Update #2: What is an Idol?
My most delicious friend,
As I am a man of my word, I shall attempt to answer the question that burns upon your lips - namely what I and the others like me, we who call ourselves the âIdolsâ, truly are.
I hope it goes without saying that you keep this knowledge confidential - Athena would have my head if she knew I was committing the words to paper, though honestly I have my doubts whether secrecy is so sorely needed in these modern times. Mortals today are so bloody certain they know all there is to be known, and that anything they do not know is not worth knowing. I could shout the truth from the rooftops and the very most that would happen is I would become an interesting âmemeâ for them to guffaw at on their computers. Alas, rules are rules.
Fair enough? Let us begin, then, with the heart of the matter: are we gods?
While any lad or lass fortunate enough to share my bed would answer with an emphatic âyes!â (perhaps multiple times), I suspect what youâre searching for is whether we are the same beings worshipped in the days of ancient Hellas and Rome, the ones depicted in the statues and the stars of oh-so-many fanciful tales. The answer to that is also yes. Ignoring that those tales rarely contain much truth, we are the ones on which they were based. Our faces have changed, some many times since, but we are one and the same.
Perhaps it would be better to explain what is a god is, yes? What makes the Idols different from mortals? Do we, for instance, have magical powers? We do, though our powers have dwindled since the ancient days. Why? None of us know, though there are theories. Some suggest it is because we are no longer worshipped, though this raises uncomfortable thoughts regarding from where our powers truly originate, does it not? Others say it is because our time has passed, and that an age dominated by science has no room for beings of faith and magic. Even so, we Idols retain power enough to give mortals pause, some able to alter the very world around them⌠While others? Others indulge in minor glamours and parlour tricks, a mere shadow of what we once knew.
Are we immortal? In a way, which is to say that we do not age or suffer from the endless variety of plagues that afflict humanity. Idols do, however, bleed and die as any human might. There are many ways for us to circumvent that final death, tricks we can play nearly as old as time itself. Sometimes, however, tricks are not enough. Far too many Idols have been lost to death over the ages: Zeus, Ares, Demeter⌠even Hades, our Lord of Death himself. Others have not died, but have simply vanished from our midst. Poseidon went into the sea one day, they say, and never returned. If he lives still, we have no idea. It is a sad truth that so many of us have, over the span of so many centuries, simply lost our way.
I think it should be obvious from the above that, despite all our powers and long lives, we Idols are not invulnerable - not in our flesh and certainly not in our minds. Take our memories, for instance. We possess no more capacity for memories in these minds of ours than a mortal might. How much do you remember of last week? What about last year? How much can you recall of your early childhood, a mere twenty-odd years ago? The important moments, perhaps, but the rest is a blur that becomes greater and greater the further back you cast your recollection.
Now imagine how that might be for one whose memories stretch back hundreds or even thousands of years, so many that the number has become meaningless. I have forgotten more of my life than you have ever lived. If I try to think back⌠so much is a jumble, like something I might have dreamed once. I recall many of the facts, but the details? At odd moments they come unbidden, inspired by an old painting or a fragrance. At other times I cannot summon them at all, and I wonder if what I know has been influenced by the writings of mortals since. Was I there, or do I just think I was? Faced with the dreaded chasm of so many years, perhaps it is better this way. If I were burdened with every memory of every year I have lived, I would drown in it all.
I suspect there is at least one more question you have, and its answer is related. Surely you wonder âwhere did the Idols come from?â It is a fine question, my delicious friend, but in all honesty I cannot say. Perhaps the truth stretches too far back, to a time my memory no longer reaches even in passing⌠or something I have forgotten because the truth cannot be borne. Perhaps there was an Idol who created us, and who did not wish us to know our origins. The most lucid among us say that, back in the mists of their memories, they can only recall that one day they simply were.
Is that not a fine notion? One day I was not, and then I was. Perhaps we emerged from the primordial soup of human consciousness, conjured by their primal fears and their stories. Perhaps we exist because humanity thought we should, or did⌠What would that say of faith, hm? Does it mean that I should encourage humans to build shrines to me once again, to dance around them under the moonlight and to make offerings in my name?
My fear, dear friend, is that it would do nothing. That we Idols are as much an accident, a product of nature and chaos, as the rest of humanity. Knowing the truth holds little appeal, these days.
Not that such explorations are permitted to us. I said earlier that Athena, she who was once known as the Goddess of Wisdom and the greatest of us who remain, would be most displeased to know of my confessions to you⌠and that is the truth. The Idols remain a secret because it is deemed vital to our continued existence. I might disagree, but it matters little. Ours is a society with strict laws, a product of the tribulations we suffered over the millenia, tribulations that brought us here, to the city you call home which is so very distant from the Homelands of our ancient days.
I shall tell you of those tribulations, if you desire, but not now. Now instead I shall drown myself in wine and dream of my temples back during the dark age of Man. I shall remember the drums and the prayers, the undulations of dancers with the sheen of sweat upon their skin. They yearned for me, dear one, as I yearned for them, and the mysteries of life seemed so much more enticing when they could not be Googled.
CHORUS is an adventure musical -- one part narrative-driven adventure and one part interactive musical, written by former BioWare lead writer David Gaider, scored by award-winning composer Austin Wintory, voice directed by acclaimed actor and director, Troy Baker, and starring the extremely talented Laura Bailey.
Find more info on its crowdfunding page: https://www.fig.co/campaigns/chorus-an-adventure-musical/about
