicality is 1890s appropriate, but not remote. Not that these writers would be inclined to go "quaint" or "antique".

"Mr. Sherlock", not "Mr. Holmes". That's a mistake or that's for us.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes..." - some of Robert Morely's plummy vocals, I hear.

"I've had to grow this mustache just so people will recognize me." Why do you want to be recognized, Doctor?

That skull/lady illusion is so cool. And apropos. Where's Miss Adler?

"Mrs. Hudson! There is a woman in my sitting room! Is it intentional?" #sodaoutthenose

That walkabout as Sherlock deduced the lady in black. Around the lady, between John and the skull/woman... great match between lines and composition of the shot.

Sherlock's expression at 10:30. New. "I shall have to go deep... Myself." Hmmm.

He has a special housecoat for the violin? Eyes up for the syringe.

"A social call?" Check Mary and Sherlock exchanging amused looks at their dear, trusting John :).

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of". Sensing that one's going to bite Sherlock.

Freeze... When a mystery writer has a character relate events up to, it's a flashback for the benefit of the audience. They have not happened in the story: only the story of the events told by the character is part of the story we the audience are seeing or reading. In a book, the two often unconsciously compress: as readers, it's all the same to us. That's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Having us watch a scene that appears to be happening, only to freeze it to show us it's a story within the story, decompresses these two accounts. I'll be curious to learn what Lestrade's tale is missing/misrepresenting. And there's the added curiosity of Sherlock "going deep"...

Wait. "literary criticism by means of satire" "Mrs Hudson didn't seem to be talking" This episode is self-consciously literary about its reality, but NOT in the Victorian novels way one would expect of a "throwback" episode. Why?

John and Lestrade seem a bit slower in this reality.

"A moment. When was this?" "Yesterday morning." YES! The mind palace is 4-dimensional, Lestrade.

"The bride's face, how is it described?" So Lestrade isn't even relating his own account. Oh [bollocks], he's probably relating the account of one of his officers after the fact, so Sherlock's getting it 4TH-hand.

"Poetry or truth?" Oh, and the bit at the beginning about the newsman wanting a murder... augh. Lots of [stuff] about reality, here.

"Afterwards." Was wondering why Lestrade was so shaken by a 3rd-hand account.

Who's the hansom cab... oh, here we go again. #Sherlock1.1

All of this with John and Mary newly married, struggling, both present and listening closely.

Veil, white face paint... that could hide anyone. Actually, her hair and bone structure favor Laura Pulver.

What worthless kind of officer lets a murderer with a shotgun stroll off into the fog?

How did Sherlock not hear of this? The urchin who took his bag presumably knew. We'll pass that for now.

"Superb. Suicide as street theater, murder by corpse. Lestrade, you're spoiling us." It *is* self-consciously created.

[Bad], Watson. And genre-clueless. Also graphically stupid. Hm.

Yeah, Mary! I suppose we're supposed to jump to "Moriarty".

Oh, Anderson.

YEAH MOLLY!

::crying with laughter over the "secret twin" exchange::

"Who's on mortuary duty?" "You know who." "Always him." That wasn't a "You-Know-Who", by tone. Honest question... That doesn't make... "You KNOW who - ALWAYS him"... That's like a nightmare. It keeps repeating ALWAYS what you KNOW but you can't not keep asking. Dealing with Anderson on every case *would* be a nightmare of Sherlock's...

"Gun in the mouth... How could he survive?" "Not 'he', 'she'." "Yes, I suppose." And then that aural snap. YOU. ::takes a mental step back::

Why is this nightmare gendered? The bride, the sexism and suffragette activity around Mary, Molly's cross-dressing. He, not she. When has he ever cared...

"My Boswell is learning." "I see things... Holmes is blind." "I don't know, I'm still trying to understand it." He would never say that. The "specialize" remark - that's sleight of hand. Information, not comprehension. Ratiocination is a single complex process.

Oh! And the slights to Mrs. Hudson. "She likes to feel involved." This is s... something's "San Junipero". Feeling the wrong without knowing the rules is... "Who have I been talking to all this time?"

Watson at the breakfast table. We've descended from satire to parody.

Is Mycroft okay?

An invisible enemy, threatening "our" way of life, "that hovers at our elbow on a daily basis... everywhere, undetected, and unstoppable." Women, dude. C'mon now.

"We don't defeat them. We must certainly lose to them." "Why? "Because they are right. And we are wrong." Of course, Watson the soldier can't make sense of this.

YEAH MARY! And Mycroft.

"Ghosts we make for ourselves..." "He..." "I don't know" "I don't understand" "Gun in the mouth" "Smarter than you"... Alright. Where's Andrew Scott?

"You see, I've said it all before." "No, I wrote that. You're quoting yourself..." Who is telling the story? Who AUTHORS Sherlock, if Moriarty opposes him and John shapes his adventures into story? And why is he worrying over it? I'm waiting.

Is Watson having the sex talk with Sherlock? Is Sherlock's subconscious as Watson having the sex talk with him?! ::clapping:: And of course, Watson as his blogging friend manifests subconsciously as the public-presenting side of himself.

Failure to protect, inability to love, guilt of making his own ghosts, and that expression all the way back at 10:30. "You're in deep, Sherlock, deeper than you ever intended to be." Sherlock's psyche needs a hug :/.

"The virus in the data." Confirmed. Sherlock's unconscious, or sleeping, and some part of him knows it.

How does "Mrs. Emelia Ricoletti" anagram? With and without "[the] Bride"?

Now I'm really worried for Mycroft. Does he have a tumor? A growth in his heart? That Sherlock has noticed little signs but his conscious mind hasn't put together.

"Did you know that dust is largely composed of human skin?" Is it bad that we said "Yes." in the same tone?"

Benedict Cumberbatch specializes in isolated geniuses. We know this. Even when he doesn't play braniacs, the performances I've seen run along the intellectual spectrum. Like Little Charles, August: Osage County. I feel like I'm finally getting more than that. If only because it's the portrait of a braniac's subconscious disintegration

YES! I'm surprised (and delighted) that Sherlock Holmes sleeps on planes :). And that's why he kept inviting Moriarty to sit down!

Mycroft's constancy. Mkes me tear up. "I'll always be there for you." I wonder now whether he's sick, dying, or if Sherlock's psyche feared he'd done something Mycroft couldn't forgive.

"[Mary] thinks she's found the solution. For no better reason than that, she's put herself in the path of considerable danger. An excellent choice of wife." :)

How does one send a telegram from a desanctified... In a dream. What real-world danger to Mary is he detecting?

"Sorry, I could never resist the gong. Or a touch of the dramatic." "Never have guessed." ;)

Yup. Pointy hats: Wicca? And height disguise.

"Ready to rise up in the best of causes. To put right an injustice as old as humanity itself. So, you see, Watson, Mycroft was right. This is a war we must lose." The best artists make ideas visceral, like this.

"Not in your mind. I'll never be dead there. You once called your brain a hard drive. Well, say hello the virus." Only Andrew Scott can pull off a line like that, and he's SCARY.

Watson saves the psyche! "That's not fair, there's two of you." "There's always two of us." :).

EDUARDO DANTES: You fancy me mad?... Perhaps you've heard of my great-grandfather, Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford? HEMINGWAY: You mean that Elizabethan hack? POE: Some people believe he had a hand in writing Shakespeare. WILDE: Or that he was Shakespeare. DANTES: Shakespeare was a liar and a thief, just like every writer!

Guy and Eddie's ancestor, the first Edward de Vere, lived in England during Shakespeare's career. There is no evidence the two men ever met. They had no shared contacts, moved in separate social spheres - there's not even an indication that Oxford attended a Shakespeare play, or any form of entertainment, in a public venue. At most, one can say they were two of the 200,000-225,000 people who lived part of their lives in London during Queen Elizabeth I's reign.*

Some people believe that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon couldn't have written "Shakespeare's plays". Irrespective who they believe the real author was, those who doubt Shakespeare's authorship (called "anti-Stratfordians") advance the same conspiracy theory: some poor nobleman who daren't publish under his own name plucked a random writer/actor out of Shoreditch to front his work. There are eight or so popular candidates, including Francis Bacon, Christopher Marlowe, and Queen Elizabeth. Those who support de Vere, considered the strongest alternate candidate, are called "Oxfordians".

The heart of the anti-Stratfordian argument is that William Shakespeare wasn't high-born or well-educated enough to write such brilliant literature. It's a basic misunderstanding of the Elizabethan system education, plus a healthy dose of snobbery. Shakespeare completed the equivalent of a rigorous high school curriculum, fluent in Latin and already writing Greek dramas, around age 17. That was the 1580s standard for a educated person, the economic analog of today's bachelor degree. Yes, the author had an exceptional mind. But saying a William Shakespeare couldn't write Hamlet is like saying a Bill Gates couldn't found Microsoft.

Around 150 written records document Shakespeare's life in real time. His parents' marriage, his baptism, his own marriage, the baptisms of his children: recorded by date in provincial church registries. Financial ledgers by 1590s theatre impresarios like Philip Henslowe (Geoffrey Rush in Shakespeare in Love) remit payments to William Shakespeare among dozens of other minor craftsmen. As well as playwright/actor, Shakespeare became a minority shareholder in the Lord Chamberlain's Men - when they built the Globe Theatre, he owned part of that, too. His notarized signature appears, as expected, on all the major legal documents: deeds, titles, contracts and of course his last will and testament. But he also appears in little, unofficial places: a rival's private papers, civil court notes for a friend's rent dispute, Stratford "neighborhood watch" notes, his solicitor's family correspondence. This ephemera fills out the portrait of a complete life, without major gaps or inconsistencies. Sometimes a duck is just a duck.

As for Edward de Vere, secret playwright? Writing plays and poetry was common practice for Elizabethan courtiers, a way to curry gifts and favor the improvident de Vere definitely needed.** Some were "self-published"; the best were staged and performed at court. Some of de Vere's poems survive. They're pretty but mediocre. And there's nothing to indicate his plays were published or performed. The best evidence that Oxfordian scholars have advanced in favor of de Vere's authorship is his marked-up personal bible. Of the 1,025 marks and annotations, about a quarter have been identified as possible metaphors or allusions to concepts in the Shakespeare canon. Seriously. That's the Oxfordian smoking gun. Let me offer one last rebut. de Vere died in June 1604. A few plays Shakespeare wrote after that? King Lear, Macbeth, Antony and Cleopatra, and The Tempest.

Yes, Eddie. We fancy you mad.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The opening card leads me to idly wonder if Hemingway and Wilde are going to drop dead simultaneously.

Is that a candlestake next to Annabel's door?

Did Eddie steal Guy's tie? Was he in Guy's wedding party?

Eddie's hand on Annabel's arm and shoulder: extremely creepy. I had a visceral "Get off her NOW" response. If that's meant to foreshadow a coontrolling or coercive relationship between Annabel and the murderers... well done, Mr. Garcia.

Edgar Allan Poe invented the pet rock. Of course he did.

Feeling like you made a piece of art and you can't share it with its person? ::pats heart::

Guessing that palm-sized, flat rock is going to come in handy. Constable Jim's gun is missing. ("Gentlemen, empty your pockets...") A rock like that could disarm a shooter or stop a bullet to the heart.

I like the choice to break the episode in half. It makes the short episode feel too short, and that propels us into Chapter 11 before we're ready.

The weakest scene of the series. (There's not a lot of competition - the quality of writing has been consistently good thus far.) The locale transition feels awkward; there's no plausible reason for Hemingway to be cornering Bronte with his knife out. Hemingway, Lenore, and Wilde seem to have regressed a few steps from where they should be emotionally at this point in the mystery. It just doesn't scan that this group of people have so little insight into human behavior or that, after successfully orchestrating 12 murders, Brinte would give herself away so easily and completely. Maybe it's meant to be a commentary on the self-absorption of authors.

"This woman is an admitted murderer." Actually, she didn't admit it. "I've admitted nothing."

"You're just as pathetic as the characters you create." Lenore isn't a writer. And in this world, she's not a character.

So here's Anne Bronte. Have to crow a little: I picked up the significance of the handkerchief in Chapter 3 (http://bit.ly/2eHKbNN). Given the number of red-haired ladies, however, I expected to find Anne Bronte "hidden" among the known guests. Slightly disappointed: the story accomodates a hidden Bronte, and introducing a brand-new actress makes it harder to care about the character. I'm witholding final judgment, though, until the series is over. There's still plenty of room for twists (SPOILER Theory: http://bit.ly/2e5F7PY).

Annabel Lee's role as "the girl next store" fits Anne Bronte's opus The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. It would not surprise me if Annabel 1. Had a prior or alternate identity or 2. Was installed next door to Poe by the Bronte faction. Where better to set up your base of operations?

THOUGHTS & THEORIES

Who said Eddie is dead? Annabel's murderer wore pants (unlike both Brontes). Charlotte takes credit for "creating" the event, but Annabel, Eddie's girlfriend, dictated the guest list to Lenore. So perhaps "Eddie" is Branwell Bronte, Charlotte and Anne's brother. Given that Charlotte unreliably told us that Emily Bronte was dead, I'm also holding out for her.

We still don't have the links to Eddie of Louisa May Alcott or Agatha Christie.

Who did Krishanti call?

Guy de Vere. I'd guess we'll hear his part in this story, and learn that Lenore was actually the first victim.

Hemingway's look around the vault: we don't know what or who he saw, whether he dismissed it, or if he was co-opted into the plot. He may be the Dr. Armstrong in this scenario. Debt gives him a reason to cooperate with Eddie that Wilde, Poe, and Lenore don't have. But Charlotte does.

Eddie (Eduardo) Dantes is the only guest at Edgar Allan Poe's dinner party who hasn't been invited. He attends as Annabel Lee's "plus 1". Since Chapter 2, the surviving guests have focused on his murder as the probable key to the murderer's identity. Let's take a closer look.

DEATH Near the end of Chapter 1, the lights unexpectedly go out. When they reignite, the newly-arrived Eddie is found face-down in his bowl of soup. He's the first victim of the story.

Cause of Death: unknown. Both Charlotte Bronte and Annabel Lee check him; each finds he is not breathing and has no pulse.

Method: unknown. The party brings up one possibility, the soup. No further investigation. However, Emily Dickinson later tastes the soup without ill effects (Chapter 5).

Aftermath: His body is wrapped in a shroud and, along with Louisa May Alcott's, stored in an underground vault space (Chapter 3). As of the end of Chapter 9, no other appearances have been identified.

CONNECTIONS TO OTHER GUESTS Of the other 13 #PoeParty guests, ten have revealed connections to the Baltimore banker.

Prior to the party, Annabel Lee has been dating "Eddie the banker" for a year or two. Edgar Allan Poe has an (unrequited?) crush on Annabel, so he views Eddie as a rival.

After Fyodor Dostoyevsky was released from a Siberian prison camp, he says, Eddie took him in and sheltered him. (Chapter 2)

Mary Shelley created "Frankenstein" at Lord Byron's Lake Geneva retreat, at which Eddie was a guest. According to Shelley, he claimed partial credit for her writing and swore to destroy her literary reputation when she published it without him. (Chapter 3)

Charlotte Bronte knew Eddie as the banker set to foreclose on her family's home (presumably Haworth Parsonage). (Chapter 3)

George Eliot met Eddie through her publisher. (Chapter 3)

Ernest Hemingway made a sports bet with Eddie and lost; now he owes the banker money. It turns out later that Dantes convinced (coerced?) Hemingway to throw a boxing match, but Hemingway's pride made him refuse to give Dantes the money. It's unclear whether this is meant to be two separate exchanges or one. (Chapters 4 & 9)

H.G. Wells approached Eddie for a loan to build a model time machine. He reports that Dantes laughed at his proposal (and presumably turned it down). (Chapter 4)

Emily Dickinson learned that Eddie's bank planned to build a branch near her home, threatening her quiet and privacy. She wrote "several strongly-worded poems" asking him to stop. (Chapter 5)

Oscar Wilde had a drunken hook-up with Eddie at last year's Vivian Nightingale Memorial Ball; Eddie "rebuffed" him in the morning. (Chapter 8 & 9)

The three guests who haven't revealed a link to Eddie Dantes are Louisa May Alcott, Agatha Christie, and Lenore the lady ghost. Given that Annabel Lee made the guest list and arranged for Eddie to attend, it's likely their links to Eddie will come out, too.*

IDENTITY Lenore, Annabel Lee, and Eddie Dantes are the three party guests who are not based on historical authors. Lenore and Annabel Lee are figures in Poe's works ("The Raven"/"A Paean" and "Annabel Lee", respectively). And Eddie?

Ed-MOND Dantes is the title character of Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. Falsely imprisoned on an island fortress in southern France, Edmond (that's French) escapes after 14 years by trading places with a corpse and getting thrown out to sea. He digs up an enormous fortune, buys Monte Cristo island, and reenters society in disguise, avenging himself on those who wronged him in creatively punitive ways.

In Eduardo Dantes, we have a wealthy "European" banker. We know he believed himself cheated out of literary glory years ago, and that he recently visited George Eliot's publisher. We have his body, shrouded and tossed in the cellar in Chapter 3.** Since his death, we've had a threat note addressed to "the authors", and a murderer killing off authors in ways specific to their writing. We now know that his lady, Annabel Lee, is responsible for inviting this specific group of authors. And we have a visual of Annabel Lee secretly meeting a taller figure in pants, who strangles her to death. Not to mention the tale of Constable Jim, whose sea voyage from the south of France was ravaged by an unidentified serial killer on its way to Baltimore.

CONCLUSION It's fair to guess that "Eddie Dantes" faked his death and, with the help of an accomplice or two, has been killing off the entire party. But something’s wrong; it doesn’t quite fit. There's at least one more actor in play. Food for another post.

Having discovered the dead COOK, the group carries her back to the study where they left MR. BODDY's corpse. A shocked PROFESSOR PLUM halts in the doorway.

PROFESSOR PLUM: Look!

ALL: What?

PROFESSOR PLUM: The body's gone!

(the COOK's face hits the floor)

MRS. PEACOCK (from the back): What are you all staring at?

WADSWORTH: Nothing.

MRS. PEACOCK: Well, who's there?

COLONEL MUSTARD: Nobody.

MRS. PEACOCK: What do you mean?!

WADSWORTH: Nobody. "No body", that's what we mean. Mr Boddy's body, it's gone.

MRS. WHITE: Maybe he wasn't dead.

PROFESSOR PLUM: He was!

MRS. WHITE: We should have made sure.

MRS. PEACOCK: How? By cutting his head off, I suppose.

MRS. WHITE: THAT wasn't called for.

MISS SCARLET: Where is he?

WADSWORTH: Well, we'd better look for him.

The rest of the COOK's body is dropped; everyone steps over her to enter the room.

==========

Back from a much-needed week off. Here we go!*

CHAPTER TITLE: "THE SLEEPER" The poem "The Sleeper" highlights the close relationship between sleep and death, and to local anxieties about the difficulty in making that distinction.

During Poe's time, the fear of falling unconscious and being buried alive was so huge that some graves were fitted with bell pulls. If a non-dead person woke up buried, they could pull on a rope that extended into the coffin, ringing the bell above ground and hopefully bringing hearers to the rescue. It's not a stretch to say this atmosphere inspired "The Cask of Amontillado".

The thin membrane that separates the two had great resonance for Poe, both in life and in his "death a beautiful woman" poems, of which "The Sleeper" is another example. In a murder mystery, of course, determining death has a more practical significance. Last episode, H.G. Wells was "put to sleep" by poison gas, one of several victims whose bodies bear no visible marks of death. None of the murder victims received an autopsy, and no one's chopped their heads off to make sure (thank you, Mrs. White and Oscar Wilde). So the choice of poem gestures to the idea that one or more might be "sleeping", not dead.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The increasingly sped-up intro is brilliant. It's giving off this frenetic, inescapable danse macabre vibe that's entirely apropos. It feels anxious. And then there's that hard stop and you suddenly realize you don't have a chair. Using the Emily Dickinson cards to fill in the missing parts and then yanking them all when she dies... it slips the noose. Well done.

"We are trapped in this mansion, and they threatened to kill us if we tried to get help!"

The note threatened to kill them if they left - did it mention getting help? Will have to check. (EDIT: Yes, it did.)

They called Krishanti, which means they got help. There were no direct repercussions. Krishanti died because she figured out the identity of (Lenore's? Lenore and Guy's?) murderer. Dickinson died, evidently, because she saw the murderer. And Wells died because there's a murderer. Again, that threat note is terrible: "If you leave, I'll kill you. If you get help, I'll kill you. But if you stay where you are... I'll still kill you". What? Authors, c'mon. One of you should have realized by now that note means there's no intention to leave any of you alive. #logic. You had nothing to lose by fleeing.

Sudden vision: Annabel pointing a pistol at Edgar. Maybe it's her mention of "the authors": if Annabel's innocent, hasn't identified the killer, and (ostensibly) isn't an author, why not ask if the killer will let her go? Dude leaves notes. Ah, well. Feel free to disregard - I'm not Krishanti.

List of victims: Dickinson predeceased Wells, so now the cops have the wrong order. Edgar does NOT look happy enough at the death of R.W.E. #transcendentalistconspiracy

It looked like Christie predeceased Eliot, but Bronte states it vice-versa. Did she make another mistake? Or does she know something we don't?

Hemingway's face at Poe's imaginings of jail. Just as Dickinson gets dissed each episode, so does Poe embarrass himself. #Poefaced.(Though if they had been arrested, they'd be safe from the murderer...)

3:12 - Oh, there's the pistol.

Drinking men pass out and you automatically assume they're dead? Well, I guess that's fair by now. Please don't leave the pistol laying on the floor when you take the bodies away.

- Edgar's slow-dawning face when Annabel cries on his shoulder. "I feel... happy?" #drawmylife

9:09 pm., people started arrived at 6:00 pm., this was supposed to be a dinner party - I'd be hangry. No wonder Charlotte's cross.

"Your boy and I were a thing." (gasp) "For a night." Hell yeah, Mr Wilde! "Very... European." Taken as a joke, turns out to be true and important in retrospect? Well planted, writers.

5:29 - The I.O.U. Someone, please, check the handwriting against the threat note. Oh, they're going to check for Ernest's and it's going to match Eddie's?

We know of two other examples of the guests' handwriting: Wells' copious notes and Bronte's "tweaks" to her character card.

5:55 - The reason I'm not that worried for Bronte or Lenore. #ferocious

"My pride couldn't take the blow - I refused to give him his dirty money." Wait; that's not how fixing a match works. Hemingway would've fallen, Dantes would have collected on the bet and paid Hemingway a cut. Even if Hemingway owed Dantes for something else, the fall would set them even, not with money to turn over. That would only... no, doesn't make sense unless there was a third party.

Where, again, are all the knives Hemingway collected during the murders of Christie and Eliot? #worrisome

The contrast between Annabel's noble speech on Edgar's goodness and Lenore's "Oh please! I LIVE with the guy" expressions: subtextually awesome :).

"I don't have to act things out in order to write them. I have what we call an imagination." Sickest author burn ever. Omg, Edgar, you win.

And then it got sicker. Holy [bleep]. WIN.

Ah! Now we know why Annabel is the only one who knows Emily Dickinson's name.

Really? None of you could catch a fleeing cupcake? Hemingway, you have longer legs and PANTS. Lenore, you can run through walls - what is this "going around the back" nonsense? Ugh, WRITERS.

It looks like Annabel recognizes/isn't shocked to see the figure in black. She steps forward... to get a better look? Or to reconnoiter?

9:38 - Oh, god. You guys. I wasn't ready for that. I think the right to kill the murderer just passed from Lenore to Edgar. Nope, he may have killed Guy. AND Lenore. Rip him up between the two of you.

"It was always you" is, in this case, a just use of last words. If Edgar & Co. can't figure out where to go NOW, without Annabel's positive ID, they are not the true authors of "The Tell-Tale Heart", "Jane Eyre", "The Picture of Dorian Gray", "For Whom The Bell Tolls", and Lenore's "Draw My Life".

OTP for Week 9: You know. It couldn't end happily, but that was a heartbreaker.

We are now deep into "Mystery Mode", so the impressions will be shorter and the reflections intense. Read at your own risk.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS:

Ernest's perfunctory check of Krishanti's pulse. After six murders, you probably get desensitized.

The order in which people reach the kitchen is odd.

Annabel's plea that everyone look for clues is pragmatic. It also has the effect of keeping everyone in the kitchen a bit longer.

H.G.'s smile when Lenore likes his joke is adorable. Cute with Lenore, isolated from the group, about to complete his high-tech surveillence system... He's next on the narrative chopping block, isn't he? #notready

WHY CAN NO ONE REMEMBER EMILY DICKINSON?! (Except Annabel Lee. Hm.) We've gone beyond running joke into sci-fi mindwipe territory. If Emily = a member of the Silence, Annabel = Amy Pond, Bronte = River Song ("Sweetie...") and Wells is, of course, one of the Doctors. Is Lenore the soul of the TARDIS? Too early to say.

No one checks Dickinson's pulse, either time she "dies". Maybe her off-camera skull is so damaged it seems unncessary the second time, but c'mon guys. A little respect would not go amiss here.

"That's balderdash! I am the one who suggested seancing!" "Seancing's not a word." "'Seancing' isn't a word!" ::pats heart::

Where are all the clues? Eddie's soup. The "moist" handkerchief. The letter of intent. The kitchen knife through the apple. Wells' "contraption". The bottle marked "Poison" with blood on the label (probably gone by now). The portrait. The "Indian knife" in Christie's back. And now the feather bookend. P.S.: Where did Hemingway put all the knives he offered up? No one seems to be carrying one.

"The frame! Let's all turn it around!" (No one moves.) Classic.

"Oscar?" "Edgar?" "This isn't mine." Perfect delivery by Annabel Lee (Mary Kate Wiles).

"We're running out of time." "Or are we?" So much great interplay between actors in this chapter.

Are Charlotte Bronte (Ashley Clements) and Ernest Hemingway (Joey Richter) improvising their bits together? They're hilarious. And when he was cutting the wires ("Is this arousing or what?"), the camera cut out just when it looked like she was about to laugh.

That end bit. WOW. Are we heading into "Clue", hide-it-all-from-the-cops territory? #LifeCouldBeaDream

===== POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW =====

Given the tone and content, Krishanti's phone call probably went to the police. (If Officers Jim & Jimmy turn out to be unaware of it, I'll be looking for a lead pipe.) The three spirits who appeared (very Macbeth) didn't identify themselves (except by quoting their work), and Krishanti didn't seem to note Edgar's slip that they were all murder victims. She makes the call, in shock, after hearing Guy's pronouncement. I think Krishanti's call was about Lenore's death. I think she "recognized" at least two of the seven remaining guests, by sight or aura. (She checks everyone but Edgar and Emily.) She "knows" Guy from Lenore's life; she's tried to summon him before. When he tips her off, she knows which guest is to blame.

Guy's inability to return... Dante's Inferno, the Western guidebook to the dead, places special restrictions on people who commit suicide. But then why was he able to come through now? A chance to redeem himself by pointing out Lenore's murderer? A power boost from another psychic in the room? I don't know enough about paranormal physics in the #PoeParty world :). It's also possible he didn't commit suicide, but we'll let that sit until there's more information.

Krishanti tells the unknown receiver "The killer is here. In the house." Presumably it's someone she's seen, one of the seance participants. But when the figure in black hangs up the phone, she utters a surprised "You!" before being strangled. The person who killed Krishanti wasn't a seancer (it's a real word). It's one of the "dead" guests who she recognized but did not expect. Since Chapter 2, it's been increasingly unlikely that one party member could commit all of the murders. Chapter 7th's deaths of Emily Dickinson drives that point home.

Krishanti's surprise murder parallels the death of Yvette in "Clue" (1985). She's snuck away from the party to talk to a secret contact. When she gets close enough to see, she utters a shocked "It's you!" before the mystery person strangles her with the rope.

Monte Cristo is an Italian island; I'd been spelling Dantes' first name in Italian, "Edoardo". But the French character Edmond Dantes' first love is Catalan, suggesting the Spanish spelling "Eduardo". Tell us again about that "golden Spanish sunset", Annabel. #VickyCristinaBarcelona

On George Eliot's death: at first, it seemed likely the portrait belonged to the house. But no, the killer brought it in specifically to kill Oscar Wilde. Given that we saw what every guest had in their hands when they entered (except Dantes and Annabel), it seems the murderer smuggled the portrait through the second-story bathroom window. Who has that kind of strength and agility? Only an orangutan. #MurdersintheRueMorgue

Wilde's "Emily! Oh, that's a different Emily". He might be on to something. (See prior theory.)

Hemingway has an IOU, which would be signed by him and Dantes. There's also a handwritten letter of intent.

Chart, “And Then There Were None” (1939/2016).

Column 1: The ten lines of the nursery rhyme printed in current editions of Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None”. Column 2: Death of corresponding victim in ATTWN. Column 3*: Possible corresponding death in #PoeParty. Column 4: Victim/Literary Work to which Column 3′s death refers.

If you've been following the frenzied discussion of #PoeParty on YouTube, you might have noticed a number of oblique references to other literary works.

Given that Edgar Allan Poe, master ratiocinator, has started to put some pieces together, it seemed like a good time to summarize the big literary works being talked about in chat. That way, anyone who hasn't read the books can jump into theory on firm footing. Without Wikipedia.

NOTE: The summaries below are real descriptions of their books. But how those books relate to #PoeParty's plot, if at all, is pure conjecture by us the audience. None of it is show canon. In fact, the writers have already shown considerable facility at [messing] with our expectations. You can read the summaries for fact, but the conclusions you draw are entirely up to you.

===== SPOILERS BELOW =====

Two theoretical templates have dominated the #PoeParty discussion since Episode 1.

Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo (1844) In his youth, young Edmond Dantes is wrongfully charged and imprisoned for life in a rock fortress. A dying prisoner tells him of a vast treasure on the island of Monte Cristo, and Edmond escapes by switching places with the dead man, whose shroud is tossed into the sea. Upon landfall, Edmond digs up the treasure, adopts the identity of "Count of Monte Cristo", and uses his fortune to exact revenge on those who wronged him (and rewarding those who did him well).

As we enter Chapter 7 of #PoeParty, we can ask "Who is the most likely murderer?" of eight known suspects. There's a lot we don't know, but there's a fair amount we do. What's a fun way to express this partial knowledge? Horseracing odds.

If you're not familiar with sporting, Bourbon, and talking about sporting, let me explain. When you go to a racetrack, the teller will give you a set of odds for each horse in a given race. The odds reflect the likelihood that the horse will win that particular race. The lower the likelihood, the bigger the payout. Calculating the odds astutely gives the bookie the best chance of making a profit. It's important to stress that the odds... The winner doesn't have "the fastest time" of all horses, just a faster time than all of the other contestants.

There are many, many criteria bookies use to generate odds. But the intent is to rely on objective, demonstrable data, and to crunch it systematically. When you generate odds on a racehorse, you look at things like prior starts, history of performance in similar conditions, jockey strengths, stuff like that. To answer, "Who is the murderer?", we look at the means, motives, and opportunities required to commit the seven murders. The system is designed to eliminate unfounded "hunches" (at least on the part of the bookmaker).

Without further ado:

EDGAR ALLAN POE: Poe is the quintessential guilty type. He has a strong, declared hatred of Eddie Dantes. He owns the house in which the murders are taking place. And his inner monologue is seriously macabre. This is the kind of suspect oddsmaking serves to quantify. Practically speaking, Poe has very little space to manuever. He's the host. He's taken charge of the evening, which is keeping him front and center. And when the group is dispersed, he's shadowing Annabel/clashing with Ernest. Lenore's gotta be a little proud of how her emo teenager's coming along. Odds: 9-1.

LENORE, the lady ghost: Lenore occupies the same starting position as Poe - it's "her" house, she knows the guest list and how to get around. She's the only one of the eight (unless Wells has a remote) who could have turned the lights out. But the big thing? Lenore doesn't have a motive. She's a ghost. She's not an author and she'd evidently never met Eddie before. We don't know, beyond her word, what ghosts are capable of, but if Poe has more inconspicuous ways to kill people than inviting them to dinner, Lenore's options are exponentially higher. Odds: 12-1.

ANNABEL LEE: Ah, the lovely Miss Lee. Innocent beauty isn't a crime, but it's a great deterrent to prying. Especially if your dinner host is so anxious to protect it. There are a lot of loose ends with Annabel. The A-with-a-bell handkerchief. The trip to Spain. Medical knowledge. Encouraging everyone to stick together. Disppearing at odd times. I've gone into theories elsewhere, but the spoiler-free version is that her actions are conducive to murder. Odds: 9-2.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: Hemingway is the Colonel Mustard of the party, warlike and erratic. The man who loves bullfights and wants to hunt wild boar in residential Baltimore ("killing for sport"?) is one of two who has demonstrated facility with an established murder weapon. He's incrwasingly drunk, possible possesed. The bulk of Hemingway's guilt falls on his absence for a hugely large time during Murders #5 + 6 and emerged wild-eyed after extra time in the vault. But as he and Poe keep tussling over Annabel, they provide each other with alibis. Odds: 8-1.

CHARLOTTE BRONTE: Charlotte, the Miss Scarlet of the bunch, is the kind of character you want to find guilty. Eddie is foreclosing on her family's home, one of few solid reasons to want him gone. Her refusal to the hallway sends Mary Shelley into the electrified door. She's frequently alone or unaccounted for during murders, she advocates for the group to split up, resists calling the police, and sneezes out the seance candle. A lot of people have said "Charlotte seems too obvious; she can't be the murderer." There's a fair amount of information she might be. Odds: 9-2.

H.G. WELLS: The good professor hasn't put all of his cards on the table, Like Hemingway, he has proven facility with a murder weapon (his "contraption"). Based on that Craftversations board, he seems to have known who would be present at the party. He also claims to do poorly around "real death" but has no problem slinging Dostoyevsky's body around, But Wells' motive isn't great (a denied loan?) and most of the time he's reliably accounted for. Odds: 9-1.

OSCAR WILDE: A big limitation of the oddsmaking system as applied to murder? It depends on the PRESENCE of information, and of those who remain, Oscar Wilde's inner life is easily the most mysterious. (Fitting.) He's the surviving fan favorite and "Most Endangered Character". But that foppish persona has let him dodge questions like "How did YOU know Eddie?". And did he let George Eliot precede him into the bathroom, knowing an oval portrait was meant for him? Odds: 10-1.

EMILY DICKINSON: Emily is the opposite of Oscar: she talks (appears!) little, but has given away much. Noise? She had one of the greatest motives to want Eddie stopped. Although I'd like to know if she's one of the Silence from Dr. Who (Oscar seems to forget as soon as he sees her), Poe also fails to recognize her at the door. She has free reign to explore the house alone, since no one seems to see her, This brings up the two damning facts: she stays, in the murder house, when she's probably the only one besides Lenore who could escape. And she eats the soup. Odds: 6-1.

So, if someone asked you "Which of the eight suspects is the murderer?", naming Annabel Lee or Charlotte Bronte would put the highest odds in your favor.

=====

VIVIAN (Lauren Bacall): Speaking of horses, I like to play them myself. But I like to see them work out a little first... Find out what their whole card is. What makes them run.

MARLOWE (Humphrey Bogart): Find out mine?

VIVIAN: I think so.

MARLOWE: Go ahead.

VIVIAN: I'd say you don't like to be rated, you like to get out in front. Open up a lead. Take a little breather in the backstretch, and then come home free.

MARLOWE: You don't like to be rated yourself.

VIVIAN: Haven't met anyone who can do it. Any suggestions?

MARLOWE: Well, I can't tell until I've seen you over a distance of ground. You've got a touch of class but, uh, I don't know how - how far you can go.

"Data! Data! Data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." ~Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

What is a crime? Our human sense of right and wrong makes this seem like a silly question. A man can be killed by a blow to the head with an axe. We might be horrified: "Of course that's a crime! It's a murder!" But suppose that man were reaching for the axe on a shelf and knocked it onto his own head. That would merely be a (tragic) accident. Or if the man were looking through a copy of The Jungle Book in a friend's library, and one of the friend's ravens tipped an axe off the shelf onto the man's head. We might find the friend guilty of negligence (failure to properly train ones' ravens) and likely stupidity, but it would not be the felony, murder.

Crime, we must understand, is a legal entity. It has been taken outside our human sense of right and wrong, which is much more variable than we might think, (Did you know that juries who watch kitten videos are less likely to convict?) In the U.S., every criminal trial attempts to determine the relationship between a perpetrator and an external standard, the law. Every case, from littering with IOUs to the mass killing of History's Finest Authors, boils down to the same question: "Did someone break the law?" The act of breaking the law is committing a crime. (Where there are few laws, there are few crimes - that's why it's currently very difficult to prosecute cybercrimes.)

When a violent incident happens, then, it must first be established that a law was broken, i.e. the existence of a crime. Charlotte Bronte understands this. When Eddie Dantes is found dead in the soup, she expresses the preference that no one leave the scene "if, indeed, a crime has been committed". The unexpected death of a man (or in Charlotte's case, a sister) is not itself proof of a crime. And until the crime has been established, it is not legally possible to accuse a suspected party. While the investigation of a crime usually occurs concurrently with that of potential culprits, the terms of the crime must be decided first. There must be a breaking of a law before a "someone" is identified to have broken it.

How do you establish a crime? In U.S. criminal cases, prosecutors traditionally describe a crime by three of its aspects: means, motive, and opportunity. Means refers to the resources (physical, material, financial) required to commit the act. Motive is the reason the act was committed. Opportunity indicates the chance (time, location, freedom of movement) to commit that particular act. Imagine these aspects as three sets of coordinates on an XY axis grid. If the three points align in such a way as to form a triangle, then the act that has been committed is a "crime". In this analogy, the culprit is the person(s) who best "fit" that triangle.

Murder is a crime, and #PoeParty is a "murder mystery" (so sayeth the title). It's fair to assume that those who have died during the party were murdered, and it's highly probable that we the audience have already spotted the murderer(s). What throws a huge wrench into solving this night's slew of murders (thank you, writers) is the curtain-drop suggestion of a linked cold case: Lenore, who thought she died of a "mystery illness", and maybe her fiance Guy. Adding Lenore's death to the picture moves those coordinates to as-yet-unknown positions. If the developing murder spree began with Lenore's death, the dimensions of the crime shift drastically.