Spara's Various Insanities

Yukimura wrote this series knowing that you could just look up the ending if you wanted to, and committed himself to the questions of history. Many historical moments are fitted into this story, not even just the Vinland expedition and its ultimate fate; it fills in gaps with the death of King Sweyn of Denmark, or makes use of King Canute the Great's famous tides speech to make a philosophical argument, for example. While the story is still overtly fictional, especially when it comes to characters that experience revelatory visions/dreams, or otherwise perform ludicrous feats of strength, it feels true to the sorts stories the source materials (the Icelandic Sagas, to name one) might tell.

1. The Bully and The Broken Toy Nobody Wanted: The Bad Narratives

The part of Chapter 1’s story before the arrival at Castle Town establishes several crucial things about Susie. She is a bully that everyone in the class (sans Noelle) really dislikes, and is no stranger to abusing Kris with no prompting aside from what she herself offers. In the hall outside the classroom, she takes broad offense at Kris’s presence, and makes up excuses to lash out at them. She firmly asserts that she doesn’t really have agency in the most famous (and most misunderstood) single sentence in the game: “Your choices don’t matter.” People compare this to Flowey’s line from the start of Undertale, but unlike the soulless creature who has been numbed by his circumstances, Susie’s assertion is unsteady even in her own mind. Look no further than the moment Lancer attacks her and Kris atop the cliffs. Susie doesn’t simply run off, or use Kris as a shield as she jokingly does with Ralsei later in Tenna’s game; she simply yells out at Kris to run. You could read this as being in line with her statement about not wanting to make Toriel sad, but we see time and time again later that she is genuinely concerned, even if it only comes out of her in the heat of the moment. 

The rest of Chapter 1’s Dark World segment paints a similar picture. Time and again, Susie ignores warnings, ignores what people say, and defaults to hitting things hard enough to make them an inconvenience. Her teaming up with Lancer puts this behavior on hold for a while, but it’s still her default, because it’s what she knows. Any attempts to claim that something else is happening are met with outright rejection by Susie, typically made by Ralsei’s naive attempts to sway her to goodness, and it seems this pattern will hold true when Lancer betrays her. Once again, however, her concern wins out, and her decision to not kill Lancer and agree to not kill King is a blank acknowledgement of the error of her ways. Her arc here is quite simple, and if you progressed from this point to the end of the chapter in a straight line, you’d think you have a good understanding of her. The bully with a soft heart who learns to show it.

But, once you leave the Dark World and go talk to her classmates, a shockingly different picture is painted before us. Susie wasn’t a bully like everyone claimed she was, except towards Kris in specific. MK and Snowy hate her for the most innocuous of interactions, where their lack of attempts to understand her make them believe she’s bad. Berdly talks bad about her, but we don’t get any substance as to what she did to him in particular. He simply expresses shock that Kris is okay. Jockington expresses a similar distaste. Temmie is mad because Susie told her that hardboiled eggs can’t hatch. Catti hates her guts for… some reason that never gets explained. Susie tries to give an answer in Chapter 2, but we’ll get there soon. All of these reasons to dislike her are incredibly stupid and close-minded, but what matters is what Susie took away from it. Her behavior for the first two-thirds of the chapter is recontextualized to be the new girl lashing out at those around her for not being accepted and buying into their lack of acceptance by abiding by her base impulses. Susie isn’t the class bully, she’s just Kris’s bully, but because the world around her paints her as the former, she acts accordingly, and propagates the same narrative by behaving worse. Her attacking all of the Darkners of Card Kingdom is proof of how deep-set this false bully narrative is.

The bully narrative isn’t the only time Susie makes false judgements based on the opinions of those around her and acts accordingly. In Chapter 3, we get an insight into why she acts this way: after a long childhood of ostracization, friendlessness, and a lack of a fixed home, she had grown closed off and isolated, and lashed out to match it. This is, simply put, conformity; she was assigned the role of “the bad girl,” the “toy” to be used and discarded by fickle or cruel peers, and, knowing little else, went along with it. Note that I say “little” and not “nothing,” for Susie was given several signposts. Not just Toriel’s kindness, but Susie explicitly mentions that she could make friends, and had done so before. The ostracizations were more common, the move in homes too frequent, and so it became more comfortable to assume that ostracization and distance would be the norm than seeking a better outlook, because the better outlook appeared futile.  To clarify, none of these choices Susie makes are something she should be blamed for; it’s reasonable, relatable even, for a person to give themself to loneliness after being burned one too many times. The point of the matter is that Susie had chances to be different, to reject the narrative that she was bad, that she was unwanted, unlovable, but did not, and let herself propagate it instead. It’s so deep-set in her that she still feels extreme guilt over her actions in the past and believes that she was fundamentally bad, even though she wasn’t. She was empathetic to Toriel, really not that mean to most of her peers, and behind her bluster concerned for the health of others. Her rationalizing not tearing Kris apart as “not wanting to upset Toriel” is simply what she thought her reasoning was, while the truth was so much simpler, so much more good-hearted. It’s pretty sad watching her self-deprecate over it to the extent she does, even when she offers moments where she did do things that weren’t good, such as the story about smashing the public piano. Even now, she believes that the bad narratives were the truth from which she is breaking away, and when failing like she does when trying to heal Kris, she backslides into this narrative. She has yet to cast off its shackles.

2. The Hero and The Good Kind Of Scary: The Good Narratives

One might be tricked into thinking by the game that Susie’s turn to good is the outright breaking of the above-discussed “bad narratives” of her life. It’s no doubt she’s changed, tremendously so; Lancer, Kris, Ralsei, numerous Darkners, Noelle, even Berdly to an extent, they’ve all helped her grow and change, but there are more narratives to her existence than the one she’s internalized so deeply she can’t imagine it being false, though her present actions don’t follow it. Her life in the present follows other narratives, and these ones, while much better for her self-image, are perhaps just as dangerous, and more insidious. I identify two narratives placed upon her that deserve this title. First, the narrative as prescribed to her by several parts of the story, most notably the Prophecy, as a “Hero.” Second, as described by Noelle, the girl who is “the good kind of scary,” or “the girl who doesn’t care about anyone.” 

Susie the Hero is a very interesting narrative to tackle because, in contrast to the Broken Toy narrative, the Hero narrative takes up much of her screentime as she is in the present. It begins in the fight against King, where Susie takes the action to save Kris from a devastating attack, revealing her eyes in a moment that symbolizes her character growth thus far. In that moment, she becomes the hero of the party, saving Kris and Ralsei’s lives, whether it be in tandem with Lancer’s timely arrival in a pacifist playthrough, or buying time for Ralsei to use Pacify in a violent playthrough. This serves two effects: for one, it makes the truth of the bully narrative feel all the more hollow because we know more about Susie’s potential goodness, and for another, it sets up how Susie will approach this story going forward. Chapter 2’s main plot is, frankly, all about Noelle, but the way in which Susie responds is very interesting. Noelle is framed by Queen as the damsel in distress who gets kidnapped a comedically large amount of times, and Susie jumps right in to fill the trope, becoming the hero meant to save the damsel in distress. Every time Noelle is captured, Susie is the one jumping in to challenge Queen’s authority, playing right into the setup Queen has made to make Noelle happy. Susie isn’t uppity and about this narrative in the way Berdly is—who directly namedrops it, in case you hadn’t noticed—who dismisses Noelle as just the damsel in distress, but her repeated motivation of “we’re here to save Noelle!” still means she’s playing along. Once again, here it’s not necessarily a bad thing; she’s getting to have a fun adventure with her friends, she’s getting to connect with a girl she’s interested in and who has the biggest, gayest crush on her, but it’s important to acknowledge what she is implicitly doing here.

It doesn’t stop in that Dark World, either. Susie dismisses the thought of telling Noelle and Berdly the truth after lying to the former in the dream because, as she reasons, it would put others at risk when the world is in danger, and it’s her responsibility to save others. It’s heroic in the most basic sense, but it might not be very good, per se. Berdly has changed as a result of the events of Cyber World, but tries his best to not acknowledge it when he couldn’t turn his face away if he knew it was real. Susie seems disappointed that her heroism comes at the cost of getting to know Noelle better (We’ll come back to what’s going on more with that in a bit). No matter what, though, this choice of Susie’s does look a bit dubious in even generous interpretations when you think more about it. Noelle wants to heal Rudy in the way she could heal Kris in battle, with just a little spell, and being denied knowledge means being denied a chance to help her from potentially losing another family member. If you did a violent route, Berdly’s arm got badly burned in the fight against Queen, and that arm will remain paralyzed in the Light World. If he could go back, maybe his arm could be healed. The decision to adhere to the numbers of heroism’s looking a little iffy.

Chapter 4 is where things get really noticeable, however. Face to face with the text of the real Prophecy, not even the version Ralsei had given which she at first dismissed then welcomed, she finally feels included. The Prophecy, this immutable fact of the world, assures her that she has a place, that her good values exist and matter, that she will do something great, that she will prove herself to be a better person. It’s a relief from her doubts, proof that her new hero mentality is good, that she is good. In the Second Sanctuary, she practically spells out that this is the antidote to her poor self-esteem. But if you look closer, there are similar issues with the bad narrative. Breaking the Prophecy is portrayed as futile in just the same way as she had once believed escaping isolation was futile, and for the whole chapter, Susie doesn’t grasp the dangers of the Prophecy. She doesn’t break any of the panels intentionally until the very end, and that only occurs after she misunderstands the significance of Ralsei’s warning to not go ahead of him. Her attachment to the idea of heroism blinds her to its significance, and the bloody hand scene is the moment it finally sets in to her that the hero narrative she spent the past few chapters upholding was not an inherent good. She merely attached herself to the hero narrative because it provided so many goods to her that it became convenient for her to follow it. The bit with the puzzle before Jackenstein directly spells out how much she enjoys the convenience. 

What’s going on with Noelle should not go unaddressed, either. On the Ferris Wheel, we get to see what attaches Susie to Noelle, and what in return makes Noelle affectionate towards Susie. For the latter, there is an important stake here: what Noelle says is, in essence, a guideline for her to have external affection. The bad narrative of the bully is transformed into the good narrative of the scary girl, and hence made something good for Susie to follow. To be clear, this isn’t encouragement for Susie to go back to bullying Kris; neither she nor Noelle like the fact that Susie did that, but Noelle finds comfort in the idea of being treated in a similar way provided that she be cared for after the fact. In short, Susie is being offered a way to recontextualize parts of her badness into something good, something she can use to feel good about herself and provide comfort to someone she likes. Isn’t that a good thing? Yes and no. That aspect of their relationship by itself is generally good for them, but things get complicated by the existence of this same narrative. Susie showing her complete self might, in her eyes, be a turn off to Noelle, for Susie only knows she’ll be given affection if she follows the narrative’s template. Knowing this, the lie she tells Noelle isn’t just a heroic act, but an attempt to preserve this source of affection without risking rejection. It also plays into the narrative everyone sets up around Noelle as someone to be protected from harsh truths or pain, which is itself a whole can of worms. This isn’t the end of their dynamic, which we’ll get to discussing in the next section, but it’s very important to acknowledge exactly how many narratives are being preserved in this dynamic. They appear good to Susie, but looking at whether they are good for both of them in truth, the results look a bit grim.

3. Who Susie Actually Is: Beyond Narrative

Of course, Susie does more than take part in narratives. She sets up and propagates the narratives of her life, following ones that are physically or emotionally convenient, but she isn’t a slave to these narratives. She exerts a great deal of agency many times throughout the story, and many of her best moments arise from when she isn’t acting in accordance with any narrative. Her development at the end of Chapter 1 is not, as discussed above, a breaking of the bad narrative, but the realization that she can do more than strictly adhere to it. Her character dynamics become extremely tangible and interesting the moment she strays a bit from the perceived narrowness of these narratives, though she doesn’t break them. Her and Kris go from bully and victim to straight-up best friends the moment they confirm that her growth in Card Kingdom was more than a dream (which, in hindsight, makes her decision to conform to narratives and hide the truth from Noelle and Berdly more frustrating; imagine what they could achieve knowing the truth about how they all feel!); her and Lancer connect very, very quickly over the idea that being “bad” doesn’t necessitate loneliness; her and Ralsei bond extremely quickly and intensely once they leave behind the “bad guy” and “good guy” narratives respectively.

To digress for a moment, her and Ralsei’s bond is a perfect example of how important it is for Susie to look past the narratives around her. In Chapter 3, her desire to follow the hero’s role and go off to seal the fountain meets an obstacle in the form of Ralsei’s desire to slow down and enjoy his time with her and Kris. Ralsei asks to take part because of his clearly sharp pain at not being able to accompany the two of them to events like the Festival, life events that will supposedly stick in their heads for a long time to come, defining their relationships going forward. Following the hero’s role would dictate that Susie move on and seal the Fountain before other people, most notably Toriel, risk getting involved, but Susie doesn’t do that. Susie does what she does best: be a good and caring person who looks after those around her. She sticks around to help Ralsei enjoy himself, and both of them reap the benefits. This is Susie the Good Friend in action, the narrative Susie does get to spin for herself. She doesn’t take part in something that tries to define her externally. She doesn’t follow it for convenience. She acts in a way that fits who she is as a person, and the narrative thread comes after.

This special narrative, the one Susie has created, is what lets us see her for who she truly is, when she doesn’t give into her flaws, doesn’t accept external ideas as truths, doesn’t try to cut through matters. This is the ennobling power that lets her know people and others know her. This is what she gets to exercise with Lancer in Chapter 1, what she gets to exercise with Kris all the time starting in Chapter 2, what she exercises with Ralsei even when we aren’t around to see, and what she’s starting to try to do towards Noelle, too, even if she’s hesitant at the time. Just look at what the other three have shown her: that she is a person who can get along with others, trust others, look out for others, and learn more about herself from others. The Susie who gives into her flaws and hides behind the narratives she latches onto for convenience wouldn’t befriend Lancer, wouldn’t move past her guilt to connect with Kris, wouldn’t discover parts of herself she didn’t know existed with Ralsei. The end of Chapter 4 is an all-time low for her: her perceptions of the “good narratives” of her life have shattered or are crumbling down around her, many of the connections she holds close risking fracture at the seams, but she doesn’t give in. She is at her lowest point, but she is not alone, and she is thus open to greatest change.

Exhibit 1: Ralsei the Neglected This was the first thing that really set me off when I realized it. Ralsei's moment in Castle Town in Chapter 4 is incredibly important for his character, where we get to see in a moment how much he's developed and get a window into how he reflects upon himself. It lends further support to his bond with Susie. It gives a very crucial scene to his dynamic with Kris where, no matter what we try to make them say, they spin it so it comes out as affirming to him. Putting his identity issues front and center also adds weight to what he's gonna be going through throughout the rest of the chapter, where despite all his growth, all his trust in others, all his new experiences, he still crumples in on himself for the sake of hiding the truth and breaks down repeatedly upon having the truth exposed. Watching Susie try to comfort him through her own pain, seeing Kris take initiative to hug him when he's desperately trying to hide his pain one more time, those moments feel several times more powerful when we know how strongly he felt before and how far he's fallen since he lost the ability to hide the truth. There's just one small problem: you can skip that entire scene in Castle Town on a first playthrough. There's no reason given for it, heck, the game outright tells you you're gonna go to both Noelle's house and Castle Town to make story progress. But if you go to the former first, you discover that the latter is entirely unnecessary for the plot, and so much of Ralsei's pathos is out the window. It's not mandatory, so the story can only use it as a sweetener instead of using these moments to meaningfully further his growth. Kris telling him of course it's fine to have feelings isn't a meaningful scene anymore, it's just a little bonus. What a way to take the wind out of his sails.

2. Noelle the Idiot Listen, I can hear people yelling now. "Of course she wouldn't question Susie's lies! She's head over heels for her!" It's true that Noelle's willing to brush things Susie says aside if it means she can be closer to her, and of course she would. She's a teenager that's head-over-heels for someone that to her is breaking the pattern of distant secret-keepers that protect her and reinforce her utter lack of confidence. It'd make sense for her to give Susie leeway, but if you're sticking around in the Holiday house segments, the amount of leeway becomes somewhat absurd. Susie's lies are downright terrible, and thus far the game has frequently made a joke about the fact that Susie is absolutely awful at masking what she truly thinks and feels. To let Noelle pass off so many of them without clocking "hey maybe this person I'm infatuated with is doing the same things that make me feel so alone, I should question this" makes her either look like a moron completely blinded by teenage thirst or a total hypocrite whose development in Chapter 2 meant way less than it clearly did from how the NPCs around Hometown talk about her. I just don't buy that the character the game insists is remarkably perceptive about Kris's strange behaviors is suddenly this blind, even if it's through the lens of teenage romantic hyperfixation. Hell, do y'all remember the storm of controversies about the Sweepstakes blog page Newest Girl? How Noelle has a guttural freeze response to Susie's bullying of Kris without even hearing what it was either of them said? It's not even in the game, so a lot of people have argued it's not canon, but personally I think it's the same issue as with Susie's terrible lies. Noelle looks a lot more flawed through bonus content in a way that feels misaligned with how she's treated in the main story, and hardly for the better. I actually like Newest Girl. I like seeing how her crush can sometimes get a bit problematic. It's realistic and adds an interesting dimension to her character. But the game doesn't really seem to think her crush has any aspects of that; it's treated as something so pure and real by everyone that isn't an irrational hater (we'll get back to this, oh trust me we will) to the point it looks almost completely edgeless. I don't think that's necessarily the case, but it's there, and I don't think the game does a good job of making these pieces fit together into a proper set of character traits for her.

Exhibit 3: Susie the False Bully Okay, honestly, this is the one where I feel there's the most intent behind it. A big part of Susie's story is that she feels discarded by her peers, never having been someone who gets to have lasting connections because people are judgemental or leave her too soon. I like this about her character! I think it's a really compelling way to reinforce her internal struggles, which are genuinely handled well. The piano scene after the First Sanctuary in Chapter 4 is beloved for a reason. But the game waffles like crazy on how seriously we're supposed to treat her behaviors. The start of Chapter 1 and its Dark World emphasize that Susie has a pattern of behavior where she'd rather beat things out of her way instead of trying to see where others are coming from. Long before we knew why she was so attached to Toriel, she made her jealousy Kris's problem by physically assaulting them, something that seemed to genuinely intimidate them. Her bullying seems like it'd extend to the other classmates, but it doesn't. In the Light World, it's personal; in the Dark World, it wasn't, but both times it's about making her feel better. This is what the optional dialogue gives us, and it's both compelling and interesting... except later on some characters act as if Susie's bullying patterns never existed (Toriel, even though she's a pretty forgiving person, should have something more to say when she came over to her house than "don't hoard chalk from her"), while others (primarily Catti) are drinking insane levels of haterade and have it out for her for zero reason. MK and Snowy's perceptions of her "bullying" are patently ridiculous, and the game knows this, but suddenly we're expected to take Catti's beef seriously? Catti, who has provided zero explanation for why she thinks Susie is so dangerous for Noelle, and for whom Susie's rationalization of her hatred is so insanely mundane? That Catti? By sticking around for bonus dialogue, I've lost track of what exactly it is she's done that's so bad if literally nobody cares aside from her. I can get behind an internal redemption story. I love the stories where someone decides to be better while expecting no reward from their peers. But the optional dialogue that's supposed to help us understand the extent of her bullying fails to defang it in a way that makes consistent sense from what we know so far, so while it being defanged somewhat is the point of her character, making everyone around her in the Light World look like total assholes or be overly forgiving, except for in cases with major characters where we're shown why those characters think the way they do about her. Kris was intimidated by her, but they do like her, probably always have. Noelle has blinders from her crush. The optional dialogue, to my eye, seems to exist to help us understand exactly how Susie's bullying worked psychologically and stop us from extrapolating too much about how bad her behavior was, but the optional dialogue is just inconsistent.