There are a few reasons I chose some of the things I did! I was possessed by the image, firstly, of the Melpomene-- or the tragedy half of the Greek Comedy and Tragedy masks-- framed by curling golden ram's horns. The tragedy mask specifically spoke to me because Dante usually uses humor to hide how depressed he really is. So the tragedy mask represents the loss of his humor, and the reveal of his true feelings-- the other half of life, if you will. The half of life he typically wallowed in, as he only donned the comedy mask when trying to comfort and reassure those around him. Plus, the loss of Dante's childlike personality / innocence in its entirety at the hands of Mundus. Mundus, who would force the tragedy mask upon him as yet another loss of control, because he wouldn't allow Dante to hide behind the humor that was his go to coping mechanism.

The specific Melpomene that I referenced is this one, which invokes the feelings I was aiming for:

The curvature of the wrinkles I felt accentuated the look of tears running down the face of the mask. I found it important to include that the mask / faceplate is crying as a representation that this isn't what Dante wanted-- he does not want to fight his brother, he does not want to be puppeteered by the Emperor of Hell. He is shedding tears for not only the things that have happened to him, but also the things he will be forced to do in order to survive. Pre-mourning his actions and their consequences, if you will.

I chose gold for the ram's horns in order to invoke a few things: namely, the reference to the Golden Fleece. In Greek mythology, the winged, gold-fleeced ram named Chrysomallos, rescued Phrixus and his sister Helle, from a plot by their stepmother, Ino, to kill them in jealousy. Helle still died, as she fell from the back of Chrysomallos and drowned. Phrixus, however, survived all the way to Colchis, where he then sacrificed the ram to Zeus and gifted the resulting fleece to King Aeëtes, who took him in. The King kept the fleece in a grove that was sacred to Ares, God of War, Battle Lust, and Manliness.

Now, Ares holds a special place in my heart, and I think Dante is a great example of many of the things Ares represents and symbolizes. Specifically, the myth where He killed His daughter's rapist, was put on trial, and acquitted, and the Homeric Hymn to Ares, Hymn #8, where He's referred to as golden-helmed, shield-bearer, Savior of Cities-- ring any bells? Golden-helmed, for the golden ram's horns, shield-bearer, for putting himself in harm's way to allow his loved ones to live, Savior of Cities for the number of times he's saved the Human World in the canon timeline.

(There's also this quote, from the Getty Museum's article on amber ram's heads, which we'll reference again later: "Throughout Greek culture, the ram figures prominently as a metaphor of strength and courage (thus the association with Ares). Accordingly, Homeric heroes are likened to thick-fleeced lambs (Iliad 3.197).")

One of Ares's sacred birds is the vulture, a bird that both Gods and Man are typically repulsed by, as its a scavenger typically seen after a battle has concluded to feast on the dead. So, what feathers are embroidered onto Rosso Angelo's cape? Vulture feathers. A further reference to the winged ram Chrysomallos, yes-- but also to the scavenged nature of Rosso Angelo, the creature that devoured and consumed what was once Dante, and has built itself up both with the help of Mundus and the corruption that was planted within him.

As well, the wings play into Rosso Angelo's name-- Red Angel. I decided on Rosso Angelo for a few reasons as well. I know much of the fandom picked up the name since rosso is Italian for red in the masculine context, and Dante is our man in red. But, also, I liked that it played into the total take over of Mundus and the corruption; hardly able to tell where Mundus ends and Rosso Angelo begins, since Mundus's magic is the same shade of red as Dante's.

The Golden Fleece isn't the only reason for the ram's horns, though! I also wanted to nod towards the fact that, Dante, in his self hatred, in his willingness to embark on this journey to change fate, has made himself a sacrificial lamb. The idea that he holds-- that as long as those he loves live and survive, he can endure whatever is thrown at him. How easily he accepts that he will be the one to suffer, that his life is forfeit, that he's okay with that.

As well, Ares isn't the only Greek God that's being referenced! Rams are famously used in myths surrounding Hermes, God of Herds and Flocks, Travelers and Hospitality, Roads and Trade, and many more-- also known as the messenger of Zeus, and the guide of the dead to the Underworld! Hermes was the one who sent Chrysomallos to save Phrixus and his sister in the first place, and in another myth He avoided a plague by carrying a ram around the city of Tanagra. Thus, the ram is one of His sacred animals.

The specific link above to the Getty Museum I thoroughly enjoyed. Its primarily about the significance of amber ram's heads, where they're found, and how they were depicted. This quote from it really stuck with me:

"Throughout Greek culture, the ram figures prominently as a metaphor of strength and courage (thus the association with Ares). Accordingly, Homeric heroes are likened to thick-fleeced lambs (Iliad 3.197). In Attic vase painting, rams are sometimes represented in an explicitly sacrificial context. More commonly, the context is heroic, with the ram’s sacrificial role implicit only. Such is the case in the story of Phrixos, or of Odysseus. Both the ram that carried Odysseus from the Cyclops’s cave (Odyssey 9.436ff.) and Phrixos’s mount are sacrificed as soon as they have finished their tasks. Their sacrifice is part of the story."

Dante, our sacrificial lamb, our tragic hero. He is both the sacrifice, and the hero of our story. Allowing himself to be led astray, but finding strength and courage still. And once his purpose has been fulfilled... well. We'll get to that later in the fanfiction. :)

That paper from Getty Museum absolutely inspired a lot of the thought I put into Rosso Angelo's design, and another detail that it goes into is the connection between ram figures and Ancient Egypt. What really pulled my attention was this bit here:

"Related Egyptian amulet types, representing the king of the gods, Amun Ra, are the flat-backed amulets of a ram’s head with a disk and uraeus, or uraeus alone, in hollow gold and lapis lazuli as well as glazed-composition and frit, a feature of burials from the Third Intermediate period onward."

(Which was another reason the accent color is gold! The further reasons we'll get to as well!)

Now, the shape of the ram's horns is also important. Rosso Angelo's are a traditional shape for actual ram's horns, curled up as they are. As a reminder, here's what Sparda looks like, note the down turned horns:

We know that Mundus hates Sparda. Its like. Super Obvious. The design of Nelo Angelo was intended as a fuck you to Sparda, Mundus turning his eldest son into a mimicry of his Father. Of course, he'd do the same with Dante. A lot of Rosso Angelo's design is in reference to Dante's destruction, but I had to include the equal fuck you to Sparda! The paper discusses the significance of how ram's horns curl, and what they mean, too:

"The ram with downturned horns was a symbol of the god Amun, and when he wore the solar disk between his horns or incorporated other solar iconography, the ram’s head was one of two guises of Amun Ra (the other was a goose). A ram’s head in amber, the subject enhanced and focused by the material from which the amulet was made, would put its wearer under the protection of the deity represented and would by assimilation offer the wearer access to its particular powers."

Amun, who was fused with Ra to become Amun-Ra, the Sun God who was king of the gods in Egypt. Sparda's horns are down-turned, invoking the iconography of Amun-Ra, signaling him as the herald of the light for humanity, since he sealed Mundus away 2,000 years ago. We've seen pieces of Dante's personality as a child, mostly excitable and downright sunny. In the canon timeline as well, Dante follows in Sparda's footsteps as the savior and protector of humanity.

But here, in Between Sacrifice and Self Slaughter, he's none of those things. He is unprotected by his Father. And, really, wouldn't Mundus want to rub his breaking of Sparda's sunshine boy in his face? So the curling of the ram's horns on Rosso Angelo's helm are a reference to not just Greek mythology, but Egyptian as well.

Not only that, but ram's horns began to be associated with Amun after Egypt conquered Kush. So much so, that it gave rise to the Horns of Ammon, which became a popular way for kings, Gods, and emperors to denote their supremacy. This in turn lead to the Roman God of the Sky, Thunder, Justice and King of the Gods, Jupiter, to gain the epithet Jupiter Ammon.

Now, why is Jupiter important?

One of the most famous statues of him is this, located in the Hermitage Museum:

And what does Mundus look like when we first see him in DMC 1?

Mundus modeled himself after some of the God Kings of Ancient times, when he began to mutate after eating the Qliphoth fruit, particularly Zeus, or the Christian God. We can equate Zeus and Jupiter here, since they tend to be seen in extremely similar light.

So. Mundus has not only warped Dante into a bastardization of Sparda, with the differences in horns to invoke the sacrificial lamb imagery, but also fully claim him as his servant, and folded Dante-- now Rosso Angelo-- under his wing of protection, for all that protection was worth in the end.

And that's all just in the helmet design!!

(Another little tidbit-- in the game, Mundus is holding a blue flame, which I interpret as a reference--possibly unintentionally-- to him holding Vergil in the palm of his hand. I changed it to a red flame to represent Dante but, it really mirrors well to the statue here, where Jupiter is holding Victory in his hand. Nelo / Rosso, the key to victory for Mundus in more ways that one, victory over Sparda, victory over the human world, victory over the twins.)

The armor I struggled a bit with describing tbh! I found a really good image that I liked, here:

I liked the imagery of the chest plate, how it split and bent, as well as the protection around the neck. In the end, I leaned more towards Nelo Angelo's original design and the sleek look of it, since that, too, was a mockery of Sparda. (See skittlesandham's absolutely devastatingly gorgeous art for further reference!!!!!)

But the main color of the armor is also important: black to mark Rosso Angelo as the black sheep of Mundus's army, not fully demon, half human in his painful creation. Black sheep, too, of the Sparda family-- the wild twin, the Spare Heir, the carefree one. In my opinion, Dante was never initially meant to take up the Dark Knight's mantle, (I don't think Eva and Sparda meant to have twins in the first place) he was forced to after the tragedy that was the deaths of his parents and brother, after the connections he formed with the humans who looked out for him in his youth. Black to mourn the loss of his family, the loss of his personhood, the loss of the original timeline and his family there, the loss of the lives he will take in order to raise the Qliphoth. Black to absorb any light that Dante might try to find, to guide him back out of the dark, to shroud any attempt Vergil or Trish might make to free Dante of the corruption. To well and truly blot out who Dante once was, completely replaced by the silent, dutiful dog that Mundus has called to heel.

Gold also has a few different significances here! Yes, all the gold up until this point, but, the gold filigree on Rosso Angelo's armor isn't just a mockery of the gold accents on Sparda's demonic form. They're also a mockery of the defining moment of Dante's childhood, the one thing that truly turned his life upside down, the first death that thrust him into the world unprotected:

Mundus took one of the few clear memories Dante had of Eva, and twisted it up. We know that Vergil is more like Sparda in personality, so to me, that means Dante is more like Eva in personality. And what better way to crush a man than to make him into a mockery of his mother? To break Eva and Sparda's sunshine boy? To truly dominate the human woman who fell in love with and gave heirs to his greatest enemy, even in death?

Now, onto the red cape. While yes, a nod to Dante's iconic dusters, a nod to Eva's red shawl, a true sign of why he's called Rosso Angelo and not Nelo Angelo, it also serves to invoke another image: Rubedo, the final big stage in alchemy in the creation of a magnum opus, or a philosopher's stone. Rubedo is the final stage and signals success, (hence why philosopher's stones are depicted as red stones, a la Full Metal Alchemist!) and a philosopher's stone is said to be able to turn base metals into gold, which is why gold can be associated with the color red. The red of the cape then links, also, to Mundus's success with the torture and corruption that he's inflicted on Dante, success in that he's broken Sparda's son, the one who truly inherited Sparda's spirit, his ideals. Successfully destroyed Sparda's legacy. Turned basic materials into gold. His magnum opus of true domination over his most hated enemy, if you will.

I also liked the imagery of the cape billowing out and flowing like blood, as an extra little traumatic treat. :)

There are a few ways to depict rubedo in alchemical art, namely: blood, a phoenix, a rose, a crowned king, or a person in red clothing. Dante, as Rosso Angelo, is wreathed in all of those things. Blood is obvious-- the blood on his hands and the blood spilled to get him there. A phoenix-- which represents rebirth after death, a direct tie to chapter 7, Dante dying from Mundus's torture over and over and continuing to be revived. A rose-- we see Dante with roses so often, and its implied that Eva and Sparda had a rose garden at the manor. Additionally, the Qliphoth, which I'll expand on in a second! A crowned king-- the horns on Nelo Angelo's mask could definitely be considered a crown; golden-helmed Ares, and The Horns of Ammon, yeah? And a person in red clothing-- also kind of obvious in the fact the cape is red, the red glow of the magic that possesses him, and in reference to the fact he wears / wore a red coat and is known as "the red twin."

But the rose, too because rose bushes like to grow wildly and lusciously when fed with blood meal fertilizer. And what does the Qliphoth absorb in DMC 5? What grew within Dante in order to have him taken over by Rosso Angelo? The Qliphoth. So Dante himself is the blood that feeds the parasite, and Rosso Angelo is the rose that blooms from the bloody fertilizer that used to be Dante.

On top of all this, I want to go a bit more into rubedo, and how it pertains to Dante. In the process, there's little proof that it truly works, its more of a "trust the process" thing. In canon, Mundus tries to turn Vergil into his magnum opus, tries to make the perfect being by creating Nelo Angelo. Instead, he just breaks him. But, in DMC 5, Vergil goes through his whole shebang with V and Urizen and when he comes back together, he's stronger than ever. He ate the Qliphoth fruit, yes, but he also embraced his own nature. He came back to himself, became the perfect being that Mundus tried to create, by embracing his own humanity. Much the same way Dante did. Dante embraced his humanity, and that, more than anything, is shown in canon to be his ultimate strength.

His humanity.

The humanity that Mundus has tried so, so hard to crush.

All of this together-- the ram imagery, the denotation of the final stage of rubedo, the invocation of the King of the God's protection, the mockery of Sparda and Eva-- culminates into the character that is Rosso Angelo, the brainwashed puppet that was, once, Dante Sparda. Before, he was the Savior of Cities, the Dark Knight's successor, the Legendary Devil Hunter. Now, he's the Sacrificial Lamb, the Dark Slayer, the Red Angel, the Bloody Rose, Mundus's Feral Dog. Crowned in gold, light snuffed out, a mockery of his family. No longer himself, stripped of what made him who he is, taken over and consumed.

And yet-- still, he is there, his story is there, his purpose is yet to be fulfilled. He endures, and endures, and endures, until the end.

He also changes the tone of the game whenever he's on-screen. Nero and Dante both push energy outward, while V pulls it inward. He slows scenes down. He makes the story more gothic, more self-conscious, more death-haunted. Even his combat style tells you who he is; he can't kill enemies directly until the final blow, and he survives by command, distance, and reliance on embodiments of old trauma. The three familiars - Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare - are explicitly tied to Vergil's past as Nelo Angelo and are framed as embodied memories or nightmares split off with him.

Archetypally, he sits somewhere between the dying poet, the divided self, the guilty remnant, and the man trying to outrun consequences he already understands. He feels very much like a confessional version of Vergil; the version that can finally admit the cost of everything. He's not simply "soft Vergil", but the portion of Vergil that can no longer avoid human truth.

Psychology

The strongest psychological frame for V isn't a neat real-world diagnosis so much as severe fragmentation. He's literally a split-off self, and the game keeps treating him as someone forced to live inside everything Vergil wanted to disown: weakness, bodily decline, vulnerability, fear, and memory. That makes any diagnosis conversation a little unusual from the start, because his mental state is inseparable from being metaphysically incomplete.

Trauma is central to him. The game's late material reveals that the familiars are tied to Vergil's time as Nelo Angelo, and they're repeatedly described in ways that tie them to haunting memory and nightmare. Griffon's final line to Dante - about this being "the end of Vergil's nightmares" - is especially revealing. V isn't simply accompanied by demons, he's accompanied by the afterlife of Vergil's torture, enslavement, and degradation under Mundus.

That means a trauma-informed reading is very strong. V carries the part of Vergil that remembers what was done to him and what he became. He also shows the emotional consequences much more openly than Vergil usually does. There's frailty, visible despair, urgency, and a kind of intimate fatalism in him. He often feels like a person living in the aftermath of prolonged damage rather than someone simply pursuing a goal.

Dissociative language also comes naturally to him, though in his case it's almost literal rather than metaphorical. V is a self cut away from itself. He's human feeling separated from demonic force, but also a consciousness trying to function while missing half of its total structure. He knows what Urizen is, he knows what reunion means. He wants to stop Urizen, yet he's also moving toward re-merging with him the entire time. That creates a built-in instability of identity. He's acting against the very outcome he's also orchestrating.

What feels most psychologically true about him is guilt joined to necessity. V comes across like someone who understands the moral and emotional weight of what Vergil's done in a way Urizen never could. He also still chooses reunion. That's why he's tragic - he's not simply trying to undo damage, but trying to restore the self that caused it, knowing full well what that means.

Strengths and Flaws

V's biggest strength is insight. He understands the stakes of the story at a depth almost nobody else does, because he's looking at them from the inside. He knows Urizen's nature, knows Vergil's history, and knows exactly how desperate the situation is. That gives him a clarity neither Nero nor Dante quite has for most of the game.

He's also resilient in a very particular way. Physically, he's one of the weakest protagonists in the series. Practically everything about his design emphasises collapse: the cane, the tattoos, the limp-seeming movements, the fact that his body is disintegrating. Even so, he keeps moving. He survives on will, planning, and the ability to keep functioning long after strength in the ordinary sense has left him.

Another strength is honesty, at least inwardly. V is more self-aware than Vergil usually allows himself to be. He doesn't have Urizen's luxury of pure appetite; he knows fear, he knows regret, he knows what's been lost. That makes him capable of a kind of moral seriousness the other half lacks.

His flaws are inseparable from his role. The biggest is secrecy. He manipulates Nero and Dante by omission for almost the entire game. He withholds the truth about who he is and what he intends, not because he lacks understanding, but because full honesty would make his goal much harder to achieve. That means even his most sympathetic traits sit alongside real manipulation.

There's also a passivity in him that can be frustrating. V observes brilliantly and feels deeply, but he still chooses restoration over rupture. He never truly commits to letting Vergil end. He can recognise catastrophe and still move toward it. That gives him a kind of fatal weakness; he knows, but he proceeds anyway.

His dependence is another flaw, though it's also just his condition. He can't act alone in the usual way; he relies on Nero, on Dante, on his familiars, on timing, on other people not fully understanding him until it's too late. That makes him emotionally compelling, but it also means he's never a straight-forwardly autonomous character.

Relationships

VERGIL / URIZEN This is the central relationship by definition, but it still deserves treating as a relationship because V and Urizen aren't just plot halves - they're two hostile forms of the same self. Urizen represents the part of Vergil that rejects weakness, humanity, and memory; V is made of exactly those things. So V's whole existence becomes an argument with the self that created him.

V isn't trying to destroy Urizen in any final sense; he's trying to reach him, contain him, and ultimately reunite with him. There's fear in that, but there's also recognition. V knows Urizen is monstrous. He also knows Urizen is still him. That makes their dynamic much more intimate than a normal hero-villain conflict.

The reunion is what gives V his most tragic quality. He spends the entire game as the part of Vergil capable of remorse and reflection, then chooses to become whole again anyway. That means his self-knowledge doesn't save him from returning to the larger pattern, it just makes the choice sadder.

GRIFFON Griffon is probably the most socially important relationship V has during the game. He's talkative, mocking, impatient, and much more openly expressive than Shadow or Nightmare, which makes him feel almost like V's externalised commentary track. More importantly, Griffon is one of the embodied nightmares split from Vergil's Nelo Angelo trauma, so the relationship is doing two things at once: it's practical companionship, and it's V living alongside a piece of his own haunting past.

There's real fondness in the dynamic, or at least a roughened version of it. Griffon needles V constantly, but he's also loyal to him. The relationship feels familiar, almost lived-in, in a way that suggests V's companionship with the familiars is one of the few things keeping him emotionally coherent. Griffon gives him voice, friction, and company while he's otherwise very alone.

His final line about the end of Vergil's nightmares reframes the whole relationship. Griffon was never just a pet or a tool, but one part of the pain V had to carry until reunion became possible.

SHADOW Shadow's relationship with V is quieter, but it matters for exactly that reason. Shadow feels more instinctive, less verbal, more like a living extension of mood and defense. If Griffon externalises banter and consciousness, Shadow feels closer to fear, reflex, and animal protection.

Because Shadow, too, is one of the nightmare-memories tied to Vergil's past, the relationship still has that underlying tragedy. V is being protected by the very things that once haunted or harmed the larger self. His survival depends on mastering, or at least coexisting with, the remnants of trauma.

NIGHTMARE Nightmare is the most frightening of the familiars, and the one that makes the trauma reading hardest to ignore. He's huge, destructive, and initially hostile even within V's own set of companions. Nightmare destroys Griffon and Shadow in an early confrontation, which underlines how unstable this whole internal ecosystem really is.

That makes V's relationship with Nightmare feel less companionable and more like managing a living concentration of catastrophic force. If Griffon and Shadow can resemble damaged companions, Nightmare feels closer to unprocessed terror or rage; something V can call on, but never fully domesticate. It tells you a lot about V that even his own power comes in the form of a thing that feels bigger and harsher than he is.

NERO V's relationship with Nero is built on manipulation, necessity, and a strange kind of trust. He pulls Nero into the hunt for Urizen without telling him the full truth, so from the start the relationship is ethically compromised. At the same time, V clearly relies on Nero; he needs his strength, his momentum, and his willingness to act where V physically can't.

Nero gives V something close to faith without quite knowing it. Nero keeps moving on V's behalf because he assumes there's a goal worth serving. V abuses that trust by omission, but the fact he leans on Nero so heavily still matters. There's a way in which Nero becomes the future V can't access: vitality, directness, and the chance to choose something other than old obsession.

That becomes even sharper once the Vergil revelation lands and Dante tells Nero that Vergil is his father. Suddenly, V's use of Nero becomes tangled up with bloodline and inheritance in a way Nero never consented to. It makes the whole dynamic retrospectively sadder and uglier.

DANTE V's relationship with Dante is built around confession delayed almost to breaking point. Dante is the one person who could most fully understand the stakes of Vergil's return, which is exactly why V can't be fully honest with him. He needs Dante close enough to defeat Urizen and far enough from the truth that reunion can still happen.

Dante is being asked to help clean up the consequences of Vergil yet again, and V is the one asking while secretly being Vergil's human half. The game gets a lot of mileage out of that hidden intimacy; V knows Dante on a level no one else in the cast can, because he's made from Dante's brother. Dante, meanwhile, treats V as a strange but useful ally until the truth arrives.

The result is one of the more painful relationships in the game because Dante is, in effect, being recruited into restoring the very person he's spent so long fighting.

Just for Fun / Typology

MBTI - INFJ He's introspective, symbolic, private, and intensely focused on underlying meaning rather than surface activity. His whole way of speaking is filtered through image, literature, and implication. He doesn't feel improvisational in the extroverted sense or openly values-first in the Fi sense. He feels directed by a hidden internal vision he's carrying toward an end only he fully understands.

The judging side also matters. V is frail and poetic, but he's not scattered. He's purposeful. Everything he does is moving toward reunion, even when he dresses that motion up in ambiguity. That long inward line of intent feels much more INFJ than INFP to me.

MORAL ALIGNMENT - True Neutral shading toward Neutral Good He's not morally blank. He has regret, insight, and more humanity than Urizen. Still, his actual actions are too compromised for a straight-forward Good label. He manipulates people, conceals the truth, and knowingly works toward restoring Vergil. That keeps him from sitting comfortably in Good.

At the same time, Evil also feels wrong. V isn't driven by cruelty, appetite, or indifference; he understands suffering too clearly for that. His problem isn't that he doesn't care, it's that care and guilt are still not enough to stop him choosing reunion.

So True Neutral suits him best because he's operating from necessity, self-preservation, and incomplete remorse rather than from a stable ethical position. The slight pull toward Neutral Good comes from his very real capacity for reflection, sorrow, and human feeling, but he never fully lives inside that pull.

Conclusion